InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Identity Crisis ❯ Chapter Thirteen ( Chapter 13 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: ladygriddlebone 
The aftermath of battle.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 04.12.2009 | Updated On: 03.23.2010 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.5K | Visits: 535 | Status: Completed
The aftermath of battle.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 04.12.2009 | Updated On: 03.23.2010 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.5K | Visits: 535 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
Chapter Thirteen
It was very late; Sango found herself wondering idly how much longer it would be before dawn. She had lost track of time during the fight, and had yet to regain any real sense of her bearings. Fear and exhaustion pulled at her, adding a dreamlike quality to everything around her, even the warm, solid bulk of Kirara against her back, even the unconscious man she clutched against her.
Despite all this, she had no real desire to sleep. Instead, she allowed herself the luxury of fretting over Miroku. And, secretly, of being close to him.
She had taken some time to examine his injuries more closely, making sure that she was not missing something serious; she had blushed and trembled with nervousness nearly the whole time, knowing that if he woke up while she was looking him over, she would never hear the end of his teasing. Thankfully, it appeared that his wounds were merely scratches, the deepest of which barely pierced through the skin of his arm. But it was worrying that he was still unconscious.
The demon had mentioned poison, and the thought of it tormented her. Had she killed the thing too late? If he had been poisoned, she knew that right now there was very little that she could do to help him, if she could do anything at all. Guilt ate away at her regardless.
If he died now… she did not think she could live with herself. She had been so foolish lately, so worked up over something needless like pride. She felt bitter and manipulated, angry with herself and the demon that had provoked such feelings of weakness and worthlessness.
She had done what she had set out to do. She had proved that she had the strength to defeat the demon that had trapped her… but at what cost?
She looked down at Miroku and fought against the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since the battle ended. What was pride, if it cost her the life of this man, who she cared for so deeply?
Her heart leapt into her throat as he suddenly stirred. She felt his forehead and noted that he was slightly feverish even though the night was far from warm. She should have thought to build a fire, even a small one, but she had been reluctant to leave his side for even a moment. They had Kirara to keep them warm, and for now that would have to suffice. She would go after supplies in the morning.
Without realizing it, her hand had moved to caress his cheek. Miroku stirred slightly at her touch. "Sango," he murmured, his voice breathy and deathly quiet. "You… said my name…"
"Shh," she soothed. "Don't worry about that now." Somehow, she managed to keep her voice calm in spite of the blush that had crept across her cheeks. She vaguely remembered shouting something, something that might have been his name if she were really pressed to admit it, before rushing to his side… but she was as reluctant as ever to use his given name.
She might use his name in her dreams, but right now it was too much. It felt too intimate, too close.
It was almost enough to make her laugh, this silly insistence on building barriers between them, when they had just been through hell together. The night had given her an odd and increasingly intense sense of clarity in spite of the late hour.
Miroku murmured her name again, and groaned but did not wake.
This was far from ideal, sleeping out in the open, in her armor and with no shelter to be had, but she could feel sleep pulling at her. She clutched Miroku closer, heedless of the way he was sprawled beside and across her, and let out a deep breath. It would be so easy to stop worrying, to cease her attempts at alertness, to just to succumb…
"Kirara, please keep watch…"
-----
Kagome woke with a start, only to realize that she'd fallen asleep against Inuyasha. She had been dreaming, she thought, though even now she could not remember what she might have been dreaming about. Still, it left her with a bad feeling, and chilled to the bone despite the fact that she should have been quite warm, nestled against Inuyasha like that.
It took her a moment more to realize that Inuyasha was awake, and watching her intently.
"Bad dream?" he asked, his voice oddly gentle.
"Yeah," she sighed. "I don't remember the details, but…"
He made a small sound that might have been derisive - or concerned. "Must've been pretty bad for you to wake up like that. Usually you just sleep through it."
She had always thought that he watched over her while she slept; she had come awake in the night to see golden eyes peering through the darkness too many times to deny that fact, no matter her insecurities. Still, it was odd for him to talk even remotely openly about, well, anything.
"It's almost light," he commented. "You feel like heading out early?"
Unconsciously, she tilted her head to one side. He's asking me what I want to do? Am I still dreaming?
Taking a chance and snuggling up against him again, she murmured, "Can we stay here for a little while longer?"
He leaned back a bit and feigned nonchalance. She thrilled at his acceptance of the contact. "Keh, whatever." After a moment, he seemed to reconsider. "You that shook up about it?"
"About what?"
"That dream."
"It was just a bad dream… nothing to worry about."
-----
Miroku felt hot, feverish… and disoriented. Strange, vivid dreams had plagued him for much of the night, and he did not feel particularly rested. He woke gradually, feeling reluctant to open his eyes or even move. He honestly had not thought that he would survive his fight with the vine demon, and did not remember breaking free of its trap. All things considered, he felt quite well.
For the moment he was content to stay where he was; his head was pillowed against something pleasantly soft, and one of his hands, near his face, was pressed against more pleasant softness. It seemed that the angle was all wrong for a pillow, so he gave an experimental squeeze.
Interesting.
That felt familiar. Very familiar, indeed. In fact, he would have staked his life on the fact that it was Sango's breast beneath his palm.
So he squeezed again, and earned an offended, if sleepy, grunt from the demon slayer. When she did not slap him or otherwise retaliate, he changed his tactic and rubbed enthusiastically; failing all else, he could always blame the fever. Since he had survived, he intended to make the most of his... delicate state while he had the chance.
Sango jumped suddenly, as if coming fully awake for the first time. He felt her shift and knew she was scrutinizing him now, so he let his hand come to a stop.
"You're alive!" she exclaimed.
He opened his eyes halfway and peered up at her. "You sound surprised," he murmured. He was surprised to find it relatively difficult to speak.
At the same time, she frowned and said, "Please move your hand."
He gave an exaggerated sigh, but complied with her request; his movements were forced and sluggish, much to his annoyance. It was as if he had lost control of his body and was only now regaining it. He had enough experience with poison to know that this was not quite right; this felt more like… possession, like his consciousness had been forcibly suppressed. That would explain his fuzzy memory of the past night.
"How are you feeling?" Sango asked, shifting a bit to find a more comfortable position.
"Better than last night, all things considered," he offered. What little he did remember of the previous night consisted of a wild flight after Sango, a losing battle with a demon that turned out to be far stronger than he had expected… and briefly coming to in Sango's arms, hearing her say his name - not his title, his name. But then, nothing. He was not sure which of the brief flashes of memory were real and which might be only fevered imaginings. But now, at least, everything was peaceful and they were both in one piece, if a little battered. "I take it we were victorious?"
Sango nodded. "I…" She could not finish immediately, and had to take a breath and compose herself before continuing. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" Tears welled in her eyes, tears she had, he would guess, refused to shed during the night. "I should never have lied to you like that."
"There is no need to apologize." Seeing the melancholy, guilty look she gave him, he added, "I have to admit, I was angry… but right now I'm just glad we're both alive."
He had been angry with her, angrier than he could recall being in a long time. He understood, or tried to, why she had done the things she had done, but it stung that she had lied to him. He had to wonder if she would ever understand that all he wanted was to help her. Well, maybe that wasn't all he wanted.
"What's that look for?" he asked, noting the dark expression that had crept onto Sango's face.
"You," she replied slowly. "You've got this strange look on your face…"
"I do?" He tried to keep his voice light and innocent.
"You were almost smirking at me. How can you be having perverted thoughts at a time like this?"
He could think of a hundred reasons, though not a single one that he thought she might understand. For all that she wore her emotions openly, she kept a tight hold on proper decorum, and kept her heart as closed off as she could. Even now, as she held him in her arms, they were as far apart as ever. He wondered if she even noticed.
Instead of voicing any of these concerns, he opted for indignity. "Why is it that you always assume that my thoughts are perverted?"
She had the decency to look contrite, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone. He might be angry, but he knew she did not deserve that sort of insult. "I'm sorry," she whispered; one of Kirara's tails brushed against him slightly, reminding him of her presence, and warning him not to upset her mistress.
He reached up to caress Sango's face; the movement took less effort than he had expected, given his earlier state. Things were getting easier; that was good. "Sango, don't beat yourself up about this," he soothed. "I think the demon did a good enough job of that."
"Can you ever forgive me for being such a fool?"
"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
"What are you talking about?"
His hand slipped down, caressing her neck before pressing lightly, pulling her face toward his and pressing her lips to his…
It wasn't his best kiss, and it certainly wasn't helping his fever. And it was very likely to earn him more pain, just as soon as Sango came to her senses. All around, it was not a very smart move, even for him.
And to be perfectly honest with himself, he had to admit that he had no real idea what had possessed him to do such a thing, except that the moment and the situation seemed, if not perfect, to be as good an opportunity as any. They had just gone through hell together, she was vulnerable, they were alone (a rarity itself), and he wanted desperately to distract her from her self-blame…
It was an awkward position, but she still managed to hit him. Small solace that she did it more gently than usual, and did not hit him again after he let her pull away. Kirara snarled at him for the infraction against her mistress, and Sango looked, well, hurt. Betrayed, almost, in spite of the blush that spread across her cheeks. Why did this have to happen every time he touched her? Why couldn't she understand that he was trying to comfort her and distract her from her sorrows? But he did not put voice to any of those questions, opting for something a bit more indignant.
"Are you always going to slap me away?"
She looked guilty even before he had finished speaking. This was the closest they had come to really fighting with one another, at least while they were both in control of their own actions. The last time had led to a proposal, of sorts, but this seemed destined to lead them only into more strife. Damn it all, Sango, what do I have to do to get you to let me in?
"I'm sorry. I'm still… I shouldn't have done that," she fumbled.
Sango peered around them then, no doubt in an attempt to avoid looking at him, and blinked rapidly in surprise. "The tree!"
Patience was becoming a mantra… He let his eyes drift closed. "What about it?"
"It was dead last night…"
He opened his eyes and realized that she was right. The tree had been dead, or at least leafless, when he had seen it previously… yet now they were shaded by a thick canopy of leaves.
"Demon slayer!"
Miroku started at the sudden sound; he had been fairly certain that they were alone, and was not in any position to see who had spoken.
"Midori?" Sango's voice was questioning, but she seemed to know who she was talking to. This far from the closest village, Miroku had to wonder who - or what - that might be.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but I have some things for you. Consider it a show of my eternal gratitude."
Sango slipped away, easing him into a more comfortable position against Kirara, and strode toward the source of the sound. As she moved to the side, he could see who she was talking to: a small creature shrouded in leaves and perched on a protruding root. His dulled senses managed to convey that it - she? - was some sort of demon, though she did not seem malevolent. Quite the opposite, actually, as she seemed intent on giving Sango some gift.
Sango seemed to remember that he had no idea who this creature was, and turned to explain. "Miroku, this is Midori. She is a tree spirit," she said, though Miroku mentally substituted "demon" for "spirit". She went on to tell him the story of her own battle against the demon, and imprisonment underground, from which the equally trapped Midori had helped free her in exchange for aid. He rather suspected that she was leaving out large portions of the story, but knew he would have to settle for this much, at least for now.
Smiling happily, Midori added, "I've grown much stronger since she killed that parasite. Look!" She held something up, something that glinted dully in the shade. "My tree is alive again, and I can even use this form to pick things up now."
Sango looked back at Miroku over her shoulder. "Is that…"
"I've been keeping this safe for you, while you slept," Midori said, offering the object to Sango. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she gingerly plucked it from the small creature's grasp.
"Look, a jewel shard," she murmured, holding it up so Miroku could see. It glowed faintly, a purplish hue that indicated that it was tainted.
"Was that demon always in possession of this shard?" Miroku asked, half to himself.
Midori shook her head. "I remember the day well… a strange woman came to the clearing and gave it to the vine demon, just a few days before you arrived. She promised that the jewel shard would bring great power… That's when it overwhelmed me and forced me underground."
"A strange woman…" Miroku knew that Sango was thinking of Kagura; indeed, he had immediately thought of the wind demon upon hearing Midori's explanation. If Kagura was involved, that meant that Naraku either knew of what had happened, or had a hand in the demon's schemes from the start.
But why target Sango? Miroku frowned. Unless the objective had not been to target Sango but to separate the two of them from Inuyasha and Kagome, in which case the plan had worked flawlessly.
"I don't think we can afford to linger here," he said, cautiously.
Sango seemed to agree without further explanation. Nodding, she added, "We need to get this shard to Kagome as quickly as possible."
"There is something else," Midori added, sounding a bit miffed at being ignored even for a short time. Once both humans had their attention on her, she continued, "On the eastern side of my tree's trunk, there is an old altar that was once tended by humans from the surrounding villages. I've filled a vessel there with a curative made from the sap that flows through my veins. If you drink it, it should work as an antidote against poisons."
"I… thank you, Midori!" Sango's eyes were wide with excitement, and relief. Miroku knew why. If she could find any way at all to protect him from Naraku's poisonous insects, Sango would be greatly relieved. Midori seemed to have provided just such protection. He only hoped it would actually work.
Eying him slyly as Sango walked away in search of the altar, and probably noting his appreciative glance at the demon slayer's rear, Midori said conspiratorially, "You know, if you wanted I could make you a potion that would encourage her to be more… open to you."
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll take my chances." Once, he might have accepted the offer of a potion to help win the affections of a beautiful woman, or he might have made some show of bravado or hint of romantic prowess. But to use such methods on Sango felt a lot like cheating. If he was going to win her, it would be on his own merits; he knew she was worth the effort.
"Suit yourself," Midori said, shrugging.
Sango returned shortly thereafter, with a small clay vessel in her hand. She tested the lid to make sure it was tight before tucking it away into some compartment of her armor and sitting next to Miroku. "Do you think you can walk?" He noted that her face was still flushed, and wondered if she had overheard Midori's offer, or if she was still affected by the kiss.
"I can try."
Together, they managed to get him to his feet. He felt wobbly and weak, but was able to hold his own weight - until Sango let go of him. She managed to catch him and keep him upright before he could fall flat on his butt, but was frowning in consternation.
"Okay," she grumbled, "I guess this means we ride. Kirara, do you think you can carry us?"
The cat demon stood and shook herself. She looked as exhausted as he felt. What he wouldn't give for a night or two at an upscale inn…
-----
They bid farewell to Midori shortly after that. Having retrieved and cleaned all of her weaponry, Sango felt it best that they get moving as soon as possible, and so they set off back in the direction of the camp they had abandoned the night before. Miroku rode on Kirara's back, with Sango walking beside. Their progress was slow, due to injuries all around.
Sango hoped that Miroku would not notice, despite the way her faltering steps and half-hidden limp attested, that she was more injured than she was willing to let on. But she pressed onward, determined to get them to camp and a source of supplies and water before nightfall.
Rather than keep going, Sango chose to simply stop for the night at their camp from earlier; it had easy access to water, and they would not have to pack up their supplies, or carry them.
She did a quick check of what was left at their campsite, and it appeared to be thankfully undisturbed by animals or other travelers. They still had plenty of supplies, though they would need fresh water, and her extra clothes and bedroll were intact.
She cleaned off her blankets, and ushered Miroku to the makeshift bed. Once she had him more or less settled, she turned to Kirara. "I'm going to the stream. Keep an eye on him," she murmured, knowing the cat would welcome an opportunity for a rest.
The stream was small and peaceful, a welcome change from the past few days. She felt almost at ease, with the demon that had tormented her now dead and gone. She filled their water bottles, and a pot to heat water for the instant food she planned to make when she got back to camp.
She had grabbed her clothes before heading to the stream, and, after a quick look around, stripped out of her armor and slipped into the water. It was not deep, but it felt blessedly cool and clean after wearing her armor for so long.
She washed herself as best as she could, giving herself time to gingerly feel out all her new bruises and scrapes, and made her way back to camp feeling much refreshed.
Miroku and Kirara appeared to be dozing, so Sango set about building a fire and setting the water to boil for their dinner as quietly as she could. She was reluctant to disturb her friends, but felt that Miroku should eat something. She carefully carried two cups of noodles to his side, and sat next to him.
He stirred slightly even without her having to say anything.
"Here," she said softly. "I made you some noodles. How are you feeling?"
"I could sleep for a week," he muttered.
She smiled slightly. If he was complaining, that was definitely a good sign. "Eat," she urged.
Grinning wryly, he admitted, "I can't say no to a beautiful woman." With some effort, he was able to sit up on his own, and take the foam cup of noodles from her. She sat down beside him to eat her own meal, and gave a nod to Kirara to indicate that she was free to find her own dinner.
They ate in silence. Sango felt quite flustered at his attentions. He was injured. He was in no state to be doing silly things like… like flirting, or kissing her. If anything, he should be furious with her for lying to him; he said he had felt angry, but there was no sign of that now. In some ways she was relieved, but in others she felt even more guilty than if he had yelled at her or fought with her.
How do I fix this?
She realized that the best way would be to do what she had failed to do before - give up on her pride - if it meant repairing things with Miroku. As much as it flustered her to admit it, he cared for her, and he wanted to help her. If she wanted to help him, and make things right, then maybe she had to be more open with him. Maybe shutting him out was the wrong tactic altogether.
It stung, because she knew deep in her heart that she had done the same to Inuyasha and Kagome, and it had very nearly cost her Miroku - and her own life. She needed to get past this, to make things right with Miroku before she had to deal with their friends. Inuyasha might understand her warrior's pride, but she did not think she could handle facing Kagome without Miroku's support.
Realizing belatedly that the noodles were long gone and she was still sitting beside Miroku in ominous silence, she quickly moved to take the empty containers and dispose of them near the edge of the campsite. She tended to the fire, and returned to Miroku's side.
"You should get some rest," he said, his voice calm. "We'll need our strength, to find our friends as quickly as possible."
"You stay here, I'll sleep with Kirara when she returns," she said, pressing a hand on his chest to make him lie down, and to keep him there. "And don't think about giving me any excuses -"
"Do you think I didn't notice that you are injured as well?"
She sighed. "I'm just sore. It'll pass." He gave her a skeptical look, and she had to look away. "I - you should rest." She moved to pull away, but he caught her hand in his and held her still.
"Just… stay beside me." She had thought to refuse, but the look in his eyes changed her mind. The earnest expression there tore at her heart. "I thought you would die, or we'd both be lost. I'd feel better if you were near."
Her breath escaped in a rush. She felt overwhelmed by nervousness, shame, excitement…
"Okay, I- I will…"
Chapter Thirteen
It was very late; Sango found herself wondering idly how much longer it would be before dawn. She had lost track of time during the fight, and had yet to regain any real sense of her bearings. Fear and exhaustion pulled at her, adding a dreamlike quality to everything around her, even the warm, solid bulk of Kirara against her back, even the unconscious man she clutched against her.
Despite all this, she had no real desire to sleep. Instead, she allowed herself the luxury of fretting over Miroku. And, secretly, of being close to him.
She had taken some time to examine his injuries more closely, making sure that she was not missing something serious; she had blushed and trembled with nervousness nearly the whole time, knowing that if he woke up while she was looking him over, she would never hear the end of his teasing. Thankfully, it appeared that his wounds were merely scratches, the deepest of which barely pierced through the skin of his arm. But it was worrying that he was still unconscious.
The demon had mentioned poison, and the thought of it tormented her. Had she killed the thing too late? If he had been poisoned, she knew that right now there was very little that she could do to help him, if she could do anything at all. Guilt ate away at her regardless.
If he died now… she did not think she could live with herself. She had been so foolish lately, so worked up over something needless like pride. She felt bitter and manipulated, angry with herself and the demon that had provoked such feelings of weakness and worthlessness.
She had done what she had set out to do. She had proved that she had the strength to defeat the demon that had trapped her… but at what cost?
She looked down at Miroku and fought against the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since the battle ended. What was pride, if it cost her the life of this man, who she cared for so deeply?
Her heart leapt into her throat as he suddenly stirred. She felt his forehead and noted that he was slightly feverish even though the night was far from warm. She should have thought to build a fire, even a small one, but she had been reluctant to leave his side for even a moment. They had Kirara to keep them warm, and for now that would have to suffice. She would go after supplies in the morning.
Without realizing it, her hand had moved to caress his cheek. Miroku stirred slightly at her touch. "Sango," he murmured, his voice breathy and deathly quiet. "You… said my name…"
"Shh," she soothed. "Don't worry about that now." Somehow, she managed to keep her voice calm in spite of the blush that had crept across her cheeks. She vaguely remembered shouting something, something that might have been his name if she were really pressed to admit it, before rushing to his side… but she was as reluctant as ever to use his given name.
She might use his name in her dreams, but right now it was too much. It felt too intimate, too close.
It was almost enough to make her laugh, this silly insistence on building barriers between them, when they had just been through hell together. The night had given her an odd and increasingly intense sense of clarity in spite of the late hour.
Miroku murmured her name again, and groaned but did not wake.
This was far from ideal, sleeping out in the open, in her armor and with no shelter to be had, but she could feel sleep pulling at her. She clutched Miroku closer, heedless of the way he was sprawled beside and across her, and let out a deep breath. It would be so easy to stop worrying, to cease her attempts at alertness, to just to succumb…
"Kirara, please keep watch…"
-----
Kagome woke with a start, only to realize that she'd fallen asleep against Inuyasha. She had been dreaming, she thought, though even now she could not remember what she might have been dreaming about. Still, it left her with a bad feeling, and chilled to the bone despite the fact that she should have been quite warm, nestled against Inuyasha like that.
It took her a moment more to realize that Inuyasha was awake, and watching her intently.
"Bad dream?" he asked, his voice oddly gentle.
"Yeah," she sighed. "I don't remember the details, but…"
He made a small sound that might have been derisive - or concerned. "Must've been pretty bad for you to wake up like that. Usually you just sleep through it."
She had always thought that he watched over her while she slept; she had come awake in the night to see golden eyes peering through the darkness too many times to deny that fact, no matter her insecurities. Still, it was odd for him to talk even remotely openly about, well, anything.
"It's almost light," he commented. "You feel like heading out early?"
Unconsciously, she tilted her head to one side. He's asking me what I want to do? Am I still dreaming?
Taking a chance and snuggling up against him again, she murmured, "Can we stay here for a little while longer?"
He leaned back a bit and feigned nonchalance. She thrilled at his acceptance of the contact. "Keh, whatever." After a moment, he seemed to reconsider. "You that shook up about it?"
"About what?"
"That dream."
"It was just a bad dream… nothing to worry about."
-----
Miroku felt hot, feverish… and disoriented. Strange, vivid dreams had plagued him for much of the night, and he did not feel particularly rested. He woke gradually, feeling reluctant to open his eyes or even move. He honestly had not thought that he would survive his fight with the vine demon, and did not remember breaking free of its trap. All things considered, he felt quite well.
For the moment he was content to stay where he was; his head was pillowed against something pleasantly soft, and one of his hands, near his face, was pressed against more pleasant softness. It seemed that the angle was all wrong for a pillow, so he gave an experimental squeeze.
Interesting.
That felt familiar. Very familiar, indeed. In fact, he would have staked his life on the fact that it was Sango's breast beneath his palm.
So he squeezed again, and earned an offended, if sleepy, grunt from the demon slayer. When she did not slap him or otherwise retaliate, he changed his tactic and rubbed enthusiastically; failing all else, he could always blame the fever. Since he had survived, he intended to make the most of his... delicate state while he had the chance.
Sango jumped suddenly, as if coming fully awake for the first time. He felt her shift and knew she was scrutinizing him now, so he let his hand come to a stop.
"You're alive!" she exclaimed.
He opened his eyes halfway and peered up at her. "You sound surprised," he murmured. He was surprised to find it relatively difficult to speak.
At the same time, she frowned and said, "Please move your hand."
He gave an exaggerated sigh, but complied with her request; his movements were forced and sluggish, much to his annoyance. It was as if he had lost control of his body and was only now regaining it. He had enough experience with poison to know that this was not quite right; this felt more like… possession, like his consciousness had been forcibly suppressed. That would explain his fuzzy memory of the past night.
"How are you feeling?" Sango asked, shifting a bit to find a more comfortable position.
"Better than last night, all things considered," he offered. What little he did remember of the previous night consisted of a wild flight after Sango, a losing battle with a demon that turned out to be far stronger than he had expected… and briefly coming to in Sango's arms, hearing her say his name - not his title, his name. But then, nothing. He was not sure which of the brief flashes of memory were real and which might be only fevered imaginings. But now, at least, everything was peaceful and they were both in one piece, if a little battered. "I take it we were victorious?"
Sango nodded. "I…" She could not finish immediately, and had to take a breath and compose herself before continuing. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" Tears welled in her eyes, tears she had, he would guess, refused to shed during the night. "I should never have lied to you like that."
"There is no need to apologize." Seeing the melancholy, guilty look she gave him, he added, "I have to admit, I was angry… but right now I'm just glad we're both alive."
He had been angry with her, angrier than he could recall being in a long time. He understood, or tried to, why she had done the things she had done, but it stung that she had lied to him. He had to wonder if she would ever understand that all he wanted was to help her. Well, maybe that wasn't all he wanted.
"What's that look for?" he asked, noting the dark expression that had crept onto Sango's face.
"You," she replied slowly. "You've got this strange look on your face…"
"I do?" He tried to keep his voice light and innocent.
"You were almost smirking at me. How can you be having perverted thoughts at a time like this?"
He could think of a hundred reasons, though not a single one that he thought she might understand. For all that she wore her emotions openly, she kept a tight hold on proper decorum, and kept her heart as closed off as she could. Even now, as she held him in her arms, they were as far apart as ever. He wondered if she even noticed.
Instead of voicing any of these concerns, he opted for indignity. "Why is it that you always assume that my thoughts are perverted?"
She had the decency to look contrite, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone. He might be angry, but he knew she did not deserve that sort of insult. "I'm sorry," she whispered; one of Kirara's tails brushed against him slightly, reminding him of her presence, and warning him not to upset her mistress.
He reached up to caress Sango's face; the movement took less effort than he had expected, given his earlier state. Things were getting easier; that was good. "Sango, don't beat yourself up about this," he soothed. "I think the demon did a good enough job of that."
"Can you ever forgive me for being such a fool?"
"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
"What are you talking about?"
His hand slipped down, caressing her neck before pressing lightly, pulling her face toward his and pressing her lips to his…
It wasn't his best kiss, and it certainly wasn't helping his fever. And it was very likely to earn him more pain, just as soon as Sango came to her senses. All around, it was not a very smart move, even for him.
And to be perfectly honest with himself, he had to admit that he had no real idea what had possessed him to do such a thing, except that the moment and the situation seemed, if not perfect, to be as good an opportunity as any. They had just gone through hell together, she was vulnerable, they were alone (a rarity itself), and he wanted desperately to distract her from her self-blame…
It was an awkward position, but she still managed to hit him. Small solace that she did it more gently than usual, and did not hit him again after he let her pull away. Kirara snarled at him for the infraction against her mistress, and Sango looked, well, hurt. Betrayed, almost, in spite of the blush that spread across her cheeks. Why did this have to happen every time he touched her? Why couldn't she understand that he was trying to comfort her and distract her from her sorrows? But he did not put voice to any of those questions, opting for something a bit more indignant.
"Are you always going to slap me away?"
She looked guilty even before he had finished speaking. This was the closest they had come to really fighting with one another, at least while they were both in control of their own actions. The last time had led to a proposal, of sorts, but this seemed destined to lead them only into more strife. Damn it all, Sango, what do I have to do to get you to let me in?
"I'm sorry. I'm still… I shouldn't have done that," she fumbled.
Sango peered around them then, no doubt in an attempt to avoid looking at him, and blinked rapidly in surprise. "The tree!"
Patience was becoming a mantra… He let his eyes drift closed. "What about it?"
"It was dead last night…"
He opened his eyes and realized that she was right. The tree had been dead, or at least leafless, when he had seen it previously… yet now they were shaded by a thick canopy of leaves.
"Demon slayer!"
Miroku started at the sudden sound; he had been fairly certain that they were alone, and was not in any position to see who had spoken.
"Midori?" Sango's voice was questioning, but she seemed to know who she was talking to. This far from the closest village, Miroku had to wonder who - or what - that might be.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but I have some things for you. Consider it a show of my eternal gratitude."
Sango slipped away, easing him into a more comfortable position against Kirara, and strode toward the source of the sound. As she moved to the side, he could see who she was talking to: a small creature shrouded in leaves and perched on a protruding root. His dulled senses managed to convey that it - she? - was some sort of demon, though she did not seem malevolent. Quite the opposite, actually, as she seemed intent on giving Sango some gift.
Sango seemed to remember that he had no idea who this creature was, and turned to explain. "Miroku, this is Midori. She is a tree spirit," she said, though Miroku mentally substituted "demon" for "spirit". She went on to tell him the story of her own battle against the demon, and imprisonment underground, from which the equally trapped Midori had helped free her in exchange for aid. He rather suspected that she was leaving out large portions of the story, but knew he would have to settle for this much, at least for now.
Smiling happily, Midori added, "I've grown much stronger since she killed that parasite. Look!" She held something up, something that glinted dully in the shade. "My tree is alive again, and I can even use this form to pick things up now."
Sango looked back at Miroku over her shoulder. "Is that…"
"I've been keeping this safe for you, while you slept," Midori said, offering the object to Sango. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she gingerly plucked it from the small creature's grasp.
"Look, a jewel shard," she murmured, holding it up so Miroku could see. It glowed faintly, a purplish hue that indicated that it was tainted.
"Was that demon always in possession of this shard?" Miroku asked, half to himself.
Midori shook her head. "I remember the day well… a strange woman came to the clearing and gave it to the vine demon, just a few days before you arrived. She promised that the jewel shard would bring great power… That's when it overwhelmed me and forced me underground."
"A strange woman…" Miroku knew that Sango was thinking of Kagura; indeed, he had immediately thought of the wind demon upon hearing Midori's explanation. If Kagura was involved, that meant that Naraku either knew of what had happened, or had a hand in the demon's schemes from the start.
But why target Sango? Miroku frowned. Unless the objective had not been to target Sango but to separate the two of them from Inuyasha and Kagome, in which case the plan had worked flawlessly.
"I don't think we can afford to linger here," he said, cautiously.
Sango seemed to agree without further explanation. Nodding, she added, "We need to get this shard to Kagome as quickly as possible."
"There is something else," Midori added, sounding a bit miffed at being ignored even for a short time. Once both humans had their attention on her, she continued, "On the eastern side of my tree's trunk, there is an old altar that was once tended by humans from the surrounding villages. I've filled a vessel there with a curative made from the sap that flows through my veins. If you drink it, it should work as an antidote against poisons."
"I… thank you, Midori!" Sango's eyes were wide with excitement, and relief. Miroku knew why. If she could find any way at all to protect him from Naraku's poisonous insects, Sango would be greatly relieved. Midori seemed to have provided just such protection. He only hoped it would actually work.
Eying him slyly as Sango walked away in search of the altar, and probably noting his appreciative glance at the demon slayer's rear, Midori said conspiratorially, "You know, if you wanted I could make you a potion that would encourage her to be more… open to you."
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll take my chances." Once, he might have accepted the offer of a potion to help win the affections of a beautiful woman, or he might have made some show of bravado or hint of romantic prowess. But to use such methods on Sango felt a lot like cheating. If he was going to win her, it would be on his own merits; he knew she was worth the effort.
"Suit yourself," Midori said, shrugging.
Sango returned shortly thereafter, with a small clay vessel in her hand. She tested the lid to make sure it was tight before tucking it away into some compartment of her armor and sitting next to Miroku. "Do you think you can walk?" He noted that her face was still flushed, and wondered if she had overheard Midori's offer, or if she was still affected by the kiss.
"I can try."
Together, they managed to get him to his feet. He felt wobbly and weak, but was able to hold his own weight - until Sango let go of him. She managed to catch him and keep him upright before he could fall flat on his butt, but was frowning in consternation.
"Okay," she grumbled, "I guess this means we ride. Kirara, do you think you can carry us?"
The cat demon stood and shook herself. She looked as exhausted as he felt. What he wouldn't give for a night or two at an upscale inn…
-----
They bid farewell to Midori shortly after that. Having retrieved and cleaned all of her weaponry, Sango felt it best that they get moving as soon as possible, and so they set off back in the direction of the camp they had abandoned the night before. Miroku rode on Kirara's back, with Sango walking beside. Their progress was slow, due to injuries all around.
Sango hoped that Miroku would not notice, despite the way her faltering steps and half-hidden limp attested, that she was more injured than she was willing to let on. But she pressed onward, determined to get them to camp and a source of supplies and water before nightfall.
Rather than keep going, Sango chose to simply stop for the night at their camp from earlier; it had easy access to water, and they would not have to pack up their supplies, or carry them.
She did a quick check of what was left at their campsite, and it appeared to be thankfully undisturbed by animals or other travelers. They still had plenty of supplies, though they would need fresh water, and her extra clothes and bedroll were intact.
She cleaned off her blankets, and ushered Miroku to the makeshift bed. Once she had him more or less settled, she turned to Kirara. "I'm going to the stream. Keep an eye on him," she murmured, knowing the cat would welcome an opportunity for a rest.
The stream was small and peaceful, a welcome change from the past few days. She felt almost at ease, with the demon that had tormented her now dead and gone. She filled their water bottles, and a pot to heat water for the instant food she planned to make when she got back to camp.
She had grabbed her clothes before heading to the stream, and, after a quick look around, stripped out of her armor and slipped into the water. It was not deep, but it felt blessedly cool and clean after wearing her armor for so long.
She washed herself as best as she could, giving herself time to gingerly feel out all her new bruises and scrapes, and made her way back to camp feeling much refreshed.
Miroku and Kirara appeared to be dozing, so Sango set about building a fire and setting the water to boil for their dinner as quietly as she could. She was reluctant to disturb her friends, but felt that Miroku should eat something. She carefully carried two cups of noodles to his side, and sat next to him.
He stirred slightly even without her having to say anything.
"Here," she said softly. "I made you some noodles. How are you feeling?"
"I could sleep for a week," he muttered.
She smiled slightly. If he was complaining, that was definitely a good sign. "Eat," she urged.
Grinning wryly, he admitted, "I can't say no to a beautiful woman." With some effort, he was able to sit up on his own, and take the foam cup of noodles from her. She sat down beside him to eat her own meal, and gave a nod to Kirara to indicate that she was free to find her own dinner.
They ate in silence. Sango felt quite flustered at his attentions. He was injured. He was in no state to be doing silly things like… like flirting, or kissing her. If anything, he should be furious with her for lying to him; he said he had felt angry, but there was no sign of that now. In some ways she was relieved, but in others she felt even more guilty than if he had yelled at her or fought with her.
How do I fix this?
She realized that the best way would be to do what she had failed to do before - give up on her pride - if it meant repairing things with Miroku. As much as it flustered her to admit it, he cared for her, and he wanted to help her. If she wanted to help him, and make things right, then maybe she had to be more open with him. Maybe shutting him out was the wrong tactic altogether.
It stung, because she knew deep in her heart that she had done the same to Inuyasha and Kagome, and it had very nearly cost her Miroku - and her own life. She needed to get past this, to make things right with Miroku before she had to deal with their friends. Inuyasha might understand her warrior's pride, but she did not think she could handle facing Kagome without Miroku's support.
Realizing belatedly that the noodles were long gone and she was still sitting beside Miroku in ominous silence, she quickly moved to take the empty containers and dispose of them near the edge of the campsite. She tended to the fire, and returned to Miroku's side.
"You should get some rest," he said, his voice calm. "We'll need our strength, to find our friends as quickly as possible."
"You stay here, I'll sleep with Kirara when she returns," she said, pressing a hand on his chest to make him lie down, and to keep him there. "And don't think about giving me any excuses -"
"Do you think I didn't notice that you are injured as well?"
She sighed. "I'm just sore. It'll pass." He gave her a skeptical look, and she had to look away. "I - you should rest." She moved to pull away, but he caught her hand in his and held her still.
"Just… stay beside me." She had thought to refuse, but the look in his eyes changed her mind. The earnest expression there tore at her heart. "I thought you would die, or we'd both be lost. I'd feel better if you were near."
Her breath escaped in a rush. She felt overwhelmed by nervousness, shame, excitement…
"Okay, I- I will…"