Miroku finally had an opportunity to speak to Inuyasha after dinner that night. The hanyou had set an easy pace all afternoon, to the apparent surprise of the women. The monk understood completely. Kagome had been walking a bit stiffly, no doubt due to recent activities that were more strenuous than she was used to. Unconsciously or not, the reason for her sore muscles had allowed her a gentle pace and then lead the group off of the road for quite a distance in order to camp near a hot spring. Those were the actions of a male who had been unburdened of a great deal of tension and hoped to do so again in the future. The women had, predictably, eaten quickly and removed themselves for a long soak. They took Shippo with them, and left the man and hanyou at the camp with strict instructions to stay there.

All in all, Miroku took it as a sign that the fates were smiling on him. Inuyasha was full of ramen, satisfied, and eagerly awaiting the return of his new mate. A captive audience, Miroku thought with relish. There was also the added benefit that his friend would no doubt be reluctant to start any physical altercation that the women might hear; his efforts to keep Kagome in a good mood would work to Miroku's advantage.

"Hanyou senses are considerably more acute than those of a human, are they not?" Miroku kept his tone pleasantly inquisitive, choosing to work up to the topic.

"Keh. 'Course they are. Your nose might as well not be on your face," Inuyasha answered, as though it were obvious. It was obvious to the entire group, but that wasn't the point. Lulling the half-youkai into a false sense of security, that was the point.

"And do you remember most scents? We camped here once before, but that was over a year ago. I could not have found it again, but it was quite easy for you. Did you remember the look of the place, or was it something else?"

"Both, I 'spose." Inuyasha paused for a moment, thinking over his response with rare seriousness. "I knew it was around here somewhere, but when we got closer I could smell the dogwood," he gestured with one claw to the red-barked bushes that grew at the edge of the campsite. "That's how I knew this was the spring with the little waterfall and the ledge that she likes to-" His mouth snapped shut and a faint blush rose on his cheeks. They were both aware that Inuyasha must have, at a minimum, eavesdropped the last time the women used those particular springs to know Kagome's particular preference. It was almost physically painful for him to not tease, but Miroku wisely did not comment on how his friend had come by such information.

"Is the scent of each place we camp, each spring, so different?" The monk casually began laying out his bedroll, hoping to set Inuyasha at ease.

"Yeah. It's the combination of things. Hot springs all smell pretty much the same – like sulphur and rock, but this one also smells like wet dogwood and marimo moss and a coppery metallic flavor. The big springs down by the bat village are sulphur and rock, reeds, lotus, and a gritty sort of underbite of mica." The hanyou relaxed, leaning back against a tree trunk while he spoke.

Miroku's intellect was sparked, and he had to main resolutely on task to keep from exploring more about hanyou senses while his friend was so uncharacteristically conversational. "How do you manage to keep so many scents memorized and organized? Especially with the human stench that we must leave on everything."

"Bah, it's not hard. I just do – and humans don't all smell the same. Only most of them stink."

"Ah, yes. I do remember you saying something about Kagome and Sango smelling differently." Miroku nearly held his breath, waiting to see if Inuyasha would pick up on where he was being led.

"Yeah, but that's their attitudes as much as them." He shrugged a shoulder and tucked his arms into the fire rat.

"So you can smell her love for you," Miroku stated, rather than asked, and did his best to sound casual. The hanyou fell right into his trap.

His friend's eyes became heavier, sliding in the direction of the springs, and his voice sank an octave, "Hell yes." Miroku could feel his own interest and wonder rising. There was something about the way Inuyasha spoke of Kagome that made the monk want to find Sango and beg her to allow his touch. In the next heartbeat, furry ears twitched, eyes flew open and Inuyasha's cheeks flushed. "I-I mean-" he floundered for a moment before hiding behind his usual scowl, "ain't none of your fuckin' business, pervert."

"Oh, but I want it to be." Miroku ignored the way Inuyasha blanched and shifted uncomfortably, obviously finding unintended meaning in his words. "I need to know how you knew, Inuyasha-san." The honorific had the desired effect, giving the conversation a serious tone and drawing a golden gaze to consider him. "She has always loved you – but how did you know? How did she convince you, who – pardon my bluntness – has always believed himself to be unworthy of such a thing? Someone who trusts so little in the sincerity of others? Especially," and there Miroku swallowed, both to move past how close the discussion was getting to his own situation and to force himself to speak openly about something that his friend might not have even admitted to himself, "how did you come to believe in the love of a woman who's face has betrayed your heart?"

"She ain't Kikyou," Inuyasha said darkly, immediately. There was no hesitation, only a dark threat to never compare his mate to his dead first love. Both males were quiet for a long time, and Miroku wondered if he had pushed too far, too quickly. Perhaps he had crossed a line, but the stakes were too high. His future – Sango's future and her happiness – were on the line. Just as the monk opened his mouth, unable to stand the furious silence any longer, Inuyasha spoke. "This ain't…my problem, believing in Kagome…that ain't Sango's problem."

Miroku sat back in surprise. He hadn't honestly expected his friend to realize what he was asking – why he was asking. It was humbling and a little shaming that he had displayed so little respect for Inuyasha's intellect. Despite his lack of a formal education, or any sort of basic socialization prior to forming their little pack, the hanyou was not stupid. "I am aware of that, my friend."

"Are you?" His posture didn't change, but Inuyasha's gaze hardened further. "I'm pretty fucked up, Miroku. I got all kinds of stupid shit that got in the way of being with Kagome for a long time. But never, not once, did she do anything to make me not trust her. Never."

Unlike you.

It went unspoken, but Miroku knew what Inuyasha meant. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. Sango had difficulty trusting, difficulty loving. It was nearly impossible for her to demonstrate those feelings. He had made it harder. Miroku was not a cruel man, not an unkind man. However, he had always seen his lighthearted seductions and humorous nature as an outlet, a rejection of all of the things that should have made him shun others. Should have made him untrusting and untrustworthy. Inuyasha was right though, although he hadn't said it in so many words. While the dramatic and only half-serious attempts to woo village girls, and the smiling and eternity-serious attempts to woo Sango were his way of proving to fate that he would not be pulled into the darkness and gravity of what could be. For Sango, it only enforced all of the things that she feared: he could not be trusted with her heart.

Miroku had set out to trick Inuyasha into spilling some deep secret about his heart and how Kagome had cracked the shell around it. Instead, he had been taught a painful lesson about Sango's armor – and how he had done nothing but reinforce it. It was rare the monk was serious, but the knowledge that he had hurt her, inflicted unnecessary pain on the strong little flower that he wanted only to cherish, paled his face and firmed his jaw.

"Tell me, Inuyasha," Miroko said. He bowed his head, made easier by the weight of his mistakes and his own, private vow to do everything in his power to make up for them. "How do I earn that trust?"

"Keh." Inuyasha huffed, but he sat up straighter. It gave the monk a little bit of hope.