AN: The older chapter 8 has been changed and officially split into two chapters. If you'd read the fic before, start with chapter 8, as it has almost entirely new content now. Chapter 9 will have some familiar scenes.
Chapter 8: Day 39
The eyes that suddenly turned on her were bright yellow and slitted. "Taijya," the hiss was venomous, followed by the sound of an ominous creak.
"Sango!" Miroku yelled. He didn't need to say more; she threw herself and Hiraikotsu to the left. She felt the shadow of the boulder thrown at her as a momentarily cool relief against the blazing sun before it tumbled and skidded with an earth shattering crunch against a copse of trees. She didn't want to know how close it had come to skinning her head.
She hit the ground, rolling to her knees as Hiraikotsu thumped heavily beside her. Feeling exposed, she leaned over and jerked it up as a shield between her and her enemy just as Kirara landed beside her, snarling. A warning whistle filled the air. The two exchanged a quick look, then both vaulted in opposite directions as another boulder smashed the ground where they had stood.
She ran, sliding Hiraikotsu onto her back, then made a leap for a high branch. As she swung up into a nearby tree branch, Hiraikotsu's strap digging sharply along her collarbone, she allowed herself to breathe in the moment; adrenaline pumping heady in her arteries, sweat speckled along her body, every bruise and scrape buzzing faintly in the tantalizing sting of being alive.
She jumped from tree branch to tree branch, hearing more than seeing the sound of the youkai in hot pursuit as it thundered in the brush below. That was interesting; she hadn't done much other than toss a smoke bomb at it from afar, and yet despite Inuyasha's incessant hacking at it the creature had turned its focus on her.
She couldn't stop her teeth splitting into a fierce parody of a smile. She'd been doing nothing but hunt rumors and brood restlessly for days before Miroku had called her in to help deal with a local youkai problem. She'd come flying.
Tree cover was as much a disadvantage for her as for the youkai, so she began to increase her elevation. When she landed on a thick, sturdy branch close to the top, she coiled the muscles in her thighs and leapt with both feet into the air, clearing the tree tops.
She took in the landscape in one breathless moment; green, expanding like an endless ocean to the roots of the blue mountains in the distance. With her arms spread, the wind twisting her hair in her face, and the world in sudden quiet suspension, she felt full and free and herself.
She wanted to laugh in the face of the open, blue sky.
It had always been like this for Sango. On the day to day, even with other taijya, she had been strict, direct. She had never felt comfortable, wading through the murky landscape of societal expectations and complex social relationships, brandishing formality like a weapon against the lying smiles and the half truths of the enemies that sometimes one had to pretend where allies or friends.
But a battlefield was different. The ultimate cleanser. To struggle with death was to raze all delusions and facades, revealing only who one really was, what one was really made of. And for Sango, it became very simple. There were the winners and there were the rest. Let the elders determine what causes were just and what the battles were actually for— only the victors decided what was right and wrong in the end.
Sango had a duty to win. And she had always been diligent in her duty.
She caught a flash of silver in her periphery, and looked. There was Inuyasha, having also jumped into the air, now suspended in the moment with her. She couldn't decide what expression he was wearing: distrustful, contemplative, curious.
The sight of him stirred an old competitive fire inside her, a reckless impulse that she seized with both hands. She felt wonderful and light in a way she hadn't in a long time.
"This one's mine," she called out, grinning, and he only looked surprised. Maybe because she had never smiled at him before or because she hadn't actually spoken to him in days. But she didn't wait for his response. She had reached the zenith of her jump and was now hurtling towards the tree tops. The sound of the youkai roared behind her.
She flexed her back muscles. Could she do it?
Yes.
She pulled Hiraikotsu in a sinuous twist off her back as she fell through gaps in the upper layer of the trees. Branches flashed by her, tugging her clothes and hair, one scratching against her bandaged cheek, and then the youkai was below her, having caught up to her. It was already reaching towards her, yellow eyes gleaming, its fanged mouth open in a roar.
She fixed her hands on the straps of one end of her weapon and raised both arms. She locked eyes with the creature, but its ferocity was completely eclipsed by the surety that filled her bones.
She swung with her entire body in a vertical slash.
Hiraikotsu cut through the air like a blade. There was a thunk and hiss and then she was falling through its body, warm, hot liquid spraying in her face. She felt Hiraikotsu lodge somewhere—likely the rib cage—and instinctively let go, kicking at the chest of the creature with both feet. Her kick sent her and the body shooting in opposite directions. She flipped backwards once, then landed on her feet facing forward, boots skidding in the dust and a hand on her blade.
She needn't have bothered. She'd severed the creature half down to the chest. She straightened, watching as its body swayed then fell with a thud.
Her back stung fiercely, but it had not ripped. She had done it.
She was still breathing heavily, when Inuyasha landed a few meters from her. She turned to look at him, light-headed with a quiet savage joy. She knew it was the battle high, the adrenaline rush. Yet she still couldn't stop the confident, challenging look she threw at him.
She saw him suck in a breath. His eyes travelled her slowly from feet to hips to heaving chest, taking in her stance, her hand on her hilt, the blood that steamed a little against her skin. When his eyes met hers, almost unwilling, she found herself fascinated by the way his pupils were slightly dilated, his jaw clenching. Like he was struggling with himself. To not respond to her challenge. To mirror back to her whatever was in her eyes.
"Told you," she panted, just to see his eyes practically smolder behind those silver lashes before he pointedly turned away from her to wait for their companions.
Day 40
"I'm telling you," Inuyasha growled. "That thing was after her."
Miroku sighed over his tea cup. "Inuyasha," he began patiently as beside him Kagome rolled her eyes, "your jealousy is showing."
"I'm not jealous," he snapped back. "Kagome was just as far back as she was. She has a bottle of jewel shards. The thing didn't even look at her, even when she scorched its back with arrows. It wanted Sango." His eyes narrowed on her, like she was somehow responsible.
Sango found herself nodding slowly. "I think so too."
He blinked at her. Actually, all of them blinked at her. Shippou leaned towards Kagome, eyes wide and voice lowered in a whisper.
"Did they just…agree on something?"
Sango ignored him. Inuyasha did not. With a furious scowl, he reached over the table to slap the kid over the head, but Shippou scampered away with a squeak then stuck his tongue out at the hanyou.
"I'm curious as to why you think so, Sango," Miroku said seriously, though the glint in his eyes was parts curious and amused.
Sango sipped her tea. "It recognized me as a taijya," she said finally. "Though that may not mean much. Perhaps the reputation of the taijya has spread even to these parts." Her smile turned sharp.
Inuyasha, who was still having a glaring contest with Shippou, shot a look at her then. She raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. "What else could it be?"
He grunted, eyes narrowed, but remained silent. She had a sneaking suspicion he'd been about to say something that would irritate her, like "you wouldn't understand." She'd kick him if he said it. At least he was learning.
At least they were talking. Somehow, the last battle had loosened Inuyasha's tongue and he was no longer avoiding her like she was a disease. He still was directing most of his sentences to her through others—case in point, his comment to Miroku—but she didn't care. She didn't need them getting along, but cooperation was nice. At least it made Kagome look less worried.
Miroku cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, the youkai is dead and we have fuller purses for it." He patted his robe, his expression clearly pleased. "I, for one, am going to enjoy a well cooked meal and a nice futon tonight."
His eyes drifted to the left, where an open space was clearly used for entertainment purposes. Sometimes, the bigger inns set up musical instruments. Or had ladies dance.
Kagome snickered knowingly. "Is that all?"
Miroku's smile, Sango was reminded abruptly, was as deadly as his skills on the battlefield. It had been a grave mistake of the gods to make this man attractive, since he clearly knew how to wield it. When he turned that smile on Kagome, even Sango felt an echo of its effect from across the table. "And your beautiful company, of course."
To her credit, the girl only flushed slightly, a faint color in her neck. "You're incorrigible," she muttered, ducking her head into her lap.
What came next was odd. Sango caught the look on Miroku's face as he stiffened suddenly, smile fading into blankness. He was staring at the girls bowed head like he was regretting something. Then his eyes flickered up, noticing Sango's gaze, and his lips twisted slightly and he looked away. He brought a hand to his forehead, a small discrete sigh, saying nothing.
Well. Sango blinked, then shot a look at Inuyasha. Usually, it was the hanyou, not the monk himself, that was stepping in to correct Miroku's impulsive flirtations before they got started. Instead, she caught a strange expression on Inuyasha's face—lowered brows, lashes half obscuring his gaze, the slightest downward twist to his mouth. She had no idea what to make of it.
Then his gaze flicked to her and she breathed in sharply at the intensity of...whatever it was, and then he was standing abruptly, muttering about checking the perimeter, and stalking out.
Odd, she thought, watching his back, then turning careful eyes back to her companions, who had descended into uneasy silence.
Much to the monk's simultaneous chagrin and delight, the inn had no scheduled entertainment performances but had plenty and plenty of sake. This he took to with professional abandon. There was no cease in refills, each time a slightly more sozzled Miroku raising his glass in toast, until eventually Sango realized Miroku seemed to plan on drinking for the rest of the night.
She and an annoyed Inuyasha where forced to drag Miroku to their room between the two of them, Kagome trailing after them, a little pink cheeked and giggly herself from a few sips before Sango had snatched the cup away from her.
Sango slipped out from under the monk's arm as Inuyasha took over at the door's threshold of the two men's shared room. She watched them, wincing only a little in sympathy, as the hanyou deposited the monk none to nicely on the futon in the middle, which Miroku took with beatific drunken grace and good humor.
After an hour later, in which Sango had washed up and soaked alone—Kagome had declined to join her—Sango found herself pulling on her boots and a training uniform, leaving the room to find a quiet spot to do some stretches. It was always easier to think—ponder the strange turn of events of the night—when she was doing something with her hands.
Down the length of the building that Sango walked, one of the shoji doors to a room was open. The faint glow of candle light filtered out, leaching onto the wood floor. Her steps slowed as she approached, then stopped completely when she realized that it was the monk's room.
Worried at the sight, Sango took a silent step forward and peered inside.
From her vantage point, she had view of the entire room and it was easy to spot the two occupants in it. Miroku was still laying on his back, eyes closed. Near his head, Kagome kneeled beside him. At this angle, Sango could only see her profile. She was humming a little, bobbing slightly to her own tune, her eyes on the ceiling. One of her hands was running gentle fingers through his hair.
Sango hesitated. There was nothing indecent about the scene. In fact it was sweet in a way that reminded her with a sharp pang of how a mother might touch a child, a sister might comfort a brother. She saw Miroku's eyes crack open, blinking with a certain level of confusion like he didn't know where he was.
Kagome darted a glance down at him, smiling a little, still humming.
Sango saw Miroku shift. He lifted an arm that swayed a little as he fumbled for Kagome's wrist. When his fingers finally found her skin, he sighed, a whisper Sango couldn't hear from this distance but which made the girl suddenly still, wide-eyed.
Then he brought her hand to him and kissed her chastely on the palm.
Kagome jumped out of her skin, face immediately flushing, and drew her hand away. But Miroku didn't seemed perturbed. In fact, he didn't look like he'd realized what he'd done. He merely murmured, hand dropping on his chest, and then he closed his eyes, dozing into light sleep.
The look on Kagome's face, the way she clenched the hand that he had kissed, made Sango whirl away from the door sharply before she was noticed. She pressed herself to the wall, staring into the garden, heart pounding in her chest. Frustration, confusion, hurt. And the tiniest bit—longing. It had been a look never meant for others to see.
Which is why it took Sango almost a minute to realize what she was seeing in front of her.
Inuyasha was standing in the garden too, bathed almost entirely in shadow. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking into the room. He didn't look surprised. In fact he looked completely unreadable again, and yet there was something about it that reminded Sango of a kettle about to boil over. Like it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge.
His eyes flicked to her, a dark amber, and there rising above all the unnameable things swimming there, was a flash of anger at her for being there. She tensed, a chill going down her spine.
His eyes cut away from her abruptly. He gave one last look into the room, then he blurred and was gone, only a silver shadow disappearing into the tree line.
She didn't know why she followed him. She simply found herself vaulting off the porch and landing on her feet in a silent crouch. She left the open shoji door behind and followed the path Inuyasha took to what looked like a deer trail deep into the wood.
It ended in a small clearing. To her surprise, Inuyasha was sitting cross-legged on the ground in the middle of it, eyes closed. He looked almost meditative, his hair rustling in the wind. One of the ears on his head flicked once in her direction, then slowly resumed its normal position.
When he opened his eyes, his irises small against the slit pupils, the alien coldness in them made her suppress a shiver.
"What," he bit out.
Sango shifted her weight from leg to leg, not sure how to answer him when she didn't know herself. Then she looked around the clearing. It was a decent enough size, and save for a few large dead branches, almost completely clear. She pulled a ribbon from the folds of her uniform, bending over to let her hair fall straight over her shoulders. She tied it high on her head in a sturdy knot, then flipped her hair back from her face.
Inuyasha's expression had lost some of its coldness, though it was still guarded. Mostly, he looked mystified by her response.
She glanced at him, then walked over to one of the large branches mouldering under a pile of leaves. She grasped the base of it, tugging it up to uncover brown moist earth and a few worms. With a grunt she tossed it high in the air towards the perimeter and it hit the ground with a solid thunk, the rotted wood cracking a little down the spine.
She dusted the dirt off her hands, then threw a glance at Inuyasha. "Up for a spar?"
His eyebrows raised completely into his hairline. "What?"
She shrugged. "I was coming out her to practice some forms anyway. If you're up for it." At his silence, she added, "You don't have to."
He shot her an annoyed look, but he still seemed to hesitate. She let him mull it over as she moved to another large branch, which she dragged with one hand to the edge of the clearing. By the time a nice, sizable flat space had been cleared to her satisfaction, Inuyasha had stood warily to his feet.
Sango took that as a yes. She blew through a series of stretches for her calves, thighs, arms, chest, stretching her neck out and flexing her fists. Inuyasha just watched her with interest, making her feel self conscious, but it was the height of stupidity to not warm up her muscles before physical exertion. Maybe hanyous didn't have to worry about pulling a muscle or post-work out aches, but she wasn't going to skip out and risk doing so just because he didn't need to.
She dropped her arms, fingers tingling. "Okay, some ground rules."
His eyebrows ticked up. "There are no rules in fighting."
"We're not fighting," she retorted. "We are sparring. In a spar, the point is to test each others technique, not to pummel each other into the ground." At least mostly.
He frowned. "Whats the point in holding back?"
This was going to be harder than she thought. She sighed. "Fine. Just…try not to break me, yes?"
He looked as if that hadn't clarified anything at all, which instantly annoyed her. Stupid youkai with their stupid inhuman strength. Everything was brute strength with them, no finesse, no art.
"Humor me," she deadpanned, switching into a fighting stance. She started to bounce on the balls of her feet, beckoning him with a hand.
He tensed a little at her form, eyes narrowed. He must have been remembering the last time she had used it on him, because he didn't just charge at her, but approached slowly, ears tightly trained on her and muscles tense.
When he got into striking distance, she moved. A quick lightning jab to the right side of his face. He blocked it easily with a raised arm. She did it again, but this time turning it to a feint and switching to her other arm. This one, he didn't bother trying to block it. She hit him hard in the chest, although he didn't respond more beyond a flicker of his eyes down to her hand. He looked bemused.
She pulled back, rolling her eyes. "One for me."
He started, eyes widening. "What? That was a weak hit."
She crouched, bringing her fists to her face. "It's not about the strengths of the hits. It's if you can land them at all." She grinned a little. "Now you try. And please, human speeds."
He grunted. Then he settled into a crouch, face serious, and she immediately had to duck as his arm swung towards her.
They traded blows, moving back and forth fluidly between attack and defense. He didn't have any particular technique, but he seemed to systematically leave gaps in his defenses, maybe to draw opponents in. He let strikes through if he thought he could use them to his advantage, even if he sustained injury in the process. And he was instinctual in a way that made her almost envious, twisting his body in ways that surprised her, using his legs to kick at her just when she was starting to predict his moves.
He was an intelligent fighter who basically fought like a youkai that could regenerate most wounds and used the ability as an advantage in a fight. As they continued trading blows, the power behind their swings incrementally increasing, she could tell he was also a quick study. He made her work for it.
But she was still better then him. And his instinct to let certain strikes through his defenses kept working to her advantage, once she'd figured out which ones he let slide. With every successful hit she landed, he started to snarl, struggling to correct himself. And with every inevitable return to his instincts, she tried not to gloat. Finally, when she snuck under his guard to land a glancing blow against his rib cage, their eyes snapped to each other, his almost seething, and she couldn't help but grin, "Twenty two."
His eyes flashed. "This is fucking stupid," he snapped, startling her, and then he took a large stride forward and his arm flashed, going for her wrist. Sango threw herself back just in time, feeling his claws lightly graze the skin of her arm, her hair whiplashing her face. But he pursued after her immediately, fingers splayed open to grip, and she knew that if he caught her, it would be all over.
The game changed.
Her abrupt pull back sent her sprawling to her back and she scrambled to catch herself with her arms, drawing her legs away from his lunge. She threw a handful of foliage at him, chunks of leaves and dirt arcing between them, but it was a brief distraction at best. His eyes chased hers in the dark, molten gold, the eyes of a predator, and her heart exploded in her chest, instinct overriding common sense.
She lashed out with all her considerable strength and kicked him hard in the knee.
He buckled immediately, figure careening to the side, but he hadn't flinched even a moment at the pain and before she could draw back and scramble to her feet, his hand closed on her ankle like a vice grip. She grappled for purchase in the ground, throwing all her arm strength into pulling herself away, but he simply dragged her by her leg across the grass towards him with terrifying strength.
Simple, complete resolution burned in his eyes.
Miroku's words came back to her. He does not know how far to take something, doesn't know when or even how to stop.
Terror shot through her, then a wave of fury so intense the world frayed a little around the edges.
"Concede," Inuyasha said above her, breathless, and she hissed at him.
She tried to kick him with her free leg. He let go of her ankle and grabbed her hip instead, dragging her under him and settling his weight onto her before she could wedge her knee between them to push. She bucked up at him in outrage, and watched as his slitted pupil spasmed, the grip on her hip flexing.
"Concede," he said again, his voice tighter.
"You cheater," she spat instead, grabbing at his collar to try and wrench him into a choke hold. She bucked beneath him again, and he fell to an elbow, grunting. "You filthy fucking cheater—"
He clenched his jaw at her words, a shiver working down his body. Like he was trying to reign in whatever response he wanted to give. There was something odd happening at the corner of his eye, like a blood vessel had popped and was starting to bleed over. "Sango," he hissed in warning. "Stop fighting—"
"You couldn't take that I might be better at something then you?" she seethed, so furious that she'd clearly lost her mind. "Give me a weapon, I dare you. I could gut you—"
He shuddered again, then suddenly drew up from her, trying to put distance between their chests, though he still pinned her to the ground. "Shut up—"
She reared up to follow him, teeth snapping. "I do not concede. I will never concede to you—"
She was cut off when a hand suddenly clamped the back of her head.
"Fine," he suddenly hissed, and she only had a second to notice that his eyes were completely red at the edges before his fingers buried in the back of her hair and jerked. She gasped, as her head fell back, column of her throat entirely exposed, and then stilled when she felt the heat of his breath along her collarbone, his nose tracing the pulse point in her throat. He breathed, deep, and then..
"You are pushing all my fucking buttons," he growled, so guttural that it sent heat like a shot down her spine. "I will get off you. Just stop. Talking."
She fell silent, panting, staring at the night sky above them. The pinpoints of his body on hers were suddenly all she could feel. His hands on her neck, the back of her hip; his leg beneath her straddled legs, grinding into the ground beneath them. The brush of his haori against the front of her shirt as he breathed hard against her neck. With each awareness of their touch came a jolt of heat down her spine, and she tried vainly to push it down, a shudder working between her shoulder blades—
Her scent must have changed, because his breath stuttered. "Fuck." Then he was letting her go, breathing out as he pushed back on to his heels, and she fell to her elbows with a gasp, looking up at him.
His eyes glowed red. Starbursts of color that swallowed his iris and the white viscera of his eye. All that was left were the faintest traces of white at the center and the completely blown pupils, which began to contract slightly the longer she stared.
In the moonlight, he looked ethereal and wild. The very picture of a full-bloodied demon about to devour her. She should be afraid. Not suddenly breathless.
His jaw worked, like he wanted to say something, but language failed him. He didn't need to say anything though.
Go.
He didn't move an inch, just stared at her as she scooted back from him, then scrambled to her feet. She backed away slowly, unable to put her back to him, until she reached the edge of the clearing, then whirled around and broke into a run.
She felt his eyes burning into her skin long after she had retreated to her room and shut the door.