Sango rolled over on her side and groaned. The laws of physics said that she should've been dead, if not dying. The term cat-like reflexes didn't apply to her. Her corset had now shifted into an uncomfortable position that dug into her rib cage and made her tear up in one eye. Her father had once offered Sango the option of surgery to get the last rib bone removed. Ladies often did that when they wore corsets on an everyday basis. It took away some of the discomfort when something like this occurred. But Sango gratefully declined her father's offer. The medical technology was not very advanced, recovery would take forever, and quite frankly, Sango was almost certain she would die in the procedure. Now, however, perhaps she should've taken the money and went. Damn corsets, unnecessary, painful things! Suffer to be beautiful— it never could be truer.
After some of the pain eased, Sango slowly sat up and stared into the passageway. She shuddered with the overwhelming feeling that she was alone. Usually Miroku had been beside her, but now he knew nothing of her whereabouts. She leaned over on her hands and knees to regain her balance. After getting back on her feet, Sango wobbled from side to side before realizing that her left leg had fallen asleep. Sango gasped sharply and she fell backwards and slammed her tail-bone into the ground. Sango chewed hard on the side of her mouth to keep from bursting out into tears. Her limp was now tingling with pins and needles. Sango stretched it out in front of her and gently shook it, trying to wake her leg up.
It was going back to normal. Sango sighed in relief, but decided not to get up again. Instead, she went to feel around and crawl. She groped out for things like stones and rocks. Sango didn't want to blindly fall over into some ditch and die…or some lake and drown, for that matter. Believe it or not, with every time Sango had been to the beach, she never learned how to swim. Sango laughed to herself and found it eerie the moment she did so. Her voice had now echoed off the walls and found its way back to her ears. Once again, Sango didn't take well to the fact that she was by herself.
Sango crawled cautiously through the darkness for what seemed like ages. Her hands were pressed against the cool floor intently. Sango looked past her shoulder every few seconds just to make sure that no one was coming up behind her. Then she heard something and jumped. Sango stood up quickly and turned her head around frantically. Sango walked aimlessly towards the noise until she giggled at the realization of what was making the sound.
"Caesar! I should've known it was you!" Sango ran to the black horse that Miroku had kept down there for his use. He clopped his front right hoof against the ground and bowed his head to her. Sango smiled and took his head in her hands. Caesar gazed up at Sango and gently nuzzled her cheek.
"Can you help me along, here? I don't know where I'm going at all!" She asked softly, stroking his black-silk forehead while she did so. The horse whinnied and nodded his head. "Thank you, boy!" Sango, forgetting to act like a lady, swung one leg over Caesar and straddled him (usually a young woman has both of her legs on one side of the horse). Caesar walked onward with command.
He took her as far as he could go before stopping and looking to Sango. She understood and got down off of him. Sango then rubbed Caesar's ear as payment for his services, and he trotted back to his 'home', a very chipper horse.
So Sango began walking again. Abruptly, the wall that she had been feeling ended, and Sango continued until she stepped in something freezing cold and wet. For a moment she stood still, confused, until she realized she had forgotten something very, very important while traveling on horseback.
"The lake…" she whispered, wanting to smack herself. "How am I going to get across the lake?" Last time there was a boat, but that would be on the opposite shore by now.
Sango paced, wondering what to do. It was times like these that she wished she had learned how to swim.
After a moment, she realized that she had two options. Sango could either make her way back to her room, or she could do something she considered utterly desperate.
Sango stood in silence once more. She knew that she couldn't go back, not when she had gotten this far…
She took a deep breath, and then shouted his name as loud as she could across the lake, hoping he could hear her.
Kirara suddenly began sniffing the air. Her ears were alert and Miroku looked up from his work to ask what was wrong. She showed no sign of telling him. Kirara swiftly pranced off the table and onto the bank of Miroku's house by the lake. Miroku began to get frustrated and decided he might as well follow her. Kirara never acted like this.
Sango opened her mouth to try again, but a cool hand clasped over it.
"Hush, my dear, you'll harm your voice."
Sango stiffened for a moment, then recognized the voice and relaxed. "Miroku."
There was a moment's pause, and then he spoke again. "Why did you come here, Sango?" His voice was soft yet demanding.
Sango turned to face him, "Because, I want to know… I want to know…" she stuttered, "…Why, Miroku? Why did you do it?"
Miroku just stared at her for a moment, one hand twirling one of her soft brown curls. She could see his cobalt eyes glittering in the darkness.
"Miroku…"
"I lost my temper."
"You lost your temper!" Sango suddenly shouted, "Miroku, you killed someone! Losing your temper isn't an excuse!"
Miroku paused, and then shrugged.
Sango stared at him incredulously. "You mean you wouldn't have cared if someone else had died?" she drew back from him. "What if that someone had been me? Would you have cared then? I mean, you practically dropped Naraku's body on my head! Do you even care about me?"
Well, of course he cares! Kirara sat in between the two. She seemed to be deciding who to go to. She stayed where she was.
Miroku's eyes widened slightly at Sango's words. "Sango, I-"
"Well just imagine that the person who died had someone who loved them, they'd probably feel suicidal!"
There was a long silence, and Sango blushed. Her words echoed back to her… "…someone who loved them…"
Her blush grew deeper. She sounded as if she had just assumed that Miroku loved her… but then, that's why she was confused about things, wasn't it?
"I…I mean…" Sango's face was growing warmer by the second, "Miroku…please, please don't try to kill anyone again! Promise me…"
Miroku moved closer to her, and then hesitantly placed a hand under her chin, lifting her face up to his. "Sango… Do you love me?"
Sango froze, staring at him. That was awfully…specific…random…sudden. If he were to ask her that those three months ago, Sango would've answered it without question. But now…with all that had been happening...
Without even realizing she did it, her arms flew up around his neck, and she buried her face in his chest. "Oh, Miroku… don't ask me that now…" Sango squeaked out. "Not now… not when I'm so confused."
His hand stroked her hair as he stared off into the darkness, thinking. He was jerked back into reality at the sound of Sango's voice.
"But Miroku?"
"Yes, Sango."
"Please… please promise me."
He held her tightly to him. "I promise, Sango… I promise…"
Before long, Sango noticed that they were in the gondola. She sat in back of Miroku silently; Kirara sat lightly on her lap. Miroku reached over to his side and grasped the long gondola poll in his hands. He pushed it back and forth so that the water lapped over it. Sango watched as Miroku stirred. He made it look so easy.
"You seem quite skilled with this. I trust you would never tip the boat over? I can't really swim …" Sango muttered the last part. She might as well make conversation.
Miroku simply smiled. Although, since Sango was seated in back of him, she wouldn't have known that.
Sango's eyes finally noticed that she could see Miroku's chest through a soaked-through white shirt. Her hazel eyes widened. "You're all wet…"
"It is Kirara's doing. She knocked me into the lake as soon as she realized that you were down here. I had to first swim and get the gondola before I could get you."
"Oh…" Sango sounded disappointed by this. "You…you didn't hear me calling you?"
Miroku paused briefly and stopped moving the pole. "Sango, don't sound so melancholy. I was caught up in a project of mine…I would've have heard you if you were La Kikyo herself." And he started his duties again.
Sango sighed to herself and then concentrated again on Miroku's shirt. She drew in her breath as she saw his graceful but masculine muscles expanding and contracting with every breath he took. Miroku took note of this and his breathing seemed to be increasingly speeding up as Sango's eyes raked his body. Miroku felt himself growing nervous. …Finally, he saw the shore! Thank goodness for the shore! He was the first to get out. Miroku then lifted Sango up bridal style and placed her feet back on the ground. Sango thanked him shyly. Miroku nodded and twirled his soaking cloak to the ground. Oh, how she loved that cloak twirl. It was enough to make a girl go weak in the knees.
Miroku went over to his desk. "So now that you've gotten all of your information," he picked up the rose whose petals he had plucked, "what do you plan to do with me now?" He walked over to her side and rested the flower in her hands. "Surely Kuronosuke must be wondering where you are?"
Sango looked at the rose, then back to him. "Kuronosuke doesn't know that I am gone."
Miroku laughed cruelly. "What a way to keep track of his woman!"
"I'm not his—"
"You accepted his kiss, did you not? On the roof if the Opera House. Personally, I thought it was a rather disgusting display, but to others— it must have been a romantic event!" Miroku mentally cursed himself. He had promised that he wouldn't be angry with her. He stalked over to the sofa and sat angrily on it as if he were a little boy who had just been given a time out.
Sango blinked. "You…you saw that?"
"Don't act so surprised."
Sango quickly fled to him and collapsed on the couch. He didn't look at her and she frown. Sango gazed down at her dress and replied, "I'm sorry."
"There is nothing to be sorry about."
'Then why do I feel so guilty?' Sango thought to herself.
Miroku studied her troubled expression and softened. Kuronosuke…it was Kuronosuke he was angry with! Miroku dung his fingers into the seat and hoisted himself up. He took a couple steps forward before turning to Sango and addressing her. "See that trunk over there? I want you to get it for me." He pointed his finger to a large ebony case that was tucked underneath his organ bench.
Sango immediately stood up, walked over and bent down in front of the box. There were two small, silver locks which she pressed on firmly with her fingertips. Sango heard something snap and suddenly she was able to swing the lid open. Inside there was a variety of ball-gown costumes. They were folded carefully as not to wrinkle the delicate fabric. Sango's breath caught in her throat. They were absolutely beautiful!
"You may try one on if you'd like." Miroku insisted, standing in back of her and eyeing a black dress in particular. Sango picked that one up, admiring it.
"That one is meant to be worn if you were doing to a costume party as the black domino… Sango, do you know that there is to be a masque ball in 6 months?"
Sango replied, "Yes, I had heard from the managers…they're a bit nervous about it." She then regretted saying that last part. Sango didn't want Miroku to inquire why, but he asked no further questions on the matter.
"I want you to go in that."
Sango looked at it and blushed. "It's black…" Sango realized that she'd have to elaborate more, for Miroku had a look of confusion in his eyes. "It's just not something I would wear. Black is a color of seduction and I… well its frown upon in my religion and—"
"Black is the color of music, Sango." Miroku laughed lightly. "My dear, you are everything that defines the word 'innocent'."
Sango somehow felt offended by that. Did she really appear that childish to him?
"Sango, if you don't feel comfortable with that dress, please, feel free to pick out another. I made all of them myself."
Sango gasped. She hadn't known Miroku was so artistic too! Miroku lifted the trunk and carried it into Sango's bedroom without effort. This gave her time to fully appreciate Miroku's drawing room. She noticed the art studio for the first time. Sango, flabbergasted, stumbled over her own feet and was caught by the fast agility of a suddenly appearing Miroku. She had never seen so much artwork of her in her life! It was flattering, yet slightly creepy…
"I put the costumes in your room." Miroku said, helping her stand. "Do you like them?"
Sango seemed to be in a daze. She stood in silence for a moment before finally figuring out what Miroku was asking about. "You're truly talented Miroku. Surely I'm not as beautiful as you make me appear to be." She quickly brushed past him and shyly made her way to her room.
"Sango, you are a seraph…"
Sango gave him a sweet smile and leaned her head on the mahogany door. "Do you work all day just to come up with these lovely compliments you give me?"
"It's my job." Miroku answered bashfully, staring down at his feet.
"Then don't ever retire from it…" Sango winked and closed the door, satisfied with the newfound expression on Miroku's face.
Sango searched through the dresses before coming to a package that was buried at the bottom. It was wrapped up in old, faded newspaper and tied with a thin black ribbon, similar to the ones on her roses. Sango carefully withdrew it from the trunk and began to untie the bow. Curiosity had once again won the battle in her mind. Sango drew back the paper and was stunned. There, before her eyes, was the most extravagant dress she had ever seen. Without thinking, Sango hurried to try it on and stood in front of a body-length mirror. She took the drape off of it and looked at herself in the glass.
The dress was white, made of satin and lace. It fitted Sango perfectly, just as though it had been tailored to her very measurements. The dress spread out around her like the delicate petals of a flower. It flowed gracefully behind Sango like a rippling stream of fine fabric. Miroku had exquisite taste and a wonderfully acute eye for detail. Sango wondered how many designs he had discarded before deciding on this particular gown. Perfection, always perfection . . . anything less would be considered worthless in Miroku's mind.
Sango returned to the drawing room in glee. She carefully closed the door, not wanting to disturb Miroku, for he had returned to his organ bench and was now furiously scribbling away at something that Sango thought was a new score. Hearing the soft click of the lock, Miroku turned slowly and stared at Sango. The piece that he'd been working on slid from his grasp and dispersed itself in loose sheets across the floor. Sango felt herself twitch as she saw the little color that Miroku possessed, drain from the visible part of his face. She then had the strong feeling that maybe she was not meant to be in this gown. Sango tried to head for the door in a feeble escape from the unbearable silence, but Miroku's voice made her freeze in mid-step.
"What are you doing in that?" Miroku was barely audible yet quite demanding.
Sango shuddered and replied hastily, "I…you…you said I had permission to try on any dress in the trunk. Am I incorrect? Miroku, I'll just change—"
"No. No, you are right. I did tell you that you can try on any clothing desired." He stood without word and ascended towards her. "Sango, what costume do you think this one is?" His voice wavered slightly and there was a hint of…anger flavoring it.
"I…I thought it was a swan, Miroku." Sango stepped back a foot, but Miroku only advanced on top of her.
He gave her a look that bored into her eyes. It would not be soon forgotten. Then Miroku turned his head and shouted, "Damn you, you ignorant child! Damn you for your infernal innocence!" What was meant to be a compliment before was now a harsh insult.
Startled, Sango fell to the floor. "What'd I…?"
"It is not a swan dress! If you'd had know what its real purpose was, I assure you Sango, you would not be wearing it!" Miroku watched her try to obscure her face behind her arm in both fear and shamefulness.
"I'm…I'm sorry…" Sango whispered wretchedly. Miroku felt his heart sink inside his chest. His burst of rage was uncalled for, he realized that now.
"Perhaps I should take you home…" He leant her a gloved hand for assistance. "I will help you across the lake, but I will go no further from there."
Sango sniffled, rubbed her eyes and nodded.
Kagome's eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for any sign of Kuronosuke. She scuffled into Sango's room and backed up against the door. Her eyes were skimming the room frantically.
It was then that Kagome noticed something strange.
There was a dark crack between the mirror and the wall. Kagome moved closer to investigate, and pushed the mirror further out.
It swung open as if on hinges.
Kagome's heart skipped a beat. 'It's a trap door,' she realized suddenly, 'So this is how Miroku and Sango stay in contact…'
Kagome looked into the passageway beyond and shivered. She couldn't go in there… she couldn't, but she had to. She stepped into the darkness, and her eyes quickly adjusted. Unlike Sango, she had no qualms about it being dark.
Something scrambled outside the room and Kagome fled back and shut the mirror in panic. She plopped on the bed and crossed her legs casually. To her immense relief, it was only Sango.
"Did you run into him?"
"Yes, he asked if you liked the flowers he had sent you." Kagome cleared her throat. "But…luckily, for the both of us…he had a meeting to go to with his brother. He said he'd come by later to give you some gift. What a nice guy, don'tcha think?" She chuckled nervously behind her hand.
Sango raised an eyebrow. "Yes…very nice."
Kagome shot up from the bed and placed an arm around Sango's shoulders. "Well good. Let's go to chorus lessons before Madame Kaede asks where we were." Kagome led Sango out of the room, asking her a question while doing so. "How'd you get back here, anyway?"
"Trap door, center stage." Sango confirmed.
"So there's more…" Kagome mumbled to herself.
"What was that, Kagome?"
"Oh…nothing."
Miroku gently placed the white dress on the mannequin of Sango and sighed in remorse. Adjusting the veil, he closed his eyes against several memories which threatened fresh tears.
A/N: Still sick, believe it or not. Curse my frail body! Anyway, I didn't even attempt to proof-read. I'm not even supposed to be on the computer.