InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Gods and Monsters ❯ Chapter 35: Needle in a Haystack ( Chapter 35 )

A/N: A partridge in a pear tree's worth of thanks to Nanda for the quickie beta in light of Merith and Kat having both been eaten alive by holiday cheer (or they're both in an eggnog stupor -- either way, my thoughts are with them). And FIIIIVE GOOOOLD RINNNNGS to Everstar for all she does. (Seriously -- there would be, like, no Miroku/Sango goodness in this 'fic if not for this girl!)

And, really quick -- sorry about the lateness of the update. But... end of semester. Holidays. Madness. We're back on track now!

Chapter 35: Needle in a Haystack

Sango closed her eyes against the dry, burning sting. Placing her hands at the small of her back, she stretched, listening to her body pop and complain in response. She'd been sitting at the low table far too long - in fact, she'd been reading scroll after scroll in the village archives for far too long. The sun had begun its descent behind the mountains, leaving her and Miroku in the library, surrounded by open scrolls. They'd both been working in silence for quite some time now, and Sango had begun to wonder how he could stand it.

For her part, the taiji-ya was growing more and more apprehensive by the hour. She hadn't remembered the library being quite as large as it was. In fact, when Kirara had touched down at the southernmost point of the ruined village, Sango had slid off of her back, staring wordlessly at the long, low hut, set far away from the rest of the homes and other huts. Much like Sango had remembered, the archival building had undergone very little structural damage from the youkai attack. Its location had always been intended to be a strategic one, far away from the heart of the village, the furthest point from the access points in the walls around the village. The object had been to preserve the recorded past - even if the worst occurred, the history of the taiji-ya would remain.

The worst had occurred, and other than some light charring, the archive building remained much like she remembered it.

Miroku had followed her gaze. "That's the library?" he'd asked.

She'd nodded briefly. "It is."

When Miroku had given a low, impressed whistle, Sango had just begun to get an inkling of the size of the task before them. When they had entered the building, Sango looked around at the rows upon rows of shelving systems, all laden with scrolls, feeling cold despair sink heavily in the pit of her stomach. The first order of business was to figure out how the library was organized.

They had started this task while the sun was still in the sky. The world had grown darker and now lamplight lit the archives, but they were still no closer to figuring out the layout of the archives. Neither of them had found anything even remotely related to hanyou, and no clues were appearing that would lead them to the collection of scrolls. So, they had started on the same track they were currently on; their search had neither rhyme nor reason, and the sheer futility of it was starting to wear on the taiji-ya.

"Are you all right, Sango?" Miroku's voice yanked her out of her reverie and she looked over at him, blinking.

"I'm sorry, houshi-sama?"

A tiny, sympathetic smile lit the monk's lips. "You look tired."

Sango shook her head. "No. I'm just not really used to... this. Research." She looked down at the open scroll lain out before her and bit her lip lightly. "When I was learning my craft, my father sometimes grew frustrated with me, because I was more interested in the practical side of our job than the... theoretical side." Sango closed her eyes, rubbing the back of her neck, a small flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "I... didn't spend very much time in here. Not voluntarily, at least." Opening her eyes, she looked down at the scroll. "Which probably explains why my memory of the layout is..."

"Fuzzy?" Miroku supplied.

"Nonexistent," she muttered, scowling.

Miroku was quiet for a moment. "I suppose it's a good thing I came along, then."

Eyes still on the scroll, Sango nodded. "I would have come alone if I had to, but..." she trailed off, emitting a short bark of humorless laughter. "The pup would be grown and mated before I found what I was looking for." No, Teles and the pup would be dead and buried before you found what you were looking for. Sango's jaw tightened as she tried to push the traitorous thought from her mind.

Miroku's eyebrows drew together as he noticed the slight change in her demeanor. Chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment, he nodded once. "Well. A very good thing I came along, then." Blowing out a soft breath, he regarded Sango for a few seconds. "I think you're underestimating yourself," he added quietly.

She sent the young houshi a wan smile. "I think you're wrong, but it's kind of you to say so anyway."

The monk opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut, instead shaking his head and turning his attention back to the scroll in front of him. "I'll have you know, Sango, I'm seldom ever wrong." He ignored the soft, wry laugh that came from his right. Scanning the scrolls contents, he shook his head slowly, frowning at the characters before him. "Fighting techniques. Not quite what we're looking for."

Sango looked up. "Fighting techniques? I never knew there was..." she trailed off, coloring slightly; she didn't know because she'd seldom read any of the scrolls of her own volition. "I didn't know they recorded that. I was taught by my father, who was taught by his father, who was taught by... well, you get the idea." If techniques had been recorded by the village elders, perhaps rebuilding the village itself wouldn't prove such a daunting task after all. Sango rolled up the historical scroll she'd been reading. So much has happened already - the attack, the massacre... If I'm going to rebuild, someone's going to have to record all of that.

Her eyes went to Miroku, intently studying another scroll. His features were lit by the flickering lamplight; his dark brows were pulled into an intent frown, his bangs had fallen forward away from his forehead, and his fingers were lightly tracing the lines of characters as he read.

The realization struck her forcefully. Miroku could do it.

The sudden, unbidden thought taking her almost by surprise, Sango felt warmth rush up to her face and she quickly turned her attention to another scroll, opening it and scanning its contents. The scroll was on weapons forging and repair; Sango found it interesting, but it didn't contribute to their cause any. Blowing out another frustrated breath, she scooped some of the discarded scrolls into her arms and walked slowly to the shelves where she had found them. Sliding the scrolls back onto the shelf, she frowned thoughtfully. "There's an order here - I just can't remember it." Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. An arm in familiar black robes reached over her head, plucking a scroll from a high shelf. A warm, solid chest brushed against her back, and the breath froze in her lungs.

"Excuse me," Miroku murmured, stepping back to open the scroll.

Sango felt warmth rush to her face, leaving her somewhat lightheaded. "It's fine," she murmured, looking down at her hands. She was marginally surprised to find them empty. What the hell is wrong with me? Shaking off the disorientation, she pulled another scroll from a different section of the shelving.

"Hmmm."

Sango looked up, turning at the houshi's utterance. "Yes?"

"Weapons suggestions for different types of youkai." He looked up from the scroll and met her eyes.

Sango chewed lightly on her upper lip. "We might be getting closer."

Miroku looked back down at the document in his hands. "Possibly."

She opened the scroll she held in her hands, shaking her head and setting it back again. Moving to another, higher section of the shelving, Sango reached up, stretching as far as she could. A determined frown settled on her features as she placed a foot on one of the low shelves to boost herself up.

Miroku was frowning almost instantly, rolling the scroll quickly and sliding it home. The shelves were old, and not made for climbing in the first place. "Sango, do you need me to reach-"

"Almost... there," the taiji-ya said, stretching.

"Are you sure that's a-"

"Nearly..."

"Sango, I don't think-"

"Got it!" she cried as she snatched a scroll from the highest shelf before jumping down and landing lightly.

Shaking his head, the young houshi laughed a bit ruefully. Of course she didn't need me to reach it. Chuckling to himself, Miroku turned and strode to the front section of the building to examine the lamps. They'd brought a small ration of oil with them, but it wasn't wise to use it all on their first night there. "Any luck?" he called out to the back of the long building.

"Unfortunately, no," she replied, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Poisons and the youkai they're most effective on."

Miroku nodded, a small frown marring his own forehead as he noted the decreasing oil level in the lamps. They had enough for the rest of the night, and perhaps the next night. We'd better make good use of daylight tomorrow, he thought, walking slowly back to the shelves. He regarded Sango for several moments as she stared at the shelves, deep in thought. "If you find anything about antidotes for youkai poisons," he said, his lips turning up in a faintly wry grin, "I would appreciate it. Not that Kagome-sama's remedies don't work, but if we could find something that worked a little faster, or perhaps something that could offer a level of immunity..." he grew silent suddenly, turning his attention back to the scrolls.

Sango gave a curt nod. "I'll keep my eyes open, but..." she trailed off thoughtfully. "It's been my experience that the venom is what is typically used to make any sort of antidote."

Well, there goes that idea. "Damn," he muttered, blowing out a breath. "Ah, well." Extracting venom from the Saimyoushou would be difficult enough; extracting the Saimyoushou from the Kazaana would be nothing less than impossible. The monk's frown deepened as he focused his attention on the lines and lines of scrolls.

The point of an archive was to keep track of history, events, and other things of note and importance. It was the case in every library and archive Miroku had ever seen. This would be no different. He was confident that as soon as they uncovered the logic behind the organization, they would be able to locate the collection of scrolls Sango was so sure existed. And if Sango was sure, that was enough for Miroku. The scrolls were somewhere in the library; they merely had to locate them.

Just then, there was a loud, low, scraping noise. Miroku looked up to see Sango dragging an aged chest across the floor in order to gain access - easier and safer access - to the higher shelves. Stepping onto the trunk, Sango pulled several scrolls down, bringing them back to the long, low table she'd been reading at.

Miroku stood for several long moments, regarding the shelves. So far that day he'd found historical scrolls, including a great deal recorded about the Shikon-no-Tama as well as the miko Midoriko. He'd then found information on the mental and physical training of the taiji-ya, weaponry, and fighting. He looked at the gap on the shelf where Sango had removed some more scrolls. "What have you found, Sango?" he asked, still staring at the scrolls, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Sango shook her head, even though Miroku couldn't see it. "More on attacks and weaponry - and what youkai they're most effective on."

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Miroku walked slowly down the narrow aisle that ran down the middle of the building, looking at the shelves on either side of him. Moving towards the back, he plucked a scroll off of a shelf and opened it, scanning the words quickly. His brow arched slightly. "...Sango?" he called.

The light thudding of her footsteps heralded her approach and soon she was at his elbow, peering over his shoulder. "What did you find?" she asked, looking down at the scroll.

"I think," he muttered, eyes still taking in the characters, "that we might have found the writings on youkai."

Sango nodded slowly. "Spider youkai," she murmured, reading rapidly. "Spider youkai consume humans - they wouldn't mate with one."

"The majority of them seem not to be-" he looked up, starting a bit when he noticed Sango reading intently over his shoulder.

"Seem not to be, what?" she asked quietly, still reading.

Miroku blinked. "Ah... the majority of them don't seem to take a human shape."

"No, they don't." Sango considered for a moment. "Not typically, anyway. Sometimes they assume a human shape as a means to draw in prey. But not as a mating technique. So... no spider hanyou."

Miroku was very close to pointing out that sometimes there was scarce little difference between searching for a mate and hunting for prey. Prudently, he opted not to voice his opinion. It was perhaps the wisest choice he could make; at this distance, Sango could have done a fair bit of damage. He snuck another glance at her, noting the way she chewed lightly at her lip as she read. He was suddenly acutely aware of her warmth as she stood behind him. After several very long moments, she stepped away, turning her attention to the rest of the rows of shelves.

Uttering a silent prayer of thanks, Miroku put the scroll away and returned to the task at hand. The scrolls had moved away from the art of the taiji-ya and had moved on to informational scrolls focused on youkai. As they discovered more and more, the layout of the library was making itself clear. There were a few places a study on hanyou could have been stored, quite a few. It was, he had to admit, an impressive collection of writings, and if they hadn't been on such an important, specific errand, he would have liked to have the opportunity to research the archives further. He pursed his lips in thought. I wonder if she'd mind, once everything was over...

Completely unaware of the track the young monk's thoughts were taking, Sango folded her arms, turning her attention back to the task at hand. For the taiji-ya, this small, promising sliver of information did nothing but increase her frustration. She walked slowly down the center aisle, shaking her head slowly, seeing nothing but the scrolls they had yet to rifle through. Exhaling, she ground her teeth lightly. This is going to take days. Her brows drew together into a deep frown as she stared hard at the rows of shelves, trying to remember.

"If I were an elder, how would I have organized this?" she murmured softly.

Hearing this, Miroku shook his head, dragged out of the reverie his concentration had led him to. "I think..." As he spoke, he walked, following Sango's steps. "I think hanyou would more likely be with those youkai that typically appear human, wouldn't they?"

Sango was quiet for a moment. "Or with those youkai who have mated with humans in the first place. Shouldn't a section on, say, inuyoukai have a smaller section on inuhanyou?"

Expelling a breath, Miroku shook his head. "Either is possible."

Tilting her head, Sango gestured at the series of shelves housing the historical scrolls. "There we have who fights them." She gestured at another shelving unit. "How we defeat them." She then turned to the most recent shelf unit they had examined. "And then... information on them specifically. Because, to defeat your enemy, you must first know him."

Nodding slowly, Miroku resumed his spot, moving down the shelves. Again he chose a scroll and opened it, scanning the characters for a moment before his brows quirked in bemusement. "Kitsune...?" he murmured.

Sango's head jerked sharply as she turned to look at him. "What?"

Miroku chuckled suddenly. "Kitsune."

"Kitsune," Sango echoed. So much for 'defeating your enemy.' "Well," she ventured dubiously, "did you find anything useful?"

He looked up at the scroll long enough to send her a crooked smile. "Well, since I haven't quite read all the material yet..." he looked back down at the scroll, shaking his head slowly. "Nothing I've found on kitsune hanyou yet, though, and dear gods, that's a strange thought."

She stopped for a moment, trying to picture such a thing. "Strange is... one way of putting it. Although," she added thoughtfully, "perhaps not so strange. If any youkai were going to pair with a human, a kitsune would be the first that came to my mind. But then," she added with a soft chuckle striding to another row of shelves, arbitrarily plucking a scroll and opening it, "I'd rather not try and imagine Shippou..." Sango's words trailed off as she read silently for nearly a minute before looking up and surveying the shelves once more. "Houshi-sama?"

His voice came from somewhere several rows behind her. "Yes?"

"Aviary youkai. I... I think they're organized by land, air, and water."

There was a very long moment of silence before Miroku's voice came back through the stacks. "But we still have no way of knowing where the scrolls on hanyou would be. They could have their own section - or they could be mixed in with their youkai counterparts."

Scowling, Sango rocked back on her heels, glaring at the collection of scrolls. And this is why I hate research. "But... if you're reading about kitsune, then somewhere in there you should find something on kitsune hanyou." She was quiet for a moment. "Shouldn't you?"

"It makes sense either way. They're rare, so it might be more logical to isolate them to keep things from getting too confusing."

"You're right about them being rare," she murmured softly, looking at the scroll she held in her hand. "I almost wish I hadn't remembered why they're so rare.
Miroku suddenly appeared at the end of the row, standing in the center aisle. "It's better you did," he said softly.

Running a hand through her bangs, Sango closed her eyes and was quiet for a moment. "I know. I know it is. I just..." She looked up again and glared at the scrolls. "There's got to be a better way to do this."

"Sango," Miroku began slowly. He took a step or two forward, but no more. "We've only been here one day - and not even a full day. You can't expect the answer to jump off of the shelves. It's here - we just have to find it." He offered her a small, reassuring smile. "And we will." Turning, he went back to the shelf unit he'd been looking through. "If we focus our attention on the land youkai section, we might have a better chance of finding something on inuhanyou, if nothing else."

Several hours later found the monk and the taiji-ya hunched over low tables, both of them having fallen into a rhythm of opening scrolls, scanning them for any mention of hanyou, and then setting them aside. Once again, Sango's back had begun to ache, and her eyes were burning, watering when she pressed at her eyelids with the tips of her fingers. She stretched again, arching her back and twisting, causing yet another series of cracks and pops to erupt from her spine. She saw Miroku glance up briefly, an absently amused smile flitting across his lips for a moment before he was once again lost in the search.

Rolling her shoulders, Sango scooped up a series of scrolls, getting to her feet and bringing them back to the land youkai section. Much like she'd been doing all evening, she brought another armload back to the study area. Once again she settled down on the floor and opened the first scroll. After scanning briefly, she stopped.

"Inuyoukai," she breathed.

There was a beat of silence. "What?" Miroku asked quietly, as if he were afraid he'd heard wrong. He set the scroll in his hands down immediately and got up, hurrying over to the table Sango was settled at. "Hanyou?"

Shaking her head slowly, Sango continued reading. "No, just youkai. After a moment, her eyes widened and her cheeks became suffused with color."

Miroku tilted one dark eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

Sango's only response was to color more deeply. "Ah. Hmm. Not hanyou, no, but... it could possibly lead to the... 'creation' of hanyou, under certain circumstances." She glanced up at Miroku, who blinked once. Nodding, she turned her attention back to the scroll, which covered in detail the mating practices of the inuyoukai. After a few more moments of silent reading, she colored deeply. "Oh. Oh... oh." She paused, closing her eyes. "And... Sesshoumaru is full youkai." Without another word, she handed Miroku the scroll. I shouldn't be the only one with mental images like these. As he read, she rubbed at her forehead, unable to fully believe that the stoic, reserved youkai lord could or would behave in the manner recorded.

Even though it was plainly obvious that he had.

After he'd finished reading, Miroku rolled up the scroll and set it aside. "Aren't you glad you're not mixed up with youkai?" he asked, smiling a bit, pulling another scroll from Sango's collection.

"More and more everyday," the taiji-ya muttered, selecting another scroll. "More on inuyoukai," she murmured. "But it's much of what we've already learned simply through observation. There's nothing at all about mating outside of their species." She was quiet for a moment. "Apparently they are, however, very loyal mates. 'The inuyoukai has been observed performing an extensive cycle of rituals after the death of a mate,'" she read aloud.

Miroku made a small, thoughtful sound as he read. After a moment, he exhaled tiredly. "I wish I had a better understanding of how youkai mate." Looking up from her scroll, Sango blinked slowly and stared at him for several long seconds. The monk's flush was instant, and his stammering began soon after. "Rather, I mean - what I meant was... I didn't..."

Gesturing at one of the discarded scrolls, Sango replied, "I actually thought we'd been given a very graphic report of the process, houshi-sama." Her brows lifted a bit, eyes gleaming with humor. "However, if you're still curious..."

Clearing his throat, Miroku looked away, the color in his face subsiding not at all. "What I meant was that youkai find their mates, but... what does that mean?"

"Ah," Sango replied, smothering her smile a bit. "Well... from what I can gather -- through cursory readings here and what I've seen with my own eyes, it's... similar to humans finding a husband or wife." She turned her attention back to the scrolls, scanning them once again for any mention of hanyou. She spoke slowly as she glanced cursorily at the lines of characters. "Those rare instances in which people actually marry for love, and stay together until the end of their days -- I think it's closest to that. But... there's a level of loyalty that seems to be instinctual for youkai that... isn't seen quite as frequently in humans."

His response was barely audible. "I see." He swallowed once, contemplating "instinctual loyalty" for a moment. "So it's not something that... wears off."

"Apparently not," she replied, scanning another scroll.

"Well, that is... good to know. Although," he said, glancing at the discarded scrolls, "to be honest, there are certain things about Sesshoumaru - and inuyoukai in general - I would have been just as happy never knowing."

Sango gave a short, soft laugh and looked up, grinning. "You can say that again, houshi."

He matched her smile. "...I could, but you'd just hit me."

She tilted her head, the grin broadening. "But houshi-sama, it's been so long since I've been able to hit you. You'd begrudge me something that simple?"

"No, of course not," he chuckled. "But you'll have to be tolerant of my inadvertent tendency to self-preservation."

"Of course, houshi-sama. Of course," she murmured enigmatically, returning to the scrolls.

Miroku likewise chose another scroll and opening it. After a few seconds of sitting side by side in silence, he cleared his throat. "Although, if you wanted, we could spar sometime."

Again, Sango glanced up. "Perhaps we could."

"Of course," Miroku went on, eyes twinkling, "I might not be much of a challenge for you."

Chuckling softly, she shook her head. "I don't know about that, houshi-sama. I've seen how you fight. You cheat."

He eyes widened in mock-indignation. "I do not!"

"You do," she said, amused.

"Well, we all must do what we're good at." He paused for a moment, considering this. "But I suppose those days are behind me as well," he added, with a mock-mournful sigh.

"You mean to say you won't cheat when you fight anymore?" she asked teasingly. When Miroku only gave a small shrug by way of reply, Sango regarded him for several long seconds. "Well, all things considered, houshi-sama, if it's a life or death situation, I don't think Buddha would be too upset if you worked the situation to your advantage now and then." She paused, weighing her words carefully. "You fight the good fight - we all do. And sometimes -- sometimes it's strategically necessary to fight against an opponent's weaknesses. Some consider it 'playing dirty,' but when you're trying to fight the good fight, I think it's better referred to as resourcefulness."

After a brief pause, Miroku chuckled. When Sango regarded him in surprise at his response, he shook his head slightly. "I don't suppose we could use that to refer to everything I've ever done."

She bit back the grin that threatened to form. "Some things, perhaps, houshi-sama."

His dark eyebrows arched in surprise. "Some things? That's more than I expected."

Sango pretended to think about it. "Perhaps just a few things, then," she amended."

Again, Miroku shook his head. "Still more."

Her brows twitched and her lips curved in an expression of dry amusement. "Still more than you expected? Very well. One or two things."

Miroku grinned suddenly and nodded. "Ah, now. That's better."

Rolling her eyes, Sango opened up another scroll, scanning it briefly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but..." finding no mention of hanyou, she rolled the scroll back up and opened another. "Sometimes - only sometimes, mind you - I think you don't give yourself enough credit." She sent him a pointed look. "Only sometimes."

Oddly, the houshi's good mood seemed to evaporate almost instantly. He exhaled a small, almost frustrated breath and turned back to the open scroll he held. "Everybody keeps saying that," he muttered, reading.

Sango looked up suddenly. "What? Who's saying that?"

Miroku looked at her through his bangs. "...Teles said... something similar."

"Oh?" When he nodded, she turned to face him more completely. "It sounds like you don't agree with the sentiment."

Sighing deeply, he ran a tired, dusty hand through his bangs. He looked at her gravely for a moment, and Sango could see something of a conflict warring in the deep violet of his eyes. "I'm not..." He stopped, thinking. After a few moments, he inhaled deeply. "There are parts of being a monk I 'm good at. But there are more parts I'm not good at." When Sango only gave a silent nod, he continued. "A lot of what I'm not good at... are the more, shall we say, spiritual aspects."

Sango sent him a long, measuring look. "But, houshi-sama, when I said that, I wasn't thinking about your role as a monk."

Miroku only sighed deeply. "I'm used to thinking that what's good in me - what good there is - is attributable to that, my role as a monk."

Listening to his words and the way in which he spoke them caused something in Sango's chest to clench painfully. She reached over and grabbed his right hand lightly. Almost immediately, she felt him try and pull his hand away from hers, but when she tightened her grip, he stopped. "When you allowed the Saimyoushou into your Kazaana in order to protect Kohaku, did you do it because you are a monk, and it somehow falls under your spiritual duties?"

It was a few seconds before he answered. "No."

She leaned over, fierce determination causing her eyes to flare slightly. Sango could see Miroku momentarily attempt to avoid her gaze, but the effort only lasted for a second or two. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because he's your brother," he answered in a low, even voice.

"And when we fight side by side -- be it against Naraku's puppets, his detachments, or a possessing youkai -- do you fight to win?"

The answer came with no hesitation. "Yes."

"And does that desire to triumph necessarily fall under your spiritual duties?" she countered.

"Well, a good part of it comes from just not wanting to die."

Sango grinned a bit at that, and was faintly relieved to see Miroku return her grin with a slightly crooked one of his own. "You've stepped into altercations when you didn't need to, houshi-sama. You've gone to lengths to help all of us. Do you do it because you're a monk? Or because you're a friend?"

"A little bit of both, I think," he replied. "But..." he held up his left hand in a placating gesture when he saw Sango open her mouth to disagree, "usually, mostly because I'm a friend."

Sango nodded once and was quiet for several long seconds. When she finally did speak, her voice was soft, her words heavy with sincerity. "I'd rather you be a good friend and a bad monk than a good monk and a bad friend."

Sango's words - spoken in that quiet, intense way that was hers and only hers - caught Miroku completely by surprise. He stared at her for nearly a full minute, his eyes searching her features for some glimmer of humor, something to detract from the gravity of her words, but he could find no such hint. "That..." He shook his head slowly. Swallowing against the many words forming in his throat - words that disclosed far more than he would ever intend to reveal - he managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A period of silence followed, and Miroku could almost feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the moment grew charged with an unusual sort of energy. He let his lips quirk slightly in an attempt to inject a degree of levity into the moment. "Of course, wouldn't you rather I was a good friend and a good monk?"

What the young houshi had intended to as a humorous, rhetorical question brought an intense, pensive gaze to Sango's features. She considered this for several moments before speaking slowly. "Do you know, houshi-sama, I don't know that it's possible for you -- or anyone -- to be both. I could be a better taiji-ya, of course, but it would mean more practice, more isolation -- it would mean sacrificing one thing for the other. On the same token, Kagome could, if she chose, put more time into miko training. But it would take away from her other pursuits."

Like Inuyasha. Like the jewel, Miroku thought absently. He nodded in agreement. "True, but... Well."

"Yes?"

Emitting a soft sigh, he shook his head before sending her a roguish smile. "I miss it, Sango. I miss swindling, I miss the con, I miss stealing from those who have far too much. And I could go on, but..." Sango absorbed the words, nodding slowly, and Miroku dropped his voice. "I'm good at it, Sango. It's one of the few things I know I'm good at." He kept his eyes on her as he spoke, gauging her reaction, reading her expression. It was much as he would have expected from her; Sango nodded once, slowly, and pulled her hand out of his. Her reaction, while not a surprise, caused a faint, dull ache to twinge somewhere behind his ribs. He tried very hard not to sigh. At least she knows where I stand. But, oddly, the thought brought him no comfort.

Sango held her hands in her lap, looking down at them; she could almost still feel his hand in hers, the trail across her palm where the prayer beads had pressed against her skin, the smooth gauntlet, warmed by his flesh... She closed her eyes. Damn it. Good at being bad. Lovely. She inhaled deeply, her eyes never leaving her hands. "Houshi-sama..." but she trailed off, shaking her head and going back to the scrolls. No, it's not worth it. It's not worth starting an argument. That's what he feels, that's what he believes. "Never mind," she muttered, collecting some of the discarded scrolls and walking them back to their shelves.

In a moment, Miroku was up and standing in the aisle, blocking her passage. "Oh, no," he said, looking down at her, his expression intense. "You wouldn't let me do that."

Sango kept her eyes trained on the scrolls in her arms. "Not let you do what?"

"You wouldn't let me get away with not finishing. What were you going to say?"

Shaking her head quickly, Sango, squeezed past Miroku, striding purposefully to the row of shelves, returning the scrolls quickly. "It's not important," she said, sliding them home. She found she could not look at him, and that she was returning the scrolls with a bit more zeal than was absolutely necessary.

"Don't I get to decide that?" he countered, standing at the end of the row, watching her.

Once she was finished, Sango turned to face him, but kept her eyes trained on an invisible spot on the monk's kesa. "They're my words, houshi-sama," she replied softly, almost apologetically as she walked towards him. "I've decided they're not important."

After a beat of silence, during which time Sango stood before him, clearly waiting for him to move, Miroku nodded once. "Very well," he murmured, stepping aside.

Sango brushed past him, walking purposefully back to the study area they had set up. She folded her arms, staring at the tables still laden with scrolls. "We're not getting anywhere this way," she said, half to herself. She folded her arms and stared at the scrolls, but her mind was on anything but the task they'd taken on. Why? Why in all the blazes of hell did I think having him come with me was a good idea? Closing her eyes, she shook her head briefly. He misses it. He said it himself. Yes, a loyal friend, but maybe... maybe he can't be the person I thought he could be. Maybe all I saw were just illusions -- just what I wanted to see. She watched him out of the corner of his eye as he reclaimed his original spot by another table, sitting down and resuming the search.

Inhaling deeply, Sango closed her eyes, reminding herself of their purpose. She was not going to allow herself to get distracted this way - not when so much was at stake. But when Miroku's words played themselves over again in her mind, a sudden wave of frustrated tears pricked at her eyes. Swearing silently, the taiji-ya began striding towards the door.

The sudden, hard footsteps caused Miroku to look up sharply. "Sango?"

She paused, her back to him, one hand resting on the sliding door. "Yes?"

"Where are you going?"

She hesitated briefly before answering, but when she did, her voice was low and tense, as if she were expending all of her effort on keeping it even. "I thought I might look around in case the hanyou scrolls were isolated. Maybe there's a storage area somewhere."

A frown tugged at his features, but he nodded. "All right."

The words brought a small rush of cool relief; Sango had almost been afraid that he would want to search with her. She slid the door open and stepped into the chilly night air, closing the door behind her. Wrapping her arms around herself, Sango explored the area surrounding the library, searching for such a shed, or perhaps a smaller building where less frequently consulted records might have been kept. Outside, away from the monk's eyes, she allowed her tears to surface, brushing them away with her sleeve. Stop it, she scolded herself. Just stop it. Stop wanting him to be something he isn't. Wishing for a thing does not make it happen, and desiring it does not make it possible. He is what he is. He is your friend, your compatriot. Be satisfied with those things. Finding nothing, Sango stopped a fair distance from the library, and scrubbed at her face with her apron. "There," she murmured under her breath. "You've accepted it. Now, stop being foolish and get back to work."

Inside the library, Miroku sat quietly, his eyes trained on the scroll before him, but after several moments of quiet concentration, the young monk found that he'd read the same passage five times. Expelling a frustrated sigh, he sat up, tugging the tie out of his hair. "I'm a fool, and a fool, and a fool," he muttered darkly, running an angry hand through his hair. Honesty. Sincerity. Damn it. I was being honest. I was being sincere. I do miss it. I won't argue there's not a satisfaction to be found in honest work and upstanding behavior, but... Closing his eyes for a moment, Miroku clenched his right hand tightly until the smooth beads bit painfully into his fingers. Thank you so very much, Father.

It was better for all if she knew the truth. It was better if she had no misconceptions about him. Ever since he'd heard what she'd said - about the man she believed he could be - a small part of him had wondered if she'd been right.

A small part of him had wanted her to be right.

"Damn it," he muttered through his teeth, turning his attention back on the open scroll. He heard Sango's steps approaching, her footsteps thudding lightly up the low stairs. The door was pushed open, and she walked in. Without a word, she returned to the shelves, bringing another armload of scrolls to the low table. "Did you find anything?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Sango shook her head, opening another scroll and scanning it. "No extra record storage as far as I can tell. If they're isolated, they're in this building."

Miroku didn't respond, bending back over his work, absently twisting his hair tie around the fingers of his left hand as he read. It bit almost painfully into his flesh as he wound it tighter and tighter, and soon Miroku found that, again, he had read the same passage over several times.

'But you are charming and clever.' Obviously not.

Hissing a frustrated breath through his teeth, Miroku finally managed to make himself discern whether or not the word "hanyou" was mentioned in the scroll. He rolled it impatiently and set it aside.

Sango looked up at the sharp hiss and regarded him in the flickering light. His hair was loose, falling past his shoulders, and his expression was dark. "What is it, houshi-sama?" she asked, a thread of concern weaving through her words.

"I've lost my concentration," he answered tiredly. He ran his hands through his hair again, smearing the black locks with dust. Tying his hair back tightly, he inhaled deeply and exhaled before taking another scroll and opening it.

"Ah," Sango replied softly. After a moment, she bit her lip. "Houshi-sama."

Closing his eyes, Miroku took a breath and let it out. "Yes?"

She watched him for a moment, seeing the tension in the hunch of his shoulders, his expression conveying far more than words ever could; he was angry, he was frustrated, and she was fairly sure that not all of the monk's ire could be directed at their search. She sighed silently. Don't ask, you fool. Don't bother asking. It's fruitless, it's ridiculous, and you're wasting time you don't have. Swallowing hard, she sent the houshi a level gaze. Even as she spoke, it was a battle to keep her voice even, her tone bland and disinterested. "If you do love it and miss it, why attempt to give it up at all?"

Damn it, he thought. I walked right into that. "Because," he said, flexing his right hand absently. "Because..." Damn it.

"I know what you said," Sango interjected gently, as if none of it mattered to her. "You said that it was primarily because of the pup, but that doesn't explain the rest of it. It explains why you're not chasing women anymore, but it doesn't explain anything else."

The period of silence that followed was a vast abyss, even though in reality it lasted only a few seconds. Miroku's sigh was heavy, and he rubbed at his eyes before answering. "I..." After a moment, his mouth quirked briefly. She's going to hit me for certain. "I wanted you to think well of me," he said quietly.

The words hit Sango unexpectedly; she'd been prepared for nearly anything but that. She froze, blinking once, staring at Miroku, completely, utterly, and wholly dumbfounded. "What did you say?"

Looking down at the scrolls on the table, Miroku gave a slight grimace. "I decided... to stop trying to continue my family line - as I told you. But... it made..." he trailed off, uttering a short half-laugh. "Sometimes, Sango, I get very tired of being who I am. The rush I get from swindling..." he shook his head slowly. "I've still never found anything like it. But... There were nights after I'd sold off all that I could and given as much of the money away as I could manage... after I'd hit on all the women I could, and... I still didn't like myself." He looked away for a moment. "When I decided to stop trying to have an heir, I thought I might as well let all of it go." Forcing his eyes up, he met Sango's gaze, which was still loaded with shock and surprise. "I thought I'd find out if trying to be a good man might... help."

"And?" she managed softly.

A small, rueful smile lit his features briefly. "Well, it's different."

She returned his smile with a small one of her own. "You've said you miss it. But what you haven't said is whether you... like yourself a little better now."

Shifting his gaze to one of the lamps, Miroku gazed at the light thoughtfully. "I do, I think. I know I can live this life, and find a certain degree of contentment. And that's a relief I can't begin to describe - to know I'm not a complete degenerate. Though," he paused, chuckling dryly, "I'm probably a huge disappointment to Mushin."

It was hard for Miroku to tell whether Sango's smile was thoughtful, sad, or merely resigned, but when she looked back down at the scrolls on her table, opening one of them slowly, he sighed a bit. "My only wish now," he said quietly, waiting for her to look up again before continuing. "I wish I could find some place to live in between."

She nodded once, slowly. "It must be exhausting to live in extremes."

"Oh, yes."

Sango's fingers drifted to her scroll, fiddling with it lightly. "For what it's worth, houshi-sama... I never thought you were a complete degenerate."

The young monk laughed dryly. "Someday you'll have to tell me what I was doing wrong."

"Oh, I can tell you right now," she answered evenly.

He blinked once. "...Oh?"

Chewing lightly on her lower lip, Sango was quiet a moment before answering. "Complete degenerates have no redeeming qualities. And you, being a good friend - if a bad monk - have that to fall back on as a redeeming quality."

He swallowed once. "I see. Thank you, Sango."

Her eyebrows lifted gracefully. "For what?"

"For your honesty."

The gentle, if somewhat melancholy smile at her lips warmed a bit. "You're welcome. And... I suppose I should thank you for yours." She looked down at the scroll again for a moment, and upon finding no mention of hanyou in any context, rolled it up again. "Honesty is a double-edged sword. We always think we want it until we hear something we don't want to hear."

"So I'm finding," he replied. "Although ceasing to lie to you was a huge relief." His expression faded into one grave and sober. " I never liked it, you know."

"Then why did you do it?" she asked, just as soberly.

He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "Habit. Fear."

Sango pushed herself to her feet, closing the distance a bit before lowering herself to her knees. "Houshi-sama, habit I can understand. But fear? What do you have to be afraid of?" She settled into a thoughtful silence. "Do not expect me to believe that you ever lied to me out of fear of getting hit."

"Well, no," Miroku replied with a rueful chuckle. Blowing out a breath, he looked at the taiji-ya for several moments. "Sango," he said, giving a small sigh. "Put down the scroll for a moment." Her brows furrowing into a slightly wary expression, Sango set the scroll aside, and without a word of explanation, Miroku moved a bit closer to her - until he was kneeling directly next to her, as close as he could possibly be without touching her. "Sometimes," he said, his voice low, "I told myself I was doing it to protect you - from me. Most of the time, I think I was doing it to protect myself." He regarded her for a moment. "You're dangerous to me. I don't think I can ever make you understand how much." He saw her open her mouth to disagree, but he cut her off with a brief shake of his head. "Not physically dangerous," he amended, a small smile forming.

Sango looked down, and even in the dim amber light, Miroku could see the faint blush that colored her cheeks. "I never thought about how shallow the person I'd let myself become was. It didn't seem to matter, since..."

"Since you were going to die anyway," she added softly, her voice hoarse.

Miroku nodded slowly. "It's the fate of my line. And I told myself it wasn't one I minded sharing. It was true, until..." he trailed off, blowing out a breath. Sango remained very still, watching him with silent eyes that seemed luminous in the lamplight. Swallowing hard, Miroku plunged on. "Sango, I didn't think... I thought I wasn't meant to care about anybody. I thought I couldn't." Lowering his voice to a hesitant whisper, he added, "I never believed I was meant to love anybody. But..."

For her part, Sango felt the world fall away with those words. Her stomach dropped suddenly and violently, leaving her head swimming. She swallowed hard, resolutely keeping her jaw clamped tightly shut, too afraid to say anything at that moment. Coherent thought had stuttered to a stop, and the temptation to ask Miroku to repeat himself was growing by the minute, because he simply could not have said what she would have sworn he had said.

"...I think I do. And even if... the Kazaana swallows me tomorrow, I can die knowing that. And it will almost make me happy."

Sango sat in still silence, hearing nothing beyond the tattoo hammering away in her chest. It wasn't possible - had he truly said what she'd heard him say?

And did he mean it?

She blinked and searched his face for any sign of triviality, even the slightest twinkle in his eyes - but Sango found nothing. His gaze was somber, his expression serious. He wasn't kidding.

She swallowed hard. Me? Could he mean me?

"So..." he trailed off shrugging, apparently suddenly unsure of all he'd said. Sango inhaled deeply, and not a little shakily, still absorbing the monk's words. She knew she needed to say something - Miroku's expression was slowly growing more and more concerned, and perhaps somewhat panicked, with every beat of silence that passed. Swallowing once, she bit softly on her lower lip and reached up slowly and hesitantly to brush his bangs away from his forehead. It wasn't speech, but it would have to do.

Given the way he started beneath the shy touch, she had a fairly shrewd idea that it conveyed the general sentiment. A small smile flitting across her lips, she let her fingertips linger against his temple for a fraction of a second, and she felt her heart jump in her chest when his eyes appeared to darken as he regarded her. She licked her lips, which had suddenly grown dry. "You... wanted me to think better of you," she managed softly.

He gave a single, brief nod. "Teles... suggested I might want to consider fighting for the life I wanted most," he explained, his voice hoarse.

Letting her fingertips trail from his temple to the bridge of his nose, gently wiping away a streak of dust there. "I see. And... you've decided to give her advice a try?"

His mouth quirked. "Have been."

Letting her hand linger for only a few seconds more before bringing it back down to her lap, Sango nodded. "And...?"

Miroku uttered a short, soft laugh. "I guess I can't even be good without an ulterior motive." Shrugging a bit, he added, "I've tried over the years to at least be honest about that. But... if you were asking me how it's working..." he trailed off, shaking his head uncertainly.

"I was," Sango replied, her voice lowering to nearly a whisper. "Asking how it was working."

Lifting his hand slowly, Miroku brushed at the dust on her face with a lazy thumb. "At the moment," he murmured, "it's working quite well."

Closing her eyes and giving a tiny shiver at the touch, Sango breathed, "Fortunate, that."

"I thought so," he said in a voice nearly inaudible as he leaned forward and kissed her lightly, a gentle brush across her mouth.

Sango felt a jolt at the light touch, inhaling sharply when she felt the warm pliancy of his lips against hers. Her blood hummed and rushed through her veins as she returned the kiss, her mind scrambling to catalog the taste and smell of him. As she did so, her mouth relaxed and she reached up to touch his cheek, sighing softly. She became vaguely aware of his hand sliding up her arm, coming to rest at the nape of her neck as his tongue teased lightly against her lips. Slowly, the kiss deepened, and Sango groaned softly, almost shivering as dizzying adrenaline flew through her system. She brought her other hand to his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs before letting her fingers wander slowly into his hair as the strength of the kiss grew in intensity.

Breaking the kiss gently, but continuing to brush her mouth across his in tiny, teasing kisses, Sango murmured something softly against his lips, shuddering when she felt his other hand slowly trace her spine.

After a moment, Miroku blinked and pulled away, staring down at the taiji-ya in quiet shock. "...Sango?" he breathed in a tone full of soft wonder.

She looked up at him; her pupils were huge, and she looked almost drugged. "Yes?" she murmured softly, still letting her fingers trail through the soft, inky strands.

He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to groan as Sango's short nails scraped lightly against his scalp. "You... said my name." As soon as he'd said the words, he gave himself a mental shake. She knows that, you idiot.

Brown eyes lowered quickly as a light blush further colored her features. "...I did."

"I liked hearing it."

She gave a shy smile. "I think I liked saying it."

One hand still cupping her neck, Miroku tilted her face up a bit. "I wasn't even sure you knew it," he replied, eyes twinkling. When she uttered a soft chuckle, he closed the distance between them again, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, gently coaxing her lips apart. He felt her hands, slender and strong, trail down from his scalp, one of them coming to rest at the side of his neck, the other stopping at his shoulder. Slowly he became aware of one of her arms sliding around his neck as a soft whimper sounded against his mouth, and he groaned hoarsely in return. But when he felt her tongue slip experimentally against his, Miroku was vaguely surprised that his brain didn't implode immediately. Shuddering, hard, he was more than somewhat surprised - and not a little disappointed - when Sango broke the kiss yet again.

"...M-miroku?"

It took him a second to formulate an answer. The sound of her voice saying his name sent thrills down his spine. "Yes?"

Sango blinked up at him, clearly trying to remember what she was going to say in the first place. "... Scrolls."

"Huh?" He caught himself almost immediately and gave a sheepish smile. "Right."

Sango inhaled a shaky breath. "We should... get back to work," she managed, still watching him with huge, dark eyes.

Nodding once, Miroku pulled away reluctantly, blowing out a breath before settling himself in his original spot. He sat for a moment, trying to collect himself before picking up a scroll with hands that were, to his annoyance, trembling slightly. He glanced at Sango, who was seated primly at her own table, staring blankly at the two piles of scrolls on the table - one pile was read, the other had not been examined yet. It was a few seconds before she chose the pile on the left, resuming the search. He smiled to himself and began scanning the contents of the scrolls on his own table; he forced himself to read every single word until his focus steadied.

Both the monk and the taiji-ya worked steadily. Occasionally one or the other located a brief, vague mention of hanyou, but nothing of any substance. Eventually exhaustion got the better of them, and they agreed to return to their makeshift camp in the armory for some rest before resuming their search with the first rays of light. And as the monk and the taiji-ya settled down to sleep in the armory, both of them several arms' lengths away from each other, neither could think of very much beyond the location of the nearest cold spring.