Crossover Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Journey to the City of Endless Night ❯ Chapter Sixty Seven ( Chapter 67 )

Author's Note: Please check out my livejournal at farawayeyes4 for more information, review responses, and news.

 

Chapter Sixty-Seven

 

The soft gray of early dawn faded into muted coral, ushering in a new day. Cheerful bird song gave it promise, and Sango hummed softly. She idly plucked blades of grass from the hilltop she sat on, savoring a moment alone. The demon slayer stretched and leaned back, sighing. The cool grass caressed her cheek, soothing her. She closed her eyes, soaking up the tranquil stillness surrounding her. It was a welcome respite from the anxiety and tension of the past few days.

 

Sango rolled onto her side, tucking an arm underneath her head. So far this morning was significantly less exciting than yesterday's. Finally, the demon slayer could take time to reflect on the past few days. She had crept out of the tent she shared with the monk and kitsune to take advantage of the quiet morning for that purpose. To her chagrin, Sango found that her thoughts most often wandered towards Miroku.

 

It hadn't escaped her observation that the monk had begun to act differently since their reunion with Inuyasha and Kagome. Miroku flirted with fewer and fewer women. He didn't ask that ridiculous question of his to as many unmarried young girls as he used to. In fact, Sango couldn't think of the last woman he had actually asked that. Most of all, the demon slayer noticed that the lecherous monk groped her less frequently. It seemed to her that Miroku was really trying to change his behavior.

 

She sighed, wondering about the monk's true intentions. Sango had been confused ever since Miroku had taken her to a private room for rice balls and tea. There, she had allowed some of her inhibitions go, and in the process, found she had enjoyed the monk's attentions. Some how, Sango speculated that Miroku hadn't done that with other women, despite what he said. He might have kissed them, but the demon slayer felt certain the monk hadn't treated them with their favorite rice balls and tea, either. Something in the dynamic of their relationship was changing, and Sango smiled. It was finally for the better.

 

Sango rolled onto her back again, staring up at the clouds. Beautiful pinks and purples stained them. It seemed that the sunrise was reflecting her mood as the clouds passed lazily overhead. It wasn't often that Sango had the chance to take the time to appreciate the beauty of daybreak. The demon slayer sighed, wishing she had awoken the monk. It would have been nice to have shared this with him.

 

She closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. A soft yawn escaped her, and Sango had to repress a giggle. The demon slayer had to admit that Miroku's face had been priceless when she had found him in the bed with her. He had looked like a lost little boy, and his dark eyes had pleaded with her for forgiveness. She had been a little angry at first, but overall, Sango had been surprised. First, she had been surprised that he had the audacity to climb in bed with her. Secondly, she had been surprised to find that she had liked it. His warm body had felt good next to hers, and his strong arms had made her feel safe.

 

The memory of his guilt after she had slapped him made her frown. Miroku had always brushed off her indignation at his trespasses. He tended to laugh off her punishments, and tried to get one more flirt in. The monk consistently tried to proclaim his innocence and that he was merely misunderstood. That morning, Miroku hadn't done any of those things. Sango had sensed with the way his shoulders had slumped and how he had hung his head that the monk had been ashamed. His reaction that morning had been the one event that had convinced her that Miroku was really trying to change.

 

On the other hand, the demon slayer thought about how angry she had been with Miroku the day before. Part of her had been pleased by his concern for her; however, she also felt that he had seen her as less of a fighter all because she had allowed him to court her. Sango had worked way too hard to be considered anything less, and had lashed out. The demon slayer had been hurt that the monk would think of her that way. She had felt demeaned by being regulated to simply babysitting Shippo.

 

Sango had retaliated by refusing to speak with Miroku. She had been so hurt and confused that the last thing she had wanted to hear was the monk's excuses. It wasn't until he had found her on this hill that Sango had heard his real reason. She hadn't expected to hear the things he had said. The demon slayer felt both chagrined and pleasantly surprised as Miroku told her that he saw her as a competent fighter. It wasn't so much that he had been concerned for her safety as much as it had been to keep Inuyasha calm. He had never thought about her being weak.

 

A soft footstep behind her made her sit up and look over her shoulder. A smile crossed her face when she found Miroku. “Hey.”

 

“I thought I might find you here.” Miroku smiled shyly. He held up a small bag. “Hungry?”

 

Sango's stomach rumbled, and she nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Miroku sat down next to her. He set the bag down between them and untied the string. “I have some cheese, bread, and fresh fruit. Polgara said we have to eat a cold breakfast and eat up the last of the stores from what we bought in Mal Rakuth.”

 

Sango nodded, smiling softly at the monk. “Alright.” She looked into the bag and grabbed a small hunk of bread. She bit her lip and whispered, “Thanks, Miroku.”

 

Miroku reached into the bag, taking some cheese. “You're welcome, my dear Sango.”

 

A comfortable silence settled over them. Sango tore a piece from her bread, chewing it slowly. She watched Miroku from the corner of her eye. He nibbled on his cheese, his dark eyes focused on the sky. His expression was unreadable and Sango wondered what might be going on in his thoughts.

 

“It's a beautiful day so far, isn't it?” Miroku asked softly.

 

“Yes, it is,” Sango agreed. She looked down, studying her hunk of bread. She sighed, feeling a bit out of her element. So far the monk had done nothing but act gentlemanly. Sango wanted to ask what was behind his change in behavior, but wasn't sure where to start.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

 

Sango turned to look at him, her nose wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

 

“Oh, something I've heard Kagome say, that's all.” Miroku smiled shyly. He tore another bite of cheese, and nibbled at it. “You just looked lost in thought.”

 

“Oh.” Sango chewed another piece of bread, looking up to the sunrise. She swallowed, and said, “I was just thinking how nice the sunrise is this morning. Haven't really had a chance to enjoy one lately.”

 

“Ah, yes. It has been rather hectic the past few mornings, indeed,” Miroku replied softly. He sighed, reaching into the bag for an apple. He rubbed it on the front of his robes. From the corner of her eye, Sango saw a small smile cross his face. He leaned towards her, whispering, “I see you're wearing the rose oil.” He paused. “It smells lovely, by the way.”

 

Sango blushed. “It---it does?”

 

“Of course.” Miroku chuckled. “You don't think so?”

 

“I do.” Sango bit her lip. The demon slayer looked down. “Thank-you again, for the perfume.” She examined her half-eaten hunk of bread. Sango continued softly, “I've never had a bottle of perfume before.”

 

“Never?”

 

“No. Never.” Sango shook her head. “I've used Kagome's scented soaps, but that's it.”

 

“I see.” Miroku bit into his apple, chewing slowly. “I suppose Inuyasha wouldn't let her have any perfumes.”

 

“Yeah. She said something about how Inuyasha wouldn't let her have any of that stinky stuff.” Sango laughed softly.

 

“That sounds about right.” Miroku finished his apple, tossing the core aside. He sighed. “I'm glad I could be the one to get you your first bottle of perfume.”

 

Sango smiled. “Me too.” She finished her bread, and reached into the bag for something else. She gasped when her hand brushed against his. “Oh, sorry.”

 

Miroku gently squeezed her hand. He leaned even closer, his warm breath tickling her ear. He whispered, “Don't be.”

 

“Monk?”

 

The monk intertwined his fingers with hers. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, and Miroku took a deep breath. Sango felt the beads of his cursed hand graze her cheek as he tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. Miroku asked, his voice a mere whisper, “Can---can I kiss you, Sango?”

 

Sango turned to face him, her eyes wide. Their eyes met, and she searched his. There, the demon slayer found a soft vulnerability. Replacing the typical confidence, she saw a flicker of uncertainty. One thing remained constant, and the longer Sango held his gaze, the more evident it became. Unbridled hope shined in his dark eyes. Sango licked her lips, and nodded, unable to speak.

 

Miroku captured her lips with his, and his tongue pleaded for entrance into her mouth. Sango relented, and her eyes fell closed while their tongues twisted together. The kiss was sweet and slow. Sango looped her arms around his neck, returning it. She felt the monk gently nibble on her lower lip. The pad of Miroku's thumb brushed her cheek. As the kiss lingered on, she felt his tongue gently probe her mouth, almost as if he was trying to memorize it. Sango couldn't help the soft moan that escaped, only to have it muffled by Miroku's mouth. The feeling of their lips meeting, and their tongues tangled together made Sango want more.

 

Miroku broke the kiss off, and rested his forehead onto hers. His eyes remained closed, and he sighed softly. A hushed whisper reached Sango's ears. “Thank-you.”

 

Sango looked down, licking her swollen lips. She said, “I should be the one thanking you, Miroku.”

 

“Me? Why do you think you have to thank me?”

 

“You asked me if you could kiss me before you did. Thank-you.”

 

Sango looked up, meeting his apprehensive gaze. Her eyes were drawn to his lips as he chewed his bottom one in thought. She wanted more than a simple, sweet kiss. She wanted one like they had shared back in the small sitting room at the inn. Sango pushed on the monk's chest, making him lean back into the grass.

 

“Sango?” Miroku's eyes swirled with confusion.

 

The demon slayer moved to straddle him. When her face was mere inches from his, Sango asked, “Can I kiss you, Miroku?”

 

Miroku gulped, his hands clenched at his sides. He nodded vigorously, his voice breathless as he replied, “Yes, Sango.”

 

Sango kissed him, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. She wrapped hers around his, sucking on it. Her hands ran up his sides to his shoulders, and she held him down while she devoured his mouth. Sango fisted his robes in her hands, squeezing Miroku's shoulders. She plundered his mouth, pushing her tongue even deeper inside. The demon slayer managed to work the monk's hair free, and ran her fingers through it. Their tongues warred for dominance, and Miroku moaned softly into the kiss. Sango smiled against it, realizing he had yielded.

 

Miroku's lips upturned into a devilish smile. He reached up, and pulled the ribbon out of her hair, letting it flow loose. Sango felt the beads of his cursed hand tickle her cheek as he ran his fingers through her hair. They intertwined in her thick locks, and Miroku pulled her to him. He took possession of her lips, and his tongue forced its way inside her mouth, twisting with hers. His other hand ran up the back of her calve to her rear. He gave it a firm squeeze, and Sango pressed her thighs around his hips. She groaned, and it was consumed by their kiss.

 

Once they broke for air, Sango rested atop him, panting. She smiled softly in satisfaction. “You're very welcome, Miroku.”

 

Miroku tucked her hair behind her ear. He returned her pleased smile, and Sango found it made him even more handsome. His dark hair spilled around his head into the grass. The monk idly rubbed her bottom. “Well, this was quite the pleasant surprise this morning.”

 

Sango giggled softly, throwing her arms around his neck. She gave him another quick kiss, then nuzzled her nose against his throat. “Oh, Miroku, you never change.”

 

The grass rustled not far away. Sango pulled away from Miroku, straightening her dress. She blushed, realizing they had been caught. A soft chuckle greeted them, and the weasel faced spy came into view. Sango bit her lip, keeping her head bowed. The demon slayer fingered her dress, feeling more heat flood her face.

 

The spy said, “I thought I might find you two out here.”

 

Miroku rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. “Good morning, Silk.”

 

Silk brushed his hands on his stained tunic. His small, dark eye snapped in wicked mirth. “I was told to come fetch you, my spiritual friend. Master Feldegast requested you in particular. Something about how you're his perfect decoy Grolim High priest.”

 

Sango's eyes narrowed. “Decoy Grolim High priest? What is going on?”

 

“Well, Master Feldegast, Velvet, and I plan to go to the dread city of Mal Yaska. He needs someone who can pass off the appearance of a Grolim High priest, and of course our dear monk here came to mind. Don't worry, he won't actually sacrifice anyone in the name of Torak.”

 

“I see.” Sango crossed her arms.

 

Miroku pulled his hair back into its ponytail. “I don't know much about Grolims, though.”

 

“You won't have to. You just have to look like one.”

 

“If the monk goes, I go,” Sango said, her voice clipped.

 

“You'll have to talk to Master Feldegast. He's the one leading this expedition.”

 

Sango frowned. “And just what does a storyteller know about any of this?”

 

“You'd be surprised.” Silk winked. “We don't have time to argue. Master Feldegast wants to leave immediately, so if you're coming along, take it up with him now.”

 

“I believe I will.” Sango stood, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. There was no way she'd let the monk go to this city without her.

 

Sango trekked back into camp, finding the juggler speaking with Belgarath. She glared at him, waiting her turn to talk to him. One way or another, she'd go with them on this trip. There was no way she'd be left behind---again. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, becoming more impatient the longer she waited.

 

“Well, me ancient friend, we'll visit Urvon's dread city an' find out just what's been goin' on. We won't be too long. The sooner we know, the sooner we can get to ol' Burnt-face's old house and see what yer book has to say there.”

 

“Just be careful. Don't do anything unnecessary.”

 

“Don't ye worry yer ancient head about us. Y' know I'm always careful.” Master Feldegast winked.

 

“Just be on your way. We'll continue north. I'm sure you'll catch up with us,” Belgarath replied while he rolled his eyes.

 

“Ya betcha, yer mighty sorcership. Leave it all to me.”

 

Before the juggler could walk away, Sango cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Master Feldegast. Can I talk to you a moment?”

 

“What is it, Lady-O?”

 

“I want to go along as well.”

 

The acrobat eyed her up and down. He shrugged. “Can't see why not. Just be careful. We're not goin' on a pleasure trip.”

 

“I'm aware of that. I am also quite capable of protecting myself.”

 

“An' I 'ave no doubt about that, Lady-O. I've seen ye hit the monk often enough.” Feldegast smirked. “Consider yerself included. Gather what ye need fer the trip, an' meet us on the northern side of camp.”

 

Sango opened her mouth to protest as she had another argument ready to convince the entertainer to let her go along. The demon slayer blinked when she realized Feldegast had already agreed. Sango blushed, and gave him a small bow. “Thank-you, Master Feldegast.”

 

“Yer welcome, Lady-O.” An amused smile crossed Feldegast's face. “Now git goin'. We don't 'ave all day, y' know.”

 

The blush on Sango's cheeks deepened, and she gave the juggler a chagrined smile. She bowed again, and turned to make her way to her tent. Ducking inside, the demon slayer found Kirara still curled up in the middle of the blankets. Sango laughed, and shook her head.

 

“Come on, Kirara. We've got to go.”

 

Kirara stretched, yawning. She mewled softly, and rubbed Sango's legs. The demon slayer bent down, picking the small fire cat up. She placed her on her shoulder. Then, she knelt down, rolled her bedroll up, and tied a rope around it. Sango then hefted her hiraikotsu onto her other shoulder, securing the strap about her chest.

 

Adjusting her bedroll in her arms, Sango exited the tent. She bent her head tucking the awkward shape of her bedding underneath her chin. Sango bumped into something, and dropped her bundle. Kirara jumped down, meowing in protest. The demon slayer gasped, falling back onto her bottom. Looking up, Sango found Miroku looking down at her with a grin.

 

“Are you alright, my dear Sango?”

 

Sango glared up at him. “Save it, monk.”

 

“Now, now.” Miroku outstretched his hand, offering to help her up. He gently squeezed her hand when she took it, then pulled Sango to her feet. Once she was standing up, Miroku didn't let go.

 

“Well, are you going to let go or what?” Sango tried to pry her hand free.

 

Miroku looked down, a slight blush painting his cheeks. He whispered, “Wait.”

 

“Monk?” Sango's nose crinkled in confusion.

 

The monk bit his lip. “I was going to give you this out on the hill, but we got interrupted.” With his other hand, Miroku withdrew a small box from his robes. “Here.”

 

Sango took it into her hands, opening the box. In the tissue paper laid a small scabbard. “Miroku?

 

“I noticed the one for your father's knife was rather worn. When we went shopping for Rin, I thought I'd get you a new one.” A boyish smile crossed his face. “Do you like it?”

 

Sango felt tears brim in her eyes. She carefully closed the box and threw her arms around Miroku, hugging him. She sobbed softly into his chest. This was even more thoughtful than the rice balls and tea, or the perfume. Sango felt overwhelmed by Miroku's sweet gesture. She wasn't sure how she'd ever thank him for this.

 

Miroku eased his arms around her, holding her close. He asked, a hint of concern in his voice, “Sango?”

 

Sango pulled back, wiping tears from her eyes. She whispered, “Thank-you, Miroku. You don't know how much this means to me.”

 

“You're welcome.” Miroku leaned in, kissing her cheek. “I'll finish tearing down the tent and meet you by Feldegast's horse, alright?”

 

Sango nodded. She took out the new sheath, and hiked her skirt up high enough to pull her knife from its old sheath. Sango slipped her dagger into the new sheath. She brushed her fingers over it, relishing in the feel of soft, new leather. She pulled the old scabbard off, and slid the new one into place. Sango made sure it was secure in her boot, then smoothed her skirt back down.

 

The demon slayer arched an eyebrow when she noticed Miroku staring. She playfully whispered, “Hentai.”

 

Miroku chuckled softly, and shook his head. He waved his hand at her. “Go on.”

 

Sango smiled, and looked down. “Come on, Kirara, let's go.” The fire cat jumped up, settling onto her shoulder. “I'll see you by the horses.”

 

Sango crossed camp, and found Velvet standing by a couple horses. The blond idly held onto their reins, and seemed lost in thought. She looked up and smiled, small dimples appearing in her cheeks. “Well, good morning, Sango.”

 

“Good morning, Liselle.” She looked around for the spy and juggler.

 

Velvet laughed. “Master Feldegast is finishing a few things before we leave, and Kheldar is packing the rest of our belongings.”

 

Sango nodded. “I see. The monk is doing the same thing.”

 

“And who is that on your shoulder?”

 

Sango rubbed Kirara's head. “Her name is Kirara.”

 

“Hello there, Kirara.” Velvet scratched the fire-cat underneath the chin, eliciting a purr from her. “What an unusual cat. She has two tails.”

 

“Yes. She's a fire-cat. This is her small form. In battle, she transforms into a large cat, big enough for the monk and I to ride.”

 

“Oh my. I bet that comes in handy.” Velvet smiled. “And that strange weapon on your back? Is that the one made out of demon bone?”

 

“It is. It's called hiraikotsu.” Sango turned her back to Velvet so she could get a better look.

 

“How do you use it?” Velvet asked, her voice soft with wonder.

 

“I throw it.”

 

“Throw it? Isn't it rather heavy for that?”

 

“It does take some strength to do it, and if one conditions themselves right, they'll be able to throw it even when in motion,” Sango replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “I've come to rely on it as a primary weapon, and it can come in handy as a shield, too.”

 

“I'll bet it does.” Velvet sighed. “I think I'll stay with my daggers, though.”

 

Sango laughed. “It's certainly not a weapon for everyone.”

 

Miroku joined them. He led one horse with their tent and bedding tethered to it, and a couple other mounts with only saddles. “Well, how are we doing ladies?”

 

“We're doing alright.” Sango smiled shyly. “I was just showing Liselle my hiraikotsu.”

 

“I see.” Miroku nodded. “Silk should be joining us soon.”

 

“Good,” Velvet said.

 

“Oi!” Inuyasha's shout could be heard from across the clearing. “You trying to make an escape over there? You wouldn't leave without us, would you?”

 

“You caught us in the act, Inuyasha,” Miroku quipped. “And we were so close to getting away unnoticed, too.”

 

Inuyasha snorted. He called back, “Very funny, monk.”

 

Kagome and Inuyasha joined them, holding hands. Their stances were relaxed, and both had soft smiles on their faces. It was a contrast to the tension and anxiety of yesterday morning. Sango noted that Inuyasha's markings had receded as well. Her eyebrow arched. She had never seen them this comfortable with one another. Even though they had been mates since before their reunion as a group, the demon slayer could tell something had changed between them---or that perhaps they weren't as shy about their relationship anymore. Sango had to suppress a laugh when Kagome snuck under Inuyasha's arm, tucking it about her shoulders.

 

“Good morning, Inuyasha, Kagome-chan.”

 

“Good morning, Sango-chan,” Kagome replied.

 

“Where you going anyways? No one else is packed,” Inuyasha asked. He gently squeezed Kagome's shoulder.

 

“Well, Sango, Silk, Velvet, and I will accompany Master Feldegast to the city of Mal Yaska, Inuyasha,” Miroku said.

 

“You mean the juggler?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I don't understand. What would he know about this city?” Kagome asked. “Isn't he just an entertainer?”

 

“Well, Lady-O, that's one o' the many things that I do. I've been t' the city before, an' our ancient friend just needs t' know what's goin' on. An' because the city 'tis be mighty cold to those without a Grolim High priest, I thought I'd brin' along someone to play the part fer me.”

 

Inuyasha frowned. His eyebrows shot up, and he whispered, “You don't mean---”

 

“I'll be the impostor priest,” Miroku placed his cursed hand onto his chest.

 

Inuyasha's frown increased. “I don't like it.”

 

“He won't have to do anything a real Grolim would do. He'll be alright. We just need to convince the locals of Mal Yaska that he is one,” Silk explained. “We need to see Urvon, or if he's there, and this is the most ingenious method to do so. We'll be virtually invisible as no one will question his or our presence.”

 

Inuyasha snorted. “I still don't like it.”

 

“Miroku won't be going alone. It'll be alright, Inuyasha,” Kagome said, trying to reassure him. She leaned her head onto his chest.

 

“Feh. Just come back in one piece, alright?” Inuyasha said, his voice gruff.

 

“That's the plan,” Silk said, his tone amused.

 

Inuyasha shot him a pointed glare.

 

“Methinks, friend Silk, yer mouth will git ye nothin' but trouble if ye keep it up. Our dog-eared friend doesn't seem t' think it all that funny,” Feldegast said, winking. “We 'ave a long ride ahead o' us. Best to git goin'.”

 

Kagome eased out of Inuyasha's grasp. She hugged Miroku. “Be careful.” She then hugged Sango. “Keep him out of trouble and be careful.”

 

Sango hugged Kagome back. “We'll be alright. You be careful, too.”

 

Inuyasha pulled Kagome against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. “Don't worry about us. We'll be fine.”

 

“Well, we best be off. I told our ancient friend that it should take us no more than a few days to visit an' catch up with ye when we're done.” Feldegast mounted his horse.

 

Once everyone was ready, the small group pushed their horses to a gallop. The storyteller led them down a little traveled road. It had dried out since the rain a couple days ago, making for easy and quick travel. Unfortunately, the surrounding landscape did not improve. Several shells of houses stood as a grim and silent testament to the turmoil of the region. Sango half-wished they had waited to set out until after sunset. It would have been more bearable under the cover of the night.

 

The weather completely contradicted the landscape. The sky was a crisp blue, and billowy white clouds dotted it. There was a warm breeze. It felt pleasant against Sango's face as they continued to ride. There were lush green leaves on the trees they passed, evidence to the full bloom of late spring. The branches rustled as the warm wind caressed them. Sango sighed. It would be more fitting if the rains from before were to set in again.

 

As they continued onwards, they passed small encampments. Wary people stood guard, and most appeared malnourished. Their expressions were desperate, and their clothes were nothing more than rags that clung to their bodies. Children in torn and stained outfits clung to the skirts of their mothers, their eyes wide. Men leveled their crude weapons at them. Most had rusted swords or farm implements converted into weaponry. Each settlement kept its distance from the others. Sango could tell they were the surviving refugees from the villages and farmsteads they had seen destroyed along the way.

 

In the early evening, Feldegast led them to a small cedar grove. He dismounted, and the others did the same, leading their animals into the trees. Oddly, Sango noticed that there were wanted posters scattered throughout. On them was a misshapen dwarf with a hideous face. The demon slayer couldn't even tell if the man on the posters was even human. There was a hefty price of gold listed as reward for his capture. It struck her as odd that anyone would pay that much money for this dwarf's apprehension. Shaking her head, Sango turned her attention back to the juggler.

 

They came across an alcove, and Feldegast held up his hand, indicating that they should stop. “We'll be stoppin' here fer the night.”

 

Silk pulled a bundle from the pack-horse. “I say we set up our tents and get supper started before we do anything else.”

 

Velvet stretched. She said, her voice weary, “I agree.”

 

Miroku took down another bundle. “Help me set up the tent, Sango?”

 

Sango blushed, but nodded her agreement. “Alright.”

 

The monk drove the stakes and poles into the ground, then tied ropes around each one. Then, Sango and Miroku pulled open the tarp that would form their tent. They draped it over the poles, and Sango held the fabric taut so Miroku could secure it. They repeated the process on each side until their tent was finished. Sango grabbed the bedrolls and shook them to free them of any dust. She then placed them inside, followed by their saddle bags. Kirara ran into the tent, promptly staking her claim on Sango's bedroll.

 

Once they had completed the set up of their mini-camp, Sango glanced over to see that Silk and Velvet were leading the horses away. Glancing over his shoulder, the spy said, “We're going to get some water for cooking and the horses. Why don't you two gather firewood?”

 

“Alright,” Miroku replied.

 

“I'll go scout a little t' make sure no one kin sneak up on our little campsite. Wouldn't want the nasty surprise o' an ambush in the middle o' the night, y' know,” Feldegast said, heading off in a different direction.

 

“Coming, Sango?” Miroku called over his shoulder.

 

Sango jumped, and stuttered, “Y-yes, monk.”

 

They carefully picked through the underbrush, searching for dry timber. Miroku stood on one side of the clearing, bent over. He beat at some branches, and snapped one off, tucking it under his arm. The little red-headed queen's words about turning the tables on the lecher came back to Sango, but she just couldn't muster the courage to follow through. Instead, Sango idly poked at the underbrush before her, admiring the view.

 

She had to admit, the longer she looked, the more she understood his fascination with rears. Even with his robes hiding much of his body, Sango could tell that his bottom was taut. She wondered what he would do if she actually groped him the way he had her in the past. She wondered, would it feel firm or soft? Would Miroku's rear feel good underneath her fingertips? Sango knew she'd never have the audacity that the monk did. She just couldn't bring herself to act as the lecher did.

 

Sango felt heat flush her face, and turned away when she caught Miroku's grin and raised eyebrows. She bent over to grab a few loose sticks. Sango tensed up, half-expecting to feel Miroku's hand on her bottom. Instead, she heard an amused chuckle. The demon slayer whirled to face the monk, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You---”

 

“Now Sango, I didn't do anything.” His dark eyes snapped with wicked mirth.

 

“You thought about it, though, didn't you,” Sango accused him, her arms crossed.

 

“Now that's not fair, not when you were doing the same thing just now.” Miroku laughed.

 

Sango clenched her teeth. She hissed, “Hentai! As if I'd do anything like that!”

 

Miroku's grin grew. He closed the gap between them, his cursed hand brushing her cheek. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling her ear. Miroku whispered, “Go on, don't be shy.”

 

Sango gasped. She tensed further, her fingernails digging into her palms. She stuttered, “I-I don't know what you're talking about, monk.”

 

Miroku chuckled softly into her ear. He took hold of her hands, guiding them to his rear. “You're a terrible liar, you know.”

 

Sango chewed her bottom lip, feeling adrenaline rush through her. “Monk---”

 

Miroku looked into her eyes, searching. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. He gently nibbled at her bottom lip. “I won't tell anyone, I promise.”

 

The demon slayer opened her mouth to protest, only to have Miroku claim it in a passionate kiss. Her hands unclenched, and as she gave into Miroku's demand, she gave the monk's rear a squeeze. It felt firm and taut, just as she had thought it looked. Her reward was a soft moan. She returned his kiss, taking possession of his mouth while their tongues twisted together. He had a distinctive musky flavor, and Sango felt heady the more she tasted it. His mouth tasted of an essence that she could only describe as male.

 

Miroku's hands trailed down her sides to her own bottom. He cupped it in his hands, and Sango moaned only to have it devoured by their kiss. The monk's tongue drove deep into her mouth, tasting her in return. Sango let go of his rear to wrap her arms around his neck. She wove her fingers into his hair, returning all of his passion. Sango felt her back connect with a tree, and Miroku's body pin her to its bark. He trailed kisses down her jawline before moving to her throat. There, his tongue slowly dragged across her skin, and the demon slayer felt heat settle into her lower belly.

 

“Miroku? Sango? Any luck finding any firewood?” Silk's voice floated to them. “Liselle needs to get a fire started if we're to eat something hot tonight.”

 

Miroku pulled away, a dark blush crossing his face. He shouted, “Ah, we were just about to come back to camp actually!”

 

“Alright. Just don't be too much longer.”

 

“We'll be right there.” Miroku's voice cracked slightly.

 

Sango quickly gathered an armload of firewood. She blushed, embarrassed that they had been caught again. She hid her face from view, a small smile crossing her lips. It had felt good---and right to kiss Miroku. It was also exciting. She glanced towards the monk, and they exchanged shy smiles. Sango looked away first, suppressing a girlish giggle.

 

“We better get back,” Miroku whispered, his voice still strained.

 

Sango nodded, passing him. She glared at him, almost challenging him to grab her bottom. Miroku's eyes took on a mischievous gleam, and he raised his cursed hand, squeezing it playfully. He laughed and shook his head, then walked past her to camp instead. Sango watched him a moment, her eyes focusing on his ass. She blushed and ran to catch up.

 

When they entered camp, Feldegast sat near the fire pit. He winked at them. “I was beginin' to think ye got lost out there.”

 

“No, Master Feldegast. The rain the past couple days made it hard to find dry timber, “Miroku lied smoothly.

 

“I'll bet that made it tricky indeed.” Silk snickered softly. His beady eyes snapped with amusement.

 

“Don't tease them too much, Kheldar,” Velvet scolded, an amused smile on her face. “You know how it feels.”

 

“Well, we best git back to business. In the next valley be the dread city of Mal Yaska, an' we best 'ave a plan before we go in.” Feldegast pulled a bundle from a pack horse. “First, we all need our disguises.”

 

In the acrobat's hands was a black cowled robe. Purple lined the hood. He handed this one to Miroku. The others were the same coal black, except their hoods were trimmed in green. Sango received one of these. Next, Feldegast passed out polished steel masks. They were almost like a small helmet. She turned it over in her hands, repulsed by the mask's cruel expression.

 

Once everyone had both items, Feldegast began his explanation, “'Tis be the proper attire of a Grolim priest in yer hands. Our monk will be the High Priest of Jarot in Celanta on Church business to the dread city of Mal Yaska.” Feldegast pointed to the purple trim. “This purple will let all other Grolims know his rank and that he is powerful at sorcery. The rest of us shall be his retainers, accompanying his Holiness. The green 'tis be the rank right below his.”

 

Miroku nodded. He held up the steel mask. “And the mask?”

 

“Made in the likeness of ol' Burnt-face himself. We'll all wear one. It'll hide our faces, an' help us to enter the temple without any objections. When 'tis be time fer sacrifices, 'tis prudent t' make yerself scarce, an' not many will want t' git in a High Priest's way fer fear o' the knife.”

 

Velvet prepared a fire while Silk took out foodstuffs. She fed her small fire some small twigs, encouraging it to grow. “Where would Urvon be in the city?”

 

“Ol' piebald would be either in t' Temple or his palace,” Feldegast answered. “Urvon be a man o' habit, that's fer sure.”

 

“Interesting.” Miroku rubbed his chin. “This mask is of Torak, correct?”

 

“'Tis be what I said.”

 

“I wonder if Mal Yaska will have an accompanying mask of Naraku on the temple doors, like they did in Rakand.” Miroku shook his head.

 

Sango sat down next to the monk, clutching her robe to her chest. She sighed. “I wonder if there will be any demons.”

 

“'Tis a good question, mistress demon slayer. We'll find out about that tomorrow. There be too many conflictin' stories fer anyone to be sure what's goin' on in the dread city.” Feldegast brushed his hand across the front of his tunic. “Now, monk, tell me a little bit about yer own religion. I need t' know so I can see how different it is from Angarak faith.”

 

“I am a Buddhist monk. My religion is quite peaceful,” Miroku began. “I suppose I'll tell you the basic premise. The goal is to reach true enlightenment, or Nirvana, through the Eightfold Path. It is the only way to reach Nirvana. Until we achieve it, it is believed we are reincarnated to try again.”

 

Silk handed a pot to Velvet. “Sounds interesting. What is the name of your God?”

 

“Buddha attained Nirvana, but he is not a God. Buddhism is more of a philosophy. God lives in many things,” Miroku said, his voice soft.

 

Sango watched Miroku as he spoke of his faith. Often, they teased him for his lechery, but it was times like these when she saw the true monk underneath. His expression softened, and his eyes lit up. He was truly devoted, even if he did misbehave every so often. She also knew he was a man of peace, another reason he had chosen the status of Buddhist monk. Sometimes she wished Miroku would share more of this side of himself with her. There was so much she didn't know about him. He used his powers in battle, and did his meditations, but so much of the rest of his religious life was a mystery to her in so many ways.

 

Feldegast shook his head. “I'm sure we can make ye work, even if yer religion be completely different than Torak's.”

 

“Just how should I act as a Grolim priest?” Miroku asked.

 

“Grolims be cruel and cold. Be as stern and haughty as ye can be. Think of the most ruthless an' aloof person ye can,” Feldegast replied.

 

Miroku snapped his fingers. “Sesshomaru.”

 

“What about him?” Velvet asked.

 

“I'll just act like Sesshomaru. He's cold, aloof, and can be particularly ruthless.”

 

“I'll give you that, monk,” Sango said. She crossed her arms, and challenged, “Alright, monk, let's see your best Sesshomaru impersonation.”

 

“I think I'd like to see that, too, my spiritual friend,” Silk said, seconding the challenge. “Show us your acting skills.”

 

“Alright, alright.” Miroku straightened his posture. His eyes closed, and he held his hand to his mouth as if in prayer. The monk cleared his throat, and opened his eyes. When he lowered his hand, Miroku gave the spy a piercing glare. He said, his voice even and stern, “I am not amused by any of this foolishness. It would be best if you excluded me from it.”

 

“Not bad,” Silk said. His nose twitched. “Alright, I'll be some nosy Grolim.” He moved to sit across from Miroku. “Sango, Velvet, you join in, too. Let's see how well our spiritual friend can really act.”

 

“Methinks it not be a bad idea t' rehearse. We wouldn't want t' go in an' make a mistake before we see Urvon,” Feldegast added.

 

Sango watched Miroku carefully. His usual friendly expression had been replaced by a cold sternness. Even his eyes were hard. It was as if the monk had become a totally different man. She wondered where he had learned to behave so. Most of all, Sango wasn't sure she liked it.

 

Silk took a deep breath, then drew himself up. He called, his voice hollow and full of authority, “You there, what business do you have in the holy city of Mal Yaska?”

 

Miroku glared at him, and said, “Do you dare question me? My business with his Holiness is my own. I could have you punished for such impudence against your superior.”

 

Velvet joined in, asking in a harsh voice, “The Holiest of the Holies has no guests on his itinerary. State your business or leave.”

 

Miroku's severe gaze shifted to Velvet. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “My orders are to see his Holiness immediately upon arrival. How dare you impede me. I shall speak to his Holiness about your insolent behavior.”

 

Sango swallowed. She bit her lip, thinking of something to say to test the monk. She schooled her expression to be grim. Sango cleared her throat and said, “His Holiness explicitly told us to not let any visitors in. What business do you have with him?”

 

“As I have said, my business is my own. I was sent with a message for the ears of his Holiness alone. Your interference with my duty will not be tolerated. Perhaps you would like to be the next sacrifice?” Miroku directed his cold stare towards her, a chilling smile crossing his lips.

 

Silk held his hand up. “Brilliant! I must say, my spiritual friend, you'd make an excellent spy. You were near perfection! I'm sure Boktor could find use for your skills.”

 

Feldegast whistled. “Yer performance sent chills down me spine. It was like a real Grolim priest was here sittin' amongst us. 'Tis fine skills ye have, monk.”

 

Miroku's expression shifted again. He smiled again, this time with his usual warmth. Suddenly, the monk Sango knew emerged, and it was alright again. “Well, I must say, I surprised even myself.”

 

“You certainly had Sesshomaru's mannerisms down, monk. How on earth did you do that?” Sango asked.

 

“I guess I just thought of what he might sound like or do and put it together. If there's one thing about Sesshomaru, it's that he's consistent. Every time someone does something he feels is insulting, he becomes colder and more authoritative. It's not a bad thing necessarily. It's just who he is,” Miroku explained.

 

“That's very true.” Silk shook his head. “I wonder how he'd take your impersonation.”

 

“Probably not well, though sometimes it can be a little hard to tell. Sometimes he can surprise you.” Miroku sighed.

 

Silk laughed. “It's a good thing he's not here to hear this conversation, then.”

 

Feldegast nodded. “'Tis a good thin' indeed. He might take yer compliments the wrong way, an' that'd be no good fer anyone.”

 

“Anything else I should know, Master Feldegast?”

 

“Every hour on the hour in Mal Yaska, some poor soul be sacrificed. When we are in the Temple, 'tis be best to bow in the direction of the sound o' the gong. It'd look peculiar if we didn't.”

 

“Are there any prayers?”

 

“Yes, but if ye just mumble something' they won't know the difference. Grolims are too busy keepin' the scrutiny off their own backs sometimes to notice their neighbor's lapse in faithfulness,” Feldegast said.

 

“What will be our business in the city, Master Feldegast?” Sango asked.

 

“Well, dependin' on what we scrounge up in the city, either there to align ourselves against Naraku, or with him. The High Priest would 'ave to visit his Holiest of Holies to get the directions, and take it back to his Temple. We'll worry about that when we git there.”

 

Sango felt Kirara settle into her lap. “What type of weapons can we take along?”

 

“Only what kin be easily concealed.”

 

“Is there any way we can possibly sneak in my hiraikotsu?” Sango felt uneasy about leaving her primary weapon behind.

 

Feldegast rubbed his chin. “It be mighty big, Lady-O.” He snapped his fingers. “I know, and it be the perfect reason fer our goin' to visit ol' piebald. Wrap yer weapon up in a cloth and we'll brin' it in as a gift t' Urvon. If the other Grolims can't see what yer hidin', they won't know it's a weapon. With our High Priest here, we'll be able to convince the locals to not ask too many questions, if ye get me drift.”

 

“And what of Kirara?”

 

“The cat will 'ave to stay with the horses, Lady-O, Can't 'ave anyone noticin' her. It'd throw our whole disguise into disarray.”

 

Sango stroked Kirara's head. “I suppose it's best. It'll keep anyone from stealing the horses, that's for sure.”

 

“One last question. Will I be allowed to keep my staff?” Miroku asked, his expression grim.

 

“Ye can take it with you. It be a bit unconventional, but not totally unheard of fer a Grolim High Priest t' carry something ceremonial. Grolims thrive on superstitions. They like to have somethin' to channel their magic through, even though it be totally unnecessary. Yer staff will do the trick fer that. I kin assure ye of that.”

 

“Good. I'd hate to go into such a dangerous place almost completely unarmed.” Miroku frowned. “The alternative is not something I want to entertain if I don't have to.”

 

Velvet took some vegetables out the food stores Polgara had given them. She started to chop them, then threw them into the pot she had warming over the fire. “Well, I say we have a good supper and prepare to bed down for the night. It'll probably be an early morning tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, that it shall,” Feldegast said.

 

Sango blushed as she caught Miroku's wink. It'd be the first night they'd share their tent alone. Shippo had been left behind, and Kirara would serve as the only buffer. Oddly, the demon slayer welcomed it. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. She gave him a soft smile in return, feeling satisfaction at his blush. So she wasn't the only one nervous after all. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage. Now she just had to figure out how.

 

Author's Note: Please check out my livejournal at farawayeyes4 for more information, review responses, and news.