InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Not-So-Broken Dreams ❯ 5 ( Chapter 5 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

As promised, here's the final chapter to this story! I hope you all enjoy it as much as the others!

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Chapter 5

"-ngo. ... Sango? Are you all right?"

Sango blinked, looking dazedly towards the quiet voice before turning away quickly and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Sango?"

"I'm fine," she responded, ignoring the tiny hitch in her voice.

Miroku stared down at her bent head. He had a guess as to what was bothering her, but he wasn't sure if she'd appreciate him prying at re-opened wounds. So instead of voicing his concerns, he turned his attention to the more obvious matter at hand.

"Your clothes are rather wet, Sango."

She didn't turn and glare at him. Nor did she move to furiously remove the garments from the water and retreat as far away from him as she could.

He slid one foot free of its sandal and reached a toe to poke at the black material resting in the spring.

He expected her to pluck her clothing from the water before he could even touch it, but she did nothing.

"Sango, if you are finished with the washing, your clothes should be dried..."

Still no response.

She merely remained unmoving, taking in a couple of deep breaths as she apparently tried to hide her sniffling from him while once again lost in her own thoughts.

He knelt beside her, moving slowly so as not to frighten her, and laid one hand on her shoulder as he spoke.

"Sango, would-"

"No, no, I'm fine," she muttered, quickly shaking off his hand and reaching for her clothes in the water.

But all she did was absently pull them halfway out, scrunching them slightly as if to get rid of the excess liquid.

"Here, let me help," he murmured, taking matters into his own hands and dragging her clothes out of the spring. He had quite a bit of the water wrung out of the garments before she reacted.

"No, stop, I-" she half-whimpered, taking great handfuls of the black material and half-heartedly attempting to yank it away from him.

Her battle gear stretched between them for a moment before he relented and finally let go.

Sango clutched the garments to her chest in an almost knuckle-whitening grip, oblivious to the damp soaking into the clothes she was wearing, and let her head droop further.

Miroku paused for a moment, his concern growing as he watched her. He'd never seen the youkai exterminator behave as she was now. Yes, she had been depressed after incidents involving Kohaku, but never had she seemed so totally drawn into herself. Of course, Kagome usually managed to cheer her up during their private girl-talks, and if that didn't fully work, he could always at least make her irritated with him one way or another.

But this was different. Kagome had talked to Sango already, and had apparently felt comfortable leaving the other girl on her own. Which meant that either Sango had appeared to be in a lighter mood, or Kagome's efforts had failed to bring her around. He didn't really think Kagome would leave the youkai exterminator at the spring by herself if the latter were the case.

Not that he could blame Sango for being in such a state in the first place-- she'd had her own share of hopeful happiness before things had been turned upside-down once again.

A rather loud sniffle brought his attention back to focus on her bent head. Her shoulders were tense and shaking slightly, though no other sound escaped.

He shifted closer, reaching out both hands to gently disengage her fingers from their death grip on her clothes. Almost as soon as she felt him tug at the material, she began to fight him, shoving and punching at his chest and arms to fend him off.

He gave up on trying to get the wet garments away from her and took the first opening he found to gather her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly and holding her head to his shoulder.

She continued to beat at his sides with her fists, her sobs growing louder as she tried ineffectually to push him away.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the pain when the top of her head caught him in the chin, but he refused to let go.

Her struggles began to lessen in their fury, and her hands eventually wound themselves into his robes. Instead of trying to force him to release his hold, she tightened her grip as if clutching a rope while awash in stormy waters, the great shuddering breaths she took doing nothing to calm the flood of tears.

Miroku silently continued to hold her. He felt a bit awkward at attempting to comfort her, since she'd never before allowed him to try. But then again, the last time he'd seen her cry had been so long ago-- soon after they'd met, and Sango had stolen Inuyasha's sword to trade it for Kohaku, only to find she'd been deceived by Naraku once again.

Each sob tore at his heart, but he knew she needed to let go of the feelings she usually kept inside.

Though he wasn't quite sure she'd appreciate the fact that it was his shoulder she was crying on.

Mushin was the only one who had ever seen him so upset. There had been a few times when the weight of his curse had seemed too great a burden for a young boy, and one small reminder of what he had lost, or could lose, would set off a tide of emotions that easily swept him away.

But he'd had a lot more time to come to terms with the present condition of his life than Sango had. Most of his anger and frustration had been let out years ago, whereas she still suffered the wound to her heart every time she came into contact with her younger brother.

He wished he could take that pain, and her tears, away for good. But gaining the chance to do so meant defeating Naraku, the end and the beginning of both of their ordeals. He'd bear his affliction for as long as it took, if in the end Sango was relieved of her own.

Instinctively, his arms tightened around her, as if by holding her closer he could keep her demons at bay.

She was finally starting to breathe more slowly and deeply, and she leaned into him little by little. She turned her head to lean against his chest, her ear close to his heart. Her hands loosened, but she still kept them wrapped in the material at his sides, her damp clothing having fallen, forgotten, to lie on both of their laps.

How much time they remained that way, he couldn't tell, but her breathing evened out and seemed to match his own before he thought to disrupt the silence.

He wasn't quite sure what to say, if he should utter anything at all, but she solved the problem for him by speaking first.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear.

"Don't be," he murmured in response. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Her head shifted slightly against his chest. "But you didn't deserve a beating for trying to help-"

A soft, wry chuckle escaped him. "I am quite sure I deserve more than that, for any actual wrong I've done you."

"Any actual wr--?"

He could tell she'd figured out what he meant, as she stiffened in his arms and let the question drop without finishing it. She didn't reply, but he imagined she was taking stock of the positions of his hands before she began to relax once more.

Several more minutes passed. He figured she was composing herself and preparing to pull away as soon as she felt steady enough to return to the village and their friends, but she surprised him with the question she asked instead.

"Does it hurt? Your hand, I mean. From the kazaana..." Her voice had been hesitant, though once she'd asked the initial question, the rest came out in a nervous-sounding rush.

He slid the arm from around her shoulders and held the hand open, palm-up, for her to see. "Yes, it does. But some of the pain has faded, and I am a bit better equipped to handle it now than when I was younger."

She reached with one hand and gently traced the side of his palm with one finger. "Will you need to see Mushin?"

"Hmm. I suppose I should, although I do not believe he will tell me anything I do not already know, or that I wish to hear."

She hummed a slight response, catching hold of the back of his hand. Before he could react, she brought his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss where her finger had touched a moment ago.

The action startled him more than her concerned query about his hand had. He went completely still, his breath caught in his throat. Had she really just--?

"My mother used to do that. She always offered to kiss my cuts and bruises better."

He cleared his throat as quietly as he could, and waited a moment before speaking, hoping he sounded at least fairly normal. "I don't remember my mother."

She let go of his hand and allowed hers to drop into her lap. Unsure of what to do with his own, he returned it to its former position around her shoulders, taking her actions as a sign that she wouldn't yet draw away. He was surprised at how comfortable she seemed, resting in his arms. If any other circumstances had brought them together, he knew she would have drawn away as quickly as possible. He was thankful for the chance to hold her so close, as it was most likely not going to happen again any time soon.

"Kohaku... doesn't remember ours, either. He was just a baby when she died." She paused, leaning a little more against his shoulder with a little sigh. "I was the one who mostly took care of him, tending his hurts and trying to keep him happy." The hand in her lap moved to wrap around his torso and her fingers tightened in his robes. "He was such a happy little boy..."

"I'm sure he will be again, Sango," he soothed, but she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"I thought I had the chance to see him that way again. Even though he didn't recognize me... I still wanted him with me, wanted to take care of him. Once he got used to me, I think he could've been happy. Even if he never remembered who I was."

Her breathing had begun to grow irregular once more. He smoothed one hand over her back, hoping to calm her before she grew too agitated.

"I think you were right, earlier. When you said he'd made progress and called me 'aneue.' He must have remembered something, and I'm glad in a way, but it would be so much better if he didn't..."

"Sango-"

"No, it would be better. There are so many bad things for him to recall, it would break his heart to know what he's done. He'd never be happy again. And I never would be either."

"But would he be the same Kohaku you remember, if he didn't have his memories? How can you believe you would be happier with him as he is now, a shadow who knows not who he is, nor who you are?"

Her fists tightened, pulling the material at his sides, and she turned her face so her forehead rested against his shoulder, as if to draw slightly away from what he was saying.

"But he would want to die, knowing that he killed our father, and the others..."

Miroku couldn't disagree with her statement. "I know, but he would only be truly happy if he was whole-- if he knew the past, and was able to come to terms with it, and live despite the pain."

She shook her head against his chest, a slight sniffle escaping her. "I just want him back..." she whispered.

"Sango..." he whispered, tightening his hold. His thumb moved soothingly over her shoulder, trying to ease some of the tension there.

He couldn't truthfully reassure her that it would be all right in the end, that she would succeed in getting Kohaku back for good; that the boy would be able to continue living as he was, with or without his memories restored. If they were to fully complete their quest and restore the Shikon no Tama, Kohaku would no longer be able to remain in this world, unless some other method of bringing him back to life presented itself. He knew Sango realized it, and he couldn't bring himself to further add to her pain by mentioning it now.

"I want him back," he heard her repeat a few moments later. "I want my family and friends back." Her fingers clutched convulsively at his robes as she took in a ragged breath. "Naraku took so much away from me!"

Sango began to shake in his arms, her fists pulling at his clothing as if she wanted to pound something, or someone.

"He took from all of us, Sango," he murmured, running his hands soothingly along her back. "You, me, Inuyasha, Kikyou. Kohaku. He would probably destroy Kagome's family, too, if he could reach them."

"But he can't, he didn't. He destroyed mine! So why am I still here?" her voice grew more frantic as she continued. "Why was I the one left? Why didn't I die with them?"

He gasped at her words, pulling her closer and squeezing her so tightly he was afraid he'd hurt her. But he couldn't stand to let go. His voice took on a harsh edge as he spoke. "Sango, don't ever think you should have died with them. You didn't, so it wasn't your time. You had a reason to live. If nothing else, you're here to finish him, to get Naraku back for taking your family from you, for using Kohaku. If you died, then or now, then he would win because no one would be left to avenge the lives he took." He held her even tighter, wanting to say so much more, yet knowing it could be a huge mistake if he did. "There's still so much left to live for."

He pressed his lips to her hair, covering one of her hands, where it rested in a fist against his chest, with one of his own. "We need you, Sango." He feared she would hear the "I" in that statement, yet at the same time he hoped that she wouldn't. If she called him on it, he could end up making promises he couldn't yet keep, no matter how hard he wished to.

The tense moments of silence seemed to drag on as he waited for her to refute his claim in one way or another. But no other words drifted to his ears. He hoped she believed what he said, that she wasn't sinking even deeper into dark thoughts.

A great sigh heaved its way out of her lungs and she allowed herself to relax slightly, leaning into Miroku as he continued to hold her tightly to him. Her shaking had reduced itself to faint shivers every so often, and her mind was exhausted. Her fists slowly unclenched, her fingers lightly curled against his chest.

Miroku let go of her hand as it opened, reaching up to smooth a damp strand of hair back behind her ear. It was rare that she allowed him so close, especially for so long a time, and he wasn't about to ruin it.

Impulsively, he reached down and kissed one of the fresh tears away from her cheek. He realized it was a mistake seconds later when he couldn't help but repeat the gesture.

Sango stiffened, breath stilling in her throat, when she felt his lips touch her skin. She didn't dare open her eyes as her heart began to pound.

The tiny kisses followed the few tears still trailing their way down towards her chin.

He stopped a breath away from touching his lips to hers, and she swallowed hard, taking in a great gulp of air.

What was he doing? the tiny part of her brain that was still working wondered. Taking advantage of their closeness to steal the kiss he'd tried to get from her earlier? Surely he wouldn't, not now, when he knew she was vulnerable and couldn't push him away...

Her hands tightened in his robes, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she waited for him to make his next move.

"Sango..." he breathed on a sigh, the sound barely audible over the beating of her heart.

But he didn't kiss her. He didn't move away, nor did he come any closer.

She waited, hardly daring to breathe, for several seconds before slowly opening her eyes.

His own were closed, and so close she wouldn't be able to look away if he opened them.

She took a shallow breath and let it out, wondering why he hadn't moved.

As if he sensed her scrutiny, his eyelids fluttered and lifted, his deep violet gaze ensnaring her.

"H-Houshi-sama..." she stuttered, the husky sound of her voice startling in the quiet.

The tiniest of smiles lifted the corner of one side of his mouth while he brought one hand to her cheek to brush away the last of her tears. He watched her, unblinking, for a long moment before leaning up slightly to press his lips to her forehead.

His arms tightened and he held her there until she relaxed once more.

Her own hands found their way loosely around his waist and she leaned into him slightly, grateful for the chance to enjoy his warmth.

"Thank you, Houshi-sama," she murmured, not quite sure if she was thanking him merely for the comfort, or for also not taking the opportunity when it was presented, as he usually did.

They would have stayed that way for the rest of the night if a slight grumble hadn't risen up from somewhere between them, quite loud in the quiet of the evening.

"If you're all right now, we should probably go back," Miroku informed her, belatedly remembering why he'd originally gone to find her. "The food is most likely cold by now."

Sango pulled back slightly, blinking up at him in surprise. "Oh," was all she said as her eyes dropped to the level of his chest and she sat back on her heels.

He wasn't sure why the thought of cold food should upset her, but it appeared that it had. She'd drawn back and wouldn't look at him. "Sango, what is it? What did-"

"If the food is already cold," she began in a small, demure voice, so that he had to lean forward to hear her, "then you won't mind--"

As she continued, she sat up a little and lifted her face so she was about the same distance away from nearly kissing him as he'd been earlier. His eyes grew wide as he wondered just what she was going to say, or do.

"--if it gets a little colder, now will you?"

And before he could react, she'd used both hands to push him backwards and slightly to the side. He didn't quite end up in the hot spring, though he was sure she'd meant for him to do so. One of his sleeves was soaked, and he'd very nearly cracked his head on a rock, but otherwise he was unscathed.

He leaned up on his elbows, watching her back away with her hands up over her mouth to smother her laughter. She finally gave up hiding it, scrambling to pick up her belongings before he could retaliate. Her giggles floated back to him as she ran off towards the camp when he pretended he was going to leap to his feet and come after her.

For an instant, he'd caught a glimpse of the Sango that had existed before Naraku had interfered in her life. If defeating him meant a return of that more carefree, happy girl, Miroku had even more of a reason to want the world to be free of their enemy.

And even more of a reason to want to live to see it.

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After wringing out his dripping sleeve as best he could, Miroku pushed to his feet. He looked up at the stars shining overhead, allowing the quiet sounds of the night to wash over him.

Things were looking much brighter than they had earlier in the day.

After all, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, he thought with a small wry smile.

He glanced out at the still waters of the spring, taking one last deep breath of fresh night air.

Releasing it slowly, he sent a prayer heavenward that all would be well in the end-- for all of them-- before turning and following Sango's retreat back to the village.

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Ending author's notes:

Okay, first of all I have to send out a giant thank you to notoes for beta-ing this for me! With all the other stuff you do, I'm grateful that you took the time to read it through and let me know how things were going!

Now, I'm sure I disappointed in not turning this into a lemon (they were alone at the hot spring-- plenty of possibilities, I agree), but besides the fact that I don't think I'd be any good at writing one, I was going with wanting to keep this as in line with the main storyline as possible. The movies have to return everything to the way it was when the extra pieces of story were added in, and I went with wanting to keep things in the same vein. Yes, the relationship between Miroku and Sango may be a little bit altered, a little bit deeper, but still not quite so dramatically changed.

I wasn't quite sure where exactly the movie storyline was supposed to fall within the series, whether it was after a certain scene between Miroku and Sango, or before. So I tried to write the story so that it could be interpreted as occurring at either time, and left out any references to that particular event. I hope it still seemed to flow smoothly.

Also, I don't believe there has been much mentioned in the series about the mothers of either Sango or Miroku, so I kindof made my own assumptions here. The same goes for any other event that I mentioned occurred, that was never depicted or referred to in the manga or the anime. I know I haven't read quite a large chunk of the manga, but I don't think what I've missed really covered any significant details of either of these characters' pasts. Feel free to let me know where something is, so I can go find it, if I did miss something, though!

Interestingly enough, I didn't realize until seeing a review by Pyrinsomniac that I still had no one really realize that Miroku was suffering, too. Sango hints at it, but doesn't really address the fact that he hides his own pain so well. In looking back at what I've written, there really wasn't an opportunity to address it, with how the story went. If this last chapter had been told more from her point of view, there may have been a time or two where it would have occurred to her that he had faced his own problems in the fights with Naraku and Kaguya, and needed a bit of sympathy of his own. But maybe that's just fodder for another tale... :)

I really wasn't sure what people would think of a mostly meditative-type story, but this is the way it came out-- as Miroku, and eventually Sango, thinking over the events of the movie, and relating it to things that had happened earlier, even though it's not part of the canon storyline. Thanks so much to those of you who let me know what you thought!

I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it. Maybe now I can get my mind back on Sight Unseen, and getting that long story finished!! (Not that I don't have a whole stack of sticky notes full of short little ideas that popped into my head at one time or another... and none of them anything that ties in with any story I've already written!) And of course the couple of other ideas I had started to write a bit on, that I just rediscovered a couple of days ago while going through files from my other computer!

Anyway, thanks again for reading!