Chapter 18: Day 94
She had been looking for a distraction. It was still a really bad idea.
Sango hit her shoulder on a slightly protruding plank of wood as she turned the corner of the building. She hissed, but didn't dare put down the ceramic jug she was carrying for fear she would accidentally drop and break it. As it was, if the owner or any of the guests of this inn happened upon her, they would be scandalized to find her stumbling around in the dark in a hastily drawn jacket and thin yukata, hair still damp from a bath and cheeks pinked from too much sake.
Gritting her teeth, Sango soldiered on through the grass. His room wasn't far. At least she didn't think it was. It better not be.
Drink, the lady of the house had said, face gleaming with adoration. This is our finest selection, saved for special occasions. What is more special than the liberation of our village? Drink!
It had been a bad idea. Flattery and social graces had gotten the better of her. What had she been thinking?
By the time they had packed up the salvageable demon remains and returned to the village, the sun had already started to set. The shard at her hip had been on her mind constantly—enough that at some point, Inuyasha had snapped at her to pay attention when she'd nearly stepped into a pot hole on the road. After that she'd tried to focus on her future plans for repairs to Hiraikotsu, and then the details of their surroundings. The trees, some of their branches bare with the coming cold season. The warm presence of Kirara at her side. The long rip on the back of Inuyasha's haori that slowly closed as they walked—he was a lucky bastard to have clothes that could magically repair themselves.
And there, the shard at her hip. If she didn't know better, it felt like a dark spot, a physical presence on her senses…
For their services, they were given dinner and two rooms to stay the night at the local inn free of charge. Inuyasha had grumbled, clearly wanting to push on back to the Taijya village, but Sango had been tired, covered in blood, and in need of company to distract her. She'd accepted before he could protest further and thus, Sango had been immediately whisked away to be pampered and fawned over, leaving Inuyasha to stare daggers at her back.
She hadn't expected an overeager inn keeper and his wife to ply her with drink though, nor for them to thrust a jug of sake into her hand to share with her companion. A practically unthinkable thing to give a young woman, but as Sango had learned long ago, once she was recognized as a taijya, and more particularly once they heard her name, most people seemed to forget she was a woman working in a man's profession.
She'd stared at the sake which was simply too big to take with them and half despaired. She expected to find Inuyasha had gone off to sleep in a tree out of spite rather than use the room the inn had provided him. But the servants had told her the white haired man had indeed used the baths and retired to his rooms, and so here she was, hoping that he was still there and could take this ridiculous gift off her hands. A hanyou's constitution had to be better than hers, at any rate.
When she at last found his room—a room situated at the farthest end of the western wing of the inn—she was relieved to see him sitting moodily in the middle of it, staring at the lone candle on the low table. He'd shucked his haori off for once, and she could see the shadow of his torso underneath his white hakama, the beads of the prayer necklace a dark band against his chest.
He must have heard her approaching because he was already glaring at her when she peeked her head in over the window sill. Unconsciously, she found herself pressing the cool wood of the frame against her warm cheeks.
"What," He barked.
She paused, then lugged the large ceramic jug onto the window edge.
"Sake. The spoils of our victory," she said, but when his eyebrows raised into his hairline, she flushed. "The inn keeper gave this to me. Don't make me drink this by myself."
He blinked at her, then rose to his feet gracefully and walked over to the window. The inn was constructed on a raised platform, so by the time he stood over her, she had to crane her neck really high to see the towering shape of him. He picked up the bottle in one hand, sniffing the cork, nose wrinkling.
"You drink this stuff?" he asked.
"Occasionally," she shot back, then squinted, proffering her hand. "Help me up?"
He gave her a side long glance, long enough for her to wonder if she should drop her hand. Then he reached down, grabbing her by the forearm and helped her vault over the ledge with ease.
He rolled his eyes when she grabbed the sake bottle from him, popped the cork, and took a long sip. Warmth happily filled her belly.
"Occasionally?" he said snidely.
"It was a gift," she sniffed, nose in the air. He stared after her as she moved to the table and set the jug down to look around for something to pour in.
"You're not drunk already, are you?" he asked, suspicious.
"Not quite," she muttered, returning to the table with two cups. "Look, we don't have to talk. I don't want to think about anything right now and I don't want to drink all of this either. So help me."
Eventually he did sit down next to her, grumbling and sniping at her until she thrust a cup into his hand and glared until he drank. The way his nose wrinkled as he swallowed gave her a vindictive sort of pleasure that had her immediately refilling his cup.
He glared. "I'm not going to—"
"You have to catch up," she said, thrusting the cup at his face until he took it. "Or are you telling me I can outdrink you?"
"Idiot. You're not supposed to drink sake this fast…"
"Just drink. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can leave."
They sat in silence, she occasionally refilling their cups and making sure to give Inuyasha twice as much, until eventually the room began to glow and blur a little at the edges. Sango felt the tightness in her shoulders loosen as she propped herself on her elbows, examining their surroundings.
"My room is nicer then yours," she said.
Grunt.
She nudged him with a foot. "What was that?"
He looked at her. His eyes were slightly darker then normal, but that was the only sign that he might have been drinking even a little. His voice was steady. "I thought you said we didn't have to talk."
She rolled her eyes. "You are the worst drinking companion." She sloshed her sake cup at him. "Most people can pretend to be civil."
His glower made her sigh heavily. "All right. Fine." She took his still full cup from him and replaced it with the jug. "Drink."
"What do you think I've been doing," he said defensively, reaching for his cup again.
"If you are still being a pain, you clearly haven't drinken enough," she insisted, and put his cup to her mouth just to see him make a face. "At this rate, I'm the only one being affected by it."
It was his turn to sigh heavily. "You're so damn demanding."
"It'll be fine," she said in mock sympathy, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "If you've been drinking with Miroku, I'm sure this is nothing."
"I don't drink with that bastard," he snapped, although he obediently put the bottle to his lips. "He'd drink me under the table." She laughed at that.
A nicer, more comfortable silence settled over them. Nearly three quarters of the jug of sake later, Sango was sprawled on her back staring at the ceiling and counting the cracks. Inuyasha was silent. Eventually she blinked, using the table to pull herself up, and found Inuyasha swaying ever so slightly, eyes locked intensely on the table top. Those high graceful cheekbones had the slightest tinge of pink to them. She found herself grinning, propping her chin on the back of her hand.
The motion caught his eye, making him blink at her. His eyes were dilated and hooded in shadow. "What," he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," she said, taking another sip and looking out the window. "I just never thought that I'd be here, that's all. Sitting here, drinking with you."
He grunted.
"Life is weird like that," she said, eyes lowering. "Once upon a time we were enemies on the battlefield. And now…"
"No," he interrupted. She blinked, startled to find that intense stare now trained on her. "You were never my enemy. You were annoying—" she snorted, "—but not my enemy."
"Well." A little regret swelled in her. "I thought you were mine."
He cocked his head at her. In that moment, a cloud passed over the faint moon outside, casting long shadows into the room. The lone candle on the table was only bright enough to gild his eyes in an orange glow, bright against the dark. She swallowed.
"And now?"
She blinked at him. "What?"
"Am I your enemy?" he said quietly.
Whatever flippant thing she wanted to say was lost at the serious expression on his face. Maybe it was the drink, but Sango found herself staring into her cup. "That's the funny thing," she said at last. "My father taught me youkai with human forms were dangerous."
His stare on her face was like a physical touch.
"He didn't tell me what do about hanyous," she murmured.
Silence. Her heart began to pound.
He moved then. He leaned into her, one hand taking the cup from her and setting it down with a firm clink. The other hand wrapped around a lock of her hair and tugged gently. She gulped, mouth dry, to find him staring down at her with eyes so deep and wide that she could have drowned in the landscape of them.
She should stop him, she knew. She knew what he was going to do as his fingers wove into the hair at the back of her head. As he pulled her ever so slightly towards him, the way she'd wanted him to for days. She didn't stop him. Their breath mingled together, warm and tinged with sake. Her eye lids fluttered close.
He kissed her. Just the barest brush of his lips against hers. And then another, firmer and warm. Her mouth opened under his, a shuddering breath that he swallowed, his fingers curling in her hair. His third kiss was lingering and long and so sweet her toes curled. He had never touched her so gently. It was almost like a goodbye.
And it was so unfair.
"It'd be a lot easier if you were my enemy," she found herself saying against his mouth, frustration creeping into her voice.
His lips curved up slightly as he leaned back, showing fanged teeth as he looked up at the ceiling. His fingers played with her hair.
Silence. Then she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "What do you want?" From this. From her.
He sighed. His hand twirled a long strand of her hair down to the ends, then dropped away. He leaned back a little, propping himself on his arms so he could stare at a spot above her head.
"There is something I must do," he said pensively, "and what I want doesn't really factor into that."
It was not exactly what she wanted to hear, but Sango nodded slowly all the same. She had said as much to him many times. Who was she to argue?
The moment was over. Searching for something to distract herself, she grabbed her cup and drained it. Then she handed him his. "…This was a really stupid idea, wasn't it," she said, gesturing at the cups.
He made an amused noise, draining his.
"… We were also a really stupid idea, weren't we," she added quietly when he put the cup down and reached for the jug.
He paused, glancing at her askance. Then he resumed picking up the jug and filled her cup and his.
"Regrets?" He said. She shot him a look but he merely drank, face unusually affable.
"Maybe not kicking your ass half enough," she sniped, lifting the cup to her face.
"Like you even could."
She slammed her cup on the table, sloshing half of it. "Like hell I couldn't."
"You hesitated," he scoffed, eyes gleaming. "Earlier today. Don't pretend like you didn't."
Sango faltered, then pressed her lips together. "It…It was my first fight since—
"I know." He was staring at the ceiling again, far away. She didn't like it. "You did hesitate though."
She wanted to hit him, but a sudden wave of disorientation made her sway. She pointed a wobbly finger at him instead, slumping against the table. "You. Me. At dawn. I'll prove it to you."
His smirk at the ceiling was infuriating.
Day 95
True to her word, she dragged them both out in the hours before dawn.
She'd thought longingly of her taijya suit, still in disrepair back at the village, as she hastily shucked her kimono and pulled on the training shirt and hakama, now freshly laundered thanks to the inn servants. Then she'd rushed back to Inuyasha's room. A few cups of water and a rising anticipation in her blood had been enough to subside the lingering hangover from the day before.
Not so with Inuyasha. Than hanyou had been at turns snappish and almost sweetly disoriented when she'd woken him where he'd fallen asleep at the table. She'd had to haul him to his feet and force feed him some water, and there had been a few moments where he'd simply forgotten where they were and blanked out, head falling to her shoulder. She'd had to will down the blush creeping up her neck as she shook him awake again, water cup pressed to his lips.
A ten-minute hike outside the village was enough to finally rouse him to wakefulness, but by the time they entered a small field, the grass weaving and bobbing in the predawn light, Inuyasha was glowering at her. Sango ignored it.
She leaned against the sasumata she had brought with her, surveying the field with a critical eye. She had left the wakazashi and some of her other taijya equipment in the room next to a sleeping Kirara. Other than the staff, she carried a small tanto strapped to her belt. More than enough to deal with the likes of Inuyasha.
Speaking of the hanyou…Sango turned to see him standing a few feet away, arms crossed and glaring into the distance. His ears flicked back and forth, taking in the surrounding sounds, but pointedly not flicking in her direction.
Sango smirked, thankful he wasn't looking. If he was going to be difficult…
Sango whirled the sasumata over her shoulders and swept the blunt end at Inuyasha's legs.
The hanyou stepped back nonchalantly, the wooden pole barely missing him. But at least he wasn't ignoring her anymore, as he turned to regard her, arms swinging down to his sides. His mutinous expression said it all.
"Humor me," she said, the sasumata thunking heavily on the ground.
"Why should I?" he asked, eyes lingering on her weapon. At least he was wide awake now.
She wanted to point out he had followed her here, but had a feeling that would only incite him to leave. She chewed her lip, thinking as she did a series of light stretches for her arms, shoulders and legs. His eyes followed her movements carefully.
"Let's make a deal then," she said finally, standing to face him. His ears twitched. "Winner gets a favor from the loser."
She wasn't sure that would work on him. She was pleasantly surprised when he shifted, expression turning contemplative.
"What's your favor?"
She twirled the staff in her hand, delaying. At his narrowed eyes, she said, "If I win, you have to tell me why you have been fighting with Kagome."
He started. First surprise, then annoyance, then an inscrutable look settled across his face. "No."
"Why not? That's how wagers work. You bet something you really don't want to do in order to motivate you to win." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're not afraid that you'll lose, are you?"
He scowled at that, his ears flicking back, then forward again. He knew she was baiting him. Fortunately, he didn't disappoint. "Of course not."
"How presumptuous of you." She pointed the pole at him. "Draw your sword."
She watched as he slowly laid his hand on the hilt but didn't move to ready it. Instead, he cocked his head at her. "…And if I win?"
She paused, then shrugged. She wanted to fight. She couldn't think of anything at the moment she didn't want to lose. "Whatever you want."
And immediately regretted her word choice. She did not like the look that came over his face. "I mean within reason—"
"Now, now, Sango," he said, the first sign of a half grin curling his mouth. "Are you trying to change the terms already? Afraid you'll lose?"
Sango scowled.
"…If you win," she bit out and watched as he drew Tetsusaiga with a sinking sense of finality, a glow of energy spiraling outward as it transformed into the large familiar blade. The blade thunked on the ground as he held it in one hand.
"When I win," he shot back, lifting his sword up with two hands. "And when I do, just remember, you set the terms—"
She didn't let him finish. Sango took two steps forward and jabbed her sasumata at him, aiming to catch his arm between its prong. He deflected with his blade, forcing her weapon to the side and forcing her to draw back out of his reach.
"I'm a taijya," she said warningly. "Don't underestimate me. I've been training since I was a child."
"So?" He bared his teeth. "I've been surviving since I was a child."
"Then show me," she said with a patronizing smirk, "what you've learned."
She circled him and he followed her, his blade between them, eyes narrowed. Her hand moved to the base of her weapon and unwound the leather strap there, letting it fall to the ground.
Another step forward, another jab from her, this time at his legs. He swung Tetsusaiga in a wide arc, batting her pronged weapon with little effort…but she'd known he would do that. She rolled, stepping into the space left by his swing, and with a quick flip of her grip on her staff, jabbed at him again with the bottom end.
There was a chink, and then the chain hidden inside the wooden rod loosened and uncoiled. Momentum carried the heavy ball at the base of the staff forward, straight at Inuyasha's shoulder. Inuyasha let go of Tetsusaiga with one hand and leaned back with a grunt of effort as the ball shot right next to his head, barely missing him. A quick backflip and he was out of her range. The ball hit the ground with a heavy thud, throwing up a shower of dirt behind it.
She grabbed the chain, drawing the metal ball towards her, and held both the staff and the chain in one hand as she switched into a different stance. Not one suited for a sasumata, but rather, a chigiraki. She felt warm satisfaction at the way he snarled, eyes narrowed at her weapon even as he shifted into a ready position.
"A fucking mace?" he growled, annoyed. "Are you trying to bludgeon me to death?"
"Please. You could dodge that in your sleep," she said with a grin, brandishing the pole in one hand, the chain in her other. The pole was too long to make it a truly excellent mace, but the element of surprise and the ability to switch from defense to offense was usually good enough for most youkai. She would have to see if it was good enough for him. "Come on. I thought you were going to take me seriously."
"You fucking Taijya and your weird weapons," he growled and then he jumped towards her in a blur of motion, Tetsusaiga swinging in an arc that had her heart spike even as she moved to evade it.
They traded blows, testing each other's strength. She used the sasumata end to hook and parry the brunt of Inuyasha's blade. She used the mace end to strike. With the chain nearly doubling her reach, she could swing the heavy ball in powerful downward strokes that left big holes in the earth, making even Inuyasha hesitate. Twice, she was able to snag his ankle with her chain and sweep him off his feet. She thought he'd be angry at first, but both time he merely grunted and pulled himself free.
But there was something that was creeping over his expression as they continued to circle each other. His eyes were starting to glow that golden yellow that made her taijya instincts stand on end. The slow curling of his mouth in to a fanged grin was both a little thrilling and a little alarming.
She pointed her weapon at him. "Don't get too cocky," she warned.
His grin was all teeth. "Say that when you win," and swung at her.
Each exchange, he grew more bold, aggressive. Relentless. While his strikes were initially wide and slow, he was starting to compensate for the gaps she kept exploiting. She could see that calculating part of him start to take over as he circled her, the part that learned so damn fast.
Gritting her teeth, she stumbled back against a particularly powerful two-handed swing. To her surprise, he suddenly stepped in and let go of his sword with one hand to make a grab for the collar of her shirt. Alarmed, she brought the sasumata side up to hook it on his arm, and jerked downward twisting to drive him to the ground. He didn't get that far, falling to a knee before it was like she was pushing against a wall and he was staring up at her through his bangs, his eyes glowing. He was saying something.
No. He was laughing.
She disengaged and jumped back, heart practically bursting in her chest. She went into a defensive crouch, as she watched him stand up slowly, staring down at his arm and flexing his clawed hand. And then he threw his head back and gave a full-throated laugh, startling nearby birds into flight. It echoed through the clearing, in tandem with the pounding of her pulse in her ears.
When he finally stopped and looked at her, the look on his face was pure sin.
"Sango," he said. She never heard him sound so delighted. It sent a bolt of fear and something else down her spine, making her stiffen. He smiled, cracking his claws. "I've been waiting to knock you down a peg since the day I met you."
That first fight, so long ago, when she'd known him only as her enemy.
Her human instincts screamed at her to back away. Instead, she gritted her teeth, getting angry. "I could say the same for you, asshole."
He brought Tetsusaiga from the ground to level at her—she blinked—with one hand. She'd never seen him do that before. "Prepare yourself," he said, and then she had no time to think as he tensed and lunged at her.
She whipped the chain up immediately, aiming for Tetsusaiga as it swallowed up her vision. The chain wrapped around the blade and with a pull and shout, she jerked the blade from his grasp, disarming him.
Her triumph was short-lived.
To her surprise, he let go and she could only stare in shock as Tetsusaiga was flung aside, blinding her for a moment in a flare of bright light as it reverted to its original form. By then he was inside her swing. She tried to pull away but it wasn't enough. His hands clamped down on her wrists and squeezed, forcing her to drop her weapon too, and then they fell to the ground in a tumble, her yelling, him growling.
She'd had barely enough time to snap a knee up between there bodies. She brought one foot to his gut, the other to his chest and pushed with all her might, hearing him hiss and let go of her to find purchase in the ground. His claws dragged in the dirt as he resisted, a piercing scrape in her ears.
But he'd let go. She scrambled back.
She barely pulled her ankle out of reach from his grab and then she whirled to her feet, panting hard, and pulled the tanto from her waist. She brandished the blade in front of her in a defensive stance.
"Nice trick but that won't work twice. You dropped your weapon," she hissed at him with as much contempt as she could muster as he got to his feet. "You don't carry another one."
"Don't need one," he said simply, claws glowing gold and lengthening with the static charge of yoki, and then he swiped at her. She parried the golden blades with her knife, drawing back.
"Inuyasha," she warned, stepping back as he stalked forward "If you are going to swing that shit at me, I will stab you with this."
"Go ahead," he sneered, and another swipe that she blocked. "Go on and teach me a lesson, Sango."
She stiffened. "I am trying not to hurt you, you absolute moron."
"And I'm trying to win."
Oh that was fucking it.
To his surprise, she threw the tanto at his head, hilt first. He ducked, eyes snapped to it for a mere distracted second. She had enough time to step forward and grab the sleeve of his haori and the front of his shirt before he was grabbing her too, claws fisting in her kimono.
"Copying me now, are we?" He sneered.
She brought her heel hard against his hip, pushed herself up, and then swung her leg over his head. With a grunt of surprise he buckled straight over and she used the gravity of their bodies to flip him straight on to his back. She landed on top of him, his arm locked between her legs in a perfect armbar. Her father would have been proud.
"Copy that, you bastard," she hissed, planting her foot on his face. "Don't resist or I will break your elbow."
His clawed hand fisted into her hakama. He let out a roar, and then she was being lifted straight into the air. She felt something pop in his shoulder and she instinctively loosened her grip, panicking, but he already had her in the air and was sending her face first on the ground beside him. She let go of him to catch herself but then he jerked her leg and she hit the ground flat on her chest, the wind knocked out of her and her sight blinded by darkness.
She was still laying there stunned, which she heard him sit up with a hiss. She felt him turn her over and settle his weight on her hips not bothering to pin her arms. She blinked up, confused, only to watch with morbid, unwilling fascination as he violently jerked the shoulder she had heard dislocate, popping it back in with a sickening crunch. Then his eyes settled on her, gold threaded with orange and a horrifyingly smug look on his face.
And then she realized what had happened.
"What the hell," she whispered.
His hands settled on the collar of her kimono, tightening it enough so that she felt the pressure on her throat. Her hands automatically moved to his wrists, her nails digging painfully into the skin. "I win," he said. He sounded pleased.
"…You dislocated your shoulder." Her voice rose. "I thought I had hurt you. You made me think I had ripped your arm off, you bastard—"
His eyes narrowed. "How many times do we have to do this, Sango," he growled. "I win."
"No, fuck you," she spat.
His eyes flashed that thready red-orange and he was leaning in close, hissing, "Do you ever fucking give in—", one hand moving to grip her chin.
She jerked that hand to her mouth and bit him. Her teeth sank right into the meat of his palm.
He stopped, staring at her in disbelief. "What are you doing." She made an angry noise against his skin, teeth digging in. He fell silent, expression draining to blankness.
Soon enough, though, that blankness gave way to something much darker as flashes of red started to creep into his irises. He pulled up to his full height, staring down at her. She glared at him savagely.
"If you're going to bite me," he said slowly, tone so patronizing that it sent both a bolt of raw fury and pleasure straight down her spine, " then do it like you mean it."
Their gazes were locked. The challenge in his eyes was galling.
Without looking away, she bit down harder, savoring the flush of arousal rising up his face. By the time her jaw ached with the pressure, his eyes were unholy stars.
"Fuck." He let out a shaky exhalation of breath. Then his other hand was fisting into the back of her hair tightly, drawing her up to him, and she abandoned his hand, leaving a ring of red teeth marks, to make war against his mouth.
Their kiss was harsh, almost furious. His tongue curling in her mouth as he pressed her into the ground, her scrambling at the back of his head, trying to draw him closer into her. It wasn't close enough. The sense of desperation she felt was maddening, senseless. It seemed to have infected him too.
When he pulled away for just a moment to breath, both of them gasping, she gripped his shirt and flipped them.
Inuyasha hit the ground with a grunt, but then she had already crawled on top of him, straddling him. "Who the hell do you think I am—" she hissed, only to be cut off as his hands slid into the gapping sleeves of her kimono, the tips of his claws running lines of heat down her shoulders, then her rib cage. He leaned up into her, eyes lidded as she bit her lip against a sound, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
"So fucking stubborn," he said against her jaw, his breath hot against her throat. "And a poor loser."
Her hands fisted hard in the back of his head. "That wasn't a win—"
He bit her neck, hard enough to feel the hot white prick of his canines, and then the lush heat that rose to the surface as he laved the spot with his tongue. A shudder rolled down her spine.
"Yes," he said darkly, his hands sliding to her hips and pulling her abruptly against him. She jolted at the hot hardness of him against the apex of her thighs, a long moan drawn from her. "Yes, it was."
Never in her life had she wanted to suffocate someone with her mouth before. To hurt him, to punish him, and to simultaneously crawl inside him. Her nails dragged down the back of his neck to his shoulders as she ground down hard against him in retaliation. They both moaned. His hands clenched hard at her hips, claws pricking through the fabric.
"It's not a win," She panted, looking into his eyes, and her expression made him shudder a little, "unless you prove it to me."
In answer, he pulled her down to him, mouth sealing over hers.
They were not gentle with each other. They never had been. His tongue curled in her mouth as she pushed him on his back again. His hands in her shirt, claws pricking against her skin and making her squirm. Her teeth on his skin. By the time Inuyasha had started to peel her kimono off her shoulders, there were a trail of ringed teeth marks down his neck and shoulder. Every time she'd bitten him, he'd made the most delicious sound.
"You like a little pain, don't you," she whispered against his skin, amused as he hands pulled at the ties of her hakama. "How fitting to your personality."
"And what does that make you, always losing to me," he growled, hand slipping into the loosened gaps of her pants. She stiffened, a moan passing her lips, "Look how wet you are."
"Shut up," she whispered, and then she was fumbling for the ties of his hakama and pushing fabric aside. Her hand brushed against the hard length of him and he jerked a little under her.
She paused, eyes wide, then looked at him. "You're ummm…..bigger. How am I supposed to do this?"
His eyes widened. "Fucking…Did you just compare me—" he bit off, arching his back, his head hitting the ground as she settled her grip on him firmly.
"Tell me what to do," she hissed, ears red.
"Just—" he writhed a little under her, face flushing slowly red as anger warred with arousal. She watched the spread of it, fascinated. Her heart raced. His eyes narrowed. "—You. I will flip you over right now if you don't—"
It took a moment of awkward fumbling but when she finally managed to position herself and sink down on to him, they both gasped. She closed her eyes, feeling immeasurably warm and lovely and full.
"Sango," his voice was strained. "Move."
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Sango, move," he said harshly, hands a vice grip on her hips. "Or I will do it for you."
So she did.
And he did have to help her, in the end.
She knew something had changed.
She knew it when they stared at each other in the aftermath, unsure of what to say. When they pulled their clothes back on, when she gathered her weapons.
When he walked her to her room and then awkwardly left her there, staring at his back.
There was no protocol for this. They probably weren't going to talk about it, just like the last time. Nothing about their situation had changed.
And yet later, as she watched Inuyasha cursing at the dead youkai remains they were going to carry back on foot and pointedly not looking at her, Sango felt a prick of something new in her chest. She'd had to turn away, fists clenched, and stare at the ground until the wave of it passed. Until she could look at him again without wanting to draw her sword on him. Shout at him. Make him look her way.
She didn't know what it was, but she did know one thing. Nothing had changed for him.
But something had changed for her.
Day 97
It was evening by the time they made it to the Taijya village, at last.
Miroku was standing outside the gates to greet them. He opened his mouth, a smile on his face, but was cut off abruptly when Inuyasha dropped two packs of youkai skins bound in twine on the ground in front of the monk, flexing his red aching fingers.
"I've been carrying these for hours," he growled, "Somebody else carry them." Then he stalked off up the hill, his shoulders visibly tense.
Miroku turned to Sango at a loss for words, but she didn't have anything to tell him. She was carrying the head of the weasel youkai strapped to her back and Kirara was laden with more of the bound pieces of the youkai body. While there was no rotting smell, considering youkai remains took much longer to rot then humans, the animal stench of the weasel had started to permeate everything. Sango could tell by the partial lip curl on the cat's face that she too was at her limit, though she was being far more gracious about it that Inuyasha had been.
Sango rubbed at her forehead with the back of her hand, sighing.
"I'm sorry," she said, addressing Miroku. "Would you mind helping me bring those inside the gates? I need them to repair Hiraikotsu."
Dawning recognition flashed in his eyes. He leaned down and shouldered both, his nose only scrunching a little as the smell of the furs hit him. "So you can repair it?" She realized belatedly she had made no mention of her plans to him or Kagome a few days ago.
"Yes," Sango said tiredly. "Although it will take awhile. I don't expect it will be done by the time we head out, but I can get the process started." She turned to Kirara. "If you want, go ahead and drop them off at the doors. I know you're tired."
The cat made a noise, and then in a plume of fire, rose up into the air. She and Miroku watched her fade into a speck of red, heading for the forge. It seemed dauntingly far away.
"We don't have to make it up there," she told Miroku, who's expression looked dubious. "Just inside the gates. I can bring everything up later." When he nodded, she hiked the weasel head higher on her back, shifting the ropes to ease the burn in her shoulders. Then she trudged up the path Inuyasha had taken, Miroku following behind her.
They walked in silence. Eventually, he asked the thing she was expecting all along.
"Is there something wrong with him?"
Sango lowered her eyes.
Day time was torturous. The never ending road. The heavy weight on her shoulders, the smell. The shard at her hip, on her mind. His back to her, always.
Night time was acknowledgement. Abandon. Scrubbing herself in cold river water. His golden eyes in the moonlight, drawing her inevitably closer. The way she could make him look. The way he made her feel. The marks that she left on his skin.
They were gone like always, in the morning. And perhaps it was the morning light, but maybe there had been something like guilt in his eyes before he looked away from her.
Or perhaps she was just projecting.
She felt like she was slowly losing her mind.
Sango glowered at the silhouette of the village up ahead. It took some work, but she cleared her throat and managed to respond in a passably neutral voice, "There is always something wrong with him."
It was dusk by the time Sango had heaved the final pack across the threshold of the forge, sweat pouring down her face. She'd left Miroku at the gate with a wave and a smile. Kirara was probably napping somewhere. Inuyasha was nowhere to be seen.
The last hill had been brutal. She should have left the rest of it for the morning. Instead she'd kept going, getting lost in the mindlessness of the movement despite the protest of her muscles. A moment of clarity for herself, before she would have to return to the main house and acknowledge the consequences of her last little trip.
The room was dark, the shadows of the demon remains and parts of Hiraikotsu scattered across the floor. The forge had never been so messy. Her fingers twitched. She should tidy things up. She did not move.
Sango stared at the slant of moonlight from the window, watching as it inched ever so slowly across the floor.
She was lingering, she realized. Waiting for something. For what, exactly? What did she think was going to happen?
That he was going to come to her again?
Sango covered her eyes with a hand, gritting her teeth. He had better not. He should know better. She should know better. This wasn't the time. They weren't even the right people. It was never supposed to be complicated, and it probably still wasn't for him, but she…
How was she ever going to look Kagome in the face again?
Sango wiped her face with the back of her hand, breathing heavily. Then she dropped to her knees, pulling the nearest bundle of youkai remains to her and unravelling it. She could at least began the preservation process, since she was here. It wouldn't take long. Large basins of salt lay against the far wall, ready and waiting. The materials would need to cure over night anyway.
As she gave herself over to the task, though, a thought rose up and circled in her mind, the same one from the last two days.
What if she had made a mistake?
Worse, what if she….kept making it?
Sango dragged the screen door open with a loud bang, startling Kagome into a squeak and a jump. The girl was already in her pajamas and had been in the middle of scrounging around in her bag.
"Sorry," Sango muttered, trudging into the room and practically falling into a sitting position. The walk back had been excruciatingly long.
Kagome put a hand to her chest, breathing slowly, then smiled. "No it's fine. I knew you were coming, I don't know why I got startled." Kagome returned to rummaging through her bag, arms searching for something as Sango caught her breath, studying her. The girl looked completely recovered from her illness. Good.
"Are you feeling better?" She asked, because it was always better to ask, even if you knew the answer. Kagome shot her a smile, arm still rooting in her bag.
"Yep! I feel loads better. Thanks for taking care of me those few early days….Ah hah!" She pulled out a small bottle, something glistening with pale violets inside. The shikon shards. Sango stiffened.
Kagome was looking at her, hand proffered. "You guys found a shard, yeah?" She said. "It feels really corrupt. It's actually hard for me to pinpoint them when they are this bad, otherwise I might have warned you. It must have been very uncomfortable carrying it so close. I can take it off your hands now."
Sango stared at her hand. Then she slowly reached for her belt pouch. "Yes," she admitted, as she pulled the scrap cloth from her belt, where she'd stored the corrupt shard for the trip back. It felt warm in her hand as she held it out to Kagome, even with the barrier of the cloth around it. "Kirara and Inuyasha were definitely more tense than normal."
"I'm sure he'll get over it," Kagome was saying as her fingers closed around the shard, fingers brushing against her palm.
There was a bright flash of light. The smell of something burning. And then a pain so intense Sango flung herself back, knocking Kagome over as she scrambled to her feet.
Kagome yelped, hitting the table and knocking several ceramic bowls to the floor that shattered with a loud crash. The dark shard clinked to the ground in the space between them as Sango whipped to face the wall, clutching her hand to her. It felt like it was on fire.
"Sango, I—" Kagome's voice shook, confused. She heard the girl get to her feet and Sango whirled to face her, eyes wide, back against the wall. She was breathing heavily. The look in her face made Kagome stop her advance, lips trembling.
The screen door flew open. Miroku was standing there, panting. He must have heard something crash and rushed over. She half expected any of the youkai of their party to barge in after him, but they did not. Thank the gods. Maybe they were too far away to hear. Or smell.
Miroku looked first at Kagome, who was just starting at her, biting her lip, then at Sango, who was cradling her arm. The injured hand was clenched so tight the knuckles were bleached white against her shirt.
"What's…." Miroku said slowly. "What's going on?"
Kagome looked at Sango, expression pleading. After a moment, Sango drew her right hand away from her chest, and the showed them them the palm, hands shaking.
A perfect blistered red circle lay at the center of her palm, cut off only a little by the hem of her sleeve.
Miroku hissed, stepping into the room, but when Sango immediately leaned away from him he stopped. Kagome looked like she'd been slapped. Her expression was enough to make Sango close her eyes and force a slow breath, working to control the instinct to rush out the doors and run. She brought her hand to her chest, covering it again.
The unbearable pain had faded by now, settling instead into a less intense but no less agonizing burn. Sango grit her teeth and then forced out, "It's okay. I—I think I got burned when you tried to purify the shard. That's all."
"I—" Kagome stared at her, aghast. Her voice still shook. "I'm so sorry. This has never happened before." She looked to Miroku, imploring. He merely stared at the two of them, not knowing what to say.
Sango grimaced. "D-Don't worry about it. I was touching it at the same time, its possible that it just hasn't happened before." The wound throbbed. "Do you…is there something that can help…"
Kagome's spine snapped straight. "I have some burn cream." She rushed to her bag, throwing things out haphazardly in her haste. Sango watched, trying vainly to keep the pain out of her face. The girl pulled out a tube from a side pocket, then hesitated. She looked at Sango.
"I can dress a burn wound," Sango said, swallowing. Her tongue felt thick in her throat. "I'm…I'm sorry for overreacting. It's not that bad. I think I was just startled more than anything." Miroku was still staring at her. She refused to look at him.
Kagome bit her lip, then flashed a look at Miroku. "Let's give you some privacy. There are bandages in my bag, if you need them." She placed the tube on the desk, dusting off her knees, and then moved towards the door. A sharp panic seized Sango.
"Kagome," she said suddenly.
The girl paused. Unwillingly, Sango's eyes flicked to the shard on the ground, still dark and swirling. Maybe Kagome had forgotten, but for her, it's presence swallowed up the room. "Can you…take that with you?"
A beat of silence. Then Kagome walked over and kneeled down, picking up the jewel shard. There wasn't even a flash of light, just a moment where the clouds of inky shadows within stopped moving. Then they were sucked like a vortex into a single point, leaving behind a beautiful, clean shard.
Just like that, a pressure in her head she hadn't known was there vanished. Sango swallowed. Kagome looked at her, eyes heavy with guilt.
"Thank you," Sango whispered.
There was an awkward moment as Kagome got to her feet. Miroku hesitated, giving her an long assessing glare before he finally stepped out. Kagome followed him, pausing at the door frame. "I can…well. I need to study for a test, so I was going to sleep in the main hall anyway. So don't worry about me, I won't disturb you." The blatant lie made Sango swallow—her bag and books were sitting right there in the corner—but she didn't say anything. Kagome's eyes were so earnest. "Just…get some rest, okay? I'm sorry again." Then she was gone, the soft click of the shoji screen behind her, and the sound of multiple foot steps padding down the hall.
Sango held her breath, counting for ten beats of her heart. Then, when she was sure they were gone, she stumbled to the table, knees banging hard on the ground.
It took a long agonizing moment to pull her arm out of the long sleeves of the kimono, doubly so because Sango's gaze was fixed on the wall, unable to look. Her fingers trembled as she tried in vain to prevent the coarse fabric from touching her skin. Only once her arm was out of the sleeve, the air stinging against her skin, did she finally look down.
Sango barely strangled the noise in her throat, looking away and then back again, biting her lip.
It wasn't just a small burn. Yes, there was a circular burn on her palm, but what her sleeve had obscured was the long wide band of raw flesh that raced up the underside of her arm. Her palm and wrist bore the brunt of the damage, blistered and cracked here and there with thin rivulets of blood. The blistering tapered off at the start of her forearm but the dark red burn, less severe but no less painful, continued in a wide swathe right into her shoulder. From there it skittered off into tiny red spider veins that extended across her chest, a few tendrils curling across her breast.
Sango breathed heavily, staring at the marks so close to her heart, and then closed her eyes.
She wanted to destroy something. She wanted to cry. She wanted to understand what the fuck was going on and why it felt everything was happening all at once.
There was only one way, really, to get an answer.
She was so, so stupid.
When the threat of tears subsided, Sango picked up the tube of cream and opened it with her teeth, spitting the cap onto the table. She forced herself to sit in a cross legged position, staring doggedly at the ground and resisting the urge to make sound as she awkwardly applied the salve in copious amounts to her arm and up along the red trail to her shoulder. Even with the cream it felt white hot in the open air.
The bandages came next, where were so much worse. She had to bite a spare piece of fabric between her teeth as she wrapped the worst of the burns on her wrist and palm, fighting against black out. She wasn't sure if her body was still in shock or not, and the thought that she was able to do this at all made her even more afraid.
Once done, she left the bottle on the table and pulled her arm back into her sleeve. She still had on her taijya belt pouch and short sword from earlier, having not had the time to remove them, so she moved instead to the wall and drank directly from a half filled pitcher, water dripping down her chin and splashing in a mess on the floor. Then she returned to the table, pulling random foodstuffs and a notebook from Kagome's bag. She mechanically started eating, staring at the blank page.
Her mind's eye immediately traced against the white page the words that had haunted her for days, drawn in a familiar, careful script.
We will come again, when the time is right. Back to the place it all began.
She'd thought maybe it meant the Taijya village, half relieved when nothing came of it. Now, the answer was so obvious she had to resist up ending the table in anger at her own stupidity.
She grit her teeth, pressing her uninjured hand to her eyes and willing away the tears. Truthfully, she had intended to ignore the message. From a rational point of view, anything that could possibly involve Naraku could only be a trap. But mostly, she had been unwilling to act on it. Deep down, a part of her had been too afraid of what she would find if she did.
Now, though…
She struggled for a long time with what to write, for longer than it took to eat. In the end, she didn't write anything at all. Kagome's writing instruments had felt so awkward in her non dominant hand and every time she'd struggled to make character strokes the ink was splotchy or didn't come out at all. So she'd simply left the notebook on the table, open and filled with nonsense, and gathered her things.
She slid open the window screen and slipped out silently over the edge. The sun was gone, with only the stars and a pale crescent moon gleaming back at her. But it was not a problem. She could walk these streets blind folded. She could walk anywhere for kilometers and still know where she was going.
And this time, she knew where she had to go.
Day 98
It was still pitch dark when she reached the place.
Sango pulled herself up over the rocky ledge, panting, muscles burning. Her injured arm throbbed dully in the make shift sling she had made out of the torn hem of her sleeve. She took a moment to just breath, staring up the moon which had trekked a winding path across the sky over the course of the night. Then she leveraged herself up to her knees, staring up into the darkness in front of her.
At the silver-limed silhouette of a cave. Rather innocuous and small, except for the tell tale glimmer of light that gleamed over the mouth of it when one looked at just the right angle in the moonlight.
Midoriko's cave.
By her estimation, it had been some three months since she'd been here. A life time ago, it felt like. And yet now here she was, back again, as if nothing had changed. A cool breeze brushed against her exposed skin, damp with sweat, making Sango shiver and lower her eyes.
If she thought too much about it, it really was like nothing had changed. Naraku was still alive. Her family unavenged. And she was still injured. She was pretty sure her arm had been in a sling last time too.
She supposed this time, Inuyasha didn't have to carry her up the mountain side. She didn't have to protest at his hands, his claws on her skin. She hadn't protested much in a long time…
Her hands clutching at the tree bark. Her back arched into him, his breath hot in her ear. "You don't even know," he whispered hotly, claws tracing her hips, "how many times I've dreamed of doing this."
And all she could do was moan, pushing back against him—
Sango leveraged herself to her feet, head spinning. Not now. She didn't have time for this.
She didn't bother trying to go into the cave. Instead, cradling her injured arm, she made her way to an area adjacent to it, where the ground was flat and dry. As she remembered, there was an unused fire pit there, the dirt sprouting with weeds.
She cleared a large circle of space with her booted foot, the only part of the taijya uniform she still wore. It took some effort with only one working arm, but eventually she created a flat bare space, surrounded by a ring of dirt and uprooted weeds. She'd gathered some wood as she made her way up to the cave and this she unstrapped from her back, dropping it into the center of the circle.
She was so tired that for a moment she just stood there, staring at the wood with one hand on her knee, panting into the night air. The magnitude of what came next was almost too much to comprehend. But she had to know now.
Standing up, still panting, she pulled two things from her pouch. One a pouch of black powder that she'd retrieved from the forge before she left. The second, a worn flint. The first she poured all over the wood, coughing a little at the cloud of dust that plumed in her face. Then she crouched before the makeshift fire and with the flint, coaxed a small flame.
The flames, as they began to crackle and eat the powder she'd poured earlier, turned a blue so dark they were nearly black. She kept them low, letting them ebb and then stoking them up again with the occasional weed, watching as the violet colored smoke they created made patterns in the night sky.
After a half an hour, she kicked dirt on the fire, the flames going out instantly. She sat with her elbows on her knees, just staring at the stray embers of blue flame. She would wait for two hours. That was all. Then she would head back.
She didn't have to wait that long. As the hour rounded out, her ears eventually picked up the sound of a lone pair of footsteps, coming from the path below. She listened as the person climbed the secret path with steady sure foot falls until at last, she heard the person leverage themselves with hardly a sound up on the cliff edge. She kept her gaze rooted to the ground, eyes wide, as the moon came out from a hazy cloud and cast the long shadow of a man on the stone floor in front of her.
She heard the man brush down his uniform, then sigh. Finally, she allowed herself to look up.
The man standing there could have stepped out of one of her dreams. An older man just shy of the prime of his youth, his hair pulled back in a tail at the top of this head. He still sported a thin mustache and beard, although his temples were streaked with more silver than she remembered. There were a few new cuts on his face, scarred over, but otherwise he looked the same. The white trim of the taijya suit he wore gleamed in the moonlight.
When the man turned to her, dark eyes meeting hers, Sango felt the bottom drop out of the world.
"It is good to see you again, Sango," he said solemnly. A strong sense of deja vu at the words made her nearly sway.
Instead Sango slowly rose to her feet. The reply that came out her mouth sounded distant, as if coming from someone else. From perhaps another life time.
"Hello…father."