InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Not-So-Broken Dreams ❯ 4 ( Chapter 4 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Well, this chapter takes a turn and presents a different point of view. I thought about making more chapters after this that follow Sango's thoughts, as I did with Miroku's, but seeing as this was more his tale than hers, they just didn't quite fit.

Anyway, here's the next bit, so enjoy!

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Not-So-Broken Dreams

Chapter 4

"Great, another hole," Sango muttered as she inspected the clothing she wore into battle. Although the fabric allowed her to move with much more freedom than normal women's garb, it wasn't impervious to sharp or rough objects.

The youkai exterminator wriggled one finger inside the tear, hoping she wouldn't find any more. She'd have to borrow thread from Kaede again. Not that the older woman would be surprised-- she always had some ready and waiting for the group when they arrived back at the village from another shard hunt.

As she inspected the rest of her battle gear, it occurred to Sango that she was usually the one who needed to repair something, whether it be her weapons or clothing. She was thankful she had been taught at a young age how to care for all of the items, but she really didn't enjoy the sewing.

Now, her mother had found wielding a needle and thread relaxing, and had often tended to the mending while Sango and her father worked on the weapons and armor.

Sango wished she had her mother's skill. Maybe then some of the repairs wouldn't need to be redone later.

Miroku proved to be rather adept with a needle, much to her surprise. He had offered to help her one evening as they waited in the village for Kagome to return from her time.

Sango had "saved" him from becoming the prey of some rather viscious thorn bushes they had encountered earlier in the day while fetching water for Kaede. He had then claimed that mending the tears in her clothing was the least he could do in return for her troubles.

When she thought about it, Miroku had really been fairly well-behaved that day. He hadn't taken advantage of the situation when she stumbled over a rock and he'd managed to catch her before she could hit the ground, nor did he when she stopped him from landing in the prickly plants when his own foot caught on the root of a tree. And she would have sworn he'd tripped on purpose, too, but she had no evidence with which to accuse him of such a thing.

She'd been rather skeptical about letting him touch her clothes, but he'd been serious about the whole business of sewing, settling down against the wall of Kaede's hut and seemingly concentrating all his energy on making nearly perfect stitches.

And at times she thought she heard him faintly humming.

It had already been late that night, when she decided to take on the task of repairing her garments, and she had fallen asleep watching Miroku work as the flames from the fire sent shadows dancing across his face and hands.

When she woke in the morning, her clothing was folded neatly next to her sleeping mat. She had promptly ruined the tidiness by grabbing the material and searching for where she had last seen the hole.

She almost didn't find it, the stitches were so nice and small and tight. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought her mother had come back to life and done the job in Miroku's place.

The monk hadn't been around to thank until later in the afternoon, but Sango made it a point to tell him how much she appreciated his handywork.

He hadn't offered to fix any other tears in her clothing, and she hadn't asked. But she was almost leaning towards considering it this time...

Oddly enough, Inuyasha's fire rat garments rarely needed mending, no matter how badly damaged they became. And yet Kagome still worried that they would need to be fixed.

It was just too bad that the rest of them weren't fortunate enough to have clothes of a similar nature, Sango thought with a sigh.

Though Inuyasha's clothing didn't need to be sewn back together, it still needed to be washed. As did her own garments before they could be repaired.

With that thought in mind, she set about scrubbing the black material of her battle gear in the hot spring.

A tiny smile quirked the side of her mouth as she remembered how often Kohaku's clothing had needed mending...

----------------Flashback----------------------

"I'll never get it right, aneue! I'll never be able to fight like you and chichiue!"

Sango bit her lip to keep from smiling at her brother's plight, stepping back as his wooden practice sword went flying past her ankles.

"Yes you will, Kohaku," she reassured, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. "You're doing fine."

He beat the dirt with his fists, half-yelling, "No, I won't!" before curling his knees up and burying his face on his folded arms.

"Kohaku..." Sango sighed, kneeling down beside the boy. She set her own practice weapon on the ground, reaching out to pull lightly on his arm. "We'll stop for today, then, and start again tomorrow."

He resisted her efforts to uncurl his limbs, sniffling slightly. "It's the same every day, aneue! I'll never win against you. I can't even beat the other boys!"

"Don't tell me they've been after you again--"

Kohaku shook his head, lifting his damp eyes to his sister's fierce expression. "They're... nevermind," he muttered, lowering his gaze to the dirt at his feet.

"They're what?" she asked, suspicious at his tone.

"Nothing, honest. They leave me alone."

Sango cocked her head to the side, brown eyes slightly narrowed. "I'm not sure if I believe you."

He met her gaze, holding up his hands in earnest. "No, really. Ask Chichiue."

"Then what are you not telling me?"

"Huh?"

"What were you going to say?"

"I told you--"

"Then I'll just have to tickle it out of you!" Sango grinned, poking Kohaku's side.

"No! It's nothing!" he laughed, holding his arms to his sides and squirming away.

"Oh really? Then why won't you tell me?" she questioned, reaching around to tickle his other side.

"Stop! I'm telling--" he cried, falling to the ground and trying to escape her fingers. "-- the truth! Stop it!"

"Kohaku--"

"No! Stop!"

"Not until you tell me."

"No-- I told you-- Wait! I can't-- Please!" He tried to wriggle away, but was laughing too hard to move more than a couple of inches. "All right, all right-- just stop!"

Sango gave him one last poke before letting him catch his breath. "So, what is it, then?"

Kohaku continued to giggle in between taking in deep gulps of air, unable to answer her right away.

"Tell me!"

"They're... a little... afraid of you..."

"They... what?" Sango sat back on her heels, hands flat on the ground at her sides, blinking in surprise.

"That's why they leave me alone now. After you went after them last time..."

She stared at the ground, not moving. "Am I that scary, Kohaku?" she asked quietly, wincing slightly at the thought.

"Um... "

She looked at him, knowing he was trying not to hurt her feelings. "I am?"

"Well, only when you're angry--" After a few moments of tense silence, he sighed and sat up. "See, you shouldn't have made me tell you. I don't like it when you're sad, aneue."

Sango gave herself a mental shake and smiled slightly, reaching an arm around his shoulders. "I know, Kohaku. I don't like to see you sad, either. So what do you say we practice one more round for today?"

"Okay!" he grinned, scrambling to his feet. "I'll beat you this time!" he called over his shoulder as he grabbed up his wooden sword.

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And, for once, he had, Sango thought with a sad smile. Their father had distracted her by throwing a well-placed rock for her side, causing her to dodge straight into the path of Kohaku's weapon. Her timing was thrown off, and she had managed to block the blow, but over-balanced in doing so. She'd fallen to the ground, rolling to spring back to her feet, only to find the point of Kohaku's practice sword aimed at her throat. Over her brother's shoulder, she had met their father's gaze, catching his wink before he turned back to the village men he'd been conversing with.

"Aneue!" Kohaku had cried, eyes widening.

"See?" She had looked back at him, smiling. "I knew you could do it."

"Chichiue! Chichiue, did you see? Did you see?"

----------------End Flashback------------------

Sango's hands stopped their scrubbing motions in the water and she reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. That happy, excited expression on her brother's face would be forever burned into her memory. But she would probably never see such joy again.

The little boy Kohaku had been was gone. Naraku had destroyed the innocence in his eyes, taken away the laughter that rang through her head as she remembered how things had been.

She thought she'd been on her way to getting her brother back, thought she'd finally gotten her second chance a few days ago, when he was ripped away once more. Naraku hadn't been gone for good, like they'd all thought. All the signs had pointed to his destruction, but he'd somehow hidden himself away in the least expected place.

Had Kohaku known? He couldn't have, or he'd surely have warned her when his old self tried to resurface. Maybe he'd had some hint, however, since he knew not to give up the swallow's cowrie shell he was carrying. But why had he been keeping it in the first place? She found it hard to believe he'd been carrying it since coming under Naraku's spell. Their enemy must have planted it on him, or at least given it to him, with instructions to protect it, or possibly even to use it, before she and the others had managed to destroy Naraku.

And why hadn't she or one of the others realized something was wrong when Kohaku's memories didn't return? If Naraku had truly been gone, wouldn't the spell he'd cast over the boy, keeping his thoughts at bay, have disappeared? Surely Kohaku would have remembered her, their family. He would have recalled living in the youkai exterminator village, and playing with the other children. How he'd trained for so long, and finally, _finally_ earned a place fighting alongside their father. How they'd attacked the youkai in the neighboring village, and--

Sango's eyes widened and she unconsciously bit her lip in concern.

Did she really want him to remember? He was such a sweet, gentle boy, the memory of his attacking his own father and sister would tear him apart.

But what other options did they have?

If the Shikon shard was removed, Kohaku would die. It wouldn't matter whether his memories were intact or not.

But if there were some other way to keep him alive, and Naraku's spell held no sway over his mind, dare she try to do so, knowing how traumatized her brother would be?

If she were in the same position, she knew she would rather be dead than have to live with her actions. Kohaku would think the same, and even more so-- he had hated the thought of killing demons, and he had done much worse in destroying the fighters of their village, even though it had not been his own will to do so.

Knowing a spell had made one kill a family member brought little comfort to the bearer of such an deed.

And if she had ever succeeded in breaking Naraku's spell over Kohaku by killing her brother herself, she knew she would be unable to live with her own conscience. No matter how many times she told herself the boy she saw was not her brother.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it. He was still her little brother and she couldn't bear to see him harmed. And killing Kohaku, and then herself, would solve nothing but her own wish to rejoin her family.

There would be no one left to avenge her people by defeating Naraku.

There would be no one left to rebuild the village and pass on the teachings of the youkai exterminators, so that future generations would be safe.

There would be no one left to make sure a certain monk behaved and kept his hands off of every young girl he met.

Unless that young girl was her.

Sango's wet hands flew to cover her mouth as she sat up straight, her newly-washed clothes lying forgotten in the water.

Where had that thought come from?

She looked wildly around her, searching in the darkness of the evening for some sign that someone else had whispered it in her ear, that it hadn't come from somewhere in her own mind.

She knew she would find no such thing-- it was getting easier to admit to herself, though she would still deny it to anyone else.

She had told herself time and time again that she didn't want to get mixed up with such a perverted male, that allowing herself to develop feelings for him would only end in heartache.

Kagome had warned her of just such an event, as well, but her friend had also reminded her that there could always be that one special girl who could change a man like Miroku. Kagome had begun to think that maybe the monk was really just all talk, that it was just a front he put up for everyone else's benefit, so he could hide behind a mask.

Sango wasn't sure she could believe any of those things to be true. She was certain of one thing, however-- that she was dangerously close to the point of no return, in love with the monk with the cursed hand.

If she hadn't already crossed that line.

And sometimes she didn't quite mind that hand so much, even if she did slap Miroku to keep him in line.

She'd actually begun to wonder if he groped her just to get that reaction. Or to draw her out of her own thoughts and worries, even if they were about him when he was injured.

Sango wasn't sure if she was grateful he hadn't tried it when she'd been thinking about Kohaku once they'd been free of Kaguya and, for the time being, Naraku. She and the others had just escaped from the mirror, and she'd looked around for any last trace of the boy that had disappeared along with their enemy. Miroku had been surprisingly keyed to her thoughts, and brought her to focus on the good side of what had happened, that her brother had seemed to remember who she was at one point, that he had called her "aneue", sister, just before Naraku had exited from his hiding place inside Kohaku's Shikon scar.

That one word stuck in her mind, echoing her brother's childish voice.

She could picture him calling her so many times, in so many ways.

It had actually been rather funny, that he'd been able to name her before he was able to say "father."

He'd been such a little boy then, with not a care in the world. He would smile up at her with big, bright eyes, and just say "aneue," as if it were the most important word of all.

But she would never hear that tone again, for that Kohaku no longer existed. She'd known he would grow up eventually, that he would stop idolizing his older sister, but she hadn't wanted things to end up as they were.

And she, who had always been there to protect her little brother, who had stood up for him every time the other boys in the village had ganged up on him, had been powerless to stop his destruction.

Powerless against the one demon who would take all that she held dear and give nothing in return.