Absence

Interlude

One of the best parts of marriage, in Sango's opinion, was waking up snuggled in Miroku's warm embrace, her back pressed against his chest as he cuddled her close. As summer's heat faded, she had been pleasantly surprised to find that not only was Miroku fond of holding her as he slept, but that she liked it, too.

She hadn't really been sure, at first, if marriage was what she'd really wanted. She'd known from the start that she cared about the enigmatic, if perverted, monk. There was just something about him, his calm and deliberate manner, that low timbre of his voice, that pulled at her.

But marriage? Her own mother had passed away soon after Kohaku had been born—not from complications from his birth, but in a raid on a youkai nest that went awry. She knew little of the home life of a wedded couple, of the patterns and rituals a husband and wife performed during the course of the day.

She was learning slowly, and had found that there was no magic incantation, no mysticism involved. Just two people adjusting and compromising, learning as much about themselves as about the other.

One thing she was pretty certain, however, was that it was not normal for the wife to wake up with a frown on her face, wrapped in the arms of her beloved, thinking about another man.

It wasn't as if she was thinking particularly lewd thoughts about this other man; she didn't think of him in those terms at all! But the missing Inuyasha had often been on her mind since his sudden disappearance the night before. He had been somewhere in the nearby forest—Shippou had known that much, though the little kitsune had been suspiciously elusive on pointing out his exact whereabouts—lurking, as was his habit lately. But he hadn't come in for dinner, and he hadn't shown up that night.

And when pressed, Shippou had admitted, worriedly, that he had no idea where Inuyasha had gone, or when he had left.

Most worrisome was the fact that there had been no moon the previous night. Inuyasha was only vulnerable on his human nights, and who knew what mental and emotional state he had been in? Who knew what kinds of things might have happened to him?

Miroku's arms tightened gently around her waist, and a moment later he nuzzled the back of her neck. "You worry too much, dear."

Sango cursed the blush that crossed her cheeks at the unexpected sound of his voice. Why did she have to blush so easily? "Houshi-sama. I didn't know you were awake."

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck, had warmth curling through her body at the sweet gesture. "I could feel you worrying." One hand rubbed lightly at the small of her back, the motions soothing. "Inuyasha will be okay."

Was it just Sango, or had there been a note of hesitation in his voice? She wasn't convinced he meant what he said, but it was so pleasant, lying there in his arms, watching the strengthening sun around the door flap. She wasn't ready to confront him and start the old argument. "Will he? Will he really?"

Miroku sighed. He hadn't been able to conceal all his own concern for their missing friend, and, of course, Sango had picked up on his lack of conviction. Granted, it had only been one night, and up until Inuyasha and Kohaku had made their promise, it hadn't been all that unusual for the hanyou to spend up to days at a time in solitude. But with the strengthening aura of despair that had settled around Inuyasha in recent days, it was hard for Miroku to convince himself that Inuyasha would be back.

He tried to keep the conversation light. "Inuyasha survived on his own long before he knew any of us. One more night in the forest won't hurt him."

It very well could have killed him, though.

Sango twisted around, flipping onto her other side so she could stare into Miroku's face. He wasn't quick enough, and she caught the worry in his own dark eyes before he could mask it. "You're worried, too." She touched his cheek with gentle fingers. "I can't help but worry about him. It's hard enough with Kagome-chan gone. I can't..." She couldn't imagine having to adjust to Inuyasha's absence, too.

"I know." And he did. He understood the difficulty in accepting change, and the loss of a friend and companion. He, too, felt the gap in their lives that Kagome had once filled; he too would feel the loss if Inuyasha was to never return. Despite all their differences, Inuyasha was the closest friend Miroku had ever had. An equal in so many ways, and yet teacher and student in different aspects of life such as Miroku had never encountered before.

He slipped an arm around Sango's waist. They had been together so long, under the pretense of companions and partners, it was still something of a minor shock every time she accepted his touch. Wife. Partner, now, of a different sort. Sango eyed him, and he couldn't help the smile. Perhaps there was something wrong with him, but he actually enjoyed the way she looked at him with equal parts suspicion and warning in her gaze.

"I can think of a more pleasant way to pass the time than fruitless worrying," he teased as his hands moved beneath the blankets.

Sango giggled a little, then gasped, even as she struggled to keep him at bay. "Houshi-sama…The others are going to be here for breakfast soon."

Miroku was unconcerned with the arrival of the others as he rolled on top of Sango. She was so warm, so soft, so female. And his grin was wicked as he lowered himself to her. "Then we'll just have to make this quick, won't we?"

Sango managed to push Miroku off of her, but not before they had both been satisfied. She was just fixing her hair when there was the sound of approaching feet, and Kaede's silhouette filled the open doorway. Miroku had pinned open the door flap to let in the crisp autumn air and bright sunlight after they had both dressed and the morning fire was stoked.

"Good morning, Kaede," Sango said respectfully as the aged miko entered the room, bearing her contributions to the morning meal. She glanced at the miko's ankles. "Where's Shippou?" When the little kitsune didn't spend the nights with her and Miroku, he was invariably at Kaede's side.

"He did not spend his night with me," Kaede responded in her gravelly voice as she lowered herself to the floor cushion Miroku set out for her beside the fire. "Ah, these old bones don't warm up the way they used to anymore."

She and Miroku discussed common remedies for spider bites, which, with the change of seasons, had taken a sudden spike. Sango listened with half an ear as she prepared their meal, enjoying the simplicity of the routine, the familiarity of the chatter as they started their day.

Shippou came in just as she was serving the soup. "Good morning." He looked distinctly worse for the wear, dark circles under his eyes, none of his usual peppiness in evidence as he slumped to the floor between Sango and Kaede.

"Shippou! Are you all right?" Sango couldn't remember ever seeing the little kitsune so run down before.

He accepted the bowl she handed him wordlessly, then drank with grim determination. "I'm fine." He set the empty bowl down, staring mindlessly into the flames. Resolution had hardened within him during the long, sleepless night vigil he'd held from atop Inuyasha's favored tree on the edge of the village. He felt older, as if he'd grown up overnight.

"Inuyasha will return."

The three humans stared at their little friend. Shippou returned their gazes levelly, though part of him was as surprised as they were by both the conviction of his words and the harsh sound of his voice in the still air. "Don't worry, Sango. He'll be back. I know it."

Tears rose, unbidden, in Sango's eyes. "How can you be so sure?" She hadn't meant to cry. She didn't want to cry. But the hope was there, and Shippou, small as he was, was a youkai. Maybe he knew something she didn't.

Shippou stared down at his paws. They were clenched into fists, and he focused on forcing them to relax. He felt tense, on edge, and he didn't know why. "Because I just know. We're all he has left. Inuyasha will be back."

He didn't know why he was so convinced. He didn't understand why he couldn't just give up on Inuyasha. The older hanyou had left him disappointed often enough in the past, hadn't he? Who was to say that this was any different?

But something deep within him protested the thought of giving up on Inuyasha. Almost as if, in Kagome's absence, Shippou had to carry on with utmost faith in their wayward guardian-leader. Kagome had never doubted Inuyasha…or if she had, she'd hidden those doubts so deep none of the others had ever seen it. With Kagome gone forever, somebody had to be the voice of unwavering optimism.

Somebody had to carry on.

After breakfast, Shippou left on his own. Sango and Miroku watched him move in solitary determination towards the edge of the village, where he stood in the middle of the path, gazing at the forest. Sango felt Miroku's arm slip around her waist, and, grateful for his strength and silent understanding, leaned against his side. "He's so grown up now," she murmured.

Miroku's gaze tracked hers to fall on the small figure standing on resolute watch for a return he, deep in his heart, couldn't truly believe would ever come. "We all are." He spoke the truth. Naraku, for all he'd done, had been the catalyst for growth for each of them. "Do you believe him?"

Sango turned her face momentarily against his shoulder. "I wish I could. I want to. I think a part of me needs to believe him, even if I think it's empty reassurance. The other part of me can't stand to even dare to hope. But he seems so sure, Houshi-sama. I wish I could have that blind faith." She wished she could have that faith, but she had been tried and tested too much already. She was no longer a childish innocent, able to put blind trust in the unknown.

She wasn't sure if she wished she were.

Shippou stared at the distant forest. Everything had started there. Shippou couldn't let himself think that Inuyasha had taken himself out there the night before to let things end there, too. Something in him rebelled against the thought that Inuyasha had intended to kill himself out there when he'd left.

Inuyasha would be back. He'd come back from the final battle with Naraku. He'd come back again this time. His final battle within himself.

Part of him was angry at Inuyasha. How could he do that, leave everyone behind and go charging off on his own like he was the only one hurt by Kagome's absence? Big idiot. But he was mostly determined, and just a little bit sad.

He'd been left behind again. How many times had he been left behind, forgotten, tossed aside? His parents' deaths hadn't been intentional, but he'd been left behind then, left behind to carry on with their memory in his heart. Just as Inuyasha, now, carried the double burden of remembering both Kagome and Kikyou. Shippou understood. Why couldn't Inuyasha see that Shippou understood?

Shippou gazed at the trees, the leaves that had taken on the burnished hues of fiery reds and dull browns of autumn. Had it really only been the past spring that he had woken up in Kaede's hut with only the old miko for company, a lump on his head and anger foremost in his mind? Inuyasha, that bully! Knocking him out and leaving him behind…

But it was Inuyasha's words that stuck in his mind, his words and that look in his eyes—serious, like the hanyou so rarely was, serious and almost scared, as if he believed every word he'd said. If we don't come back, you have to carry on. Carry on the fight. Carry on with their memory, in their honor, with the weight of their trust and expectations riding on him.

This time there had been no parting words, but Shippou understood. This time, there wasn't the chance that Inuyasha would fail to come back. He hadn't planned on leaving, and, even if he didn't plan on coming back, one day he'd show up at their doorstep. Shippou imagined there would be no explanation, no apologies. No questions.

"I'll carry on for you, Inuyasha," he muttered softly. It felt as if the wind that rushed past at that moment would lift his words across the lands to take them to Inuyasha's ears. "I'll bear your burden until you can come back to us. And every three nights, I'll go to the well for you." He'd never be able to go through, but he could do this in Inuyasha's honor.

It was the least he could do for the hanyou who had given him a sense of security, of belonging, after he'd lost his father.

It was all he could do. I'll remember you, Inuyasha. I'll hurt for you, and that's okay. Until you come back…I'll stand for you.

Author's Notes: Okay, this sucked. I accept that. It sounded so much better in my imagination. This was inserted (Chapter 8.5, if you will) at 00's request that I give Inuyasha a brief respite. Chapters 9 (10, now) – 11 have already been written. We'll see how it goes. Let me know what I can do to fix this up!