Sanctuary

Part III: Floor

—

I dare you to move, I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move, I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

—

The clearing was quiet. The sun was still low in the sky, the soft morning light filtering through the trees and dappling the grass with patterns of shadow and sunlight. The day was already warming, slipping from the morning cool into the warmth of afternoon.

"They're taking a long time, aren't they?" Shippou inquired, balancing precariously on the ledge of the well. He stared down into the pit with consternation. The young kitsune was clearly impatient to see their absent friends and didn't try to hide it.

Sango gave him a small, somewhat indulgent smile from where she sat, leaning against one of the trees that bordered the cleaning. "Patience, Shippou. Inuyasha only left a while ago. I'm sure they'll all be back soon, and then everything will be back to normal."

Shippou made a face at the prospect of waiting, but after a moment's thought he hopped down from the well's lip and came to sit at her side. He sighed heavily. "Yeah. I just wish they'd hurry!"

The taijiya laughed at his put-out expression and ruffled his bangs affectionately.

"Shippou, Inuyasha's always in a hurry," she reminded him, teasing.

"True!" the kistune laughed, grinning up at her. "Kagome probably had to make him sit because he's upset we haven't left yet. Either that, or they're having trouble dragging Miroku away from flirting with all of Kagome's friends!"

Sango's eyebrows raised at that, and she lifted a fist to demonstrate her next point. "If that's the case, that houshi will live to regret it!" she exclaimed, only half joking. She was about to continue when a flash caught her eye from the direction of the well. A half-second later, Inuyasha had popped out of the well, landing easily on the balls of his feet. In a flash, Shippou was balancing on the hanyou's shoulder.

"Hey!" Shippou demanded, grabbing a lock of Inuyasha's hair and tugging firmly. "Where's Kagome?" With a grunt of annoyance, Inuyasha plucked him up by the tail and held him up at eye-level.

"She's coming," he said, before dropping Shippou unceremoniously to the ground. "Miroku too."

"They're both fine, then?" Sango asked, climbing to her feet. At Inuyasha's brief nod, she felt relief wash through her. Although she had done her best to remain optimistic, there had been no way to be sure that Miroku and Kagome had indeed ended up on the other side of the well. She had been ready to face that outcome if need be, but it had left her tense. Now, with the affirmation that both of their friends were well, she let herself relax.

Shippou gave a cry of excitement, bouncing where he stood. "Kagome's here!" However, his enthusiasm dwindled as Inuyasha helped her over the edge and he caught sight of her face. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Kagome?"

Inuyasha noticed too. "Oi, what's the matter? You were fine just a minute ago!"

The girl sniffled, looking around at her friends and clearly at a loss. She fiddled with a strand of hair, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I'm sorry. It's just…" Kagome took a shaky breath, then raised her eyes directly to Sango. "Miroku-sama isn't coming back."

Sango stilled, her heart suddenly dropping. What?

"What do you mean, Kagome?" Shippou asked, his eyes wide as he stared up at her.

Kagome wiped her eyes, which were starting to water up with tears. "I was just talking with him," she said quietly. "He's decided that he doesn't want to return. He wants to stay in my time."

"Keh!" Inuyasha snorted. "We'll see about that!" he growled, making his way back towards the well.

Kagome snapped.

"Osuwari!"

Inuyasha swore violently, his voice muffled by the ground. Straining against the spell, he raised his head to glare at her. "What do you think you're doing?" he yelled.

"You can't force him to come back," Kagome told him, crouching down closer to his level. When he opened his mouth to contest that point, she kept going, her voice softening again. "Inuyasha… His Kazaana is gone."

"Eh? So Naraku's dead?" Shippou asked waveringly. The thought of losing Miroku had never occurred to him, but he didn't want to risk upsetting Kagome any more.

"We thought about that," Kagome admitted, sighing. "But I live 500 years in the future. That's a long time, and who knows when or how Naraku might die. There's no guarantee that the curse wouldn't return the moment he came back."

Sango listened to the conversation mutely, trying to sort out her own reaction to the news. Her heart was twisting with disappointment and something like betrayal. She knew better than to think that she had any claim on the monk's affections, but that didn't stop the half-acknowledged hopes and persistent emotions from rising up and locking her heart in a vise grip.

Even if there was nothing between them, she reasoned, he was still her friend. He was the one, despite her growing relationship with their other friends, who she was most able to turn to; to talk to, to laugh with, to fight with. She felt the loss acutely.

"Sango-chan." Kagome's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked at the younger girl wordlessly. Her expression was filled with sadness, even a little pity. "Sango, I'm sorry. I tried to talk Miroku-sama out of it, but…"

"Why?" Sango inquired, finally finding the will to speak. "He's doing the right thing."

Kagome clearly hadn't been expecting that response. "But Sango-chan…"

Sango quavered fleetingly, but she shoved her doubt aside.

"Hasn't enough of his family died?" she bit out. "If he wants to live in your world - without the Kazaana - it's not our place to question his choice." She turned away, made uncomfortable by the way her friends were watching her. Her voice softened. "He deserves happiness just as much as anyone."

Her words hung heavy between them; Sango left them there, turning and walking away.

—

The morning passed. Noon came and went.

Miroku sat on the stairs of the shrine, staring moodily at the empty well. He'd been there in the shadows for hours, arguing with himself and wrestling with his doubts until falling into a sort of stupor, physically and mentally exhausted.

He didn't know where to go from here.

Miroku was not a man unacquainted with uncertainty. To even know where he would rest his head each night was as much an unknown as whether he might survive the next battle. Yet, when one is living against the onward crush of time, the unknown was less frightening than the otherwise inevitable.

Miroku knew one thing. He didn't want to die.

The admission, silent though it was, stung of cowardice. For all of his reasonings and justifications, that was the heart of the issue, pumping its lifeblood into each and every reason he had for nothing going back. He didn't want to die, and he was willing to walk away from his friends, his duty, his vengeance, all for the sake of living.

He couldn't even claim to do it to live for the opportunity to fight another day. It was simple. Miroku knew he was choosing a life of comfort, here in a world half a millennium away from everything he knew, a life where the shadow of death didn't hover at his doorstep like a blade pressed against his neck. He was tired of the risk, of journeying and searching and worrying in the dark.

His search for Naraku had begun long before Kagome fell through the well and awoke Inuyasha from his sealed slumber. Would it really be so wrong if he stopped now and let them finish the work he'd begun?

Miroku held his right hand at face level, examining the way the light from the open door illuminated his bare palm, and his mouth twisted wryly. He really was a coward, wasn't he?

"Miroku-sama?"

He started from his reverie and turned to face the source of the interruption. Kagome's mother stood at the top of the stairs, framed by the light shining through the small shrine's doorway, and she watched him quizzically. Miroku internally chastised himself. He had been so preoccupied with his own troubles he had never spared a thought to the imposition he might be on his friend's family. It was an obvious consequence and an unforgivable oversight.

"Good afternoon, Higurashi-sama," he greeted, hedging in the frustration and weariness that he felt. She returned the greeting.

"I didn't realize you were still here," she continued. A frown crossed her features. It wasn't an expression of annoyance or displeasure, Miroku noted with some surprise, but one of concern. "Inuyasha and Kagome are gone - did the well not let you back through?"

Miroku hesitated, an easy lie on the tip of his tongue. It felt unusually cheap, the idea of swindling Kagome's family, and he wasn't sure he could stomach himself if he did. "That's…not quite it," he admitted, haltingly. He felt Mrs. Higurashi's curious gaze more than he saw it, and, taking a risk, forged ahead. "It was my decision."

It was quiet for a moment.

"Because of your curse?" she queried.

Miroku straightened and twisted to look at Kagome's mother more fully. "Kagome-sama − she told you?"

The woman smiled gently and, after a brief pause, stepped forward and came to lower herself to sit beside him on the stairs. "I hope it wasn't a betrayal of your trust," she said momentarily.

"No," Miroku decided after a short reflection. He was unexpectedly grateful to have the decision removed from him: he neither needed to broach the subject nor find some way to avoid it. "I suppose it is expected that a daughter would confide in her mother. It was fair, considering my imposition on your family."

Mrs. Higurashi laughed a little. "We've come to expect the unexpected with Kagome's adventures," she said lightly. "It's no trouble." The look she gave him next was thoughtful and very kind. "Miroku-sama, you are welcome here if you want to stay. Kagome has told me what kinds of things you face in your time, though I suspect she often edits what she says to keep me from worrying, and I know you have had a hand in keeping her safe. We won't turn you out."

"Thank you," the monk said, the words coming slow. Such open hospitality made him feel unsettled − and completely undeserving of any such graciousness. It was wretchedly humbling. "Still, it would be wrong of me to inconvenience you in such a way…"

"You plan to return then?"

Miroku's fist clenched, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he returned his eyes to the Bone Eater's Well. "I don't know," he muttered at length, hating his indecision. He couldn't remember the last time when he had been so at odds with himself, and so unable to settle. He'd been faced with situations before where his only options were bad options, but this was the first time in a long while that Miroku found himself unsure as how to proceed.

Kagome's mother nodded in acknowledgement, following his gaze to the wooden structure at the center of the shrine. "There's something holding you back?" It was almost a statement, but not quite. Miroku could feel her words were more than an observation; she was giving him the opportunity to speak his mind, but only if he desired to.

"The Kazaana that plagues me consumed both my father and my grandfather. They spent their lives hunting down Naraku, seeking to kill him and and break the curse. It is my responsibility to avenge them and…" Miroku paused momentarily, then picked up on a different line. "Killing Naraku was supposed to be the only way to do so, and thus end the Kazaana."

Mrs. Higurashi shifted in her seat, drawing her arms up to rest on her knees. "Naraku… he seems very dangerous."

"Yes, you could say that," Miroku agreed, before giving the woman a closer look. "You worry − about Kagome-sama."

She smiled at him then, a little bemused but still kind. "Of course I do. Kagome is my daughter, and still young. In this time, she isn't even considered an adult yet, but she's still out fighting nightmares and coming home with bloodstains on her clothing. It's the sort of thing that makes a mother's imagination run wild in the middle of the night."

"Inuyasha takes her safety very seriously," Miroku observed thoughtfully. "He's put his life on the line many times for her sake."

Mrs. Higurashi nodded. "Yes, I know. I suppose that's why I let her go. Inuyasha is rough around the edges, but very trustworthy, and Kagome wants so much to help defeat this Naraku."

"She has been a great help in doing just that," he said. "I believe Naraku fears her."

"That's a strange thought," she said with a soft laugh, "that someone so awful could fear my daughter." She grew serious again and faced him. "Miroku-sama, do you think that they can defeat him?"

Miroku leaned back and blew out a long breath. "I ask myself that often, and that too makes me wonder if I am making the correct decision, not wanting to go back. The road has been hard and battles challenging enough with all of us together. If something happened because I abandoned them..." He set his jaw, frowning forbiddingly at the thought.

"How did you tell them?" she inquired. "That you didn't want to go back, I mean."

Miroku blinked, surprised, and rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward laugh. "Ah, well... I sort of sprung it on Kagome-sama right as she was about to jump into the well..."

To his surprise, Kagome's mother laughed.

"Well, that does seem to line up with the stories I've heard." At his look of amused consternation, she waved a hand. "As I said, Kagome has told me a few things." Her joviality faded somewhat. "But still, Miroku-sama, that was probably an unpleasant surprise for them."

"Yes," he sighed. "It was... a difficult topic to broach."

"Oh?"

He elaborated. "I doubt Inuyasha would have been quite so understanding of my predicament."

"And your other friends?" she pressed. "There's another woman you travel with, yes?"

He shot her a sharp glance at the mention of Sango, wondering if she had known the internal reaction it would rouse in him. However, she just looked genuinely curious - too much so to think that she had any clue.

"Sango," he said. "There's her."

"Kagome said you two are good friends," Mrs. Higurashi told him, her voice light.

"Is that so?" Miroku commented dryly. "And is that all she told you?"

It took the older woman a moment to answer. "She said that there was something between the two of you, and that she was happy that Sango had someone to make her smile."

That struck something that resonated inside of him, and Miroku closed his eyes, drawing on the strength it took to still himself. When it was said like that, so simply, it was difficult to ignore the one thing he had been trying his best to forget, to leave out of the equation.

Sango was... special. He had realized that almost as soon as he had met her, even told her that himself before. And Miroku was not a stupid man. He knew a lovestruck woman when he saw one, and he'd noticed it quickly enough when Sango had begun to look at him differently. Her cool glares and jealous actions were obvious enough.

What he hadn't expected were the intensity and depth of her feelings. A woman with mere stars in her eyes did not lay down her life for a man; Sango had no small crush on him. Coming to understand that had sent his mind reeling.

Neither had he expected to reciprocate any such feelings, to any extent. It amazed how much he could trust Sango, and at such lengths, and then also be so concerned with her well-being, her happiness. Sango was far more than any woman he could speak of, and it was difficult to regard her as just a traveling companion. That too had caught him off guard.

"Miroku-sama, is something wrong?"

He shook himself from his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Higurashi-sama, I'm fine."

She smiled knowingly. "So there is something then?"

Miroku's eyebrows drew together in contemplation - he wasn't sure how to answer that. "I have met many women, both remarkable and ordinary," he said slowly. "Sango is the most unusual of them all. I... think she would understand."

At least, he hoped she would. He suddenly wasn't so sure.

Mrs. Higurashi hummed thoughtfully. "Well," she said at length. "It seems you've got your mind more made up than you realize."

Miroku looked at her, open-mouthed with surprise, as she got to her feet and brushed off her skirt. "I think it'd be best if you cleared your head a little, and I have a few things that need to be done around here that I could use some help with. What do you say?"

The monk hesitated at the sudden turn of conversation, casting another worrisome glance towards the well. In doing so, he missed the mischievous look that crossed the face of his friend's mother.

"I − I'd be glad to be of assistance," Miroku finally decided, realizing he probably could use a distraction at the moment. He was getting nowhere as he was, and though the conversation had cleared some of his thoughts, it had jumbled others beyond recognition.

Miroku rose from his seat and turned to follow Mrs. Higurashi up the stairs, but his thoughts turned to someone else entirely.

—

Sango stood at the edge of the clearing, feeling like a fool.

She was on edge as it was − every whisper and creak of the forest around her set her nerves strung taught, and that only served to make her more irritable.

Kagome had insisted they delay their departure another day. Though she hadn't said it, the girl's reasoning was clear: maybe, if they just waited a little bit, Miroku might change his mind, and come back. If she looked at it rationally, Sango could see it was a good choice. It gave the rest of them time to adjust to the idea of the monk's absence; an absence that would be keenly felt. And, if he were to change his decision…Sango could scarcely imagine what it might feel like to come back and find they had all left, as if without a second thought.

But, despite the wisdom in waiting, it still made her mad.

She hated the uncertainty of it, and even more, the feeling that she had been somehow betrayed.

Sango gritted her teeth, forcing her eyes from where they were locked on her feet up towards the cause of her troubles: the Bone Eater's Well. From the account Kagome had given, it seemed that both her and Miroku's lives had been saved when the well had passed them through to Kagome's world. Sango had seen with her own eyes just how destroyed the wooden structure had been, and how many of the stones that lined the four walls had been knocked loose.

"It's for the best," she whispered grimly, as if reminding herself again would finally convince her.

Haltingly, Sango moved forward over the grass, coming to stand beside the well. She laid her hands against the fresh-cut wood that had been used to rebuild the small structure. The grain was coarse beneath her hands and slivers pressed against the flesh of her palms, so unlike the smooth, weatherworn old wood she was used to feeling when she visited this place. Chewing on her lower lip, Sango leaned forward and stared into its depths.

'What are you up to, Houshi-sama?'' she wondered, sighing heavily. 'And why couldn't you have at least come and told us yourself?'

That, perhaps, was the worst of it, and the reason why she felt Miroku had breached her trust.

Sango knew her feelings for the monk well enough; for all of her attempts to hide it, she couldn't deny it to herself that she wanted more from Miroku than friendship. Despite his more dishonest habits and his frustrating way with women, he was able to rouse a happiness in her that Sango thought had died with her family and her village.

Whether he reciprocated or even noticed her sentiments, Miroku had given her no hint. Everything he did to that end was contradictory and confusing − but Sango had been sure of one thing. At the very least, they were comrades in arms on the battlefield, companions off it, and friends through it all.

At least, Sango had thought she was sure of that. Now, she couldn't put together how someone could abandon their friends so easily.

'Maybe Houshi-sama is a better liar than I thought,' Sango mused, running her finger along the lip of the well. She scowled at the notion, her frustration curling deeper in her stomach, and she balled her hand into a tight fist. Did she really matter so little to him?

Sango glared at the floor of the well, a darker patch barely visible despite the strong moonlight. That stupid houshi! If she could, she'd go right through the well herself and give him a piece of her mind for being so inconsiderate. He had every right to decide for himself what to do about the Kazaana, but to just−

She stilled, contemplating the sudden idea. Sango let out a breath, peering more intently into the well.

"Could I...?" she breathed, gripping the rough wood.

Hope and excitement blossomed in her chest, the anger and betrayal she'd felt slipping away all at once. She straightened and looked cautiously towards the woods at her back; she was certain no one had followed her or was watching her now. A small smile slid across her mouth. Maybe, if she could just talk to him, and she'd always been curious about Kagome's country...

Anticipation began to sing through her. Sango knew it wouldn't be long before she her rational side set in a doubts began to get the better of her, so she made her choice quickly. Steeling herself, Sango braced a hand against the rim of the well and launched herself over the side.

The fall lasted only a moment.

Sango landed easily, years of experience dismounting Kirara from the air kicking in, and she hit the ground in a low crouch. She dropped a hand to to the dirt to steady her balance and frowned. She had expected something more, something to indicate to her that some change had happened; uncertainty started to twist in her gut.

Fearing the worst, Sango lifted her head, staring up through the square window the well afforded to the outside world.

Nothing but starry skies, the same starry skies she'd stood beneath not a minute before.

Sango's hope drained from her as quickly as it had arrived, and she slumped to her seat, resting back against the wall. Her nails bit into the dirt, clenching at the earth, and she took a long, bracing breath and tried to ignore the sting of tears in her eyes. Why hadn't it worked?

It wasn't fair. What was wrong with her, that she was the only one the well wouldn't let through?

What was wrong with her, that everyone she cared about inevitably left her behind?

It hurt, Sango realized, how little claim she had over Miroku, yet how much he so unwittingly held over her.

She grimaced, and scrubbed away her tears with the back of her hand. Her pride reasserted itself then, and she felt foolish for sitting there, crying over a man whom she had no hold over, whom she'd never had hold over. That knowledge, though it steadied her, did little to quell the emotions that still roiled beneath the surface of her mind. Still, it was enough.

Fortifying herself yet again, Sango moved. Slowly, she picked herself up off the floor and stood.

"Goodbye, Houshi-sama," she whispered, and then turned.

Sango gripped the vines that grew against the side of the well, using them to leverage her weight as she pulled herself skyward. As she heaved herself over the rim of the well and onto the grass, Sango realized something.

It wasn't betrayal she felt − just disappointment.