InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Gods and Monsters ❯ Chapter 27: The Lonely Word ( Chapter 27 )

A/N: Copious amounts of chocolate to the unflinchingly honest Merith and Kat for the beta, and my chocolate chocolate chip scone recipe to Everstar for all of her aid in the shaping of this fic. Oh, and the chapter title comes from the Billy Joel song "Honesty." It is supposed to be "word" and not "world." That's not a typo, folks. ;)

Chapter 27: A Lonely Word

I can always find someone
To say they sympathize
If I wear my heart out on my sleeve
But I don't want some pretty face
To tell me pretty lies
All I want is someone to believe

~Billy Joel, "Honesty"

"Damn Hera to the Underworld for eternity," Aphrodite muttered darkly.

It was a fine mess the Queen of the Gods had concocted -- far worse than even Aphrodite had feared. Even now, as she observed neither seen nor heard, Aphrodite found herself at a loss as to how to solve such a problem.

The goddess folded her arms, glowering into the middle distance. She could not make herself known to either her daughter or her daughter's mate; doing so would have alerted Hera to her whereabouts. The Waters of the Fates prevented the Olympian queen from observing Teles, but they did not keep Hera from spying on Aphrodite, which -- in Aphrodite's opinion -- Hera would have done readily. This left the Greek goddess of love in the unenviable position of being an invisible, silent observer, left to watch but not interfere.

I will not give that harpy even the tiniest glimpse of my daughter's life.

"Life," the goddess snorted. "If one may even call it that." While Aphrodite could understand -- even empathize -- Teles' pain and disorientation, she simply did not understand why her daughter chose to withdraw like she had -- particularly around her mate.

Shaking her head slowly, the redheaded goddess walked slowly among the foliage, trying to make sense of what she'd seen in the few days she'd been watching. Of all that she'd seen and heard, it was her daughter's behavior that stymied the goddess the most. Aphrodite could sense Teles' life force, and while it did not resonate like an immortal's would, it still felt the same to Aphrodite. She wasn't any different; why was she acting like it?

The goddess shook her head dismissively. She will work through this -- her soul is still the same. She is strong. She may not know it yet, but she is.

Her brow furrowed as her steps slowed to a stop and the youkai lord came into view.

It is not she who requires my aid at this moment.

Aphrodite frowned as she watched Sesshoumaru, unseen. He had barely moved during the time she'd been observing him. This spot -- a craggy, rough outcropping of rocks and brush -- offered the least obstructed view of the den, and Sesshoumaru had returned frequently, much to the confusion of the small toad demon that accompanied him. Even now, he stared moodily down at the rain-soaked clearing, watching as Teles defied him, tilting her face up to the sky, letting the rain wash down on her.

"Get her inside, monk," he muttered without heat as the houshi approached her. "It is far too cold..."

Aphrodite shook her head, expelling a breath. She won't go. You should know that by now, youkai.

He sighed, shaking his head as he watched the two small figures talk, nodding once in approval when the monk draped his kesa over Teles' shoulders.

The Greek goddess watched the line of his back, noting the way his shoulders seemed to radiate anxiety as he stood, observing. She walked slowly to his side, tilting her head a bit as she took in the set of his jaw and the raw ache in his eyes as the monk conversed so freely with the same woman who could not speak with him -- indeed, the same woman who appeared to fear him.

You love her still, youkai. You love her, and you fear for her, don't you? She shook her head sadly, anguish reflecting in expressive grey eyes. And the very thing you thought would happen -- the very thing you feared -- has happened. You find yourself in love and ill-equipped to deal with the intricacies that accompany that emotion. You are in over your head, little youkai. She reached out to lay a hand on his arm, stopping suddenly. She could not interfere. Hera's waters would remain ignorant of the details surrounding Teles' human state as long as Aphrodite remained invisible and mute. The font, while no longer equipped to spy on mortals, could watch over the lesser gods and goddesses, as well as demi-gods. But, were she to be seen or heard by another creature, that creature would then enter in to the font's line of sight.

Just then, Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping slightly as he exhaled in a sigh.

The sound tore at the goddess' heart. She felt the helplessness radiate off of the youkai like heat. She felt his heartache. She was unable to stand by and watch such a creature left to wallow in misery so overwhelming it almost seemed to drown him. I cannot abide by this. I cannot allow it.

Setting her jaw, Aphrodite reached out to touch the youkai lord's arm. To allow the youkai to suffer because of love went completely against her aspect. She did not want to see her daughter's mate suffer any more than she would want to see her daughter suffer. There was no reason for it, not when Aphrodite knew that Teles would recover her spirit with time.

She was close enough to feel the heat and despair radiating off of him when familiar, high, breathy voices made her stop suddenly.

"Cease, Aphrodite. Do not reveal yourself."

"This is not the way it must be."

She turned abruptly, disbelief etched on her features; the Fates stood behind her, also unseen, also unheard. Something tightened within the goddess as she shook her head. Even so, she had withdrawn her hand slightly. "You do not understand," she said. "He requires my aid -- he requires my comfort. He suffers needlessly -- can you not see that?"

"His suffering is necessary..." Clotho intoned, stepping forward.

"As is hers..." Lachesis added, her rough, raspy voice coming close on the heels of her sister's. "All is as it must be."

Atropos said nothing, but even her eyes, though solid white, seemed to admonish the goddess, or plead with her -- Aphrodite knew not which. The goddess of love stepped away from her daughter's mate, walking slowly towards the three Fates. "But he suffers in the name of love. Can you not see that I must do all that I can to keep such a thing from continuing?"

The three sisters only stared impassively at the goddess.

Frustration surged through Aphrodite's body. "Why will you not answer me? I must stop this. I cannot allow them to remain in misery!"

Clotho's lips curled up in a sneer at the goddess' altruistic ignorance. "Their misery will be tenfold -- a hundredfold -- if you attempt to alleviate it. They have lessons to learn. They have obstacles to overcome."

"If you interfere, they will not learn. If they do not learn, it will be you who will have doomed them," Lachesis said, stepping forward to curl bony, grey fingers around Aphrodite's warm arm. "You would not forgive yourself later for intervening now."

Aphrodite arched a wry eyebrow. "Surely you exaggerate. Besides, you have no authority over them -- Teles was reborn in these lands. She is no longer one with whom you need concern yourselves."

When next the Fates spoke, the two sisters who could speak did so together. "She is your daughter; her life is still wound with yours, despite her human state. He is her mate -- she has given herself to him and he to her; his life is twined in hers. We do not control their fates, but we know enough to advise you, goddess. Do not interfere; their suffering must fulfill its course, else it will never fully reach resolution."

The redheaded goddess glanced over her shoulder at the youkai, still gazing broodingly down at the den. Heaving a sigh, she looked again at the three sisters. "There will come a point when I can no longer remain in the background. Realize this."

"Your time will come, goddess," they said, their low, hissing voices weaving around Aphrodite like mist. "Your daughter will need your assistance, and you will be present to offer it."

"And what of her husband?"

"He too will need your guidance -- but not now. He must muddle through these uncharted waters on his own. Only then will he grow stronger -- through adversity. It is how he has always gained his strength. For you to interfere would be interrupting the natural order. And that, goddess, would be unforgivable."

Folding her arms and glaring into the mid-distance, Aphrodite remained silent for several seconds before replying. "I am not required to like it, but I will do as you say for now."

It was at this point that Atropos, the mute Fate, stepped forward. With opaque eyes fixed on the goddess' face, she reached up, touching Aphrodite's forehead. In an instant, the goddess of love found her mind infused with thoughts, images, and emotions.

She saw what would transpire if she interfered. Even more than that, she felt it.

After a moment, she nodded, relenting even though it made her ache inside. "Very well. I will allow them to resolve this on their own. I will assist my daughter only when the time comes."

***

Much later that night, Sango sat at the mouth of the den, watching as the rain fell in light sheets, made almost silver by the moon's faint illumination. She sat in the chilly darkness, Kirara's warm body in her lap easing the edge off of the cold. Sango had come in search of solitude so that she might finally uncover what had been gnawing at the back of her mind for so many days now. It was right there. She could almost feel it. But there were other concerns littering her mind. Kohaku, as usual, was at the forefront with Naraku lurking just behind him -- how strange her thoughts frequently mirrored reality, whether she intended it or not. And there, behind her usual thoughts and concerns lingered other things -- like whether or not a one-quarter youkai would have dog's ears.

She shook her head suddenly. Gods, Kagome -- now you've got me wondering about it.

Inhaling deeply, Sango closed her eyes, focusing on nothing beyond the soft rush of rain as it fell into the trees beyond the den, Kirara's warmth in her lap, and the gentle vibrations that reverberated through the fire youkai's body as she purred contentedly. Slowly, the external distractions faded to a hum, leaving only the taiji-ya's internal distractions.

She sifted through her thoughts slowly, examining each one before discarding it in an attempt to relieve her mind from its clutter so that she could concentrate on what was truly bothering her -- what had been bothering her for too long now.

She thought for a moment about her talk with Kagome about canine ears. Recollecting the conversation brought a faint smile to Sango's face, but it was easily set aside. The thought was extraneous -- it did not require her attention at the moment.

Next, Sango found herself examining Miroku's odd behavior. She'd noticed it earlier, but hadn't thought much of it. Now that she was taking the time to scrutinize the houshi's actions, they seemed genuinely strange. She'd never seen such a blatant change in his behavior, even when he'd been near death. A sudden memory flashed through her mind; Miroku's face doused in sweat, his brows contracting in pain from the Saimyoushou venom he'd taken in while trying to protect Kohaku. Sango felt her chest tighten reflexively -- she'd been so sure he was going to die.

And then he'd grabbed her behind.

The taiji-ya exhaled a snort in spite of her concentration. Even when he was on death's door, he didn't change. What's happened to him?

She considered the change in the monk for several minutes. It seemed silly to worry about Miroku; aside from the obvious, there hadn't been any drastic departures from his normal character.

He was just... abnormally well behaved.

And, coming to that conclusion, Sango pushed aside her thoughts regarding the monk -- for the time being, at least.

No sooner had she moved beyond her increasingly confusing feelings for the houshi than did Kohaku's face -- his face as she remembered it -- burn itself into her mind. She saw her brother's kind eyes, his welcoming smile, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose...

And in an instant, those warm, expressive eyes faded to blankness as darkness and tentacles wove around him.

Sango cradled the early memories of her brother as carefully one might a precious gem. These were the thoughts that were most frequently at the forefront of her mind. They were the most difficult to set aside, but something was prodding at her mind, and if she wanted to release it, she first had to work through the barrier her own preoccupations were forming.

Just as she was working through the delicate memories of her brother, a tiny sliver of conversation ribboned through her mind.

'There is hope for Kohaku as well... So... you should smile.'

The faint echo of Miroku's words -- spoken when he was so near death, while his body fought the Saimyoushou venom -- caused Sango's concentration to slip, sending her thoughts scattering. "Damn it," she swore under her breath, resting her back against the wall of the den. So close. She'd been so close.

Meanwhile, Miroku sat quietly in front of the fire, the flames dancing before his closed eyes, making a kaleidoscope of light and shadow in his mind. He blinked slowly and glanced around; the main hall was quiet and appeared nearly deserted. Stretching a bit, the houshi carefully got to his feet, listening as his joints cracked and popped in complaint. He ambled slowly down the hallways, stretching his legs; it hadn't been wise spending the entire afternoon out in the rain, but the conversation had been -- with any luck -- therapeutic for the youkai lord's wife. He hoped he'd been able to provide her with some sort of comfort.

Suddenly his mind's eye was flooded with the memory of the pregnant woman sinking to her knees in agony and something in his gut tightened. Inuyasha -- he needed to tell Inuyasha about the pup's effects on Sesshoumaru's mate. Teles had already made it quite plain that this wasn't meant to be a secret -- that she could not keep it a secret even if she tried. Secret or not, the pup's activity level was both strange and worrisome.

That settles it, then. With a quick nod to himself, Miroku began searching the chambers in earnest, looking for his friend.

Miroku found Inuyasha more quickly than he thought he would. The monk paused at an open door, noticing a faint light shining from inside the room. When he peered into the room, the sight that met him made him pause.

Inuyasha sat quietly at a long table, an aged scroll unfurled in front of him as well as several wrapped scrolls on either side of him. Golden eyes tracked the characters carefully, and if he noticed Miroku standing in the doorway, the hanyou was far too engrossed in what he was reading to acknowledge him. The monk glanced around the room, noting the shelves upon shelves of scrolls.

Miroku recalled the historical scrolls that Teles had spent a great deal of her recovery reading. She had told him once that they were primarily journals kept by Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha's father.

The young houshi was suddenly hesitant to interrupt his friend. He turned away from the door with an almost visible wince. He deserves to know this -- I owe it to him to tell him that his niece or nephew might... might what? Be in danger? I don't know that for sure. All I know is that the pup is causing its mother a great deal of discomfort. Perhaps more than she can bear. He walked away from the open door, a frown marring his features. If I were to tell Inuyasha about the extent of Teles' discomfort, the first thing he'd insist on doing is dragging Sesshoumaru back here.

The young monk blew out a breath. I'm a damned coward.

As he distanced himself from the library, Miroku idly wondered whether it had finally stopped raining; he was feeling suddenly restless and wanted nothing more than to get away from these walls for an hour or so. Rolling his shoulders, he walked slowly towards the mouth of the cave. The rings of his shakujou jingled lightly with every step. As he drew nearer to the mouth of the den, he noticed two things -- primarily, it was still raining.

He also noticed that his idea appeared to be lacking -- severely -- in originality.

Miroku recognized Sango's silhouette almost immediately, and his hesitation was instant. He stood in the shadows for a moment, watching as the taiji-ya sat quietly, her fingers lost in Kirara's soft fur. Her head was tilted back slightly as she stared into the night, her eyes searching the sky for... something.

I hope you find it, Sango, whatever it is.

Not wanting to disturb her, Miroku attempted to slip past the taiji-ya without her noticing. What he hadn't counted on was the fire youkai's keen eyes making out his dark form. The small feline body twitched once, the small movement dragging Sango's attention from the cloudy night sky. She looked directly at the monk, who was not as shrouded in shadow as he had fancied himself to be.

Sango blinked once, her thoughts dispersing suddenly. Two dark eyebrows drew together and she was almost surprised that she could have overlooked the distinctive jingle of Miroku's shakujou as well as the familiar rustling of his robes. She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. "...Houshi-sama?"

Miroku froze. Damn it. Clearing his throat, he glanced at her. "I apologize, Sango. I did not intend to startle you."

"Oh... no, I was just..." She gave a small shrug. "I was just taking advantage of the quiet."

His mouth quirked at a corner. "We've had so much of it lately." There was a beat of silence during which Miroku glanced around almost furtively. His voice dropped conspiratorially. "Did you know Inuyasha's been reading?"

"Reading?" Sango replied, surprised. "Reading what?"

"It would appear that his father had a practice of keeping a journal. I assume that's what they were, at any rate. During her convalescence, Teles-sama read many of the same scrolls."

After a moment, Sango nodded thoughtfully. "That would make sense -- that he'd want to read them, I mean."

Miroku nodded in turn. "I've gotten the impression that he doesn't know much about his father, so..."

"Then it makes a great deal of sense," she said softly, glancing down the corridor that led to the den and its many halls and rooms. "I wonder if that's part of the reason he's been behaving so strangely lately."

The monk offered a fluid shrug. "I'm not entirely sure what's been bothering him." And that was true, for the most part. I know that part of it has to do with the pup, and part of it has to do with Sesshoumaru -- and Sesshoumaru's absence, which apparently has nothing at all to do with Inuyasha. Miroku resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in retaliation against a slowly burgeoning headache.

Sango watched the houshi's face for a moment before speaking. "I suppose it might not be anything in particular. Although I wouldn't be surprised if it had the most to do with his becoming an uncle before the year is out."

After a moment, Miroku nodded in agreement. "That, I think, and the ties such a relationship is bound to create." Hesitating briefly, he sat down next to Sango, more than an arm's length away from the taiji-ya, resting his shakujou against the wall of the cave.

For her part, Sango was unable to ignore yet another example of the subtle change in the houshi. She filed it away and cleared her throat. "Children have that effect, I think -- particularly given the ties they create. But, with all due respect, houshi-sama, I think you might be wrong. You don't need to be related to a child for that child to have an impact on your life."

Nodding, Miroku looked away as he shifted a bit, not entirely comfortable with the track the conversation appeared to be taking. "I'm... aware of that," he said quietly, wishing the conversation to come to an end.

"The same holds true with Rin and Shippou as well, I think. Have you not noticed the way Rin seems to hover around Teles-sama?"

"Yes, I have," he said quietly, nodding. "And the way Shippou prefers to be around Kagome-sama above all else."

"You see, then? Both children created two very different kinds of ties, and birth had nothing to do with it."

Miroku didn't reply; he turned his attention to the dark, shadowed woodlands beyond the field. The connections established by both Shippou and Rin had been forged by death; both children had been orphaned. If birth could not create a tie, then death would. Bringing up such a thing seemed wholly unnecessary. Sango knows well enough the relationships forged through death. Reminding her of such a thing would be... needlessly cruel.

Letting her fingers scratch softly behind Kirara's ears, Sango cleared her throat softly after a moment of silence had passed by. "I'm actually a little surprised at how well she's taken everything so far."

The monk paused for a moment. "The child hurts her," he said abruptly.

Sango blinked. "What?"

He sighed, closing his eyes, telling himself that this was not a secret, even if it felt as if he were betraying the former goddess' trust. "You remember the last time we were here... that the child moving hurt her more than a human child would -- which made sense because he's not entirely human? Well, he hurts her more now."

The taiji-ya was still as Miroku's words sunk in. "But..." she said softly, turning her head to look at him, "but that's because he's growing -- getting stronger." She paused, not sure if she wanted him to continue. "Right?"

"So she said," Miroku responded quietly. "But..." He shook his head and swallowed. "She couldn't walk for a moment."

Twisting her body to face him completely, she stared at the monk in the dim moonlight. "Houshi-sama, what do you mean," she paused, swallowing hard, "when you say she couldn't walk?" She cringed inwardly at the absurdity of the question, but did not retract it.

He looked down at his hands for several very long moments. "She couldn't walk. She couldn't stand. Her entire being was focused on the pain the child was causing her. For a moment I was afraid I was going to have to find Inuyasha to carry her back inside."

"Gods," she breathed softly. "She..." Sango stopped and shook her head. "I don't think any of us even thought it was that bad. She... she seemed uncomfortable at times, but..." Without another word, she clasped her hand to her forehead for a moment before running her fingers through her bangs. Discomfort was common in pregnant women, particularly at this late stage. But pain -- particularly the kind of pain that Miroku was describing -- was not normal in women carrying human children.

Sango closed her eyes. But she's not carrying a human child.

"Normally," Miroku began, his voice low, "I've only seen pregnant women in that kind of pain right before--" Biting back the words, he stopped himself.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Yes, houshi-sama?"

He swallowed hard. "I've only seen pregnant women in that kind of pain," he repeated slowly, "just prior to giving birth."

"But... she's not due yet," Sango murmured, shaking her head. "She shouldn't be experiencing that kind of pain now. Not this early."

Miroku looked down for a moment. "The fact is, Sango, we don't know. I don't even think she knows when the child is coming. I do know that if she's not going to give birth soon, and she's experiencing such intense pain now..." he trailed off, looking up at Sango. "It might mean there's something wrong."

Sango hugged her arms around herself and looked down. The silence stretched out between them. She found only a small measure of comfort in Kirara's wide, curious gaze as the neko youkai looked up at her with slit eyes. Closing her eyes, Sango rubbed slowly at her forehead. "Gods, she didn't even have any idea about..." her words trailed off. "Well, anything, really. She was rather startled to find out how the pup would be birthed."

Miroku winced. "I can only guess." After a moment, he stole a glance at Sango. "You know," he mused aloud, offering a tired, sad smile when she looked over. "This entire experience has been almost enough to make me swear off women." The smile quirked into a grin for a fraction of a second before fading.

Sango offered a brief smile in return. "I'm not surprised. In fact, it wouldn't shock me at all if she forbade Sesshoumaru from ever touching her again. It might have been enough for her to swear off men."

Years of practice were the only things that kept Miroku's calm facade in place. He was silent for a moment before deftly shifting the subject. "...I wanted to tell someone. That she was in pain, I mean."

Sango's eyebrows knitted together for a moment. "Was that while you were outside? I heard the ruckus Inuyasha made, and then saw Teles-sama walk past, drenched... and then you came in -- twice as soaked." A small, amused smile touched at her lips when he nodded.

"I, ah, loaned her my kesa -- for all the good it did," he replied somewhat wryly.

"I... didn't want to ask why she didn't think twice about remaining in the rain when it's growing so much colder out." Sango was quiet for a moment. "She seemed... pleased that she'd been outside."

"Well," Miroku said, his mouth curving briefly, "she was a water deity."

Pursing her lips, Sango's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Do you know, I nearly forgot?"

"I know," the monk agreed, nodding. "It's startlingly easy to forget, actually."

After a moment the taiji-ya sighed. "I'm sorry, houshi-sama, but if she's in that much pain, she should be in bed."

He shook his head. "I think you'd find her difficult to convince of that. You might have more luck tying her down." Pausing for a moment, the monk's brows drew together. Was that honesty? Yes, I think so. She'll probably misunderstand me anyway. He smiled to himself. Sorry, Teles. Even when I'm honest, I'm still a lech.

Frowning, Sango shook her head, choosing not to acknowledge the monk's unintentional double entendre. "Then Sesshoumaru should be made aware of it. Perhaps she'd listen to him if not to us."

"Ah." Miroku's expression was suddenly pensive. I am not entirely convinced that is a good idea, Sango. "Well.... perhaps," he pursed his lips in thought. He could see how the idea would seem like a good one to the taiji-ya -- alerting her mate was the logical thing to do. But, as far as Miroku could tell, it would only disturb the pregnant woman further. "On the other hand," he replied thoughtfully, "it might make her more determined. You know how Kagome-sama gets when Inuyasha makes suggestions that are for her own good."

Sango's eyes went to the sky once more as she caught a glimpse of the moon shining through two passing clouds. "More determined? Gods, if her own safety as well as that of her child is at stake, she should listen to reason. There is determination, and then there is foolishness." She did not want to think that any mother would willingly endanger her own life or that of her child -- she did not want to think such a thing of the mother of Inuyasha's niece or nephew. But if the child is causing her a great deal of pain, the last thing she should do is ignore it...

"I know," Miroku replied, turning one hand upward. "But..."

"I just think, houshi-sama," Sango interrupted gently, "that if Sesshoumaru knew that the pup was causing pain that is near-paralyzing... I do not think he would have left so quickly."

Unable to argue with her logic, the young monk nodded. "If he gets back before we leave, perhaps I'll speak with him."

"That is a good idea," Sango replied, looking once again at the sky. After a moment, she asked, "Does Inuyasha know?" She shook her head, answering her own question. "No, of course he doesn't know. He would have gone off to drag Sesshoumaru back by the hair if he knew."

"No," Miroku answered, his voice low. "Inuyasha doesn't know." He watched Sango for a moment, noting the way the slivers of passing moonlight caught her hair, making her seem almost ethereal in the dimness. "I... I thought I'd tell you first."

Sighing once, Sango dragged her eyes away from the cloudy night sky and looked once more at Miroku. After a moment, she tilted her head quizzically. "But it doesn't make sense."

The young houshi felt something tighten in his stomach. "What doesn't make sense?" he asked, keeping his tone light while at the same time praying she did not say what he was so sure she'd say. Sango was a great many things -- brave, dangerous, loyal -- but she was not stupid.

When Sango spoke, her words came slowly, as if she were working the question out in her mind as she said the words. "If she's been experiencing such severe pain, it doesn't make sense that she would keep it from her mate. And, given the state he was in when he returned from her lands, I doubt he would have left if she had told him. " Sango's dark eyes sought out Miroku's. "So, why wouldn't she have told him?"

Damn it. Damn me for agreeing to try "honesty and sincerity." Damn! He expelled a breath, looking down at his hands. He could neither lie nor could he break the woman's trust. "...Sango."

Sango raised an internal eyebrow at the young monk's tone. "Yes, houshi-sama?"

He was silent for a minute before lifting his gaze to look at her, his eyes grave and direct. "She has her reasons," he said softly.

She held his gaze for a moment before closing her eyes and exhaling. "I'm sorry, houshi-sama, but... it seems... unwise to conceal such a thing, especially when it puts her -- and the child -- in danger."

When next the young monk spoke, his words were spoken even more quietly. "I promised."

The taiji-ya opened her eyes and lifted her eyebrows. "Promised?" she echoed bewilderedly.

Miroku gritted his teeth at her tone. I'm very bad at this. He drew in a calming breath before continuing. "She has her reasons for not telling Sesshoumaru. I know what they are. I assure you they are good reasons." He hesitated for a moment. "But I cannot tell you what they are."

Sango sat very still for several seconds, staring at the young monk who'd been her companion for so very long. When her voice came, it was very soft. "Because you promised her." When he nodded, she sighed deeply. "I see," she replied thoughtfully.

Miroku expelled a breath, rubbing his forehead briefly. Honesty is exhausting.

The silence that followed was vast, and Sango found herself watching the houshi, a pensive expression on her features. The conversation she'd had with Kagome replayed itself in her mind, and she felt a faint twinge of guilt. No, he was not ill, and he hadn't been possessed by a demon, either. He was just -- for whatever reason -- changed. "I... I respect that, houshi-sama," she replied softly.

"But nevertheless you wonder about my decision to honor my promise when the life of a woman and her child may be at risk?" As soon as he asked the question, Miroku wished he hadn't. Or, at the very least, he wished he hadn't sounded so very defensive.

"I wasn't going to say that," Sango replied, ignoring the monk's tone. "I was going to say that I respect the fact that you are keeping your word to her." She chewed lightly on her bottom lip. "And I believe that... if you thought her to be in any real danger, you would... reconsider your promise to her."

"I would," was the soft response. He hesitated a bare moment before continuing. "Teles is my friend." He gave the dark-haired taiji-ya a wry smile. "As you know, I've only a few of those."

Immediately, Sango lifted a mental eyebrow at the lack of the honorific. "...Teles?" she asked dubiously.

His mouth twitched. "Yes." For reasons unknown to even Miroku, he could not resist the urge to let Sango think badly of him if only for just a moment. It was several seconds later when he added, "She said I might address her so."

"Oh?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him. When he did nothing but mirror her expression she let her own lips quirk. "If I were you, houshi-sama, I would give careful consideration before saying such a thing in front of her mate. She may not mind, but for some reason, I think a youkai lord might not take such familiarity very well at all."

"She calls me 'little monk.' I think I'm entitled to some degree of familiarity in return," he responded dryly. "And, believe me, I'm quite sufficiently afraid of Sesshoumaru."

Chuckling softly, Sango settled into thoughtful silence again. Pursing her lips, she ran her tongue across her front teeth as a small frown marred her forehead. "That was odd as well, actually."

"What was?" he asked.

"Houshi-sama, youkai go through no 'final burst of autumnal activity.'"

He nodded once. "I'm aware of that."

She waited for him to say something more, but Miroku volunteered no further information. Sango's frown deepened. "Something's not quite right, is it?" When he nodded, she rubbed her forehead tiredly, blowing out a breath. "...I didn't want to suspect it, but it was so strange that he'd be gone -- and with such an obviously flimsy excuse."

The monk blew out a frustrated breath. She was hitting on so many things that he simply could not discuss. "You're right, Sango," he said, his voice low. "You are. But... I cannot talk any more about it." He tightened his jaw and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but..."

"You promised," she supplied gently.

After a long moment, he nodded. "Yes. I did."