Title: Possession
Character/Pairing: Miroku/Sango
Rating: PG-13 for blood I suppose
c. 2005
The first time Sango ever saw Miroku possessed by a demon, she was almost sick with fear.
He stood there on the moonlit field facing her, his legs apart and his staff held horizontal away from his body. His gaze was locked on her, and his eyes were full of such evil that a shiver ran from her head to her toes. It was similar to the time he had been controlled by Shyuga-baba, only then his eyes did not glow red and he did not look at her so hatefully, as if he wanted to rip her apart and eat her insides. But Sango was strong. Sango could fight him even under that gaze and not be distracted by it. But that was not what scared her.
What scared her was that Miroku had been possessed by a real ghost, and it would have taken a lot of spiritual energy to overcome his control.
And now he wanted to kill her.
But Sango would stand and fight. She was already drawing her wakizashi, gripping it between sweaty fingers. After all, not long ago they stood just like this, facing each other in a duel to the death. Then it had been Sango who was possessed, but Sango was not trained to be able to fight in such a manner. And so she was made into a steel-tempered enemy, capable of killing him, and he still came for her. He still fought for her even though she could have killed him.
And now she would fight for him. She would fight to get her Houshi-sama back.
She raised her sword as he came at her with his staff, intending to give her a blow to the stomach. Sango swung her blade upwards, the metal upon metal jarring her arm. Miroku swung downwards and ripped the sword away from her hand before he knocked her off her feet.
The pain was exquisite. Blood surged up her throat and stained her lips. She was sure he had torn something. Sango looked up as Miroku loomed above her, raising his staff to impale her upon it.
She rolled out of the way just in time, swinging by her wakizashi. She stood up across from him, waiting as he turned to pierce her with that frightening gaze once more.
They came at each other again. Miroku got another punch, startling her, and she heaved again. The sharp-edged end of his staff cut her cheek open. Sango dropped her sword again in surprise, trying to clear the blood away from her eyelashes. She drove at Miroku with her fists, but he caught them before she could make contact and forced them away. Twice Sango stumbled, and was barely able to regain her footing before Miroku stabbed her with his shakujou.
Finally, sobs tearing themselves from her throat, Sango threw herself at the monk, embracing him tightly. The tears dampened the front of his robes. "Don't you dare give up, Houshi-sama," she whispered fiercely. "Come back to me. I need you here."
She could feel his hands rising behind her, could see the blade of her own weapon twinkling out of the corner of her eye. Quickly, Sango reached into the front of his robes and ripped out one of his sealing charms. She had seen him use them many times before, and thought maybe she could use them correctly. Mumbling a quick prayer, she flung the exorcism paper at the monk's chest, at the same time as her wakizashi plunged into her back.
Black spots blocked her vision, and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was the satisfied grin on his face.
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Miroku stepped into the hut quietly, just in case she was asleep.
But she was sitting up, her yukata slipping halfway off her shoulders. He could see the bloodstained bandages wrapped around her back. Her head was bowed, her hair unbound and hiding her face. He sat down beside her, and she did not look up.
"Sango," he started. She didn't respond. "Sango, you should be resting."
"I'm fine, Houshi-sama," she said. "Just a few scratches."
He frowned. "Sango, I could have killed you."
"But you didn't, Houshi-sama. I'm fine."
He sighed. "Would you at least let me change your bandages?"
After a moment, she nodded, and moved her hair aside so that he could get to her injury.
He unwound the bandages gently, and hissed in surprise. There was a gaping wound in the middle of her back, in the same place, Miroku realized with horror, as the scar she had received from Kohaku. He stared at her for a long moment.
"What's the matter, Houshi-sama?"
"Sango, you must be very angry with me," Miroku told her.
"I'm not angry. I'm just glad I was able to save you in time."
Miroku clenched his fists. "You are too forgiving. I have hurt you so badly, and you don't strike me?"
"Of course not," she said vehemently, turning to face him. "It's not your fault, Houshi-sama. You were being controlled. I saved you because you saved me. It's only fair, isn't it?" She swallowed as he gently turned her back around to replace her bandages with fresh ones. "Besides, I…I need you here with me."
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and brought her back to rest against him. She could feel his heart beating strong and hard against her back, and pressed her face softly into his arm. He's alive.
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.
She smiled, and noticed that the dull pain she had been feeling had vanished.
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