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.

He's ok? Alright if you wish to see things that way...I realize that I forgot to give definitions last time, so here I go real quick for you all!

Mou-expression of frustration...also a really really fun card game

Daijoubu ka?-are you ok?

Iie-no

nreep!

YOU MAKE ME BREATH

Chapter 4: Gash

"My head is killing me, and I'm tired, but other then that I feel fine. Much better now that you're awake." Sango said inching back a bit. Miroku attempted getting up again, only this time slower and careful of his left arm. She felt so relived that he was more or less fine. At least she wouldn't have to explain his death to Kagome and Inuyasha, if they ever found their way back to them. Her brown hair cascaded down in front of her face, and she looked at herself for the first time.

Sango was in her youkai slayer suit which suggested that before she wound up in the cave, there had been a fight. Parts of her armor were missing, mainly her shoulder pads. Oddly enough her katana was still at her side, but the sheath for it was nowhere to be seen. Instead of being clothed in black, she looked to be wearing brown due to the mud. A few scrapped up bit of skin were exposed the same way that Miroku was, but the damage was minor. Her hair tie was obviously washed away.

The same old perverted smirk crept onto Miroku's face. "It's so nice to know that you care Sango..." he started, but stopped at the death glare she gave him. Miroku coughed up some phlegm for a bit, sounding like he was clearing his throat. When he could breath again he looked closely at her face holding one cheek in his right hand. Sango blushed and pulled it back. "I'll control myself. I promise."

His words rung true with sincerity and seriousness. Sango let his hand touch her again.

Miroku's hand wandered about her head, pressing gently on the back of her skull as he worked his way forwards. When he got back to her face he delicately brushed her bangs out of the way.

"Sango have you fallen asleep since we got here?"

"I don't remember being awake. Why?"

His eyes stayed fixated on her forehead, near the right temple. He barely brushed against the spot with the very tips of his fingers and the pain was unbelievable. The throbing intensified and her stomach churned again.

"Come a little closer to the light...Have you had problems focusing your eye sight?"

Sango did as he requested, nodding her head in the affirmative, afraid that the pain would increase if she opened her mouth in speech. What was the monk up to?

"Close your eyes for a second or two then open them up again."

Again Sango did what Miroku wanted of her. When she opened her eyes up again there was worry on Miroku's face. He glanced around trying to find something that would be of use to him, and settled on ripping the sleeve of his robe with his teeth.

She glanced about quickly, spying a nearby pool of water. Curious as to what had him so concerned she leaned in to get a good look at herself.

She was reminded of a time when she saw a rift between two small cliffs. It had been deep and rough, curving this way and that like a snake. Only this time the rift was made of flesh and blood instead of dirt and clay. There was a long gash in her forehead that ran sideways. The color was putrid. Brown and red with flecks of green. Sango continued to stare at the gash wondering why it was so...familiar. Then she realized that it was on her.