InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cacophony ❯ Movement III: Moderato ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A/N: god, my computer desk is so messy. I should really clean this thing off. I have notes scribbled for countless fics on scrap paper (along with doodles) and my chapter planning crammed in the margins. (--sigh--) Enjoy this chapter, I love you all for putting up with my slow updates and still reading this fic!

This chapter is dedicated to "Maypole" my muse-and her incarnate, of course (May).

Cacophony

-x-

Movement III: Moderato

Sango looked up from her book at the sound of a baton tapping against a music stand. "Musicians! To your seats, please; our goal today is to play through the entire score and record at least the first quarter of the movie."

The friendly chatter slowly died as the college students made their way to their respective seats. Out of the corner of her eye, Sango saw Miroku detach himself from a woman's embrace. Playboy, she thought acidly. He'd done nothing but flirt with women for the past half hour. What happened to the profound, gentle man I met in the darkness? She looked away when she saw him try and grope the woman's rear. Guess his alter ego doesn't show very often. Pervert. She tucked her book into her bag and pulled Miroku's cello off the floor, settling the instrument between her knees.

So beautiful, she inwardly marveled, running her hands over the polished wood.

"Excuse me, Sango," Miroku said pleasantly, squeezing through the tiny opening between their chairs. He set his nearly empty coffee cup on the floor beside his chair and picked up her cello. "Ready for a fun day of recording?"

She bit her lip. "Listen," she said. "I really don't think I should play your instrument today. Not during the actual recording. You should be playing it."

"Oh no," he said, his purple eyes laughing at her. "We're rehearsing first. Play it for rehearsal-if you're that desperate to get rid of it, I'll take it back for the actual recording session."

"I didn't mean it that way-" she protested.

He merely smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before turning around to talk to one of the basses.

Sango flushed and looked away, hoping no one saw the embarrassing display. Two rows back, Kagome caught her eye. She tilted her head, obviously asking what the matter was. Sango shook her head slightly. She'd have to talk with her during their break.

She checked her watch. Eight o'clock. She had two to three hours of sitting next to Miroku before a quick coffee break. She groaned and rubbed her neck. It was going to be a long day.

"Need a massage?"

Sango froze. "Pardon?"

"You were rubbing your neck with a pained look on your face. I do great massages-I promise your neck will feel ten times better."

Why did he have to look so cute and earnest at the same time? "Maybe later," she said, looking down at his cello, yet again wondering why he'd offered to let her play it. She plucked a few notes, avoiding eye contact with him.

"You all brought the scores that were mailed to your addresses, right?" the conductor said, his face impassive.

A muffled chorus of "yes" sounded. The man's expression didn't change. "My name is Sesshomaru Takahashi, for all of you that have not yet figured it out, and I will be the conductor for the recording of In the Shadows. Please get set; you have five minutes to make sure all your music is in order before we begin."

"You don't have to be so emotional about it," Sango muttered dryly.

Beside her, Miroku snorted. "He's about as empathetic as a statue, I'll give you that," he said to her. "But he's an amazing conductor. Aside from that, he can play any stringed instrument that exists on the planet, as well as a handful of wind instruments."

"Oh." She felt her cheeks heat at his nearness.

Miroku turned away from her and waved his hand in the air. "Mr. Takahashi? Sir?"

"What is it, Hamaguchi?" The man trained his golden gaze on the boyish cellist.

"My score is rather blurry, sir; I was reading through the parts and I could only make out about half the notes."

Takahashi walked towards Miroku's seat and took the score off his stand. He flipped through the pages, examining the notes carefully. Finally, he snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm. "You-woman, what is your name?"

"Sango Taijiya." She didn't like the looks of this…

"Miss Taijiya will be your stand partner, Hamaguchi." Takahashi nodded and returned to his podium.

Miroku smiled and scooted his chair closer to Sango's. "This day just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

Her fingers tightened so painfully around the cello's neck that her knuckles turned white.

"Shall we read through the first movement? If it's good, you won't have to rehearse it again until we record," said the conductor, pushing his white-blond hair off his shoulders.

"That's what I'm talking about," Miroku said softly.

Sango stared straight ahead.

Takahashi raised his arms and gave the musicians the first beat. The brass started off with a loud fanfare, and were soon joined by the woodwinds. Sango got her fingers in position and carefully counted her measures, a little disconcerted at the tempo Takahashi was taking. It was much brighter than she'd practiced it. She bit her lip and watched for the conductor's cue, letting her fingers fly the moment the baton reached the ictus point.

Okay…this isn't too bad, I'm getting this, she thought with relief after finishing the passage. She counted two more measures of rest, and started the second passage of runs. What is this, an anti-cello piece? Since when are violoncellos given insanely fast runs at the beginning of a piece?

She finished the last of the runs with a sigh and leaned back in her chair, letting herself relax for the next fourteen measures of rest. The girl on her right-hand side was fretfully fingering through the rest of the piece, a look of concentration on her face. Sango smiled, satisfied that she hadn't misplayed a single part so far.

On the other side of her, Miroku was slouched forward, one arm dangling carelessly by his side, the other holding her cello in place while his chin rested on the shiny wood. She noted how large his hands were compared to hers; they looked foreign on her precious Kirara.

She looked down at the Kazaana in her hands. It was a gorgeous instrument; much finer than hers, she had to admit. Its tone was beautiful-what she wouldn't give to own an instrument like this. Unfortunately, such an extraordinary occurrence would only come to pass if she saved up every penny for the next five years or so.

Tracing circles on the polished wood with her nail, she toyed with several thoughts in her mind. She didn't know what to make of his lending it to her… was he wanting something in return? Was it only to brag? Ha ha, my instrument's nicer than yours? She hoped that wasn't it. Maybe he was just being really, really nice and letting her play it because-somehow-he knew it was her dream to become the concertmaster of a prestigious orchestra.

Right-so he's a mind reader, is he? Not even Kagome knows about that dream. She hadn't declared a major yet, but she was leaning towards an English or English literature degree.

Lost in her thoughts, Sango didn't even catch the cue the conductor sent her way. She jumped when she heard Miroku begin to play, and frantically searched for the measure that matched the rhythm he was playing. Spotting it a minute later, she hurriedly jumped in, hoping no one had noticed the absence of her part.

The girl on the right swiftly jabbed her in the side. "It's a solo," she hissed. "Stop playing!"

Too late, Sango noticed the word "solo" at the beginning of the phrase. She felt her cheeks begin to burn as she lowered her bow in embarrassment. Brilliant, Sango, absolutely brilliant. She ducked her head downward, letting her hair fall in front of her face. The rest of the cellos didn't come in for a while, so she occupied herself with listening to Miroku.

Gradually, her blush began to fade and her attention became riveted solely on Miroku…and his playing. She was gawking, but she really didn't care. He was completely relaxed, a content expression on his face as his fingers gracefully glided from position to position, never hesitating or faltering. At one point in the solo, his eyes glazed over and a slight smile appeared on his face as he made a heart-wrenching melody with his hands, the vibrato and low notes nearly breaking Sango's heart with their beauty. She glanced at the conductor and was surprised to find that his eyes were focused solely on Miroku. He was following Miroku's lead; Hamaguchi had the go-ahead to take all the artistic liberties he wanted.

Her jaw began to slacken as he played on; the melody was no longer the composer's-it had become his. Her hands tightened around Kazaana. He sounded better on her instrument than she did on his-and lord knew whose instrument was better.

And you thought you were so good, the little voice inside her head taunted. You felt so high-and-mighty, the Principal chair of the top orchestra in your college. Your talent is nothing compared to his. Listen to him! He must be some kind of prodigy…

Suddenly Takahashi's gaze turned on her, his gold eyes looking at her expectantly. She jolted out of her thoughts and sat up straight, searching the music with a pit in her stomach. Dammit, when did it become a soli?! She quickly jumped in, countering Miroku's medley with a more minor chord progression. The music was beautifully written, but she somehow felt as if she was tainting it with her presence. My ability is nowhere near Miroku's…I mean, Hamaguchi's.

The movement passed in the blink of an eye to Sango. Her playing felt mechanic, as if she was on auto-pilot. The conductor cut the orchestra off, the last note lingering delicately in the air. The entire room was silent, instruments poised, not a soul moving until the conductor moved. He nodded curtly. "Good enough. Take a fifteen minute break and be back in your seats ready to play at exactly quarter to nine."

There was a collective sigh of relief and the room soon filled with talk and laughter mixed in with random notes or scale patterns.

Miroku turned to Sango with a smile. "I'm more pleased than I expected to be."

"With what? Your performance?" She laid her bow down in her lap and folded her hands, hoping to quell their shaking. Her pride had taken a blow today; she'd been put in her place. Arrogant fool.

"No, with yours."

She gave him a look. "Well, thanks, that's encouraging." You expected me to be completely helpless?

"I wasn't being sarcastic; you're extremely gifted. These next couple weeks should be interesting."

She stared at him. "Say what?" Had she heard him wrong?

"Modest, aren't you? Your tone is lovely, and your technique is admirable. You have a few problems with confidence-you need to play more assertively-and your vibrato was a little much at times, but those are minor issues. It'll be nice to actually have a colleague accompanying me instead of a self-absorbed amateur."

Her cheeks grew hot. If only he knew… She stood. "I'm going to use the bathroom."

"I'll anxiously await your return," he said, winking.

"Well that puts my mind at ease…" she muttered as she pushed her way through the groups of people chatting amiably, hoping she remembered where the bathrooms were.

Kagome watched Sango leave the room, her cheeks flaming. One glance at Miroku told her all she needed to know. The man was watching her best friend depart from the room with an interested look on his face.

She smiled slowly. Sango had been without a love life for too long. It was time to call The Matchmaker. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and speed-dialed a number, drumming her fingers on her music stand. The Matchmaker's voicemail picked up; Kagome left a message and then dialed Inuyasha's number. "Hey, Inuyasha, it's me…whatcha up to?"

"Watching daytime TV. God, no wonder the general population is so stupid. Just watching this is killing my brain cells."

"I thought you had lab class today," she said, her tone mildly accusatory.

"Cancelled-the class before us blew it up the lab room up. Whole hall was filled with black smoke-freakin' awesome, man."

"Inuyasha."

"What?"

She sighed. "Never mind."

"Rehearsal number five, if you will," Takahashi said after cutting the orchestra off. "Less first violin; seconds, play out. Three measures after rehearsal number five, cellos have the floor. Everyone else shut up so the cellos and bassoons can be heard-this is the angst-filled love scene, if my memory serves me correctly."

Sango wondered how the man could go through that entire speech without altering his facial expression once. Maybe his muscles are paralyzed? Sort of like that woman who offered a thousand dollars to anyone who could make her laugh, but ended up filthy rich because her face muscles were paralyzed and everyone would lose the bet…

"Miss Taijiya?"

"Hn? Um, yes sir?"

"I know we all are entranced by Hamaguchi's musical ability, but next time, do you think you could come in at the specified time?"

She could feel her face burning again. This is just not my day… "Yes, sir."

"Thank you." He turned away from her. "Winds! In the section that passes off from clarinets to flutes to oboes-"

"Don't worry," Miroku whispered to her. "He does that to all good musicians, just to make sure their egos don't inflate. I can't tell you how many times he's knocked me for stupid stuff."

"It was my bad, though," she said.

He shrugged. "We all have brain flatulations once in a while. Completely understandable."

She smiled stiffly and ran through a few sections as Takahashi rambled on. I'd better play everything perfectly from this point forward, she thought determinedly, to make up for that appalling display from before…

She jolted out of her thoughts as a large pair of hands suddenly began to massage her shoulder muscles. "Wh-what the-?!"

"Relax," Hamaguchi said softly, his breath tickling her neck. "You're so tense, you'd think you were playing in the New York Philharmonic in front of a jam-packed audience. Just have fun; I'm not going to break your bow in half if you mess up."

"You won't mess up," she said stubbornly.

"Sure I will-you just won't notice. However, if you mess up, the whole orchestra will know. The trick is to make it seem like nothing happened, that you haven't done anything wrong. With that kind of attitude, you can fool the world."

"Where do you get that kind of confidence?" she murmured, subconsciously relaxing under the massage.

"I guess it comes naturally to me. I'm not really the shy type, so performing has never been a problem."

"Lucky."

"You're one of those people that gets stage fright just playing a solo in class, aren't you?" he said, his hands moving up to rub the muscles in her neck.

"Unfortunately."

"Hmm, we'll have to fix that, won't we?" He fell into thought and didn't speak for a few minutes. "I'll figure something out."

"Thanks," she said, unwilling to speak more than monosyllabic answers. She really was stiff, and his hands felt so good-

The conductor finished talking and tapped his baton on his stand. Hamaguchi's hands dropped from her neck and returned to his-her-instrument. He smiled at her and turned his focus to Takahashi, his face morphing into a serious mask.

Sango took a while longer to get ready, having to shake herself out of her blissful daze. Her shoulders felt so loose now. He's in the wrong profession; he could make a fortune as a personal masseuse.

Takahashi raised his arms and they were off.

Two hours later, they'd finished rehearsal and were ready to begin recording. Miroku cracked his back and stretched his arms a bit. Beside him, Sango was slumped so far down in her chair that her head probably wasn't visible to anyone behind her. Her eyes were unfocused and he could tell she was letting herself drift for a minute before having to play again.

She really was talented, and not at all conceited. A little introverted, maybe, but that could be fixed. Inuyasha said she was a lunatic feminist, but so far Miroku hadn't sensed any of that. He hoped she would make pleasant company-he always enjoyed a good conversation over coffee. And he was tired of listening to airheads prattle on about trivial things while surreptitiously checking out his muscles or face.

He decided to let her zone. He turned around to talk to some of the second chair cellos, who were surprisingly beautiful and well-endowed. In five minutes he'd discovered that three of them went to Columbia and the other to NYU and lived in walking distance from his apartment.

"All right, people, get ready-I want to record the first thirty minutes at least."

Miroku sighed and cracked his fingers, picking up Sango's cello from the floor. He tuned a few of the strings and sat up straight in his chair, ready to play.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sango glance over at him-then again-and again. He bit back a smile. So she liked him, did she? Very nice; he would enjoy getting to know h-

She quickly leaned over and flipped a few pages on the stand so that they were now in the right place.

He mentally smacked himself. Yeah, that's what you get for being self-centered and egotistical. "Thanks, sweetie," he whispered.

She shot him an annoyed look. "My name is not 'sweetie.'"

"Yes, ma'am." She was cute when she got mad.

"What's that look for?"

"What look?" he said innocently.

"Hamaguchi, Taijiya?" The conductor raised a single brow. "Are we ready?"

Sango flushed red and sat up poker straight in her chair. Miroku smiled lazily and nodded. "All ready, sir."

"Thank you," the man said formally. He nodded to the snare drummer, who opened the piece with an almost silent drumbeat.

Sango refused to look at Miroku as the cellos joined the orchestra a few measures later. It wasn't my fault that time! Stupid flirt.

She flushed red again when he had the audacity to wink at her in the middle of a piece. As a result, she played the next passage a little too forcefully, but at the present, she really didn't care.

"Sango, you've been frowning ever since lunch started. What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"That's believable," Kagome scoffed, licking the ice cream off her fingers.

"Very healthy, Kagome," said Sango.

"Shut up. Now spill. It wouldn't have anything to do with Miroku, would it?"

"Would what have anything to do with Miroku?"

"That frown, of course."

Sango shrugged and closed her eyes, basking in the sunlight. The two girls were sitting outside the studio on the concrete stoop, watching the world go by. Most of the musicians had taken off to various coffee shops or delis, but since they'd both brought small lunches, they decided to stay and people-watch.

"People-watching isn't very effective if your eyes are closed," Kagome commented.

"I'm resting."

"You and Miroku sure had some chemistry going. It was like watching one of those electricity conductors with the zig-zag lines of power running between them."

"You've been reading too many romance novels."

"Precisely-I know exactly what signs to look for."

"Kagome…"

"Joke, joke. But seriously-"

"No. I do not want to hear one more word about men. Especially that lech of a man Miroku. And that's final."

"Sango, I'm wounded."

Sango's eyes flew open. Standing before her was none other than Miroku Hamaguchi, grinning shamelessly down at her.

Unable to stop the horrible blush that was creeping into her cheeks, she lashed out. "Do you always eavesdrop on private conversations?"

"Only ones that mention me."

"Egomaniac." She regretted her words the minute she saw the expression on his face alter slightly-obviously she'd touched a nerve.

"Sango!" Kagome blustered.

"It's okay," said Miroku, shrugging a bit, although his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm used to it."

Sango felt terrible. She'd meant the comment as a joke…sort of…but it looked like he'd really taken it hard. Dammit. Open mouth, insert foot, Sango? "I'm sorry-I mean-I was joking, I didn't think you'd take it seriously-"

"It's okay," he said again.

"You sure?"

"Yup."

He wasn't. But what else could she say? She looked helplessly at Kagome, who had a long-suffering look on her face.

Miroku smiled and said, "I'll leave you two ladies to your private conversations then," before opening the door to the studio and walking inside.

Once the door had closed, Sango turned to Kagome. "What just happened?"

Kagome sighed. "Miroku's biggest fear is of being misunderstood. Because he's a model and a fantastic musician, most girls get this preformed notion that he's your typical egotistical playboy prodigy."

"Well…I can't say I've seen any proof to refute that."

"And aren't you the one who's so uptight about seeing inside a person?" chided Kagome, whacking Sango lightly on the arm. "On the outside he may seem like that, but if you get to know him…"

"Right. That's what they all say." So far, Sango didn't see anything special about Miroku. Aside from his purple eyes, that is. Those were a little less common-and completely gorgeous, but that was beside the point. She'd known many egotistical playboys-and yes, even a few prodigies.

"I didn't mean to offend him," she mumbled in spite of herself.

"It's okay. He's not the type to stay mad."

"Let's hope not; I have to sit next to him for another three days."

"Hey," Sango said cautiously, coming up beside Miroku.

"Hey," he greeted her with a easy smile. He was stretched out in his chair, his legs crossed and his arms folded across his chest. He was like a relaxing cat. "What's up?"

"Not much." She stepped over him and flopped down in her chair. "Listen-about before-I just wanted to apologize again-"

He held up a hand. "Forgiven."

"But-"

"I know it was an accident. It's okay-really." He picked up the bow that was resting on their stand and used it to flip a few pages. "Play this part with me?"

He was using the bow to point to a soli passage. "Why?" she asked, slightly suspicious.

"I want to see how it sounds."

"All right." She picked up his cello and sat up straight, bow poised. "Ready. Where do you want to…start…" She whacked him over the head with her bow. "My face is up here, lech!"

"Eh heh…"

As the other two oboists were heatedly debating whether trombones or saxophones made better dates (while talking around their reeds; they sounded as if they were talking around cigarettes), Kagome smiled slyly as she watched Miroku and Sango start to play together, both their faces taking on a look of concentration. Miroku and Sango. Even their names sounded perfect together!

They were just so perfect for each other! Granted, she'd never in her wildest dreams have placed her intelligent, level-headed, stubborn best friend with the easy-going playboy model, but they really did make the cutest couple.

She jumped a few inches in the air as her pocket began to vibrate. "Never get used to that," she grumbled, pulling the cell phone from her pocket. Duly noting the name displayed, she answered: "Well hi there."

"Hey," an airy voice said. "You called?"

"I did."

"Are you in need of the matchmaker's skills?"

"I am."

The person on the other side of the line sighed. "I don't come cheap."

"Even for me, who carries out all your dirty work? C'mon, how many favors do you owe me right now?"

"Oh, all right. Who is it this time?"

"My best friend."

"Not…Sango?"

"Yup!" Kagome said cheerfully.

"Ohhh, this should be interesting… who's the lucky guy."

"Miroku Hamaguchi."

There was silence on the other line. "You're joking, right? Tell me you're joking."

"You know him?"

"Who doesn't? Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I should write this down and turn it into a trashy romance novel or something."

"Sango would murder you."

"Not if I file a protection claim first."

Kagome sniggered.

"So, when shall we start?"

"Today?"

"I have classes, Kags. And then work. College isn't free, ya know."

"We're here till five p.m.-show up whenever you can."

"I'll make time. See you soon!"

Kagome slipped her phone back in her pocket, once again becoming aware of the argument beside her.

"Saxophones are more wild-if a date goes wrong, they improvise! It's never boring around them!"

"Oh yeah? Well, trombones do it in seven positions!"

Kagome shot out of her chair. Okay, it's time to leave.

After another exhausting two hours of almost non-stop playing, Takahashi finally dismissed the musicians, reminding them to be back in the studio the following night for another hour and a half of recording, and then the following day for touch-ups and re-dos.

Then he stepped down off the podium and promptly left.

Some musicians had already left, but the majority of them were just fiddling around on their instruments, talking, or laughing.

Sango leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a minute or two. She just wanted to go home…not walk some zillion-odd miles back home…

Beside her, she heard Miroku stretch and sigh. "Hey you," he said, tapping her nose, "what are you doing after rehearsal?"

Her eyes flew open and she regarded him warily. "I'm…working. I have a crapload of homework," she lied.

"All work and no play makes Sango a dull girl."

"Likewise, all play and no work makes Miroku a bum. Says Sango as she laughs at him from high up the corporate ladder."

He laughed at that, the lighting making his eyes gleam in appreciation. "Come on, just a quick cup of coffee. I promise fifteen minutes won't detract from your working time. Much."

She opened her mouth to decline…but then she remembered her rude comment-okay, comments-earlier. She really did owe him something…but if he got the wrong impression and tried anything, she'd kick his ass.

Period.

"Fine. But only for a little bit…"

"Please, contain yourself; you're going overboard on the excitement."

She gave him a lidded look. "Just for that, I should refuse to go with you at all."

"Ah, but don't you know? I am irresistible…"

She snorted and packed up her cello, handing Kazaana back to Miroku.

"Thanks," he said, putting the instrument away with practiced ease. "Meet you outside on the stoop, okay?" He then turned and walked out of the studio, pausing to hug a few girls along the way.

She stared after him, not knowing what to think. Looks like you were the one making a big deal out of things, Sango. He probably just wants female company…and no one else was willing to go with him.

She shook away the brief feeling of disappointment and convinced herself that she was happy that there was no other reason than the inability-to-be-without-a-woman-for-more-than-five-minutes for asking her to have coffee.

"Um…bye, Sango?"

Sango jumped guiltily. "Oh-Kagome. Sorry, I was just going to-"

"Leave without saying goodbye to me?" Kagome put her hands on her hips and glared in mock indignation. "Miroku must really be something to make you forget your best friend."

"What makes you think this has anything to do with Miroku?" Sango said in what she hoped was a casual voice.

"I don't. But looks like it was a good guess, because you're blushing."

Crap.

"Well, don't let me keep you!" Kagome chirped, wrapping Sango in a one-sided hug. "You go have fun, okay? It's been way too long since you've been on a date."

"It's-not-a-date," hissed Sango.

Kagome waggled her fingers. "Tootles!" She returned to the group of double reed players that were discussing which type of musicians were…better in…bed…

"How does she do it…?" she mumbled to herself, hefting Kirara onto her back and walking towards the exit.

Sango stepped out onto the stoop, immediately bombarded by a gust of cold air. She gasped in surprise, immediately covering her bare arms. What a day to wear a tee-shirt…

"Cold?" She looked up to find Miroku standing beside her, a leather jacket dangling from his outstretched hand.

"No, thank you," she said, shaking her head. She was not about to take his jacket-talk about sending the wrong message.

"It's just a chivalry thing," he said. "Don't be so uptight; you won't be labeled 'Miroku's Woman' because you wore my jacket."

She opened her mouth to respond, but came up with no words. Her cheeks were getting hot again. How was it that he was able to read her mind?

"You don't have very many male friends, do you?" he asked conversationally.

"Of course I do."

"Would you accept their jackets?"

"I'd most likely steal their jackets."

"Sango, I am ashamed of you. You should know better than to go around stealing nice, leather jackets," he said as he tugged Kirara off her back and wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. "Besides, you're shivering."

"Am not," she muttered stubbornly, even as she shrugged her arms into the sleeves. It was too big for her, but it did provide a considerable amount of warmth. She hadn't realized Miroku was that much taller…but now that he was bending down to smile at her…

She swallowed.

"So. We going for coffee, or what?"

She was so cute when she got flustered. He wouldn't mind getting to know this girl better at all…

"Of course," he said, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the crosswalk. "No, we're going to leave the instruments here. Yes, on the stoop. That's what he's for." Miroku jerked his thumb towards a tall, expressionless boy standing in front of the studio. Sango hadn't even noticed him. "Who's that?"

"Security guard. Weird kid; name's Hakadoushi. Does a good job-I promise you Kirara will be safe and sound when we return."

"If she's not…" she warned threateningly.

Miroku smiled. "Besides, Kazaana's there to keep her company."

"…Right…"

The gusts of icy wind sent Sango shivering every few seconds. He pulled her closer, shielding her a bit, and noted with satisfaction that she didn't protest. She was in desperate need of romancing-according to both Inuyasha and Kagome, she was 100% realist and 0% romantic.

"Beautiful weather," he breathed, studying her face carefully. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was windblown, giving her a pixie-like look.

"If you take pleasure in contracting hypothermia," she said, although the look on her face belied her words. She was enjoying this as much as he; she was just deliberately being difficult.

He smiled to himself. Well, two could play that game. "I am going to make you sit outside, you know. It's the only proper way to have coffee in the wintertime."

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "sadist."

The man on the crosswalk sign flashed white and the two of them stepped off the sidewalk, lingering a little to let the horde of frantic businessmen rush across the street first.

"Only when dealing with a strict non-romantic. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Who says I'm not romantic?" she snapped, her eyes flashing.

Oh, she was so fun to tweak…why weren't all women this fun to mess with? "I do."

"And just what do you know about me?"

"I know that music is of extreme importance to you-as are your grades. And friends."

"Music is romantic."

"Granted. But that's where your romantic percentage stops."

"Hey, that's a little-" Her sentence cut off short, her eyes going wide. "Mir-"

The sound of screeching brakes and a sharp blast of a horn cut through the wintry hush as the errant taxi barreled towards them. Sango's entire body tensed and her nails dug into his arm.

He didn't think. Couldn't think.

Sango-