Sanctuary
Part IV: Here
—
Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness was right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here
—
Inuyasha was seething.
'That idiot.'
The hanyou crashed through the underbrush, disturbing forest animals and sending them scrambling in fear. He paid them no mind, focusing instead on driving the quickest possible path through the trees on his way back to the well. For all of Kagome's insistence that nobody trouble the monk, he wasn't having it.
He ground his teeth together, and a sudden flash of renewed annoyance propelled him forward with more speed.
Running off again − Miroku just didn't learn. But then, Inuyasha reflected, the monk was always stupid and reckless when it came to the Kazaana. Miroku had proven over and over again just how rash he could be where his life was concerned − and it pissed Inuyasha off to no end. And what was more, now he'd done it again and upset everyone in the process.
Inuyasha snorted in disgust, recalling how the entire day had gone. Everyone had been intolerably quiet. After her outburst that morning, Kagome had refused to speak above a murmur, and Shippou had been whiny and sniffling all day long. Sango had barely said a word either, mostly keeping to herself after she'd heard the news. But then again, she was probably just happy she didn't have to get groped anymore and didn't want to say so yet, with everyone else upset. Whatever the reasons, everything was just off, and it was all Miroku's doing.
So he'd found a cure to the Kazaana. Good. But that didn't excuse him from being an inconsiderate jerk about it.
'Damn it, Miroku! You're not getting away with this!'
Inuyasha didn't break stride as he neared the well. He cleared the trees and expanse of grass in one leap and dropped straight down through the wooden portal.
—
Exhaustion, once it caught up with you, was hard to deny.
When Mrs. Higurashi had told Miroku she had chores that needed to be done and enlisted his help, she hadn't been kidding. He wasn't unaccustomed to strenuous work, and even laboring under little sleep and high stress was hardly foreign. However, the events of the past two days had stretched Miroku far more than he realized. The lack of rest, the weight of self-doubt, the challenge of understanding the complexities, both subtle and undeniable, of this futuristic country, and the physical strain left the monk practically sleepwalking by the end of the day.
Despite all of that, he could hardly complain. The distractions had been most welcome. Somehow, no matter what he was tasked with, a member of the Higurashi family had always been nearby throughout the afternoon to engage him in conversation, and there was always something to talk about in this world of curiosities. It hadn't taken Miroku very long to discern what they were up to, but he also recognized his own need to separate himself from the problem at hand, and so acquiesced to their generosity. Interacting with the family, it was easy to see where Kagome had gotten her most kindhearted attributes from.
After all was said and done, Miroku had no compunctions about collapsing into bed that night. Unlike the previous night, sleep came on swift wings, fatigue holding at bay the uneasiness that had plagued him.
It was not to last.
The door to the bedroom launched opened with a crash, and the noise startled Miroku awake. He jolted upright and had nearly rolled into an instinctive crouch before, through his sleepy haze, he realized what had caused the ruckus.
"Inuyasha?" Miroku barely had time to register the disgruntled look on the half demon's face before being walloped unceremoniously upside the head. The monk spluttered in indignation, caught unsuspecting. "What was that for?" he groused, massaging the spot on his scalp where he'd been hit. There was sure to be a lump later.
The hanyou scoffed. "For being an idiot," he shot back, as though that explained everything, before stepping back and dropping to the ground.
Miroku's forehead creased in a frown as he tried to make sense of the situation. Slowly, the dregs of sleep began to clear away and the implications of his friend's arrival began to make themselves clear. "Inuyasha… what are you doing here?" he asked, even though a part of him dreaded the answer.
"Keh. I could ask you the same question," Inuyasha replied, regarding the monk with narrowed eyes.
He looked away uncomfortably. "Did Kagome-sama fail to tell you that I decided to stay here?"
Inuyasha crossed his arms and scowled at him. "Yeah, she told us. But that doesn't explain what the hell is going on in that head of yours."
"What do you want me to tell you?" Miroku asked wearily, shifting and settling into a more comfortable position. He had the unshakable feeling that this encounter was going to take a while.
Before answering, Inuyasha examined the other man warily. Miroku seemed decidedly off. Inuyasha had seen him in many situations in the months they had known each other, and seen a wide array of the monk's habits and attitudes. He had seen him lighthearted, at his most determined, his angriest, his most stupid and perverted. However, even his knowledge of Miroku in the most dire situation did not account for the melancholy Inuyasha could sense coming from him right now.
"Oi," he called, causing Miroku's eyes to move back towards him. "Is it really gone?"
"The Kazaana?" Miroku heaved a brief sigh, then lifted his hand and pushed back the cloth coverings that usually hid the curse so that Inuyasha could see his bare, unmarked palm. "Yes, it's truly gone."
"So you don't want to go back because you don't know if the curse is really broken," Inuyasha surmised. At Miroku's affirmation, he continued. "But that doesn't tell me why you had to go and upset Kagome so bad instead of just coming and telling us yourself."
Miroku grimaced, as though the statement were particularly unpleasant. "Inuyasha, the well has never let anyone besides you and Kagome-sama through before. How can we know if I would be able to return here if I went back?" His voice hushed, betraying his uncertainty. "We can't even be sure I can go back."
"Like you wouldn't go and find a way back if you wanted to," Inuyasha muttered with a snort.
"Maybe," Miroku acknowledged, lifting his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. Inuyasha was right, of course. There was always a possibility, a chance to work around such a problem, but it would also be foolish to pretend he understood such things as the strange magic of the well and the ability to travel through time. Those things were beyond his forte.
"And what about paying Naraku back for all the crap he's done?"
"Avenging my father and grandfather, you mean?" Inuyasha gave him a sharp nod, and a wry smile crossed Miroku's face. "I haven't forgotten my responsibility. I suppose I am just uncertain as to how to proceed."
"Keh. That's not like you."
"How so?" he asked, his tone growing cool.
"I didn't think you were the sort to sit around and not make up your damn mind," Inuyasha stated, almost indifferently save for the way his eyes narrowed.
"I have made a decision," Miroku said, a little defensively. "The fact you're here only makes me wonder if you're trying to get me to change it."
"You think it'd be that easy just to run off again, after all the trouble we've gone through to keep your ass out of trouble?" Inuyasha folded his arms, leveling him a black look. "I'm not going to twist your arm and drag you back, but I thought you were smarter than that, Miroku."
"I'm glad you think so highly of me," Miroku muttered drolly.
"Don't get so full of yourself," he said, equally dry. "I don't really give a damn what you do, but the others like havin' you around."
"They'll live," the monk said.
Inuyasha frowned, looked around, found nothing to suit his needs, and so reached forward and dealt another decisive blow to the houshi's head.
"Didn't I already tell you not to be an idiot, you idiot?!"
Miroku took several long, deep breaths, trying to squelch the way his temper was fraying in Inuyasha's abrasive company. At the moment, he was having a hard time convincing himself that returning a punch or two was not, in fact, the best course of action. Were the Higurashi family not currently sleeping and the house otherwise quiet, he may have indulged the temptation.
"What are you getting at, exactly?" Miroku finally managed, settling for glaring daggers Inuyasha's way.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Inuyasha remarked, easing back into his earlier position. "Just because you don't have to deal with the problem doesn't mean you're not an asshole for causing it."
"So what do you want me to do?" Miroku demanded, his volume rising as anger and frustration began to get the better of him. "Just come back so everyone else can be happy and pretend like the damned Kazaana isn't a problem? What the hell do you take me for, Inuyasha?"
"Keh," Inuyasha grunted, not riled by Miroku's ire in the least. "I want you to stop making so many damned excuses for yourself."
Miroku stilled, flummoxed by the unexpected answer. "What?"
Inuyasha snorted and shoved himself to his feet. "Stop acting like you're the only one that gives a shit about whether or not you live or die for one, and pull it together. And if you're going to do something that's going to leave us in a tight spot in a fight, at least have the balls to own up to it." Miroku opened his mouth to respond, but the hanyou cut him off.
"We're leaving in the morning. We'll figure out what's going on with Naraku and come back. Try to keep yourself out of trouble until we do."
That said, Inuyasha turn on his heel and headed back toward the door, done with the conversation. Miroku, on the other hand, was still taken aback, his mind racing to catch up.
"Wait a second Inuyasha−"
The hanyou paused, sparing the monk a glance over the shoulder. "What now?"
Miroku looked away, shifting awkwardly. "Are... Are they really upset that I'm gone?"
"Keh, yeah. Don't know why they bother so much, but Kagome's upset and Shippou won't stop whining," Inuyasha muttered gruffly, not quite sure how to handle the monk's sudden shift in mood.
Miroku only hesitated a moment before voicing the question that truly roused his curiosity.
"And Sango?"
The hanyou shrugged. "You know how she keeps to herself all the time."
"Yes, that's true." Miroku smiled despite himself, knowing the truth of the statement, even as a hint of regret wormed its way through him. He sighed. "Inuyasha, would you express my apologies to them? I didn't mean to cause them trouble."
"No," Inuyasha rejoined flatly. "That's your job."
Miroku jerked back in surprise, as if Inuyasha's words had the same impact upon him as another punch. Without another word or an apology of his own, Inuyasha stalked from the room, yanking the door shut behind him.
The monk stared after him before squeezing his eyes shut and running a weary hand down his face. All of the thoughts and emotions that had began to settle throughout the day had suddenly returned with a vengeance, and doubt was foremost among them. Miroku slumped back into the bed even as he faced the fact that sleep would be eluding him again for the rest of the night.
—
Sango shifted through the contents of her bag, taking a final inventory of her supplies in preparation for their departure. All of her possessions, her livelihood, everything fit into the small bag she could carry comfortably over her shoulders.
Everything was there − her neatly folded slayer uniform, the pieces of youkai bone that served as both armor and secret compartments, the hidden weapons and sneaky poisons that she could always rely on in a tight spot… She ran her fingers over each small container, silently naming its contents and reciting its use before situating each back into its place. These were things she would always know; her training was dependable, even when people were not.
Sango settled the last of her possessions and leaned back on her heels. That was the last of it.
Her gaze slid across the room, dimly lit by the glowing embers and the predawn light that crept through the doorway. Kagome's backpack sat open, packed full of food and other commodities the girl had brought back. The bamboo canisters and clear plastic bottles they carried their water in lay nearby, waiting to be filled before their departure. In the corner closest to the door, Hiraikotsu rested, propped against the wall. She'd barely touched the weapon since returning from the battle that had destroyed the well. Sango's eyes drifted and fell on the gold-headed weapon that leaned against her own. Miroku's shakujou.
They would have to leave that behind, Sango noted somberly, a touch of melancholy reaching up to grip her throat. She shoved the feeling away, reminding herself of her decision the previous night. It wouldn't do to linger on what she could not change.
It didn't matter how much she wanted to.
"Are you alright, Sango?" Kagome asked, pausing in her attempts to roll up and put away her sleeping bag. Sango quickly turned her attention away from the wall and redirected her focus to the supplies in front of her.
"I'm fine," she responded brusquely, deftly knotting her bag shut. She was acutely aware of the way Kagome continued to scrutinize her despite the definite answer. She pressed her lips together firmly, biting back exasperation, then turned to her friend with a fixed smile. "Really, Kagome-chan. I am."
Kagome nodded dubiously, her fingers fiddling with the zipper of her half-folded sleeping bag. "You came back very late last night, Sango-chan," she finally said.
"Yes," Sango said, deliberately. "I went for a walk. A long walk."
Kagome frowned. It was evident she had been seeking a more thorough explanation, but Sango found herself reluctant to share about her venture to the well. It felt almost - almost shameful, especially after how adamantly she had insisted they honor his resolution and leave Miroku to his own devices. Was she truly so fickle, in the end?
"Sango-chan," Kagome began again, haltingly. "I know you care for Miroku-sama..."
"Kagome-chan," Sango tried to interrupt, but the girl went on despite the protest.
"I think he'll come back," Kagome stated with a firmness her previous words had lacked. She lifted her chin, defiant against the skepticism that was written plainly across Sango's face. "I mean it. He'll have to, eventually. My home is a lot different than it is here. Things are more... structured, more regulated. You have to have documents and records and numbers that keep track of your identity and where you were born. Miroku-sama doesn't have any of that, and he would have to break a lot of laws he could get in a lot of trouble for to get it."
Sango shook her head wearily. "You know him well enough, Kagome-chan. Houshi-sama lies and cheats people all of the time and always gets away with it. It wouldn't be anything new for him."
"It's different," Kagome insisted. Abruptly, she gentled, a coaxing glint lighting up her eyes. "Besides, Sango-chan, I think he'll miss you, if he doesn't already."
Sango felt her face suddenly heat up at the other girls words, and she suddenly felt shaken from the resignation she'd reconciled herself to. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, casting about for something, anything she could use to divert the path the conversation had fallen towards.
"Miroku-sama cares about you too, doesn't he?" Kagome pressed, a little slyly now. "I think it's obvious that he thinks you're special."
Her heart gave a hopeful little lurch at the suggestion, but Sango's mind insisted on the lunacy of the idea. Miroku had never given her any solid reason to believe she was truly different than all the other women they regularly crossed paths with. For every fleeting hope he gave her, those times when she could begin to envision the possibility that maybe her attachment to the monk wasn't so unfounded after all, she could remember just as many times Miroku had directed his attentions elsewhere. The only thing that separated her from any other half-pretty girl was the friends and the quest they shared, a fact that chafed sharply to acknowledge. To believe any different would be foolhardy; perhaps even desperate.
Sango was prouder than that.
Her eyes fell to the empty water containers she had all but forgotten in the duration of the conversation. Making an instantaneous decision, Sango shifted and straightened, rising to her feet. Kagome blinked, surprised at the swiftness of her friend's movement.
"Sango-chan?"
She bent down to gather the various canisters. "I'm going to get water. Inuyasha will want to leave soon."
Kagome's face instantly fell and she slipped to her knees, as though to stand too. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you..."
Sango waved her worry away. "It's nothing," she said with finality, before stepping away and disappearing through the doorway. Kagome stayed where she was, staring the way Sango had left, half-risen and at a loss. She bit her lip and couldn't help but wonder what she had done wrong that Sango still did not trust her enough to confide in her.
It was anything but nothing.
—
Resolve.
It took determination; focus. After several years on the road exorcising youkai and hunting Naraku, preceded by an even lengthier period of education and training, Miroku considered himself to possess both in spades. Despite his reputation with women and other questionable habits, such things were secondary to his greater mission, and always had been. Putting an end to Naraku, consequentially ridding himself of the Kazaana and avenging the deaths of his predecessors, had taken precedence at all times, even before his search for a woman to mother his children.
But what now? The past few days had turned on its head, his priorities included, and Miroku found himself hounded by doubts. Surrendering the battle against sleeplessness, he slipped from his pallet, folded it neatly, and crept out of the house. Closing the door gently behind him, Miroku tarried on the doorstep, surveying the shrine courtyard.
Everything was dim, awash in predawn grays, but distinct. Miroku could plainly make out the Goshinboku, taller than he was accustomed to and arching proudly over the grounds, and amongst the many buildings, the small building that housed the source of all of his unrest. At first glance, it looked just like any other of the many shrines he had come across in his travels, but a closer look revealed the differences - the richness of the paint, the sharp lettering of the signs that named and described each structure, the strange mansion at his back. All spoke to the otherness of this era, and Miroku couldn't shake the impression that things outside of the shrine would only be less and less familiar. Making a place for himself here would be complicated, at best.
The problem was, Miroku was no longer so sure here was where he wanted to be. Inuyasha had shaken the assurance that Mrs. Higurashi had already unsettled, and he felt it acutely.
Steps heavy, Miroku began to walk, striding purposefully towards the well house. He reached it all too soon, and his hesitation caught up with him, freezing his hand above the door handle. He withdrew it and ran his palm over his cheek, blowing out a long breath.
"This is a hell of a time to get all noble, Miroku," he muttered to himself. This wasn't like having second thoughts about bedding a pretty girl or picking a fight with the wrong demon. His very life hung in the balance of this decision.
But Naraku deserved to die, and Miroku could not abdicate that responsibility to someone else. Not even to his friends. Naraku had done too much, to him, to Inuyasha, to Sango...
Just the memories of all of the atrocities that had been committed and the pain that had been caused because of that twisted monster riled Miroku's anger and burned away his ambivalence. He tugged open the door and entered the well house, picking his way down the short flight of stairs. Miroku came to a slow halt before the well and reached forward, placing his hands on the ancient wood. It was cool beneath his fingertips.
He stared into the abyss, captivated.
What now, he wondered, what now? What was his choice, his final decision?
What happened next?
It all depended what he wanted more.
He wanted life.
He wanted to breathe air, to feel his lungs expand with each inhale and his heart to pump his blood through his veins, unfaltering.
He wanted to see the years go by, to see his hair turn gray and then white with age, to touch his face and trace lines that hadn't been there before.
He wanted children, to see them grow and smile and play and learn, to see them fall in love and have their own children.
He wanted to take hold of the opportunities that were now possible, all but lying in the smooth, so-smooth palm of his hand like they never had before.
But he also wanted more. That was his nature, wasn't it? So selfish, so demanding, so willing to risk everything for something he didn't deserve, that he'd never deserve. He was a fool for even wanting it, for desiring it alone when everything else he'd dreamed of was here, in front of him.
Was he really willing to throw it all away for something he was so uncertain of?
He stared into the abyss, and it mocked him. It mocked him because these things had been his desire for a long time, longer even than he could remember. Young men did not grow up daydreaming of what it would be like to be old, but Miroku did, on the occasion he allowed himself the indulgence. He was sick of numbering his days, wondering if he would have time enough to complete his mission. He was tired of searching for a woman to be a mother; he wanted a woman to be his wife.
The fulfillment of these desires had always been contingent on the fulfillment of his duty. Never before had Miroku thought it possible to enjoy such luxuries before paying his due, but he had been proven wrong. Here was the opportunity to have and take everything that he had ever wanted, right at his fingertips.
He would be a fool to give it up, and Miroku knew it. Maybe he was a fool, but he had vacillated for too long. It was time to stop being a coward.
Miroku lifted his hand, holding his bare right palm up to the faint sunlight that leaked through the still-open doorway. The ring on his finger caught the light and glinted dimly. Slowly, methodically, he replaced the coverings and secured the prayer beads that would bind the curse, should it reappear. Miroku prayed it would not, but his fears spoke otherwise.
"Here goes nothing," Miroku said, and braced himself for what came next.
With a deep breath, he made his choice and launched himself into the empty well.
And then, he fell.
—
She shouldn't have snapped at Kagome-chan like that.
Sango forced herself to slow down, measuring her steps. She had been so agitated by Kagome's attempts to draw her out of her shell when all she wanted to do was think about anything but Houshi-sama, she hadn't even been paying attention to where she was going. A quick glance around was all it took to gain her bearings - she had not been walking towards the village well.
Rather, this was the road to the Bone Eater's Well.
Sango stopped in the middle of the wooded path, frowning down at the sun-dappled forest floor. What was she doing, letting herself come back here when she was supposed to be moving forward? She had said her goodbyes; it was useless to linger on bygones.
Yet...
'He doesn't think of you like that,' she reminded herself, not for the first time. Still, a traitorous part of her heart whispered, it would not hurt to look, and she was nearly there already. She could get the water on her way back...
Sango hesitated, glanced back the way she had come... and then turned back in the direction of the well.
The path twisted and turned, and finally curved to the right, and what Sango saw next froze her in her steps. He stood there, upright and solid, his back to her. She blinked, breathed - not quite certain she wasn't imagining the man she saw before her.
She swallowed, hard, and -
"Houshi-sama?"
For a moment, Sango wondered if she had spoken too softly. Then, a shift - and he turned. Their eyes met.
Miroku looked haggard, she thought, and even a little rumpled, as though he had failed to get much rest or peace of mind lately. The set of his jaw was firm, betraying a certain tension about him that Sango had only caught glimpses of in the middle of battle. As she watched, a subtle change came over him, and something in his demeanor softened. The tight line of his mouth loosened into a small smile.
"Sango," he said, and the sound of her name was like a confirmation.
The stress and frustration she had been harboring bled away all at once, making way for a rush of giddy emotion. Sango schooled herself, tamping down the desire to rush to him lest she give away too much. Rather, she approached him slowly, closing the distance between them. She slowed to a stop, near enough to speak normally and regarded him. Despite her cautious hold on her self, she couldn't keep the quaver from her voice when she finally spoke.
"You came back."
Miroku paused, and Sango caught the way his brow furrowed momentarily.
"Yes," he said. "So I did."
She hesitated, unable to stop the way her eyes dropped to his hand, half-hidden by the sleeve of his robe. "Houshi-sama..." she began, wondering how best to breach the awkward silence and ask the question that came to her mind.
Miroku smiled tiredly. "Sit with me, Sango? I confess, I'm a little worn out."
She nodded, and he sunk down, resting back against the guard of the well with a long sigh. Sango slowly settled beside him, her legs tucked neatly beneath her. Miroku idly watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was a sight for sore eyes, he thought at length, and he turned to look at her more fully. She colored a little beneath his scrutiny. Truth be told, he had been considering the possibility that she and the others had already left, and that he would have to travel quickly in order to catch up. That she was here... it made him happy.
"Houshi-sama," she began again, finally discarding her uncertainty and plunging ahead. "What about the Kazaana?"
He had known the matter would come up eventually. Miroku gave her a grim smile, before shifting his attention to his right hand, held open on his knee.
"It has returned," he said.
Sango felt a rush of sadness for the monk's sake. He looked so grave - so unlike the frivolous behavior she had come to expect from him. Miroku so rarely spoke of it, and never complained, but she knew the curse weighed more heavily on him than he let on. Sango wished there were some way to comfort him, the way he so often did for her. If only she knew how.
"I'm surprised you came back," she admitted.
"Were you?" He didn't actually seem surprised. After a moment's thought, he nodded. "I was serious when I told Kagome-sama I wanted to stay in that world. It was... easier." Miroku glanced at her, as if to ascertain whether she might think less of him for the confession. Sango simply looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "I thought it might be fate, offering me a chance at something I might not otherwise obtain. Perhaps it was. But there's more at stake here than my own life."
"Naraku," Sango surmised. He nodded.
"Yes," Miroku agreed. "I realized I could not leave the people I have come to care about to finish this fight without me. I would never forgive myself if one of you were harmed in my absence. I would wonder: 'Would Sango have been hurt had I been there to take the blow for her?' I can't risk that."
She flushed at his example, torn between embarrassment and indignation that he would sacrifice himself so readily for her sake. "Houshi-sama..."
"I must also confess," Miroku continued, as if he had not heard her. "I wasn't expecting to meet you here this morning, Sango."
"I-I was going to get water," she stammered. She gestured to the empty containers resting on the ground beside her.
He quirked a brow. "This isn't the sort of well you draw water from," he observed casually.
Sango was scrambling for some sort of answer. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, that's all," she murmured and looked away in a vain attempt to hide her self-consciousness.
Miroku grinned to himself and decided to let it rest. It was too easy to work Sango into a fluster, and while he enjoyed teasing her, it wouldn't do to call too much attention to the matter. For all that her discomfit amused him, he respected her too much to risk being unnecessarily cruel. There was something between them beyond simple friendship, that was undeniable, but such things could wait until more pressing matters were decided upon. He would figure out what to do with Sango when the timing was more...convenient. There was no point in risking complicating the tentative peace that existed in their little group.
"It's getting late," he commented, peering skyward. The morning sunlight shone brightly through the trees. "We should probably get going. Inuyasha will be displeased if we loiter too long."
"Yes," Sango said, and then did something unexpected.
Her hand lifted, reaching towards him. Sango touched his gloved forearm lightly, fingers glancing over the beads that bound his curse. She had a look of intense concentration, as if she were doing her best to focus on him and not on the embarrassment that was already turning her cheeks rosy again.
"I'm glad you're here," Sango admitted softly, glancing up at him quickly from beneath her lashes. Miroku knew she meant it, meant it with every piece of her resilient heart, and he marveled that she was being so bold.
"Sango..."
She lifted her chin to stare at him, determined. "We'll defeat him," she told him, "before it's too late."
Miroku blinked, caught speechless by her ardent declaration. After a long beat, he chuckled and twisted his wrist so that Sango's hand slid into his own. He smiled warmly at her when her serious expression faltered in surprise and he ran his thumb slowly over the back of her hand. "Thank you, Sango. You are far too generous with me," he murmured, and stealthily slid his free hand towards the curve of her hip.
Sango's heart was pounding, her thoughts in a jumble. Her eyes dropped down to their interlocked hands, lingering on the way his thumb rubbed back and forth over her skin, and she dumbly wondered how he could so easily render her incoherent. In the midst of her frazzled state, a subtle movement caught her attention.
She narrowed her eyes. The hand she had been using to help balance herself darted out, pinning Miroku's own errant hand down to the ground, just inches from her thigh.
"And you, Houshi-sama, are far too underhanded."
Miroku laughed nervously and tried to tug away his offending appendage. Sango didn't let him go right away, maintaining a cool glare that only heightened the monk's apprehension. For a long minute, they sat there, locked in a stalemate.
"Ah... Weren't we about to go?" he queried with a sheepish grin. After a moment, Sango withdrew, refraining from further comment. He let her go without complaint, instead opting for an indulgent sigh of relief when she did not reprimand him further for his...efforts. They climbed to their feet, both feeling a little edgy. The atmosphere had become more tense than before. Miroku brushed some dead grass from his robes, and, hoping to ease the mood, remarked, "I fear I lost my shakujou in that fight."
Sango shot him a narrow glance, as though she knew what he was up to and was not quite ready to forgive him yet, before relenting with a sigh. "No," she said. "We found it afterward. It is back with our other supplies."
"That's good news," he said with deliberate cheerfulness. He half-turned toward the path that would take them to the village. "Shall we?"
The slayer nodded, only to pause. "One thing, Houshi-sama." Miroku tilted his head slightly, indicating she should continue. Sango glanced back towards the well, then back towards him. "Do you think... if things were to get too bad, would you go back?"
Miroku took a minute to dwell on his answer, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully.
"I don't know," he decided at length, "but I think not. Now that I'm back, it would be better to see things through to the end. It is too easy to vacillate between the possibilities otherwise."
"I see," Sango said. She couldn't say for sure, but she could understand the need for that kind of finality - to make a choice and see it through to the end, unwavering, regardless of the consequences. As much as it worried her, for his sake (and maybe in a strange way, her own) she could not fault him for that resolve. Rather, she found that she could admire him for it. Sango faced him, serious. "I meant what I said, Houshi-sama: we will defeat Naraku and break your curse."
"I know you did," he said, with an ironic sort of grin. "And we'll save Kohaku too, when we do."
Sango smiled then, beautiful, serene and a thousand different things Miroku had no names for. "Yes," she agreed, "that too."
The moment held, and they regarded each other wordlessly; something unspoken passing between them in the silence. Then--
"Oi, there you two are! You're late."
The mood fractured all at once, and they turned in unison toward the source of noise. Inuyasha stood at the edge of the trees, arms crossed and looking disgruntled. Kagome stood a short distance behind him, a wide, excited grin on her face.
Miroku gave them both a cheerful wave, and muttered in an aside to Sango: "See? I told you Inuyasha would be displeased."
Sango stifled a giggle just as the hanyou yelled an irritable, "I heard that!" She choked on her laughter a moment later when she felt the too-familiar sensation of a hand on her backside. She rounded on the monk, seething, and let fly a decisive slap that echoed through the clearing before stalking away angrily.
Even though his vision swam and his cheek was stinging, Miroku couldn't help but grin stupidly. There was still a great deal left to accomplish, and much on the line, he felt more at ease now than he had for the entire duration of his visit to Kagome's world. Perhaps it was foolish, but back in the presence of his comrades, he allowed himself the luxury of hope - hope that one day, they would succeed in their quest, and the Kazaana would truly be no more.
Maybe one day, Miroku thought ridiculously, there would even come a day when Sango wouldn't smack him for his touch.
Then again, maybe she'd hit him harder than he had realized.
"Miroku," Inuyasha called, eying the monk like he'd gone a little addled in the head, "are you coming or what?"
"Sure," he replied. Shrugging off his thoughts, Miroku grinned and bent down to pick up the water canisters Sango had forgotten.
It was something to look forward to, at least.
—
Fin.
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