InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Come Undone ❯ One-Shot

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

Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.

Notes: This can probably be squeezed into the manga timeline right before chapter 521. It was written for Harlow R. as part of Aamalie's MiroSan(ta) giftfic exchange. I hope you enjoy this fic, even if it's rather brief. I tried to incorporate the genres and prompts you gave... they're kind of there, if you squint.

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It was dark, almost too dark to see. All she could make out was the vague silhouette of his body and the softness of moonlight reflected in his eyes. It was enough to keep her there, but not enough to quell the anger inside.

The only sound was the slow movement of water through the night. They were far from the village, far from where they were supposed to be. And so they sat in silence: he impassive, she seething.

The night around them grew ever darker, more quiet. Sango reflected, and had no words.

She should have seen this coming, with the end of everything looming so near. The demons of Hiraikotsu had tried to warn her, but she did not believe them until it was too late and the proof irrefutable. She had trusted Houshi-sama.

She shuddered at the memory, uncertain whether it was anger or repressed tears that made her shake.

She should not have trusted him. Not while her brother lay comatose, dead to the world, and Houshi-sama was all she had left; not when she knew he would willingly throw his life away...

But she had trusted him. She had wanted to believe him every time he said he felt fine, and so she had believed him even when she knew she should not. It had made everything easier to bear, knowing that at least he was well. And it had all been based on a lie, of course, a lie she had only discovered this afternoon... a lie that had brought them to this darkened riverside and this uncomfortable quiet.

She had spent the day at her brother's side, hoping that by some miracle he might awaken, but the houshi's absence had gnawed at her until, fired by anxiety and an aching loneliness, she had abandoned her post and gone in search of him. It was nearly sunset before she found him: at the river, some distance outside of the village, indulging in a bath.

Once, she might have blushed bright red and hurried to hide her intrusion, but the wounds of shouki that twisted up his arm, almost all the way to the shoulder, froze her in place. It was inevitable that he would discover her presence, for she had made no move to conceal herself. She had merely watched, unable even to hide the look of shock and horror and betrayal on her face. When he finally saw her, he had known he was caught.

If she had come only a few minutes later, she might not have seen at all. But she did. And to his credit, Houshi-sama made no excuses. He simply waited, allowed her to come to him. He had probably expected her to slap him, or to yell, but she no longer had it in her to do so. Once, she might have. Now she merely wondered, sadly, how long he had thought he could hide this from her.

She turned to face him.

They were so close, and yet it felt as if they were separated by a vast chasm.

For once it was she that made the first move. She reached toward him, pressing her hand against the bare skin of his chest. His robes were loose and hung open, donned in haste but granting easy access; he no longer had anything to hide from her.

Her fingers felt cold against him as she drew her hand up over his shoulder. The flesh there was hot, as if with fever, as if the shouki had burned itself into him. She traced a finger along the nearest edge of the shouki wound and wondered if the taint would ever be fully removed... if it hurt him. If she watched long enough, would she see it progress along its inexorable path to his heart?

Finally: "Does it hurt?"

"No."

His voice was so quiet that she almost didn't hear, and even when she did, she did not believe. "You're lying."

"Yakurou Dokusen, the poison master, gave me a potion."

"No," she whispered. He carried on anyway.

"I feel no pain from the shouki wounds."

"Why?" She hardly had breath left to speak. "Why would you do this?" Her voice was hoarse and broken at the thought of losing him; she could acknowledge, but would always fail to comprehend, that just as she could not imagine a world without him, he could not accept a world in which she did not live.

"For you," he said simply. For her, and nothing more. Stupid, stupid man!

She was suddenly fiercely, irrationally angry with him. How dare he put himself at risk, so foolishly, and only for her! All at once she wanted to slap him and hold him, as if to reassure herself that he was still alive, still with her. Instead... she drew her hand away. "You... idiot!"

She couldn't quite keep the sob out of her voice. She felt hollow inside, as if someone had carved the last bit of certainty, of hope, from her heart.

Almost before she knew it, he had coaxed her into his arms. It didn't take much, just the warmth and strength of his arms around her, proof that he really was still alive and with her. She clung to him as if he would disappear if she let go. Tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her cheeks. His arms tightened around her in response. The embrace brought solace, if only a little.

He held her until her tears dried and her breath grew calm and even again, but she sensed a shift in his attitude... to something less sad, more somber and resigned.

"Sango." She did not respond at first, but looked up the second time he said her name and peered at him through tear-blurred eyes. "Sango, listen..."

For a moment she was torn between thrill - they were so close - and the sudden, fluttery fear that he might try to kiss her. She looked away.

"I may die before Naraku can be defeated," he said, though she tried desperately to shut out the words. "If that happens, then -"

"No," she said, even before she truly knew what he was going to ask of her. No, she would not consent to let him die a failure, to let his line die with him. No, she would not sit by and allow him to sire a child with another woman. No... she would not lie with him and bear his child herself, not knowing if he would be there to share that child's life with her. No, there was no way she would allow him to accept death without a fight.

He continued, pushing forward in spite of the vehemence in her voice. "If that happens, then I would ask you to consider bearing my child, to give me an heir that could destroy Naraku in my place."

"No." She could not see his face, but imagined that his usual mask was firmly in place, as if he did not quite care. She knew he had hardened himself to this possibility almost from birth, knew that most of his improper behavior stemmed directly from this knowledge, and yet... She wanted to see him break down, even a little, just as she was falling apart inside. She wanted, just once more, to see what was beneath that mask. "I will be your wife. I will bear your children. But you have to live, first."

For a split second, she got what she had wanted. And she hated it.

She did not - could not - give him a chance to respond. She pulled away from him instead, and rose on shaky legs to return to the village as swiftly as possible. She did not know if he would follow her or not. It worried her to leave him behind like that, but the look on his face when she had made her ultimatum... she had been so close to giving in and agreeing to whatever he wanted. She would have don anything so that he did not look so hurt.

Fending off a fresh round of tears and the strong urge to go back and apologize, knowing her overwrought emotions were getting the better of her, she slipped into Kaede's hut.

Shippou was sprawled across the mat she usually slept on, so she found an old blanket and a halfway comfortable spot near the wall where she could sit and think. She was too wound up to sleep anyway; it was comforting to listen to the easy, regular sounds of her friends' breathing, and to tell herself she was waiting for Miroku.

It was very late when Miroku finally returned to Kaede's hut. Sango watched him blearily, roused from a light doze by the soft sounds of his entrance. When he saw that she was awake, he came to sit beside her.

"I'll try," was all he said. Sango leaned against him, accepting it for what it was: apology and promise in one. It was enough. It would have to be.