AN: All the old chapters have been revamped or tweaked to fit the plot, which should be picking up. Canon divergence official.

Disclaimer: While this is beginning to diverge from canon, this chapter is still heavily influenced by canon events and dialogue. Therefore, I want to reiterate that I don't own Inuyasha or anything about it.

Chapter 5: Day 26

Inuyasha would not stop pestering her about the castle.

They were sitting on another hill top, overlooking a small valley. To the east, a wide river twisted its way down the valley, leading to a dense evergreen forest and a wide calm lake. To the south, a road descended into a small village. She remembered it. The distance between the rice paddies and the fields and the houses formed a sharp triangle of equal sides. She remembered pointing it out to Kohaku, who had quietly rolled his eyes even as he uttered respectively, 'yes, sister'.

She liked shapes, geometric ones, patterns that stood out starkly against the looser curves of nature. She had liked the road: a straight arrow through the sloping hills, leading directly to the sprawling estate of the Hitomi clan. Now, the road led…no where. There were no row upon row of red rooftops in the distance, no gleam of torches, no garden with blossoming fruit trees. Just an endless field of grass rippling to the line of the horizon, empty like her hopes.

"Where is it?" Inuyasha growled. He was staring at her, flexing his claws in agitation, but she only looked at that green field in silence and felt a cold seething inside. Her expression was blank but it was only the mask of a professional, and one that chaffed; she had the disjointed sense of wanting to tear something apart and knowing that she could not lose her temper here, in front of the others. She could not let them know how deep this cut.

"I don't know," she felt herself saying. The wind, which had kicked up in the last few hours, tore at her dark hair and the strands danced tauntingly in her field of vision as a spidery darkness.

"You don't seem to know anything, do you?" Inuyasha snapped.

Kagome stomped her foot. "Inuyasha," she hissed. For some reason, the girl felt responsible for curbing Inuyasha's wrath. Sango thought she shouldn't bother; usually, it was Kagome who ended up the most hurt for her attempt.

"We don't need more useless baggage," he sneered back, right on que. Kagome stiffened, her cheeks reddening, and the pitch of her voice was a little higher when she snapped back.

As the two started to argue, Sango easily tuned them out. Inuyasha's words stung, but it wasn't anything he hadn't already said or she hadn't already thought. She'd spent a week of sleepless nights sneaking out, avoiding Inuyasha's watch, tracking down the barest of leads her old contact had begrudgingly given her and still hitting dead end after dead end. A soldier that might have been a station guard—but no, his family hadn't seen him for months. A girl that might have been a maid—but no, she had never gone, after finding a suitable husband to marry. They all knew who their lord was, but for some reason, no one could not tell her how to find him.

Finally, she had thought she might have something. A merchant who yearly took the long road east during the summer months remembered stopping by the local lord's castle on a few occasions, when they could offer wares and entertainment. He remembered there had been a beautiful lake that his caravan could not drink from, as it was the home of a kami.

Sango had left that merchant in triumph. Then she'd spent another few days trying to casually convince the group to take this particular road without letting them see how convinced she was that they were getting closer. Without letting them see the eagerness growing in her like a fever, a disease.

Now there was only the impotency of her rage and the tremble in her fingers. Everything else—her vengeance, her peace, her father's grave, her brother's bones—were gone like they had never been.

She could only close her eyes as Miroku, standing beside her, said gently, "Perhaps we should stop looking for the castle."

The argument behind them cut off abruptly. Inuyasha kicked something, cursing. She heard Kagome retreat angrily to where Shippou curled in a nap on their packs. The wind picked up. She heard the almost melodic jingle of Miroku's staff next to her ear, his body breaking the wind and giving her reprieve, the occasional flick of his dark robe against her arm. She felt his eyes, gentle, on her face. "Is that okay with you?" he said quietly. "I know you want to find him as soon as possible, but…"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling the exhaustion of the week hit her. He was kind. She wanted to be grateful for that kindness, even if her body wanted to physically reject his words. "I understand. It is…" She searched for a word that wasn't agony. "…it is just annoying," she eventually added.

Silence fell over the group for awhile, until Inuyasha grunted the question everyone was thinking. "What now?"

Miroku sighed. "What else? Jewel shard hunting. By looking for them, we shall surely find Naraku."

This was true, Sango knew, but… She turned her eyes to the valley, lips pressed into a thin line. She couldn't help but feel that doing anything else besides search for that bastard was an elaborate waste of her time.

Away in the distance, she could see a train of villagers leave the town entrance, heading towards the large river. They were carrying some kind of pagoda. She wanted to ask them about the castle. Surely they would know something?

"Let us at least investigate the area," she said, turning away to move towards where she had lain Hiraikotsu. She ignored Miroku's sigh. What was a few more hours of search? What harm could it be?

Two hours later they had been contracted to kill a water god.

While the others were discussing details with the head villager's son, Sango found some cover between trees and pulled out her taijya suit. In the last few days, due to the unbearable heat and their uneventful travel down a heavily frequented road, she had forgone the clothing for the more breathable fabric of her yukata. It had been the first time since her family's death that she had allowed herself to stow it away, but now, feeling the fine cloth shift and ripple between her fingers, she felt a stab of anxiety. It felt almost of a betrayal, in a way, to wear the clothe of her village and waste its protection on anything other then vengeance.

But her father would have helped. He would have taken the time to help those in need, even in the middle of a contracted clean up. The thought sustained her as she dragged the suit over her legs and arms and the aching flesh of her back.

Unfortunately, it all went down hill after confronting the god. They hadn't factored in that a holy weapon could shut down Tetsusaiga so completely. Worst of all, Inuyasha was a menace. He couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life, and before any of them knew it, they were drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake.

Sango had never been afraid of water, but when she opened her eyes to see the shrine on its stilts high above her head, she…panicked. She felt Hiraikotsu drag her down into the black depths of the lake and it felt too similar to that terrifying moment she'd woken to being buried alive. She thrashed wildly, trying to kill her impulse to cry out.

Light caught her eye, and she strained toward it, kicking helplessly. There was Inuyasha, silver hair gleaming like a moon in the dark water. He was looking around wildly. There was Miroku, clutching for floating reeds. There was Kagome and the child, fighting against the whirlpool tide. But no one noticed her, sinking like a dead weight and she almost screamed—then amber eyes found her. She was grateful, even when they widened, even when he lunged—

Something hit her in the center of her back and then there was darkness.

She had propped herself in front of the door to her room, and she wasn't moving no matter what the maids said. It was tiring looking only at the ceiling or floor without even a window to peer through. There were no wall hangings or fixtures save a small, old table with a bowl of water with which they washed her wounds, and she'd rather throw it at a wall then stare at it for hours.

Perhaps she would have been more comfortable if she didn't feel like she was being watched. Even with the doors closed, the latches shut, even on the days when the maid didn't sleep nearby to keep watch, she could not escape the feeling that there was something in this room. And that it was waiting for her to finally see it.

So she had propped herself against one of the sliding doors to the inner garden, because the agony of dragging herself inch by inch across the hard floor was worth the open cold air on her face. The view was also nice. There was a little pond a few steps away. At night it glowed like a well of silver, its smooth surface disturbed occasionally by questing koi fish. In the morning, she could watch the birds sing their daily chorus as they pecked at the ground for seeds.

A flash of purple caught Sango's eye before she turned her head to contemplate the trees. The lord of this castle spent a surprising amount of time in this garden. He would come in from the south gate, walk the perimeter, feed crumbs to the koi in his pond, and recline against a stone perch to watch the sunrise.

She heard the maids whisper and got the feeling he was rather sickly, something she had newfound sympathy for. Sometimes she would catch herself watching him, usually on those particularly bad days when she couldn't pretend her body was fine and she needed a distraction. But mostly she minded her own business. She knew what it was like to want to be alone.

Her gaze was drawn to a small sparrow perched on a tree branch, dipping his beak into one of the many blossoms in search for bugs. The delicacy of its feet and wings made her wistful. She wished she had a talent for inks and paints. She wanted to commit to memory the shape and color of this yard, the smell of bread rising, the sound of the grass and leaves muttering in the wind.

She didn't know when exactly she fell asleep. It wasn't real sleep, because she still felt the throbbing in her body, a pulsing cage. But she had dozed, wandering into a dark place and found a door. She hesitated on its threshold, wondering if she dare enter its dark depths, afraid of what she would find.

Distantly, she heard footfalls, steady like a heart beat. A shadow cast over her face. A body, crouching beside her. Someone's long hair brushed against her arm. And then a finger, large and calloused, touched the skin of her hand. Alarmed, she struggled to consciousness, but found the darkness clung to her like sticky cobs. She could hardly move—the barest flutter of her lashes.

She felt that finger trail up her arm, then curl lightly around a strand of her hair.

"Wake up, little bird," he whispered.

Sango woke up to Inuyasha's amber eyes as he breathed air into her mouth.

Her mind went into shock but her body reacted on instinct. Her hand flew up but Inuyasha reared back in a flash and she felt only the tips of his bangs on her finger tips. By the time she had struggled into a sitting position, he had retreated a good distance away, crouched on all fours and glaring.

She opened her mouth…and found herself turning on all fours, heaving and choking as her lungs expelled all the water she had swallowed, and then all the contents of her stomach. Her mind spun with panic and pain, her arms shook trying to hold her up, and unbidden tears streaked down her face. Distantly, she felt hands pull her hair away from her face as she heaved.

Eventually, the gasps she pulled in felt like air. She almost fell into her own filth, but hands caught her shoulders, pulling her away and she clutched at them, tucking her head into the corner made by her shoulder and his wrist and just breathed. No water, no dirt, no grave and silence, just the sound of her lungs and Inuyasha's heartbeat through the thin skin of his wrist on her forehead.

If it had been Miroku, he would have said something comforting. It's all right, everything's going to be fine, you're safe now. Inuyasha said nothing, and eventually she realized that he was no longer really holding her up; she was clutching him. She let him go abruptly, a hand fisting in the dirt, and watched as he dropped his arms and sat back.

They sat in silence for a moment.

When Inuyasha continued to stare at her, she felt heat rush into her face and tried not to cringe. She felt embarrassed… More embarrassed about that pitiful display she had made then anything he had done trying to save her life. She looked up hesitantly, caught Inuyasha's wary stare. But when he opened his mouth, ears flat against the top of his wet hair, she interrupted him with, "are the others okay?"

He frowned. Then, "I'm not sure—"

He cut himself off and whirled around. Sango tensed, hand going to the blade in her sleeve and peered over his shoulder.

Miroku's body was floating towards them. No, it was being…pushed towards them. By fish.

Much later, after they had restored the real water god and battled with the false one, Sango would still remember that conversation with the kami servants. Not because of the content, but because of the way Inuyasha had stood slowly to his feet afterward, his face black with his rage.

She didn't know why anger made him look so beautiful and terrifying.

"We should rescue the real god…" Miroku had started to say.

"Fuck the gods," Inuyasha burst out. "And fuck that bastard. I don't care if he's got a holy weapon. I don't need Tetsusaiga to rip his fucking heart out." And then, without any real plan and the all too real possibility of losing, the fool had strode away to the shrine to rescue Kagome.

And Sango had stared at his back, knowing what she should do, knowing what only a fool would do, but with the creeping sensation that something had changed. Maybe it had been the dream. Some of it had been memory but she wasn't sure which parts were real anymore and it had frightened her more than she wanted to admit. Her life was a fragmented mess and spinning more and more out of her control.

But even if they didn't have a plan…hadn't she promised herself she wouldn't be afraid? Inuyasha didn't hesitate. And if he refused to bend, then why should she?

When she touched Miroku's shoulder briefly, he merely sighed and shook his head. "Go on. Keep him alive till I get back," he said wryly.

Nodding, she picked up Hiraikotsu and followed after the hanyou. It felt a little like walking willingly to her own death and her heart pounded in her chest.

But they did win. And she did keep him alive. Barely.