Miroku froze, and the world seemed to freeze over as well. Sango… She had taken off his mask. He carefully stayed turned away from her at first, not wanting to see her horrified reaction. Why? Why now? Why was fate always so cruel to him? He had almost hoped… but no.

Slowly the sorrow melted away, and cold, blind fury took its place. How DARE she? After all he had tried to do! —He'd even warned her not to! She still just had to know, didn't she? Well then, she would know! Curse her! Damn her! How dare she do this to him! Miroku seethed, and whirled to face Sango.

His face was cast into the light. The appalled look on Sango's face only made him angrier.

"DAMN you!"

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"Damn you, you little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see!"

Sango immediately fell back, horrified and frightened. Miroku advanced on her, his terrible face twisted into a sneer of rage.

His face! God, what had she done? He had the face of a demon! The left half was pure and untouched… but the right half of his face! She shuddered.

His skin was yellowish and pale, stretched tightly over the bones in his face. The right half of his nose was so sunken in that it seemed to disappear altogether. The parchment-like skin failed to even reach the top of his forehead, where the bone showed.

To Sango's horror, the demon-like visage before her began to laugh. It was not the light, airy laugh of humor, but the laughter of a mad man.

Miroku took another step closer to her, and Sango tried to take another step back. She tripped on the hem of her gown and fell to the ground.

Suddenly Miroku leaned down and grabbed her arms, digging his nails into them. She cried out, both in pain and fear. "Look at me!" Miroku cried wildly, yanking her chin upwards. She closed her eyes, unable to bear it.

"You wanted to see me! You wanted to view the face behind the mask! Now look—See!" He shook her violently. "Look at me, you ignorant woman!"

Sango tried to hold back a whimper, but failed. Slowly, she forced her eyes open.

His face was barely an inch away from hers, and she nearly fainted in terror. "Satisfied?" he hissed. "Well? ARE YOU?"

Sango tried to pull back, but Miroku gripped her even harder. "Oh no! You're not going anywhere—not now! Anyone who sees my face may never see the light of day again!"

She struggled harder in his grip, begging for mercy. Miroku viciously ran his hands through her hair, dragging her closer to him. Sango tried to hold her tears back, but her attempts were in vain.

"Ah! I frighten you! Yes, well, what did you expect from a monster? You were very right by calling me that in the tunnels! Is this what you expected? I daresay not… Look now, you're crying—crying—well, go on and cry Sango! See how far that gets you!"

Sango tried to stop, but couldn't. Instead, her sobs grew louder in spite of herself.

"But perhaps you think that I'm wearing another mask? Then go on and tear this one off like you did the other! Come on, I won't take no for an answer! Try…just try!" Miroku snatched her hands and put them to his face, digging her nails into his flesh.

Sango tried to pry her eyes away, but failed. She gasped through her choking sobs and cried out as his blood splattered her fingers. Her nails left bloody streaks behind them, but Miroku continued to rigorously dig them into his skin, all the while willing her to remove the mask.

And then, to her dismay and amazement, he began to cry.

"Why, Sango? Why did you have to know? Now I can't let you go—I can't! If you hadn't seen my face, perhaps you would have returned willingly, but now… now…" Miroku let her go and turned away, trembling.

Sango just sat there for a long time, feeling sick, dizzy, and somewhat dazed. This was all her fault! What compelled her to remove his mask? She turned her gaze back to Miroku, and unthinkingly reached out to him.

His back was turned, however, and he didn't see. Sango pulled her hand back before he could, shivering. If anything, his temper scared her more than his face did. His face… to be truthful, it terrified her. She had never seen anything more horrible in her life, and yet… Yet she couldn't hold it against him. She wouldn't let herself…after all; he couldn't help what he looked like.

But his temper… that was a different matter. He had the power to control himself, at least! And yet, he didn't. She knew he was angry… he had a right to be angry! But still… She turned her gaze to his shaking form and shuddered.

Could she forgive him? Even more important, could he ever forgive her?

Sango looked down and her eyes connected with a flash of white. She reached out and tenderly picked up the porcelain mask that had hid Miroku from the world.

She stared down at it for a moment, and then slid over to where he sat. She tried to turn him to face her, but he wouldn't. There was blood everywhere on him, and she knew that it wasn't hers.

"Miroku," she said softly, so quiet she almost couldn't hear herself, "Please… I didn't mean… I'm sorry."

He didn't answer, and tears came to her eyes. She didn't deserve to be forgiven, and she knew it. Yet, she had still hoped that maybe…maybe…

Sango laid a hand on his shoulder, and he stiffened beneath her touch. Gently, she wedged the simple, innocent-looking mask into his lap.

He must have seen it, but he did nothing, still turned from her.

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Miroku watched as his tears mingled with the blood on his face. Sango was sitting right beside him, he could sense her there. He couldn't turn to face her, though. Not after what he had done… she must hate him. She had to. He had seen the terror in her eyes, and he hadn't cared. Her white gown was covered in his blood, and there were nail marks on her arms.

She'd never trust him again, that much was for sure.

Miroku felt Sango set something in his lap, and he looked down. It was his mask. What did that mean? Did it mean, simply, that she never wanted to see his face again? Or was she just trying to comfort him?

Probably the former. He doubted she cared for him in the least anymore. Not after that. Miroku didn't touch the mask, wishing that Sango would disappear, and that he had never even heard of her name.

Curse her… He realized now just how much he had loved her. Now… now that he had no chance of winning her love. He had scared her away… permanently.

Finally he reached down and took the mask in his hands, and lifted it to cover the bloody, torn right side of his face.

Not turning to look at Sango, he stood and walked over to the organ. Obediently, she followed him. He sat down and still didn't look at her.

"Go back to your room, Sango."

She didn't move. "But—"

"Go."

Sango bit her lip, and moved closer to him. "Miroku, I—"

"JUST GO!"

She fled.

Miroku stared down at the organ, not even touching it. He couldn't keep Sango locked up here forever. At the end of the third day of her… her imprisonment… here, he would take her back up to her room.

Until then, she would see nothing of him. It was for the best.

Miroku stood and disappeared into one of his passageways. When he was safe inside the darkness, he removed the mask, and then walked into a small room that contained a basin of water, a damp cloth… and a mirror.

He didn't dare look at the mirror as he dipped the cloth into the water and dabbed the blood off of his face. He ignored the sting, and finished cleaning the wounds.

As he was about to put the mask back on, however, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. There was a pause, as cobalt eyes met cobalt eyes.

Then, in a wash of fury, he raised his fist and smashed it into a thousand glittering pieces.