Sango was humming to herself as she busied herself with the household chores; an old song she vaguely remembered her mother used to sing when she was a child. Kirara listened for a while, tails twitching, before deciding she did not care much for human music and settled in for a nap.

Kohaku and Miroku were out on a mission. She had been forced to stay behind because they were worried she was rushing things: her wounds from the bear demon had only recently healed.

"We don't want you overexerting yourself, my dear Sango," Miroku said, kissing her forehead, his arms around her shoulders.

"But – "

"Houshi-sama's right, Ane-ue," cut in Kohaku cheerfully, his brown eyes dark with concern belying his tone. "You should rest."

"Exactly." He played with her hair, tugging on her long brown mane before leaning in conspiratorially. "There are more… exciting activities I've been longing to do with you once you recover."

She snorted. "Pervert," Sango scolded, slapping his shoulder lightly. Miroku laughed. "I could never be anything else with you." He planted a butterfly-light peck on her forehead, irritating her to no end. Knowing he delighted in teasing her like this, she ended their game by impatiently pulling his face down for a proper goodbye kiss.

Kohaku leaned casually in the door frame, groaning and rolling his eyes dramatically at their antics.

She smiled at the memory as she sat down to continue work on her latest project: a new kimono for Kohaku. He was too old for the young boys' style he currently wore; already finished with the hakama, she was working on the jacket. The cloth she was using was royal blue; she hoped he would like the shade.

Miroku watched Kohaku closely the entire time during the mission, even while they fought. Luckily their adversary was nowhere near as strong as the bear demon; the young man easily vanquished it with one well-aimed slice of his kusari-gama.

He had yet to speak to Kohaku, to hear his side of the story. The time never seemed right – Sango or even Kirara would interfere in some way, forcing the monk to put off his questions for fear of upsetting Sango.

Although he considered himself a patient man, his reserves were fast running low.

They had not spoken a word to each other on the way out, the young man staring off into the middle distance at nothing in particular, the same pensive look his sister wore when she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

Now on their return journey, Miroku felt he had held his tongue long enough.

"Kohaku?"

He blinked and turned to look at his brother-in-law to be. "Yes, Houshi-sama?"

"The other night, in Ryota's village – " the monk noticed something change in Kohaku's eyes " – when you were helping Sango with her bandages…"

The young slayer forced himself to meet Miroku's searching gaze. "… What about it?"

"Did… did she say anything… strange?" The monk mentally kicked himself; his vaunted silver tongue apparently nowhere to be found.

Kohaku shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No. Why?"

Disappointed, Miroku looked away. He should have known it would not be as easy as that to get his answers. "Nothing. I was just worried; Sango looked upset when I came in later that night."

"Upset?" The young man appeared genuinely distressed by the news.

The monk smiled reassuringly. "Yes – but she's fine now. It's hard for Sango to believe it's all over and she can be happy. The past has a way of haunting people."

He received a nod in reply and the younger man returned to his quiet ruminations.

Miroku frowned. Kohaku was clearly lying; he wondered why.

Inuyasha lounged in the branch of his favourite tree; the one that offered a view of the village and the Bone-Eater's well. He had spent many a day there, watching and waiting for Kagome to appear...

Those days were gone, now that she had chosen to spend the rest of them with him.

The warm breeze ruffled his hair and tickled his skin –

Abruptly, Inuyasha sat bolt upright, nose sniffing furiously, in case he was mistaken.

"Damn."

He hopped down, heading to the small hut on the fringes of the village he shared with his wife. 'Kagome?"

She emerged from the back, Shippou in tow chattering merrily. A woven basket half-filled with scented herbs explained her grubby robes and hands; Inuyasha took a moment – uncharacteristic as it was for him – to see his family. Soon to be broken again by this news.

"What is it, Inuyasha?"

The hanyou's mouth was a grim slash. "I... just caught Naraku's scent."

Kagome, much to her credit, took the news calmly. "Where?"

"Just for an instant, some distance from here in the direction of the tiger." Inuyasha's ears twitched restlessly; she had never seen him so agitated in a long time.

"Should we get Sango, Miroku and Kohaku?"

Inuyasha folded his arms. "If we must."

A small smile lit up her otherwise solemn face in spite of the situation. "I wonder how they are – it's been a few months since we last saw them."

Her husband was in no mood for light-hearted thoughts; he snorted as he spun on his heel to go. "Keh – they'll be alive, just as they've been all the while." The hanyou stopped in his tracks when he realised Kagome was not following him. "Come on, we're going."

"Now?" she asked in utter disbelief.

"Yes, now," Inuyasha snapped back. "I can smell Naraku, months after we killed the bastard and I fucking want to know why."

Without a word of protest, Kagome disappeared into their home and remerged carrying her bow and arrows. Hitching up her priestess' robes, she climbed on Inuyasha's back with an unusually quiet Shippou. She knew what was the cause of his edginess; shortly after carrying Kohaku to Kaede's hut, they had found Kikyou's broken corpse among the dead of the battlefield.

Inuyasha had never gotten to apologise or even say goodbye; Naraku had robbed him of even that small comfort.

The wind whistled in her ears as the landscape blurred. Beneath her legs, she felt his body tense and relax as he ran.

"Inuyasha?" she said softly after an appropriate time.

"I'm sorry, Kagome." His voice was apologetic; almost gentle. "I didn't mean to snap like that – "

"It's all right." Kagome touched his cheek. "I understand."

The rest of the journey passed in silence, all three dreading what they would find.

Back in the slayers' village, Miroku and Kohaku had just returned from the job.

"We're home!" called Miroku, slapping dust from his clothing just outside the hut. Sango emerged, hugging both of them in turn. Kirara purred and rubbed against their legs.

When she wrapped her arms around Kohaku's back, the young man responded with an enthusiastic squeeze; his large hands encircled her shoulders, his fingers splayed across her kimono. He kissed her cheek – the fragrant scent of her hair filled his nose. Slowly, hesitantly, his hands dipped lower down –

– Sango pulled away to walk into the house, rapt in conversation with Miroku. She disengaged herself from the circle of his arms so easily, slipping from between them without the faintest idea of what Kohaku had been trying to do.

He let his hands fall to his sides limply; her perfume lingering on in his senses.

Miroku was already comfortably seated at the head of the hearth when the younger man entered the hut. A steaming cup of tea flanked by a simple earthen teapot sat in front of him.

Sango emerged from the other room, Kirara weaving in and around her ankles, a tray of delectables in her hands. "You must be hungry," she said, setting it in front of them both. "Dinner won't be ready for quite a while yet."

Kohaku eyed the tray; an assortment of mochi, plus other strange foods he identified as being from Kagome's world.

She watched as he tentatively picked up one of the mochi and popped it into his mouth. "Good?" she asked.

He nodded, chewing solemnly on the sticky, gooey treat. It was a lot sweeter than he recalled – and he could not even remember the last time he ate one – and although it was filled with sweet red bean paste, the taste evoked memories of cut grass and sunshine...

A child's laughter. Stickygummy fingers. Pink and white.

"When was the last time you remember me eating this?" Kohaku asked.

Her fingers stilled, hovering in midair over a colourful snack from Kagome's time. "When we were quite young." Sango's voice trembled a little; whether it was from sadness or excitement, it was impossible to tell. "Father had bought us a treat; we ate it outside on the hillside outside the village."

"Kohaku... are you remembering?"

The younger man swallowed the last of the mochi, letting the taste fade away along with the memories.

"To be completely honest, Ane-ue; it feels like it – and at the same time, not." He savoured the eager look on her face as she leaned closer; just as he had savoured the sweet richness of the mochi.

"What do you mean?"

"They aren't really memories." Kohaku picked up another piece of sticky rice cake but continued turning it over in his fingers instead of eating it. "Not in the usual way. I don't see the whole thing; just fragments, here and there."

"Does this happen often?" Miroku was also leaning forward now, his grave violet eyes trained on the younger slayer.

"Yes."

The monk smiled. "That's a good sign."

A warm hand on his wrist made Kohaku jump a little. Sango was smiling too – that smile of hers which never seemed to quite reach her eyes.

"I'm glad."

He laid his free hand over hers, turning it over and placing the now warmed mochi in her palm. Kohaku's fingertips grazed her skin ever so slightly.

He looked up and met her gaze. "So am I."

There must have been something in his eyes; Sango flushed abruptly and looked away.

The mochi remained, uneaten, in her hand. Kohaku seized the opportunity as Sango sipped her tea to glance over at Miroku.

The older man appeared strangely impassive; his face a blank granite slab. But Kohaku was a trained slayer, and caught the flash of emotion masked behind the veiled eyes. It was a laden silence that hung over the three as they ate.

Even Kirara felt it; she lifted her head, abandoning her afternoon nap to stare at her three humans in turn.

Despite years of traveling on Inuyasha's back, Kagome was having a hard time getting her bearings as the wind howled in her ears.

Scenery blurred past her, making it nearly impossible to identify any landmarks.

"Inuyasha, which are we doing first? Are we investigating Naraku's scent or are we getting Sango-chan, Miroku-sama and Kohaku-kun?" she shouted over the wind.

He was strangely silent; the hanyou bounded over a fallen tree and landed with a jolt which forced Kagome's words back down.

She leaned forward and repeated her question, right into one pointed ear.

"They're both in the same direction," grunted Inuyasha at last as he dodged a pitfall.

The schoolgirl sensed there was something more he was not telling her but she knew him well enough not to pry.

Shippou, however, was not easily satisfied.

"Oi, Inuyasha!" he yelled, taking hold of the other ear. "You're not telling us something!"

"Shut up, runt," he growled back.

Much to the little kitsune's surprise, Kagome pulled him closer to her. "Shippou-chan. Not now."

"Kagome?"

She absently tucked him under one arm; she had a bad feeling about the entire thing and was fervently hoping her suspicions would not be confirmed.

Miroku left the house the instant he judged it right to do so. He needed some air.

He had seen something he thought he would never see; what was worse, he knew it was intentional.

Kohaku was not Kohaku, he had already established; but precisely what was he?

The gesture was significant; the young man was sending him a clear message.

Miroku did not know whether to laugh at the absurdity of the situation or despair over the implications. They are brother and sister, his rational mind told him. They have a special bond between them which is not your place to interfere with.

But when did it overstep the boundaries of sibling affection?

The monk felt unclean even thinking that, despite having no right to. Even the gods themselves loved without regard for blood ties; Izzanami and Izanagi, brother and sister, husband and wife, man and woman.

Their love transcended all things and gave birth to life.

But this was wrong, twisted, sick. No longer pure love; this was perverted love, improperly directed love.

And now he had reached this conclusion, the only thing that remained was getting Sango to see it.

He had broken many hearts in the past and thought little of it; it seemed to be karma that the woman whose heart he was going to shatter completely was the one who held his own.

Sango cleared away the dishes with shaking hands.

Something had happened; she had no idea what exactly, although she had a bad feeling about it.

She wondered whether she was overthinking the simple gesture of affection; Kohaku giving her the last mochi.

Innocent. Caring. Thoughtful.

But her heart screamed otherwise.

There was nothing innocent in the way he had looked at her; heat flickered in his gaze and danced on the tips of his fingers. The sheer deliberation of his movements; more languid and unhurried than the situation demanded.

The heat of his skin where it met her own in a sensual notembrace.

Caring in a way she never would have associated with her little brother; the baby cradled in clumsy smallchild arms, the toddler on unsteady feet, the boy gazing up at her with complete adoration.

Clear brown eyes that held nothing but love.

Why was it she was unable to meet his eyes now?

Thoughtful? Thoughts unrelated were stirred up when she looked at him; thoughts that disturbed her. Something was definitely wrong.

The only thing remaining was convincing herself to believe that.

Kohaku enjoyed the cool earth beneath his feet.

He had called, and she had responded – he was surprised, he had thought she would not.

Things were progressing at a pace that both excited and terrified him. "In the end, there will only be us two," he mumured under his breath. The graves of his people stared back; cold, silent.

"Just like it has always been."

A faint breeze picked up and ruffled his hair; leaves swirled around the quiet mounds.

Inuyasha skidded to a halt in front of the familiar imposing palisade.

Even though she had been dropped with little ceremony, Kagome said nothing, hoisting her quiver higher on her shoulder.

The oppressive, cloying sensation of death hung over the place as always; she bit down the little spring of hope that a healed family would have been able to lift the shroud.

"Sango-chan? Miroku-sama? Kohaku-kun?"

No sound, no answering reply.

Inuyasha, his face grim, drew Tetsusaiga.

And in a flash, Kagome saw –

– Naraku's final words –

– Kohaku's survival –

– his recovery –

– and the pieces fell into place with an ominous click.

"No," she gasped. Her heart raced in her chest.

Inuyasha's face was drawn; he motioned for her and Shippou to follow him as he climbed the hill. Together, they approached the fallen palisade gate.

The first things they saw was Kohaku's back; he sat cross-legged in front of the graves. His kusari-gama glittered in his hand; a whetstone made a regular grating noise as it slid back and forth over the scythe.

"Kohaku-kun?"

The young man half-turned and smiled.

"Kagome-sama, Inuyasha-sama, Shippou-chan."

The schoolgirl wavered visibly, her hand straying to the bow slung over her back. "Is everything alright?"

Kohaku's smile slipped a little as he took in the drawn Tetsusaiga and the tense looks on his friends' faces.

"We're fine. There's no youkai attacks or anything..." He trailed off apprehensively, his gaze fixed on the drawn sword.

"What's going on – Inuyasha? Kagome-sama?"

"Kagome-chan!"

Miroku and Sango dashed seemingly from nowhere; he from the vicinity, she from the hut. Both had their weapons out but promptly lowered them upon seeing their friends. Kirara bounded out at her mistress' heels, fur standing on end.

"Miroku-sama. Sango-chan." A part of Kagome was relieved; the other dreaded what was coming next.

Sango stared at Inuyasha. "Inuyasha, what are you doing?" Like Kohaku, she followed every movement of the blade but her eyes continually darted about her. Automatically she was assessing the situation, planning a strategy, choosing her points of attack...

"Don't bother, Sango," growled the hanyou out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm not going to hurt Kohaku – if he doesn't try anything."

"What – hurt Kohaku? What's going on?" Her grip on Hiraikotsu's strap turned white-knuckled.

Every muscle in Kirara's tiny body was rigid as she hissed – at Kohaku. "You smell it too, eh, Kirara?" asked Inuyasha.

"Kirara!" Sango stared disbelievingly.

The hanyou focused his attention back on Kohaku. "Put it down," he said, jerking his head at the kusari-gama in his hand.

"Inuyasha!"

Kagome placed a hand on Sango's shoulder, quietening further protest.

Miroku knew what was happening; yet he remained frozen to the spot, a helpless spectator to the scene playing out before his eyes.

Inuyasha fixed Kohaku with a stern look.

"I don't know what the hell's going on, but all of a sudden, you reek of Naraku."