InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Different Always Means The Same Thing ❯ A Different Kind Of Empathy ( Chapter 6 )

MM.org note: Here's the next chapter for my crossover fic. If anyone has any questions or comments feel free to leave a review with your e-mail. I'll be sure to give a personal response. Enjoy.

 

Disclaimer: Why, oh why do I need this for a website that's a disclaimer in itself?

 

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Chapter 6: A Different Kind of Empathy

 

By Kenkaya

 

 

“Kagura.”

 

“Yes, sir?” the red-eyed woman glowered, spitting out the word `sir' as if it were bane on her tongue.

 

“I want you to approach her with our offer again.”

 

“I said I would give her three days. It's only been one,” she scoffed. Kagura may have worked for him, but that didn't mean she had to pretend to like it. “I know you're one for taking risks, but sending out Kouga and Manten was risky enough as it was. We could loss the deal.”

 

“Wait out the week.”

 

“Oh? What happened to your “the sooner the better” philosophy?” Kagura sneered. Her employer's impatience was legendary and the cause of many punishments on her part in the past. The very idea that he would order her to wait left the ruby-eyed vixen feeling somewhat bitter. “Perhaps my SUPERIOR is losing his edge?”

 

“Need I remind you just WHY you work for me?”

 

The young mutant shivered and gulped very audibly. She had definitely crossed a line with that one.

 

“I thought so. Now, give her our offer again at the end of the week. She will not refuse.”

 

Kagura bowed politely and spoke with stuttering syllables, “H--- hai, N--- Naraku---sa--- sama.” A grating chuckle, one that chilled the listener to the bone, followed her as she hastily exited the room.

 

“Things are finally turning out as they were meant to be,” a dark voice boomed into the desolate silence. “Isn't that right, Kikyou?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Inuyasha leaned cross-legged against the backboard of Kagome's bed, history text perched precariously on his lap. He mouthed the syllable of each character, stumbling over words stamped in black ink. After a long struggle, he emitted an irritated growl and slammed the book shut, pushing the article aside for a much needed break. He rubbed tired amber eyes with a frustrated groan.

 

“Just why the Hell did everybody try to be warlords anyway? Just got ya' killed by one of your generals in the end. Feh, stupid weak humans.”

 

White dog ears twitched as the door opened downstairs.

 

“How could you flirt with that Kouga guy?! Inu-no-niichan is SO much cooler!” a juvenile voice echoed from downstairs.

 

“Shut up, Souta. I wasn't flirting with him,” another tone, this time feminine, ground out. Two pairs of feet turned simultaneously and pounded up the staircase.

 

“Yeah, you were.”

 

“Was not!”

 

“Was too!”

 

“Was not!”

 

“Was too!”

 

“Aren't you a little young to know about these things?” Kagome prompted as they entered her room. Souta rolled his eyes in response.

 

“Come on, neechan. I'm eight.”

 

“Really? I had no idea puberty started that young nowadays. So, got a girlfriend yet?”

 

“Eww! Shut up! That's gross!”

 

“Make me,” Kagome blew a raspberry and Souta pouted in classic little boy fashion.

 

“The Hell?” Inuyasha blinked, obviously confused by their banter. Unfortunately for him, the irate teenager picked up the less-than-polite comment and whirled around to face him with all her pent up fury.

 

“This is all your fault, you know!” she pointed at him dramatically, obviously teasing.

 

“Huh?” he scratched just below one ear, puzzled.

 

“See! He doesn't deny it!” she yelled accusingly, ignoring his clueless gesture.

 

“I don't know what the Hell you're talking about!”

 

“That's beside the point!” Inuyasha fell back on the bed at her outburst, exasperated. Women really were the most confusing creatures.

 

“Told you,” Souta nodded sagely, ruining his sister's moment with classic little brother timing. “It's gotta be PMS.”

 

“You little brat,” Kagome hissed, reaching out to grab the mocking boy. Inuyasha simply closed his eyes in response, figuring it was in his best survival interests to steer clear of their little sibling spat. Gods knew he and Sesshoumaru exchanged worse. Much worse.

 

Neither party expected the cry of pain that followed her action.

 

“Oh my, God! Souta!”

 

“It's nothing! You just squeezed too hard!” the child protested, trying desperately to wriggle out of his sister's grasp. Kagome had a practiced firm grip on his wrist within seconds and pulled up the sleeve of his sweater. “Don't!” he yelped.

 

“Oh, Souta,” Kagome breathed.

 

The boy continued to struggle as she took in the discolored patch of black and blue marring his upper arm. The bruise was dark not to mention quite large; covering his undeveloped bicep, snaking ominously up toward his shoulder joint. But that wasn't what horrified her. All along the length of his arm, varying blotches of yellow and purple, evidence of earlier beatings. Of repeated beatings.

 

“Pull up your pant legs,” Kagome whispered, her tone somewhat detached.

 

“But neechan---”

 

“Do it!”

 

The boy gulped audibly and complied. The same marks, all over his legs; numerous. Both knees were scraped raw. Only now did his red palms make sense. Kagome thought back, when was the last time she had seen him without a sweater or his light school jacket? Wasn't it only last week Souta came home with a bloody nose, claiming to have been accidentally hit in a game with the soccer ball? It had been so easy to dismiss the few visible signs as results of rowdy play.

 

So easy; she felt sick just thinking about it.

 

“Neechan? It's no big deal. A couple of the guys just got a little rough with me. That's all.”

 

Kagome looked at Souta with sad brown eyes. No words were exchanged. Inuyasha sat still on the bed, his presence all but forgotten. He watched as the elder sister fell forward, engulfing her brother in a fierce embrace. She held him tightly, as much for her own comfort as his. The scene was both touching and tragic, a combination all too real for Inuyasha. It took little imagination for him to see Souta with long white hair. And Kagome with doleful violet eyes.

 

“Neechan? I'm okay--- really.”

 

Kagome didn't respond. She simply stood and faced the boy with a fake smile. Inuyasha could smell the faint trace of salt; she was holding back tears.

 

“Come on--- let's get those knees cleaned up.”

 

The amber-eyed youth watched as they left the room and walked a little way down the hall. The sound of running water followed soon afterwards. Their situation--- it was almost exactly the same; even down to the words. He bowed his head low, shading golden irises with silver bangs. There wasn't anyone in the room to actually see the emotions running across his yellow orbs, but old habits die hard.

 

An estranged childhood taught Inuyasha one important lesson above all others; the only person you could trust was yourself. He trusted his mother once, watched as she held him and wept; grieving for the harsh future she knew he would face. In the end, she left him like everyone else; her untimely death the first of many betrayals. Not one to be caught in the cookie jar twice, he never completely relied on someone else again. Kikyou was no exception; though her treachery still bit deep. History even blamed him for her demise.

 

A barely noticeable sigh escaped the guarded youkai. He had feelings for Kikyou, Inuyasha would admit that much to himself, but he didn't know if he would have gone as far as to call it love. Not anymore. He was after the power of the Shikon no Tama; Kikyou was the woman protecting it. Things had stayed simple enough until the priestess had dared to look at him with those eyes full of loneliness; a feeling he knew all too well. She spoke to him and became the first woman to offer him some sort of empathy. At least since his mother passed away. That she was quite attractive only added another plus to the mix. But it was nothing more than that. She was cold and aloof; he distant and distrustful. When she offered him a way out of his alienation, he was too hopeful to see the deceit.

 

“When the jewel falls into the hands of a youkai, it becomes tainted with their greedy desires and lust for power. But, if used to turn you into a human, it will be purified--- and most likely vanish into thin air.”

 

“And--- what will happen to you?”

 

“I am she who guards the jewel. If there is no jewel, I am nothing more than an ordinary woman.”

 

In hindsight, Inuyasha realized how naïve he had been. Nevertheless, he found it hard to believe the woman was really dead. Five hundred years passed since she pinned him to that Gods-be-damned tree and everything around his perch had changed drastically with the passage of time.

 

Except him.

 

The brash youth snorted. Despite circumstances, he still felt somewhat frustrated over depending on someone other than himself. The principle went against every grain of his being. But, like it or not, he was little more than helpless in this world. Kagome's instruction was his only hope for survival.

 

“Why don't you go into your room and relax for a little bit,” a soft voice floated through the ajar door. Inuyasha was pretty lacking when it came to emotions in general, but even he could hear the guilt dripping from those words.

 

“Thanks, neechan,” Souta spoke softly before light footsteps padded across the hall.

 

“Don't mention it.”

 

Kagome swung open the wooden panel and entered. Inuyasha still found it a bit odd that the door moved back and forth instead of side to side like a traditional shoji. Just another painful reminder of how truly lost he was in this day and age. She clicked the door shut with a tired sigh and leaned back against it, eyes downcast. Inuyasha rose from the bed, at a loss for anything else to do. She glanced up.

 

“Inuyasha,” the teen whispered. The youkai stiffened when he noticed liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes. What she did next threw him for a loop. She slid to the ground, burrowed her face in her knees and cried.

 

Inuyasha stood there limply. He didn't know what to do. If it wasn't for the steady shaking of her shoulders, a few badly suppressed sniffles, and the heavy smell of salt, he wouldn't even know she was crying. But he knew her pain, the pain of knowing people you loved were hurting because of you. And there was nothing you could do about it.

 

Nothing.

 

For the briefest of moments, Inuyasha envisioned his mother in her multi-layered kimono; her face terrified as their home fell around them in flames. The vision ended just as abruptly as it came.

 

Kagome's sobs grew more pronounced, her whole body wracking with the force of her tears. An outburst of this extent was long overdue; the run-in with Houjou, the incident with Kagura, that terrifying attack last night, dealing with her grandfather's prejudice, Sango's dilemma, and now Souta's exposure--- everything was just piled on Kagome way too fast. So, her walls came crashing down and the bewildered teenager reacted the only way she could.

 

Meanwhile, Inuyasha came to a stunning realization. Since the beginning he had been alone. Not a single soul could understand that side of him; not his idealistic mother, even Kikyou was incapable of such a feat. Hers had been an isolation borne of idolization. The mighty priestess lived life on a pedestal among her human kin, youkai attacking constantly in hopes of dethroning her. While the woman related to him on an emotional level, anything else was beyond her comprehension. Kikyou never scavenged village waste dumps for scraps as a child. She hadn't the experience of a young orphan boy driven from his only home out of blind hatred, hiding deep in the woods, climbing to the highest branch he could find every sunset only to spend half the night wide awake anyway, alert for any sound that could possibly mean death. He didn't bother telling Kikyou the gruesome facts back then, knowing all he would get in return was her sympathy. Pity was the last thing he needed.

 

Two polar opposites, from separate ends of the spectrum, born to be pitted against one another. Their story played out predictably in the end.

 

Inuyasha peered down at the dark haired girl curled against the door. He immediately recognized her for what she was, an abomination. Family and a few empathizers were all she had and even that came with a price. The girl, Sango, was practically a stranger in her own home because she cared about a mutant. Kagome's brother, Souta, suffered alienation everyday for his sister's sake. Centuries ago, young Kaede never returned home to Kikyou with welts because her sister was a powerful priestess. The villagers had adored them, sheltered them.

 

As Kagome continued to bawl into folded arms, Inuyasha saw himself. What he could have been; had his mother survived to protect him, had his brother come to love instead of loath him, had someone out there cared enough to act as a shield to his loneliness. An instant connection formed deep in Inuyasha's mind. Still, he couldn't bring himself to respond to her; to at least offer a small, reassuring touch. So, he comforted her cries the only other way he knew how.

 

“Oi, stop crying.”

 

The girl hiccupped, a bitter attempt at a laugh. She sniffed a few more times and her body ceased to shake. Inuyasha, having gained courage at this sign, approached her cautiously and knelt down so he was at eye-level. With a shuddering breath Kagome lifted her blotchy face. Red rimmed her watery brown orbs.

 

“You d--- didn't expect something th--- that lame to work--- did y--- you?”

 

“You stopped crying,” Inuyasha shrugged. Kagome shook her head with a small smile that looked stretched on her tear-stained face.

 

“Just `cause I could--- n't believe you said something s--- so dense.”

 

“Feh! It served its purpose. Did'ja want me to just stand here and do nothing?”

 

“Sorry,” Kagome mumbled, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “I wasn't expecting anything I just--- needed that. Thanks.”

 

“At least you stopped,” Inuyasha snipped. An uncomfortable silence followed soon afterwards. Not having the slightest clue what to say under these circumstances, the dog-eared boy “fehed” quietly and rose to sit back on the bed. Kagome watched his progress silently, uncertain how to respond.

 

“Thanks,” she professed again, somewhat awkwardly. The poor girl really couldn't think of another way to break the tension. “You didn't need to do that, you know. I would have cried it all out eventually.”

 

“Course I did it. I hate it when women cry.”

 

“Really?” Kagome cocked her head quizzically. Tentatively, she moved to settle herself down on the bed next to Inuyasha.

 

“What are you looking at me like that for?” he snapped when her piercing gaze refused to waver. “It's none of your damn business!”

 

“I see,” she whispered, averting her eyes.

 

“Oi! You aren't gonna start bawling again are you?!” Inuyasha panicked at the girl's downtrodden air.

 

“No,” Kagome answered, lifting her head with a slight grimace. “I'm done with that.”

 

“Good,” he sighed in relief. After yet another long silence, Inuyasha began to eye the history book again, his amber gaze scathing. Kagome caught the expression and, after a brief moment of comprehension, began to giggle.

 

“What's so funny, wench?!”

 

“You don't like reading that book, do you?” she chuckled, ignoring his crass comment. The modern girl was beginning to think she'd never be able to break him of the name-calling habit.

 

“That's not it,” the youkai growled. “It's just,” he thought for a moment, “boring.”

 

Kagome burst out laughing at that, “Of course it is! It's a textbook! What were you expecting? Some all-action, high-profile fighting manga?”

 

“Huh?” Inuyasha didn't even bother voicing his question this time.

 

“I'll show you later, Souta has tons of them,” she waved her hand dismissively. “So, are you having any other problems--- well, aside from the boring one,” a snort escaped as she suppressed another laugh.

 

“Uh, kinda,” he grumbled. Inuyasha finally decided if he was going to learn anything, he had to let some of his precious pride go. “I don't understand everything and I get confused and forget stuff. Then the rest is so boring I forget that too!”

 

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a typical junior high boy,” Kagome teased, her voice full of mirth. “Textbooks are just like that, I have the same problem sometimes too. Everybody does.”

 

“Yeah?” Inuyasha felt relieved. At least he wasn't alone in this field of ignorance.

 

“Oh, sure! Sango--- the girl who was here earlier, she's really into science--- uh, I'll explain that later too, and she reads stuff like this outside school sometimes. But she still has to take notes on the stuff she wants to remember--- AND she's interested in the subject! They just bombard you with so much information at once you can't help it.”

 

“What'd you do about it?” the hesitant youkai asked.

 

“Well, for starters, you have to take a break every once in a while. Trying to read it all at once will drive you crazy.”

 

“I'm doing that!” Inuyasha fumed.

 

“I wasn't finished,” she scolded. “We also have alternate ways of learning that are more entertaining; like movies--- hey! That's it!” Kagome clapped her hands and bounced excitedly on the mattress.

 

“What?” Inuyasha inquired cautiously.

 

“My dad was really into old samurai films,” Kagome began to explain at a rapid rate. “I think Mama still keeps them downstairs. You can watch those! It's a lot better than trying to read that all day,” she gestured toward the book.

 

“Oh,” Inuyasha deadpanned. Damned if he knew what a film was, after all.

 

“Well,” she clasped her hands eagerly and rose from the bed. “Let's get started. Follow me.”

 

The two traveled downstairs and into a room Inuyasha had never seen before. Granted, he had pretty much been confined to Kagome's room, Souta's, and the upstairs hall all day; even so, the dazed time-hopper still found himself adjusting to the strange sights of his limited exploration. That aside, he had to admit this was by far the weirdest room he'd entered yet.

 

Large, padded chairs and raised couches immediately clued Inuyasha in on one purpose for this odd room; a place of gathering, but the rest eluded him. The open space was large, roomy, and cram filled with what he could only imagine had some use beyond that of pointless junk. A high table of polished wood stood in the center on four legs, quite different from the low slabs surrounded by pillows Inuyasha had seen in some of the finer houses way back when. Scattered around were smaller, raised platforms, some supporting potted plants while others sported framed pictures. The wary youkai noticed offhand that a few seemed to be extremely realistic portraits of who he guessed to be a younger Kagome and Souta. Moving on, amber eyes scanned the walls. Shelves; filled with books, piled with papers, cluttered with various objects the white-haired boy couldn't possibly put a purpose to. Only the wall adjacent to him remained mostly untouched and even that wasn't without decoration. A few paintings hung on the wall, the locust, a tall set of shelves, thinner than the others. This apparatus immediately caught Inuyasha's attention. Instead of books and papers, it was dominated by foreign black, angular objects made of metal and glass.

 

“Here we go,” Kagome made a beeline straight for the focus of Inuyasha's attention. He watched apprehensively as she flipped through shiny cases that somewhat resembled books. At intervals, she pulled a few off the shelf and into a makeshift pile on her right. Inuyasha, having absolutely no idea what the girl was doing, shuffled his feet anxiously as he tended to do in situations where he didn't know how to react. Both were so occupied with their separate tasks, neither noticed when the front door opened.

 

“Kagome! Souta! I'm home!”

 

Youkai and mutant alike stiffened. Kagome whipped her head around to face Inuyasha, begging with desperate eyes for him to hide somewhere. Frantic amber orbs darted from corner to corner in instant response, but (unfortunately) Inuyasha found himself in a habitat more foreign than years of harsh survival and quick thinking under stress could have ever prepared him for. He barely managed to jump behind the long couch, which would have kept him out of view from the doorway, when a startled gasp sounded from behind.

 

“Oh, my!”

 

Inuyasha turned to meet gazes with a wide-eyed, middle-aged woman in mid-leap. He regretted the movement almost immediately as he crashed in an unbalanced heap on the floor, knocking the side of his head painfully against the coffee table. Kagome squeaked and rushed to his side; moving to support his shoulder in a vain (but well-intended) attempt to push the flustered youkai on the sofa. Inuyasha stood his ground through sheer determination and, cradling his throbbing head, glanced upward to get his first good look at the woman he deemed responsible for that embarrassing fall.

 

She appeared drastically different at first, until a closer look brought out the similarities suggesting family. Trim navy skirt, cut off at the knees, and a button-up lavender blouse gave her a decidedly more feminine touch. Her dark hair hung in waves, or would have, had the strands not been cropped at the nape of her neck. Inuyasha found this particular style strange, especially since he had never heard of a woman daring to do such a thing outside of shame or grief. In his limited experience, human men and women alike tended to be extremely vain about their hair. Even his mother's long black tresses had been well past knee-length. His gaze shifted and locked with deep, glistening brown pools. Inuyasha immediately knew where Kagome had gotten her eyes.

 

Speaking of which, Kagome had slowly been making her way forward as the youkai boy examined her mother. With a nervous chuckle, she rubbed the back of her neck habitually.

 

“Uh--- Mama--- I can explain?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The evening sky grew dim.

 

Sango sat slumped against her favorite tree, watching vacantly as strokes of orange and pink streaked across the pastel clouds. One by one, two by two; the city lights erupted in a flush of color, a deep indigo blue bleeding through the heavens. Stars sparkled to life overhead, gaining in number as darkness descended, reflecting their electric counterparts below.

 

All this she observed from her place atop the world; a small hill in a modest park. The spot was isolated and out of sight, surrounded as it was by heavy brush. Her legs still stung, exposed skin criss-crossed with ocher-red from her journey, but it was a small price to pay in order to achieve solitude. No one would bother her here.

 

Sango sighed, letting the day's depression run its course. Tears had long since run dry, leaving her nothing but a few misplaced sniffles and a salty tang on her tongue for comfort. How ironic, she thought bitterly, that a rebellious tomboy who once prided herself on strength should find relief in sorrow.

 

Late hour went unheeded as the young woman lost herself to haunting visions. Over and over, harsh words played in her head like a broken tape recorder--- and the final stinging slap this morning.

 

“You're no daughter of mine.”

 

A familiar welling started in her chest again, consuming her entire body until it quaked with the emotion. Numbness followed soon afterwards; a blessed lack of feeling that washed away the pain; leaving its victim seemingly fresh as a newborn babe.

 

And just as empty.

 

It was a vicious cycle; one Sango was more than well-acquainted with. Oh, she didn't regret her decisions by any means. Miroku was extremely dear to her and Kagome had become more sister than friend over the years. Thick or thin, they were always there for the worst, cheering her on with an honest concern and genuine empathy that was all too hard to find these days.

 

For that alone, she braved their hatred.

 

Callous memories assaulted her in the cool evening air, leaving exposed fingers as frozen as her heart. The maroon-eyed girl shivered. Heading home really wasn't an option at the moment. Her father's dreaded last words assured that.

 

“You're no daughter of mine.”

 

It just wouldn't leave her alone! Sango wanted to cry in frustration. Cruel words were no stranger from her father's mouth; the two fought constantly, especially since Miroku entered the picture. Still, that sentence shook the teenager deeply. And why shouldn't it? The statement practically disowned her, after all.

 

A sudden pang of despair hit Sango before thinning out, leaving her to once again revel in the emptiness that followed.

 

Why should she care if her family kicked her out anyway?

 

Their tree could hardly be called a close one; Sango found herself hard pressed to remember a time when heads didn't clash under their roof. She and her father battled relentlessly, days would pass without a word between mother and daughter, even then, only the most minimal exchanges. Mariko-basan offered no comfort, the woman berated her endlessly. Kohaku alone cared--- and he suffered for it. There truly was no mercy for the merciful.

 

Another sigh echoed off the slope, filled with guilt and self-contempt. Sweet, gentle Kohaku; the timid boy who always greeted her with a smile, even if they both knew the gesture for a lie. She stamped the dirt sullenly, crushing tiny insignificant pebbles beneath booted toe. Why, she thought in a brief flash of selflessness, couldn't her brother be just like the rest of them? Living a happy, normal childhood; going to soccer games with their father, promising mother good grades--- anything but the cold reality, sitting upstairs in his room hunched over half-finished homework, heated words filtering through the floor. Even so, Sango had to admit, she needed him there. Kohaku was the only reason to go back. She hated herself deeply for clinging to that instance of frailty.

 

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

 

She wasn't stupid; Sango knew the feeling she craved was a lie. She had always been a reactionary person, whether through her fascination of effect and consequence or her childhood obsession with martial arts. And, like any good scientist, Sango knew the rubber band holding her emotions in check would eventually snap at the rate she kept stretching. Pressure was building--- but, the long-haired girl though wistfully, what was the harm of giving in for just a little longer?

 

She really had no where else to turn. Kohaku was at home and any support she might have received from that source would only later be tainted with shame. Miroku was out of the question. He would just get angry, blame himself, and sulk helpless to do anything. Kagome would have lent ready ear and shoulder without hesitation, but the poor girl suffered enough without adding to the burden. Sango was not deaf to the badly suppressed whispers swapped between students in the hall; of course, they whispered about her too, but a little bad gossip on her part seemed like nothing compared to their torment at the moment.

 

The distraught teenager sighed and shifted to lie down in the grass. Darkness blanketed the sky, mirroring the mood of the person stretched out beneath its vast canopy. High up on her grassy knoll, above the city lights, all cares ceased to exist. But such bliss was never meant to last. With a deep sigh of resignation, Sango composed herself for the dreaded trek homewards.

 

“I thought I might find you here.”

 

“Miroku,” Sango turned her head, meeting his deep violet-blue pools with her own maroon. She found it slightly unnerving that her boyfriend's approach had gone unheard, considering all the twigs that would have snapped as he waddled through the bush. That she could so easily be distracted was a disgrace to her former training.

 

“Miss me?” the mutant boy quipped with a false smile. Sango watched passively as he settled himself on the ground beside her, nervously brushing non-existent dirt off baggy, black jeans. He wasn't half bad when it came to looks, Sango thought with some admiration. Sure, he wore a purple button shirt (left open to display the form-fitting white tank beneath) and black eyeliner to accent the unusual color of his eyes; but, as she examined him in the pregnant silence, she couldn't help but appreciate him. He was a rebel in more ways than one, her gaze shifting between the silver ring in his ear and the fingerless glove on his right hand. He turned unexpectedly, pegging the unsuspecting girl with a solemn look that very clearly told her she wasn't backing out this time. “You can talk to me, you know.”

 

“I know, I just needed some alone time. No big deal.”

 

“Which one of us do you think you're kidding?” he snorted. She didn't answer.

 

A second passed, followed by a minute, and another, until the minutes started piling on top of each other. The hour grew later and no matter how much one wished, time stopped for no one.

 

“Why do you do this to yourself, Sango?” Miroku whispered, shaking his head in exasperation. “You always do this. You said you trusted me. Remember?”

 

“This isn't about trust,” Sango responded, eyes glazed. “I don't doubt you on that.”

 

“Then what's this all about? Why did you leave today?”

 

“Why are you asking me all this?” she adverted her gaze to the stars. “And saying something like that--- what made you think I didn't trust you?”

 

“Because you don't tell me anything, Sango. What else am I suppose to think?”

 

“You sound tired,” the girl sat up, eye to eye with him.

 

“Just worried, and don't change the subject,” Miroku scolded. “I know you're still upset about this morning and things are--- a little difficult right now for both of us. But you can't just keep it bottled up inside like this. I want you to know I'm here for you, no matter what.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Then why do you keep shutting me out?”

 

Sango could tell Miroku was upset. He was usually stoic and calm, but she could easily pick out the strain in his voice. Easily catch the veiled look in his eyes. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid from the start! Open palms slammed the ground in frustration, startling the concerned young man beside her and triggering floodgates kept carefully shut until now.

 

“Damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen!” she choked on a sob. “This isn't fair!”

 

Miroku got over his shock at her sudden outburst fast in the wake of the emotional onslaught that followed. Immediately, the violet-eyed boy gathered Sango in his arms. He held her tight, ready for a good cry, but when no tears came he realized regretfully that she must have already spent them. He rocked her back and forth anyway, knowing despite appearances she could use the consolation.

 

“This isn't fair!” she repeated the mantra, curling against his chest for support, dry sobs shaking petite, leather-clad shoulders. Miroku hesitated only a moment before lifting his gloved hand (accursed hand, he thought bitterly) and guiltily rubbing small circles along the curve of her back. He was torn. Oh, he knew Sango loved him, just as he knew that love caused her great agony, but his own feelings were a strange mixture of self-loathing and pride. That she came to him for solace only added a sense of responsibility.

 

He squeezed her lithe body with all his might, like a baby bird cradled between the gentle jaws of a lion. Vividly, he recalled the last time they were in this position. To think, if his fiery vixen hadn't seen right through the break-up strategy she might not be in so much pain. But how could he resist her while she was pressing warm kisses all over his face? Miroku suppressed a forlorn sigh. He really was a weak fool.

 

“I'm so sorry, Sango,” the boy whispered sadly. “I really am.”

 

“No!” she shouted vehemently. He was startled but didn't react, allowing her to continue. “I knew you'd say that! I knew it!”

 

“Is that why you hid from me?” Miroku questioned, a sense of relief washed over him.

 

“I just needed some time to get my shit together, Miroku. You should understand that more than anyone!”

 

“But you were always there,” Miroku argued. “You didn't let me suffer alone and yet you expect me to just turn around and not give you the same courtesy. I love you to much to pull that, Sango. I couldn't ignore your problems anymore than you could mine.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Dear God, woman! How many times do I have to say `I love you' before it registers in that overused brain of yours?” he gasped in a dramatic voice, complete with hand over his heart. The girl beside him giggled.

 

“Thanks,” Sango smiled and tilted her chin to meet his lips. The kiss was short and chaste, but enough to satisfy both their needs at the moment. With a breathless sigh, she leaned back into her boyfriend's embrace. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”

 

“Won't your parents worry?”

 

“If it's only `cause they're afraid I'm having hot rabbit sex with a mutant, I could care less.”

 

“Do you see me complaining?” Miroku leered with a telling grin. She slapped his exposed chest with the back of her hand.

 

“Pervert.”

 

“Is that a challenge?”

 

“Don't make me hurt you,” Sango smirked.

 

“Very well, my lady,” he rose and brushed off his pants. “Shall we?”

 

She took his offered hand and, together, they began the prickly trek downhill. About halfway, Miroku hoisted a protesting Sango in his arms and ran down the slope, howling like a hungry wolf. A slight blush lit up her face before she burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Suddenly everything in the world seemed alright.

 

They loved each other. Nobody could take that away.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~