DISCLAIMER: I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters. The story and art is property of the great Rumiko Takahashi. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes only, and in no way will be used for my betterment. I wrote this because I admire the owner's work and wish to daydream about the characters.

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YOU MAKE ME BREATH

Chapter 3: Broken

Sango wanted to break down and cry. Her emotions were bubbling just too close to the surface to ignore, and the pain was too deep to keep inside of her. But try as she might, Sango could not squeeze a single salty tear out of her eyes. For so long she'd bash her feelings down, treating them like the youkai that she slayed. There were only a few occasions that she would allow herself to cry, and those times were always because she'd been unable to fight the tears. But this was just so all enfolding that Sango basicly was in shell shock.

A thick hard ball settled in the middle of her throat, moving neither up or down when she swallowed. Since she had woken up Sango had felt unsteady. Everything had been taking a step into the vastness of space, praying that there'd be something there to catch her foot.

Right now Sango didn't need the truth. The truth was all too real and obvious. It threatened to drag her down to the darkest depths. She needed somebody to laugh and say that it would turn out alright, that this was just a small moment of sorrow, even if they knew it wouldn't.

That's what the monk was for. Miroku had a way of falsifying reality so that his lies and cons seemed...right. Even with a curse which guaranteed an early grave for him, Miroku always had a smile on his face. It could fool anyone.

Gingerly she stretched her fingers to his face, afraid of what might, or might not happen. Don't be so ridiculous, she chided herself, it's not as if I haven't seen a corpse before.

His porous skin was smooth beneath her fingers, and the curve of his jawline so predominate. But she couldn't tell if it was her skin that was cold and clammy, or his. Either way the sensation wasn't a pleasant one. It felt like stroking a fish. Sango put a slight pressure on his throat, trying to find a pulse, but if there was one, her dead fingers couldn't reach it. Her hand wandered back to his face to brush the bangs out of the way. Silently she sat there looking at this lecherous monk that had fought beside her many times. The one that never failed to turn her cheeks red in anger or embaressment by letting his hand wander over her whenever they had a nice moment together. Could he really be gone?

Finally she couldn't bear the pain any longer. Sango turned her head away, hand retracting.

And there it was suddenly. The slightest warm buzzing on her bare white knuckles. It tickled her in the most pleasant way imaginable. It was breath. It was life!

Her head snapped back in time to see him opening his violet iris slowly and heavily, as if he had just been woken up from a thick sleep. Miroku's jaw moved slightly in a sleepy chewing like motion. Seeing Sango sitting over him brought a warm smile to his face, "Sango, you're awake". He began to pull himself up into a sitting position, but his left arm collapsed from underneath him when hardly any pressure was placed on it. A pained expression came to his face as he clutched his side with his cursed hand.

"Mou!" he exclaimed softly, sending a new ripple of pain throughout his body.

"Daijoubu ka Houshi-sama?"

Miroku acted as if he didn't hear her question. He was busy staring intently at his left arm, trying to get his fingers to wiggle. They wouldn't. Then he tried a few deep breaths and almost blacked out thanks to the white hot flash of pain it brought.

"Iie..I think my arm has been broken, and I have to breath shallow...and you?" he asked in a whisper.