InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Possession ❯ Possession ( Chapter 1 )

Possession

 

~ ~ ~

 

Sango gave a hearty sigh of relief when Inuyasha finally disappeared down the well after almost a full day of sulking. He and Kagome had had their customary fight about her return home - though this one had been a bit more explosive than normal since she was trying to leave for a full week in order to take those `finals' of hers. Inuyasha had been even less agreeable after finding out that, despite the terminology, it wasn't the permanent end to her schooling. Needless to say, many sittings and inventive curses later, things had been less than amenable when Kagome made her home.

 

Tension had been thick in the group as they'd trudged back to Kaede's hut to pass the time. It was always the same: Inuyasha sat and groused while the others watched him out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for him to reach his limit. He always did, leaving for Kagome's time shortly after she did, though Sango gathered from things her companion said that he didn't always make his presence known to her.

 

The only thing that made the old routine at all interesting and the unbearable tension, well, bearable, were the occasional bets she'd place with Miroku on how long the hanyou would last.

 

Sneaky monk always won too.

 

Not surprising really, considering she'd grown up learning about demons and how to kill them while he'd spent his life learning how to read a situation - both in his training and while wandering around, conning and schmoozing his way from village to village.

 

With the sulking hanyou finally gone, though, she breathed a bit more easily. Sometimes the weight of everyone else's moods was just too oppressive - though she couldn't really complain, not when she knew she contributed to that factor as much, if not more so, than everyone else. Still, with just Miroku - who always hid his worries behind joviality - Shippo, and Kirara around, her own mood suddenly lifted. Or maybe that just had to do with the fact that she was as `alone' with Miroku as she was wont to get under the circumstances. The thought caused her face to heat.

 

Now they sat around the fire in Kaede's hut, Kirara watching Shippo happily playing with some crayons Kagome had brought him, Miroku meditating in the corner, and Sango helping Kaede prepare the meal. It was more calmer than it had been in a while but, even though Sango knew she'd enjoy the laconic feel of a couple days off, a week of it and she'd be restless. What could she do with that amount of time though? The only thing productive thing she could think of to fill the time with would be to work on Hiraikotsu; it wasn't damaged but proper maintenance was needed in order to hopefully prevent such an incident. Still, getting to her village where the workshop and tools were, working the bone, then traveling back, would take longer than the seven days she knew they had, so that was out. Inuyasha was already going to be in a foul enough mood when the two of them returned so she didn't want to add to it by incurring any more delays.

 

She was silent through dinner, contemplating her options while munching on her fish, when Miroku spoke for the first time since Inuyasha's departure. “I've heard rumor of a powerful group of demons about a day and a half journey from here. Since we have so much time it might be beneficial to check out whether this power could be related to one of the jewel shards.”

 

Sango put down her dish. “But without Kagome-chan how would we be able to figure out if there's a shard or not?”

 

Miroku shrugged. “We can just do some information gathering. If it looks like an easy enough group to get rid of them we can take care of them, otherwise we'll have their location for when the others return. Either way it provides us a bit of distraction.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. There was something more to this that he wasn't telling her. “And just whereabouts is this group supposed to be?”

 

When he gave her the specifics it took her a moment but then she realized that it was conveniently near to the shrine he'd grown up at and where his mentor Mushin still lived. She turned away, pretending to think over his suggestion, in order to hide her worry. There could be so many reasons for him to want to stop by - it wasn't beyond the realm of belief that he'd just like to visit with the old monk, and Hachi as well. But most of the scenarios she came up with for his motivations were less than reassuring; last time they'd been to visit Mushin it was because Hachi had thought the old man was dying - and though that hadn't been the case at the time he was far past his prime. Then before that they'd visited to get the kazaana repaired, a thought that caused Sango's heart to seize.

 

Miroku had been using his kazaana less and less frequently. Though he'd tried to hide it, it was obvious to all of them that he was under an unusual amount of strain every time he used it, sweating, turning pale, and shaking. Whether the edges were tearing again or it was something else, Sango wasn't sure. However, one thing she did know for certain, because Inuyasha had finally made him confess to it after one particularly intense battle, was that he was uncomfortable with using it as often as he had been, though of course he had managed to avoid divulging the reason for that.

 

Still, as much as they all constantly watched each other's backs they'd been - or at least she had been - watching him more carefully during battle, ensuring he didn't get so buried under youkai that he felt cornered into using the wind tunnel. Thankfully he was a strong and experienced fighter, and between his shakujou and ofuda he rarely saw need to take the rosary off his hand.

 

When Miroku made a small cough Sango realized she'd been silent for some time and turned to Shippo and Kirara who were also gazing at her inquisitively. “Well, what do you two think?” she asked. “You interested in taking a trip, just the four of us?”

 

Kirara mewed under the barrage of crayons raining down on her as Shippo flung out his arms in excitement, yelling shrilly. “We're going on a trip, we're going on a trip,” he sing-songed, before suddenly coming to a halt. “Wait, what if Kagome comes back when we're gone?”

 

Sango, glad she wouldn't have to somehow coerce the stubborn little kit into coming along for Miroku's sake, smiled and shook her head at his antics. “We'll tell Kaede our plans and, though we should be back before the others return, if we are held up then she can pass along the information. Besides, you know that with Inuyasha's nose he'll be able to sniff us out if they decide to follow along.”

 

“You're right,” said the kit glumly, as if unhappy to admit to Inuyasha's competence.

 

Miroku chuckled. “Why don't we all turn in early tonight? The sooner we leave tomorrow the sooner we'll be able to return.”

 

Sango shot him a sharp glance. “Shall I help you repack the camp tonight then, houshi-sama?” He'd decorously, if suspiciously, offered to do all the unpacking once they'd arrived back in Kaede's village.

 

“No need.” He waved off her offer. “I hadn't yet bothered to make camp.”

 

Now she was sure he'd been planning their excursion. She had no doubt he had reason upon reason planned in that devious mind of his for convincing them had they proven reluctant from the start. She really had no idea what he was up to but was sure she'd find out sometime during their week together.

 

Their week together. The thought brought her pause - a full seven days on the road with no other adults (well, Kirara didn't count in the same way), always ready with their prying eyes and off-hand commentary. Her eyes slid back to the monk, who was already settling himself against the wall in preparation to sleep, and she wondered what to make of him.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The first day of their journey passed uneventfully. Miroku had kept up the pace until that first evening, when she'd cited she'd prefer to sleep under the stars since it was so nice out than go through the hassle of one of his habitual cons. His eyes had laughed at her and she knew he was supposing her jealous, not wanting him around the temptation of another innkeeper's pretty daughter, but he was only partially right. It actually had little to do with women in particular - she'd grown to trust his commitment to her, despite his occasional light flirtations with others. The latter she attributed either to years of ingrained habit or simply the nature of his charismatic personality. When she looked closely she could see there was no desire behind it.

 

No, she wasn't jealous as much as she was feeling possessive. It was so rare they got to be like this together that she didn't want to be intruded upon by a group of strangers, no matter how well-meaning.

 

So they camped in a small glade and chatted around the fire, laughing at Shippo's antics as Kirara played tag with him. The tension she'd felt in Miroku was slowly draining away as the tranquility of the night crept in on them. It was still there but it wasn't the pressing distraction it had been.

 

They fell asleep to the sound of the wind in the trees, of night insects coming to life as the rest of the world slumbered around them. It was more peaceful than Sango had felt in a while; at least, she had thought. With vivid, horrific images flashing before her eyes in color more brilliant than possible in reality, she awoke with a start and threw herself from her bedroll, waking Miroku with the sudden movement. She ignored his startled questioning as she groped single-mindedly for his hand, touching the cloth covering his kazaana so carefully he quieted and just watched.

 

She stroked the fabric and beads just a moment longer, as if assuring herself that what she was seeing and feeling was real. Abruptly she started, seeming to gather herself, and she stiffened. “I apologize,” she choked out. “I'm just going to…clear my head,” she hastily explained before standing and walking into the cover of the trees.

 

Miroku watched her go, bemused and concerned. Slowly he started after her, stopping short when he felt Shippo jump onto his shoulder.

 

He gave the kit a kind look. “While both Sango and I appreciate your concern, Shippo, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to remain behind this time.”

 

“But why?” he whined, already drooping.

 

Miroku's eyes lit with mischief. “Who else will protect the camp while we're gone?”

 

The kitsune snuck a glance to the right and Miroku followed his gaze to see Kirara.

 

“Ah. Well, while I don't deny that our friend is a mighty fighter,” he nodded his head to her in deference and she seemed to shrug - either in acknowledgement or indifference he wasn't sure, “but not all scenarios require a physical confrontation. What if some simple human travelers pass by?” Of course the probability of that happening in the middle of the night was slim to none, but he hoped Shippo wouldn't catch on to that. “You would be able to transform yourself to look like a human and talk them off. Wouldn't you say that's a better option?”

 

Shippo nodded hesitantly.

 

“And,” Miroku added, “it's something only you can do.” At this, Shippo was positively bouncing on his shoulder with excitement and Miroku had no further trouble in getting him to remain behind.

 

He made his way out of their clearing, manoeuvring through the trees until he caught up to Sango a few minutes later. She was wise enough not to go far from the camp, despite her embarrassment and desire for isolation, but he had to wind back and forth between the dense foliage of the forest a bit in order to locate her.

 

She was standing next to a small copse of trees, the moonlight filtering through the thick branches in thin streams that only served to illuminate her outline. He stopped short when she sensed his presence, visibly tensing.

 

He waited, letting her have the time to adjust to his invasion, but he couldn't remain silent for long. “Sango, we all have nightmares - our lives are sometimes little more than living versions of them. You have nothing to be ashamed of simply for trying to eradicate the fear that yet another one has come true.”

 

She made no reply but he was content to wait, seeing as he had no intention of leaving her alone. When she finally did speak, her question surprised him. “Can you promise me something? Will you promise not to grope me tonight?” She was too vulnerable, she wouldn't be able to deal with it.

 

He sighed, smiling wryly, slightly chagrined she even had to ask. “Of course.” He recognized there were plenty of situations where a well-placed grope wouldn't diffuse the tension or redirect attention.

 

He stood utterly still as she spun and stalked toward him, afraid any movement on his part would deter her. Sliding up to him, only showing a sliver of hesitation at the last second, she turned her back to him, grabbing his right hand in a tight grasp and holding it in front of her. After that she didn't move again, only staring at his hand with an intensity he could feel despite not being able to see her face.

 

After a moment he finally understood and moved closer, free arm wrapping around her waist in the hug she needed but couldn't or wouldn't ask for. He felt her relax slightly and he rested his head by hers. “I'm not going anywhere; I won't leave so easily.”

 

She didn't say anything, just nodded once in acknowledgement of his words, and he contented himself with holding her well into the night.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The next day their pace was much more leisurely, if still very one-directional. Miroku knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there.

 

It was midmorning before they first encountered trouble - an oni which, while troublesome and cumbersome, was dispatched easily enough. Truthfully, Sango had almost wished the fight would go on a bit longer, happy for the chance to do some real exercise aside from all their walking. Swinging around Hiraikotsu was something she rather enjoyed when the situation wasn't full of mortal peril. It was somewhat cathartic for her, and without Kagome around - and those shards that acted as the demon equivalent of the proverbial catnip - they were getting attacked far less than was usual for their party.

 

Which was why that day proved so odd.

 

Not an hour after they'd faced down the oni they were accosted by another one. The two hadn't looked anything alike so she doubted they'd had any blood connection, but for all Sango knew they could've been in cohorts, so finding another so quickly wasn't out of the norm.

 

When they encountered a small group of lesser youkai soon after, however, they began to become suspicious. Again, they were dealt with quickly and without fanfare, but the four of them moved on much more warily, eyes constantly scanning the terrain, more expecting than not expecting to see something else coming upon them soon.

 

It came sooner than they expected.

 

Miroku was the first to spot them, shouting, “From the left,” as he jumped into the fray. Sango swung Hiraikotsu, sending it careening out into the horde in front of Miroku, jumping back far enough to intercept it on the way back and also get the chance to take in the scene in front of her.

 

There were masses of youkai swarming toward them, row upon row of them, though thankfully all were lesser demons that were easier to take care of. The only downside to that was that, being as mindless as they were, they had no major instincts for self-preservation and would throw themselves fully into a fight, charging headlong with no thought of death to hold them back.

 

They didn't normally congregate together like this, however, and Sango wondered what had drawn them. Were the shard rumours true? But if so, why were they attacking their small group when they had no shards instead of heading toward the source of whatever power they sensed?

 

She picked up her weapon in both hands, swinging it back and forth in a deadly arc that cut a swath through the swarm, working her way toward where Miroku was holding ground in front of Kirara and Shippo. There was only one set of circumstances under which they normally faced youkai in this number, but something seemed off so she directed her query to the monk. “Naraku?” she asked before tipping her chin down to indicate he should duck slightly. Hiraikotsu swung only inches above his head, decapitating a slim, snaky creature that was flying up behind him.

 

Miroku returned the gesture, using one hand on her back to push her slightly behind him as his shakujou impaled another under the jaw, instantly disintegrating it. Now back to back, he pulled out some off the ofuda he always had prepared early, aiming the first few at the nearest youkai to give him a moment to convey his suspicions to Sango.

 

“I don't think so,” he remarked. “For one, there's a decided lack of shouki, not to mention none of his saimyoushou.” He always had those around as of late, for the dual purpose of spying on the group and to try to keep the houshi from using his kazaana. “Plus, by this point either he or one of his henchmen is usually boasting about something or other, bragging about how we'll finally fall. No,” he shook his head slowly, “somehow this has an entirely different feel.”

 

Sango pulled out the tanto she kept for tight battles - being unable as she was to swing Hiraikotsu around without injuring one of her companions should they shift suddenly - using it to finish a youkai Kirara had bitten down but, as she'd moved to her next target, it had started to writhe on the ground, going for the fire-cat's legs. Sango sliced it through with detached precision, taking a moment to verify that the kit was holding up alright, even with Kirara keeping a close eye on him as he perched on her back. She had to admit he was actually doing rather well, using his kitsune-bi to blind and confuse the enemy as they charged, giving his companion an extra split second with which to make her move, swiping them down from the air viciously. All in all they were paired rather well.

 

“You're doing well, Shippo,” she commented, knowing how important it was to receive affirmation when trying new things in combat. She grimaced, however, when he turned from what he was doing to smile up at her at the praise. Obviously he still had a lot of things to learn. As she stabbed a youkai descending on them from above she gave him a pointed look, which made him shrug sheepishly and instantly return to his previous occupation.

 

Turning slightly back to Miroku she asked, “What do you make of this then? This certainly isn't normal behavior.”

 

He took a while to answer, though whether that was from thinking over his answer or because he was too occupied with fighting she wasn't sure, being too focused on those youkai in front of her to do more than glance in his direction.

 

“From what I gather,” he said slowly, “these lesser youkai only attack en masse when they are either threatened or coerced.”

 

She affirmed that with a grunt. “That is the normal cycle, yes. So either we inadvertently stumbled onto a mating or birthing ground -”

 

Miroku interrupted, “- Which I doubt since I grew up around this area and know it rather well.”

 

“-Or there is something or someone else manipulating them from behind the scenes aside from Naraku,” she finished.

 

As she took in his words, she groaned aloud. If the first scenario wasn't possible, given the location, that meant it was most likely the second. That was all they needed, someone else trying for the villain shtick. “How close are we to Mushin's temple now?”

 

He was panting for breath, causing her spin to make sure he was holding his own alright. He had his staff crossed with the horns of a very obstinate youkai, both of them stuck since their strength - or at least their momentum - was about equal and neither was backing down. She saw the problem instantly - he couldn't actually wrest his shakujou free unless one of them gave a little bit, and if Miroku were the one to do so the demon would simply follow, leaving them both still caught together. With a quick glance to make sure Kirara and Shippo were still holding their own, she slowly fought her way from his back to his side, thrusting her tanto in the ground and lifting Hiraikotsu, bringing it down on the demon's middle, cutting it in half. She left the oversized weapon stuck in the dirt where it was, providing a partial barrier on one side of them.

 

Flashing her a quick smile in appreciation, Miroku turned his back to her again. “I'd say about two hours or less.”

 

The scenery had seemed vaguely familiar but she hadn't realized they were so close. In that case it made even less sense for there to be so many youkai congregated in the area. Given its proximity to the shrine there must be holy men wandering through these woods on a regular basis.

 

She shook her head reflexively. While it was important for them to find out who or what was causing the attacks as quickly as possible, the more immediate problem was still surviving the current battle. Picking up Hiraikotsu she tilted her head at Miroku to indicate her direction and then she backed off from the rest of them, giving herself enough room to use the giant boomerang to its advantage.

 

While they were having to compensate for not having Inuyasha and Kagome present, who they were so used to fighting with at this point it was difficult for her to not keep checking over her shoulder for them, somehow they'd filled the gaps so easily and naturally Sango didn't think they had any blind spots they needed to be cautious of. After fighting with Kirara and Miroku for so long it was fairly simple to read their movements, to know what they were planning next, to know where to direct a hit to follow up on and take advantage of one of their strikes, to know when they were going to make themselves vulnerable and she needed to watch their backs.

 

She knew Miroku was reading her the same way by the small flickers she could see out of the corners of his eyes every so often. The only thing that worried her was seeing how often he clenched his right hand - she fervently hoped from trying to suppress the habit to use it rather than from any pain, discomfort, or distraction it caused him.

 

When she sent Hiraikotsu out and it had sliced through half a dozen youkai, it got deflected by the horns of the last one, slamming into a tree and veering off path. Its trajectory only changed slightly, thankfully, but she had to run and jump to catch it, falling to the ground with a thump and barely maintaining her balance. When she looked up Miroku was already there, his eyes not on her but on the field, and she appreciated the way he was able to move in and protect her weak spots without making it seem like she was incompetent. As soon as she was stable again she tapped his shoulder and he moved back toward where Kirara now flew in the air, a quickly-tiring Shippo still resting on her back.

 

Suddenly, just as they were finally getting the numbers under control, there was a thrashing in the trees and the ground trembled under foot. A great creaking erupted from the woods and then, suddenly, a giant centipede appeared. Sango stared at it, aghast at the size. Miroku, too, made the connection as he glanced quickly between Hiraikotsu and the lumbering giant. Her weapon had been made from the jawbone of a youkai just about that size - and it had taken a group of highly trained taijiya to take it down. Of course, it was possible with just one - Sango had proven that before, formidable as she was in her anger - but it was never advisable, and here they had three - almost four - able fighters.

 

Still, she mentally braced herself, glancing quickly at Miroku to see how they wanted to handle the new situation. He gave her a quick nod before turning and running to Kirara, the fire-cat having made her way to the outskirts of the battle to better protect her back and the kitsune riding on her. As soon as Miroku started toward her she burst into a sprint, loping to meet the houshi half-way, sliding around at just the right moment to allow him to jump onto her back, and then they took to the air.

 

Sango ran at the centipede, sending Hiraikotsu swooping toward it but only landing a glancing blow. Dodging lesser youkai left and right, she made her way closer to the beast until she was nearly under its legs, hoping for the chance to possibly eviscerate it from the soft underbelly. It rushed her, aiming as many legs at her as it could, only missing by her skill at evasion and the fact that she was so far underneath it, its visibility was limited. Crouching, she bunched her arms, getting as much power built up as she could as she thrust the corner of her weapon up into the thing's belly. However, it had chosen that exact moment to drop its weight, nearly crushing her and shrinking the distance she had to move Hiraikotsu so much that her attack had nearly no impact. It shuddered as it fell against the blunt corner of the weapon, though, and Sango used its hesitation to roll out from under it, striking out at a couple legs as she went, succeeding in hacking them off.

 

Miroku hovered above the creature on Kirara, splitting his attention. He used specially written ofuda on the centipede, knowing they were too weak to do much damage to it but would at least slow its movements, giving Sango a better chance to take it down. Aside from that he also worked at keeping the lesser youkai at bay, trying to prevent Sango from having to ever take her full attention away from the giant monster in front of her.

 

A mighty roar drawn from the creature made him look her way though. For some reason it was staring at her weapon, which Miroku hoped was just in anger at having it used to cut off its legs, but it paused long enough, looking back and forth between Sango, the weapon, and itself, that he wondered if it was making the connection between itself and what Hiraikotsu was. If that were the case, he wondered whether that would make the youkai cower in fear, knowing what Sango was capable of doing to one as large and strong as itself, or whether it would become engulfed in rage.

 

When it broke its silence with another mighty trumpeting, smashing its legs down where Sango had been standing just a split second before, he knew which path it had chosen.

 

In its rage, the centipede lost what little control it had. It went on a rampage, smashing into trees, upturning boulders, flicking its long bulbous tail-end against lesser youkai that got in the way as it went after Sango.

 

There was nothing for it. With the enormous youkai wreaking as much destruction as it possibly could there was no predicting its movements, no safe zones to fall back to, no calculating the next attack - and Sango was down in the middle of it, fighting with such glorious splendor he had to force his eyes from her. But she was surrounded, and even as he directed Kirara to land down next to her, there was little headway they could make in such a situation, being as outnumbered as they were.

 

So he bent over, whispering to Kirara, and dropped them to the ground before bounding away, knocking over her mistress and pinning her down as he opened his kazaana.

 

“No!” she shouted, trying to make her voice heard over the twisting winds, but he made no reaction, keeping his back to her as he braced himself, taking in every single youkai from the field, the larger youkai being sucked down in a slow dance that seemed to last forever.

 

When he closed it the silence was deafening but for Sango's panting. Pushing Kirara and Shippo off her she ran toward Miroku, gripping his arm in sudden fear.

 

“Houshi-sama, are you all right?!” When he didn't answer quickly enough for her, she shook him before placing her hand on his face and forcing him to turn to her. “Are you all right?” she repeated.

 

Shaking his head, he seemed to come back to himself. “I'm sorry, Sango. Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.”

 

“B-but the kazaana…”

 

“Is fine, Sango,” he reassured her, hand curling around hers.

 

She wouldn't let it drop though. “But you're using it less than usual. We've all noticed. You're trying to keep from using it at all, don't deny it.”

 

He sighed heavily. “After having it torn through once I've just learned to be a bit more…cautious. That's all.”

 

“Are you sure that isn't why we're going to see Mushin?”

 

Startled, he dropped her hand, chuckling wryly. “Caught onto that, did you?”

 

She didn't join him in his mirth. “I may not be as sneaky, or as good with words as you are, but I'm not an idiot.”

 

He shot her a sharp glance. “I've never thought you were.”

 

Relaxing minutely, she said, “I know you don't,” grateful that it was the truth. “That's not what I meant by it.”

 

He waited patiently for her to gather her words.

 

“We all have our secrets,” she said, an obvious mimicry of his declaration the previous night. “Though I would be most willing to share yours, I don't begrudge you them.”

 

He was silent and she sighed. “Still, that doesn't mean you need to use excuses and stoop to subterfuge in order to make us willing to help you out, allow you visits with those close to you, or even accompany you on said visits.” She thought for a minute, then amended, “Well, maybe with Inuyasha you do, but that's more because he's stubborn than anything else. He needs a reason to allow himself to do anything that isn't directly linked to Naraku's downfall.” Sango frowned at the thought, surprised when Miroku smirked, and arched an eyebrow in question.

 

“Perhaps he and I are more alike than I'd previously given credence to. I've been looking for an excuse to come see Mushin for a while now, and these youkai rumours - which we seem to have managed to stumble into most proficiently - seemed to be just the thing.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Sango muttered, momentarily distracted, “I think it's about time we get to the bottom of these attacks before yet another one happens.”

 

Miroku nodded his assent and Sango turned to check on Kirara and chat with Shippo, making sure he was all right after the fight he'd just been through. When she suddenly heard the sound of sucking wind behind her, her heart seized up and she feared the worst. With a whispered word to Kirara to take the young kit to the other side of the clearing, she stood and turned slowly, dreading what she might see. She expected the straight stance, the force of the wind driving his feet solidly into the ground. What she didn't expect to see was his profile - he almost always turned his back on them when given the opportunity, in order to prevent any accidents - and the utter calm on his face. Least of all, she hadn't expected to see the rosary dangling from the fingers of his left hand.

 

“Houshi-sama, what on earth are you doing?”

 

She wasn't sure if she startled him or if something else caused the reaction, but he suddenly swung toward her, arm still outstretched though aimed far above her head, and she might have been caught in if she hadn't already had her hand on Hiraikotsu, which was firmly stuck in the ground. She yelled at him again and immediately the wind was gone, the wind tunnel sealed again as he brought a trembling hand to his face.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” he murmured, “I don't know what came over me. I thought I saw something though - perhaps a trick of the light?”

 

He was so shaky she was unsure what to make of it. Had he somehow been poisoned the first time he'd used the kazaana? He was acting so strangely though - Miroku was never so careless as to point such a ferocious weapon in the direction of a comrade. She eyed him warily before stepping up to him, putting her hand to his upper arm to draw his attention and attempt to calm him. “What happened?”

 

Miroku just shook his head. “I don't know, I just don't know.”

 

She frowned but didn't know what else to say. “Perhaps we should rest for now. Or, if you prefer, we could head straight to Mushin's temple and try to gather some information from the people there first.”

 

“No!” His answer was shocking in its force and immediacy. He must've sensed that because he repeated himself, much more softly than the first time. “No, that's all right. We don't want to lose any time. We'll still have time to do that so we should see to this threat first, right?”

 

Unpleased as she was with the answer, she still let it go. She'd just have to keep a closer eye on him to make sure he didn't push himself too far. “If you're sure,” was all she said, turning to motion Kirara and Shippo over.

 

As soon as her back was turned she heard the unmistakable sound of it again, and this time she didn't hesitate. She pivoted on her heel, having only a half-second to take in the look of absolute glee across Miroku's face before she circled around behind him, grabbed his arm, and tackled him to the ground. Pushing his palm to the dirt and making sure he wasn't struggling, she put her knees to his back and grabbed the rosary, tugging it forcefully around his right hand.

 

“Just what do you think you are doing?” she hissed. Pushing off him, she still hovered over him, expectant. When he finally rolled himself over he looked up at her with cool eyes.

 

“I didn't think I needed anyone's permission to use something on my own body.”

 

A chill slithered up her spine, making its way fuzzily into her brain. Part of her reacted to his words, logically wondering how she'd react under similar circumstances and knowing she had no real right to ask him not to use his kazaana, but something about the situation just rang wrong to her. He was suddenly acting so oddly. Her suspicion that he must've taken in something toxic or otherwise harmful in that enormous batch of youkai his hand had consumed, ratcheted up considerably.

 

She chose her words carefully. “You just mentioned to me that you are trying to use your kazaana as little as possible.” As she said the name of his curse he looked down at his hand, almost quizzically. Yes, something was definitely wrong. “While saying one thing and doing another is somewhat of a specialty of yours, this is not the occasion for it.”

 

So saying she stood up, dusting herself off, hoping he bought into her nonchalance even while worry was eating her up inside. “Besides, we can't have you risk damaging either it or your hand, as we're likely to still be doing a fair amount of fighting in the near future. We need you in top form, not caught off guard or injured from playing around with yourself.”

 

Quickly she turned and walked away to hide her blush at the unintentional double entendre. His lack of calling attention to it and capitalizing on her mistake clenched it in her mind: something was undoubtedly off.

 

The notion was only confirmed when he suddenly attacked her from behind.

 

His shakujou rattled as he raised it to strike, giving her ample time to spin and grab the staff before he'd gotten much momentum on it. The move was shaky and awkward - not at all what she expected of him. More for curiosity's sake and to see this thing through, whatever it was, she stayed on the defense, only keeping him from causing any damage as she used the time to analyze him.

 

His movements were strange, disjointed, and she found herself having to dodge unexpected attacks a couple times because they were things she'd never seen him do before - and for having fought with him through who knew how many battles and knowing each and every move in his repertoire, that was extraordinary. Soon they were both panting and grunting, though she more from frustration than exertion, but she burned with anger at his next words.

 

“I-I can't seem to control what I'm doing.” Of course, he would say that now that it was obvious he was outmatched. “Don't worry about me, just fight dirty if you need to.”

 

Her eyes blazed. “I am a taijiya. I don't need to `fight dirty' in order to beat you.” She had his arm pinned behind him in about three seconds and then he was face down on the ground again as she tied his hands. In less than a minute he was trussed up between two trees, arms pulled in either direction. She'd have just tied him to one tree so he at least had something to lean against, but with the way he was acting and his seeming fascination with his kazaana, she didn't trust him to not attempt to rub the rosary against the tree bark in order to free the wind tunnel. If that happened they were all in trouble, as the closest replacement would be two hours away, and she had no idea if they would even have a duplicate ready or would need to prepare one. She'd never seen him open the kazaana for more than short bursts, a minute or two maximum, so she had a feeling such a situation would mean doom for him, even if he didn't realize it in the condition he was in.

 

Crouching in front of him, her eyes resting upon the top of his head as he slumped and kept his gaze on his lap, she asked him “What has gotten into you, houshi-sama?”

 

He didn't answer for so long, she feared he wasn't going to. Only when she stood did he finally respond. “I,” he paused, breathed deep, “I don't know. I don't know what's gotten into me.”

 

Her eyes hardened. Miroku never acted like that, never doubted himself and acted hesitant in his own body, and nothing had the right to make him do so. She stalked back to where Kirara had Shippo collared, his shirt in her teeth, holding him back when he'd obviously wanted to rush forward. She thanked the fire-cat with a pat on the head before dipping down to free Shippo, crouching and holding him up so they were eye to eye.

 

“Shippo, something is wrong with Miroku,” she explained, wincing when the kit let loose a wail. “Shh,” she cautioned, “we don't want to worry him any more than he already is, right?”

 

He glanced over her shoulder at his tied up friend and bit his lip, but nodded hesitantly.

 

She smiled at him appreciatively. “Now the first thing we have to do is figure out what's wrong with him. It could be poison, but he's been poisoned before and didn't act anything like this, so I'm going to check other possibilities as well. Right now I'm going to use some vapors to see if there are any youkai playing tricks with his body so I need you two to stay well away. I don't want you getting hurt by it.”

 

The kit sniffed. “You mean like when Mushin had all those worms come out of him?”

 

Sango nodded. “Something like that. I need to know what's wrong with him before we try moving him to the temple. So you'll stay with Kirara, right? No matter what happens?”

 

Shippo hesitated, obviously reluctant to stay behind where he couldn't do anything. “I need your word, Shippo. I can't worry that what I'm doing might harm you, and Kirara will know when you can join us - either when everything's clear or when you can help out.”

 

He looked at the fire-cat, who meowed her assurance, and he straightened his spine, nodding briskly. “Just let me know if I can do anything, please?” He held out the word, making it an entreaty.

 

“Of course,” she said, standing and going to her pack. Grabbing several packets of dried powder and one vial of liquid, she closed the bag back up and left it with Kirara.

 

She proceeded to walk a full circle around Miroku, leaving small batches of the mixture she made in strategic places so the smoke would completely surround him. She watched him carefully for the next half-hour, but aside from some coughing, he did nothing else.

 

She sat, puzzled. What she hadn't told the others was that she was almost positive the houshi had to be being possessed in some form or another. While poison could cause behavior changes, it didn't happen like this. He was just acting plain different. Not only were his fighting patterns different, but even his speech and mannerisms had changed. Normally, if he were nervous or frustrated about something and wasn't meditating, Miroku would clench his right hand or fidget with his left, sometimes both together as he'd play with his rosary. With his hands tied up though, she couldn't say that his leaving them limp was completely out of character. Something less noticeable though, which he did less often and typically only when he was trying to remain as outwardly calm as possible, was he'd press his right foot into the ground, as if preparing to take a step or bracing himself for receiving an attack or opening the kazaana.

 

Yet he did nothing; just sat there making no move at all, save for breathing. She'd wonder if he were meditating but the air around him was just somehow wrong.

 

Aside from all that he also held himself differently and spoke differently. There was no mistaking at this point that something else was having control over his body. The question at this point was, how much control did it have?

 

And, something else that would give her a clue as to its nature, was how it had happened. Had she missed something? Had he absorbed a spirit, somehow, into his body, through use of the kazaana? There were so many things about the curse that were still a mystery - such as where all those sucked into it actually went. Did they disappear? Did they appear instantly in hell? Did the kazaana empty into a void, or an abyss? If so, did such a thing actually exist inside Miroku? If the saimyoushou could poison him from the inside out, what could other creatures affect? Could he be possessed from something he'd absorbed? It didn't make sense though, as things such as that enormous centipede couldn't claw him apart from the inside, but she couldn't discount anything just yet, since she couldn't understand what was happening at all.

 

Perhaps a youkai or spirit of some sort had avoided being sucked in to the kazaana, instead only being directed toward Miroku's body by the strong wind, but had somehow managed to change its path at the last second. Doubtful, but she couldn't underestimate the strength of an unknown force. Or maybe it had simply snuck up behind him during the battle while they were distracted.

 

She shook her head. It was impossible to tell at this point, and if they were truly dealing with possession of any type then it was best to get someone who could work with the holy arts. Eyeing the monk warily she decided to try one last tactic. “Do you still have any ofuda left on you?” At his nod she plunged on.

 

Since he was currently tied up though, she was going to have to get them out herself. Tucking her hand inside his kesa, she blushed as her fingers brushed up against his inner robe or the occasional bit of skin. Finally feeling the crackle of paper she grabbed the bundle and pulled it out, scanning it cursorily. Some were blank while others were written on in a variety of different symbols and kanji, though the predominant pattern she recognized as the one he used for the most general of exterminations.

 

“Are any of the ones you already have written set to be youkai deterrents?” He shook his head and she sighed, knowing her job was now going to be a bit more difficult. “Then will you direct me how to make one?”

 

His eyes unfocused for a moment, as if confused by her request, before they suddenly jumped to sharp clarity. “You want to keep youkai clear of the area?”

 

She looked at him oddly. “Yes.”

 

“All right then, write these words.”

 

After she also grabbed the ink and brush from inside his robes, he directed her through creating the characters, stroke by stroke on one she wasn't familiar with, and she was glad she'd picked up enough from both he and Kagome through their travels that he didn't have to direct her through each one. When she was finished she carefully set everything aside and brushed her hands, taking in her handy work. The kanji were rough, nothing like the smooth lines of Miroku's script, but readable enough.

 

“You're still able to activate this, then?” she asked, turning to him, unsure whether he had any control left over his body.

 

Miroku hesitated for a moment before nodding, and she held the ofuda up to his left hand. He mumbled under his breath, softly enough that she couldn't make out the words, and she felt a small thrum of energy where her fingers touched the paper. When he was done he looked up and nodded at her, and she in turn stood and headed over toward Shippo and Kirara. She didn't know what he thought as she walked away, but his gaze didn't feel particularly warm against her back.

 

She directed the two of them behind a copse of trees where they would be shielded from Miroku's view, but where she could still see him through small breaks in the foliage. Then she held up the ofuda to them. “What do you feel from this?”

 

The typical purification power Miroku placed in one would act more like a bad smell in the noses of those youkai near, regardless of their power, and none would seek to get closer to the foreboding stench. So while it wasn't powerful enough to actually harm a youkai, she still expected her companions to feel a lingering threat exuding from the paper. Instead, their eyes focused intently on the ofuda and they both leaned toward it slightly. Instantly, she shielded it behind her back, breaking their gaze.

 

“I take it this isn't his usual charm,” she said drily, eyebrow raised.

 

Kirara shook her head and Shippo mimicked her, adding, “It smells good.”

 

Great, she thought, just great. Miroku went and made a demon attracting charm instead of a repelling one. It was almost as if he wanted to draw more youkai toward them. The thought made her pause and her eyes narrowed.

 

Ripping the ofuda into tiny little shreds, and confirming with Kirara that it had no lingering effects, she stalked across the field, standing with barely restrained anger in front of him. “Since you've started acting oddly you haven't once spoken my name.”

 

He startled, a slow smile spreading across his face that reached his eyes in all the wrong ways. “My apologies, Sango,” he said, drawing the word out in a way that made her shiver, “I had no intention of offending you.”

 

Dread curled in her stomach. She knew, she knew what was happening - that somehow that wasn't Miroku speaking to her - but she couldn't bring herself to admit it, not yet. After all, he still knew who she was, didn't he?

 

“Tell me why we are out here?'

 

He looked at her blandly. “Don't tell me something has happened to your memory?”

 

She glared. “Just answer the question.”

 

“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hands in the little slack allotted them. “We were coming this way to deal with a possible youkai threat…and see Mushin.”

 

The way he said it made her almost sure he was throwing that last bit in to distract her, but she couldn't help asking. “And why are we going to see him?”

 

Miroku smirked. “Prying, are we?”

 

Sango flushed, wondering whether he, or it, was trying to anger her, embarrass her, or whether he simply didn't know. She couldn't deny it any longer though, not when everything was so wrong. His mannerisms, his speech patterns, everything was different. More than anything she was angry with herself for refusing to see it at first, but if he couldn't control his body what was to say that he had any control over his mouth? Obviously something was manipulating him and it was now up to her to figure out what, and how to deal with it without doing any damage to Miroku.

 

She tried one more tack, searching for information. “What is your favorite memory with me?”

 

It was a test; they both knew it.

 

The words came spilling from his mouth, smooth but hurried. “When we fought for Lord Kuranosuke.” There was a long, tense pause, and then he added silkily, “And when you left with the rest of us.”

 

Sango's face burned from all the blood rushing to it and she hastily turned away to hide it. Quickly grabbing the rest of the ofuda - she didn't dare leave them within his reach, despite having him tied up - she rushed away to where Shippo was impatiently waiting with Kirara, hoping to give the impression that his words had embarrassed her more than she let on. Instead, she sensed the clue that had been given her.

 

He was obviously possessed, but her surety has slipped when her smoke had failed to draw any reaction from him. Even if it were a powerful youkai, some discomfort should show. But nothing. So when there wasn't a youkai involved with his person what was left?

 

Miroku had to be alive, had to still be conscious underneath the possession, because otherwise whatever was controlling him wouldn't have brought up that memory in the first place. After all, when she'd thought she'd been fighting that enormous bear youkai at Lord Kuranosuke's manor, she'd instead been dealing with an apparition - a projection. That might not be exactly what was happening in this situation - they could also be dealing with a multitude of different types of spirits that were also predisposed to possessing a host - but the fact that it was incorporeal was the clue she'd needed.

 

She was loath to admit it, but this might be something over her head. Kneeling in front of Shippo, she sighed heavily. “I need your help.”

 

The kit nodded readily, excited at his chance to do his part.

 

What she really wanted to do was have them search the area for an enemy while she watched Miroku, or vice versa. She hated being threatened by an enemy she couldn't physically confront. For just a second she felt somewhat lost, but that wasn't something she could afford to indulge in, especially when so much was on the line.

 

Instead, she had to take a leap of faith and put her trust, and Miroku's fate, in the hands of others. “I need you to go to Mushin as quickly as possible and bring him back here.”

 

Shippo cocked his head. “Why don't you just bring him to the temple?”

 

Sango shook her head. She'd considered that and didn't like the idea. “There's more chance of him being able to try something in the air. I'll do that if we have no other option, but while there are safer choices I'll take them.” She didn't mention her fear that, if he were possessed by a projection of some type, then taking him out of range could rip the possessor from his mind in a way that would leave Miroku damaged.

 

“Er, Sango?” The kit shifted his eyes back and forth, not quite ready to meet her gaze.

 

She laid her hand on top of his head and waited for him to be ready.

 

“What's wrong with Miroku? He's acting all funny. Smells funny too,” he added under his breath.

 

She shot a sharp glance to Kirara, who shook her head. “What do you mean, `smells funny'? Can you sense anything else?”

 

“No, no, I don't smell anyone else like a youkai or anything. He's just…different. You know, like how you smell different when you're happy or when you're sad? Well, Miroku's normal scent is a kind of combination of the two, but now he mostly just smells happy. Almost excited.”

 

That was not good news - it meant whatever was holding on to Miroku was not going to be inclined to let go easily. This only went to solidify her reasoning for involving someone with holy powers.

 

She crouched further down until she was looking Shippo eye to eye. “Yes, something is wrong with Miroku,” she stated bluntly, cursing herself and wishing she had either Miroku's or Kagome's talent with words. “He's not…himself right now.”

 

“But what's wrong with him?” he whined.

 

Sango hesitated, uncomfortable with the answer. “I'm not certain,” she said, hating to admit the truth. “I have a couple ideas but that's why we need Mushin.”

 

Shippo nodded. She was sure he didn't understand completely but he trusted her enough to do what needed to be done. She only hoped she was worthy of that trust.

 

“What if we see another monk before we get to the temple? Or a miko? Should we talk to them instead? I could transform into a person!” he suggested proudly, remembering Miroku's suggestion of the night before.

 

She hated to put down his idea but she shook her head. “Another holy person might not take the time to listen if you're with Kirara. Plus they might be able to sense your disguise and automatically think you're trying to trick them. No, it's safer to go to someone we can trust.”

 

The kit looked disappointed but didn't say anything else, so she knew he was willing to give up the point. Just to make sure though, she would have a word with Kirara privately before they left about not stopping for anything on their way.

 

She sent them off without much more to do and then hunkered down for the interminable wait to come, sitting across from a man who wore Miroku's face, spoke with his voice, but whose non-Miroku-ness made her skin crawl in its wrongness.

 

“Why do you fight for this body?” he asked, polite curiosity opening his expression slightly.

 

“He is my comrade,” she huffed. “As if I would give him up to the likes of you.”

 

“You love him.” An almost malicious glee crossed his features at the declaration and Sango fought not to scowl.

 

She saw no reason to deny it, not when it was obviously trying to wring a reaction out of her, upset her in some way. “He knows that.”

 

A small spasm went through his body. “No,” he shook his head after a long pause, “I don't think he did.”

 

That made Sango wonder. Was she really so poor in her declarations that he really hadn't understood her, or did this thing only have access to Miroku's memories without the means through which to interpret them. She fervently hoped the latter.

 

“What if I told you that extracting my presence, without my conscious will, would permanently damage this mind, leaving a mumbling husk of a fool behind? Would you be so willing to risk that?”

 

“There is no reason for me to believe you. You lie to make me doubt, which only leads me to believe you fear my ability to drive you out.”

 

And then he smiled, one of those slow, creeping smiles that Miroku was so good at, the kind that swallowed up his face and hid every other thing he was thinking. “And if you are wrong?”

 

She couldn't help it. The seed of doubt had been planted. But she had no other options left; she would not leave Miroku in this state. He would not want to be the vessel for some other creature, through which to work its mischief, of that she was sure. Besides, she hoped Mushin would have enough confidence for the both of them. No, no, it had to work, it had to.

 

“You look worried, Sango,” he said in a lilting voice that spoke of happiness. “Did I perhaps say something to vex you?” When she didn't respond he kept going. “After all, you wouldn't want a repeat of your brother now, would you?”

 

Sango froze, a cold rage burning in her gut. “He has nothing to do with this.”

 

“Oh, but doesn't he? You are so unwilling to harm your brother, even if it means to save him, yet you're willing to do so to this monk. Perhaps you don't truly love him after all.”

 

Before she'd even realized what she'd done, Sango had fingers across his neck, breathing harshly in his face.

 

He laughed.

 

Disgusted with herself she ripped her hand away, moving back slowly, never turning away from him, until she sat just a bit further away than where she'd started. Surreptitiously, she let her eyes scan his skin, breathing an inward sigh of relief when she saw not the slightest scratch on him. She couldn't believe she'd let his words get to her like that, despite knowing Kohaku was her sore spot. Still, if this thing truly had access to all of Miroku's memories then she had to guard well against any further attempts to elicit such a highly emotional reaction from her. Emotions made people sloppy, and that wasn't something she could afford.

 

Once she was sure her voice was strong enough, wouldn't betray even the slightest waver, she spoke. “I act how I do because I know, without a doubt, that the man whose body you inhabit would prefer death over being controlled by a malicious force. He would rather me kill him myself than let his body fall into your hands.” Okay, so the last was possibly a bit of a stretch, but she hoped he wouldn't be able to figure that out. And as she saw the confusion, the absolute concentration flicker across his eyes, she knew he was searching Miroku's memories for anything that would contradict her statement and that he couldn't come up with a thing.

 

She just prevented herself from smirking in that small triumph.

 

When she heard the familiar crackle of fire through air behind her, though, she thought she'd never been so happy for any sound. Kirara and Shippo touched down not far from her, Mushin climbing creakily off the fire-cat's back.

 

The old monk bounded toward her, sans his usual sake cloud, and she could only wonder at how Shippo must have explained the situation to have the man so on edge and in such a rush. Whatever it was, she appreciated it. “What's happened?” he asked, panting rather harshly for a man who had ridden the whole way there.

 

“Mushin-sama,” Sango greeted, giving the monk a short bow. “Miroku has become possessed - how or by what I'm not sure, only that there is no physical presence of any youkai.” She explained how she'd used a traditional taijiya vapor that had produced no results.

 

“Hmm,” he ruminated, rubbing his chin. “May I ask that you go wait on the other side of the clearing so that I may converse with Miroku and meditate as needed?”

 

She hesitated, hating to leave Miroku, even in the hands of the one she was placing all her hopes on, but begrudgingly she complied, pulling her companions along with her. Luckily, if her curiosity got the better of her, they were excellent eavesdroppers.

 

So she sat on one of the trees uprooted in the centipede's rampage, waiting and straining to hear, but nothing was happening. Mushin just sat calmly in front of Miroku, simply staring at him, as if he could read him just by looking at him. For all Sango knew, maybe he could.

 

An hour passed and Sango truly hoped he was taking Miroku's measure and hadn't just fallen asleep. Soon after, though, he began chanting, a long seamless stream of words that Sango had to block out because the effect of them was dizzying.

 

He fell quiet again, then pulled out a fresh ofuda, praying over it and sticking it to Miroku's forehead. He repeated the process, placing charms on each of Miroku's shoulders and his stomach. Finally he stood, his bones creaking in a way that Sango had to restrain herself from going to help him up. He gingerly picked up the younger monk's shakujou and examined it closely. Upon deciding it was fit, he spun with a grace that belied his age, and drove it into Miroku's stomach over the ofuda.

 

Miroku slumped over at the blunt impact, his breath expelling in a mighty `woosh'. Shippo shouted, trying to run to his friend, but Sango held him back by the tail. He shot her a look full of confusion and worry but whatever he saw on her face kept him from putting up a fight.

 

Miroku then began to shudder, a small trembling that grew to encompass the entirety of his body, and Sango saw the physical change come over him, as if an invisible sheet were melted away. As it passed, he slumped again, stilling into calmness, and Sango stood abruptly to attention, still grasping Shippo. When Mushin finally turned and gave her a nod, she raced forward.

 

“He's all right?” she asked, needing to hear it confirmed despite what she'd seen.

 

“Yes, yes,” he assured her. “He's fine now.”

 

Sango dropped to her knees in front of him and shook him gently. “Miroku?” she called. He looked up, his eyes woozy, but when he saw her the smile that broke across his face was all Miroku. She fought the urge to burst into tears of relief as Shippo launched himself at the houshi and Kirara rubbed herself up against his legs.

 

Once she was sure he was back to normal, however, disappointment sat uncomfortably in her belly. Not only did she feel like she'd let them all down with her inability to combat the threat, but after all her anxious worrying the solution itself seemed so…anti-climactic, and anger still curled inside her, frustrated there was no physical enemy to loose it on.

 

 

Shaking her head, she laughed deprecatingly at herself. She was such an idiot, ruminating over such trivial things in the face of such happiness. Half turning where she sat, she bowed low to Mushin. “Thank you.”

 

He chuckled. “No need to thank me - I don't think I enjoyed seeing him like that anymore than you did.”

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but might I request to be set free now?”

 

Sango snapped back to Miroku to see Shippo working unsuccessfully to untie the knots binding him.

 

“Oh,” she flushed, “of course!”

 

Once he was free she was surprised to feel herself hauled to her feet and unceremoniously pulled into an embrace. “You did it, Sango,” he whispered into her hair. Then he was lifting her, spinning in circles as her feet flew through the air. “You did it!” he shouted to the skies, laughing joyously.

 

She froze up, embarrassment running tightly through her, but she couldn't bring herself to break his hold, her arms instead coming to wrap around him, her heart lifting and freeing after the hours of worry.

 

When he set her down, though, she had to set him straight. “I didn't really do anything. You'd still be in that state if it weren't for Mushin.”

 

His eyes lit with mischief as he humoured her. “Of course.” He pulled away, reluctance clear on his face, but he turned to Mushin to give his thanks. The two chatted a few moments a caught up, the levity in the air contagious. “And did you happen to bring the packages I requested with you?” he asked, piquing Sango's curiosity.

 

“I sure did,” the old monk replied, patting his robes.

 

“What?” Sango started to ask, but Miroku cut her off.

 

“So, what do you think? Would you like to go after the thing that did this? You look like you could use a good fight.” He waggled his eyebrows but she chose to ignore that.

 

“You mean it has a physical presence somewhere? How do you know that?”

 

“I was aware of what was happening while I was trapped inside, I just had no control control. The words that Mushin used were particular for handling something that has the bulk of its spirit in another location.”

 

She spun to Mushin for confirmation and he nodded. “After thoroughly examining his aura I was able to pinpoint a particular element of taint that is exclusive to youkai. No spirit could produce such residue on its own.”

 

She nodded once. “Then where do we go?”

 

Both he and Miroku pointed northeast, grinning at each other as they did so. “Seems you haven't completely lost your touch yet, old man.”

 

“Not old, experienced. And this experienced monk just saved that sorry body of yours, so I wouldn't be complaining.”

 

Sango rolled her eyes. No wonder he liked to rib Inuyasha so much if this was what he'd grown up with. Without a word she started off in the direction they'd indicated, Miroku jogging to catch up with her. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw Mushin, with much less grace than he'd displayed earlier, climbing up onto Kirara's back, eating up time and keeping them a good distance behind.

 

“Just so you know,” Miroku suddenly spoke at her side, pulling her attention back, “you have my thanks as well, for doing everything you could to help me.”

 

She shook her head, hating to repeat herself, but, “There was really nothing I could do, so don't waste your thanks on me.”

 

To her consternation he chuckled. “So what, if you're not the one who delivers the fatal blow then your contribution doesn't count?”

 

She glared. This was completely different from a team battle.

 

“You encountered something unfamiliar and tried everything you could to defeat it. When you felt you were out of your element you put away your pride to ask help from someone who has powers you do not. To my way of thinking that requires a fierce amount of courage. Had you not thought to send for Mushin I'd still be in that state, so please do not downplay your role. I appreciate it wholeheartedly.”

 

Sango huffed irritably but did not reply, and Miroku smiled in victory.

 

“Now what do you say I let you have first crack at this youkai?”

 

Adrenaline thrummed in her veins but she made herself hold back. “What about you? You were the one being controlled, after all.”

 

He shrugged gallantly. “What can I say? Possession doesn't sit well with my body. I may need a whole day to recover fully.”

 

His eyes were twinkling and she was almost sure he was bluffing for her sake, but she couldn't bring herself to turn the offer down. She did have a lot of pent-up rage and frustration to work off, after all.

 

Before she could say another word, though, they were suddenly upon it, a grotesque approximation of a being, splayed on the ground as if too exhausted to even move. As soon as it sensed them, however, it was on its feet, thrashing around in the air, flailing limbs and tail to take out whatever was nearest.

 

They paused just long enough for the others to catch up with them and Miroku called out to Mushin. “Do you sense the same presence here?”

 

Mushin concentrated his senses a moment before nodding. “Yes, the projection came from this beast.”

 

Miroku clapped her on the shoulder. “Well, come on then.”

 

Sango didn't have to be told twice. She approached the beast with deadly calm, holding Hiraikotsu high, and when the thing lunged it moved right into the path of her weapon. It lurched back with a roar that quieted to a hiss before pointing a gnarled hand over her shoulder at Miroku. “Give me back that body!”

 

Sango fought the urge to sneer. “It's not yours and never will be.”

 

Suddenly its eyes focused on her with a quiet intensity. “Yours will do just as well then.”

 

She saw something lift from the creature, which flailed even more madly in the wake of its absence, and then something shot straight toward her. She tried to fight it off but Hiraikotsu passed through without interference and cold dread pierced her as she realized it was trying to take possession of her. As soon as it reached her, however, it seemed to bounce off and, though she couldn't hear it, she was sure there was an angry wail coming from it. It launched itself at her again and again with the same result each time, before finally retreating back to its original body.

 

Coming back to itself the creature shook its head, giving her just enough time to reach one hand to feel the back of her shoulder, the crinkle of paper unmistakable under her fingers. Her head shot up as she sought out Miroku, her eyes landing on him as he gave her a huge grin. If she hadn't been so grateful in that moment she'd have decked him.

 

Almost before she could realize what was happening the presence left the youkai again, this time heading straight toward Miroku. The houshi stood calmly, making no reaction as the presence tried to repossess him, succeeding only in bashing itself against the protection of the ofuda she saw on his robes as well. Her heart clenched for a moment when the thing left Miroku and headed toward the others, but the smile she saw on Mushin's face reassured her almost as much as the charms she saw him making sure were secured against everyone else. She had a split second to marvel at the complexity that must be needed for an ofuda that could protect even youkai against a malevolent possession, before the thing launched itself back into the hulking monster behind them, determined to slash them down.

 

Sango wasn't going to give it the chance. She sent Hiraikotsu arcing through the air, where it connected with the side of the youkai's head, knocking it to the ground. The thing lumbered back up with more strength than she'd supposed it had, given its physical state, and she dodged a blow from its tail, blocking the arm that struck out at her by holding up her giant weapon. Those last moves seemed to take all the energy it had left, though, as when she struck at its legs and it went down yet again, it didn't seem to be able to rise again. It lay on the ground, panting and whining, clawing fitfully at the dirt beneath it.

 

Miroku clucked his tongue as he stepped forward. “You, my friend, deserve to finally be at rest.”

 

Sango glanced back and forth between them, confused as to what was going on. Mushin stepped up behind her, laying his hand on her shoulder over the ofuda, and suddenly she could feel its power. “That youkai is possessed in the same way that Miroku had been,” he explained quietly. She suddenly understood why it had been so vital to also provide charms to protect their youkai friends, when most spirits wanted human hosts.

 

“The reason it had the taint of youkai is that it is able to split itself; one part remained in this beast while the other searched for a new host. Only once it is sure the possession is complete will it leave the previous host, keeping it as a backup until the very last second.”

 

“But…what is it then?” she asked, unsure now whether it really was a youkai projection or a spirit.

 

“It was indeed a spirit, one made twisted and mad by its creation and subsequent wanderings. It likely also was driven by need to possess a youkai, which didn't match well with its psyche, and drove everything but the need for power from its mind.”

 

She watched as Miroku bent and prayed over the creature, its back arching as the spirit was extracted. Suddenly the waves of lesser youkai sent at them made sense; this spirit had been searching for a strong new host and wanted to see how well it worked before making such a dangerous transition. Even the centipede youkai, while powerful, wasn't as deadly as many humans, and if the spirit were trying to avoid another youkai host then it all made sense. Seeing the kazaana in action must've been a powerful lure to it.

 

They remained quiet as the youkai died before their eyes, having been driven to the edge of its capacity by the avaricious spirit possessing it, and then being kept alive only by the sheer force of the will and determination of its possessor. Now that the spirit was being dealt with it was finally able to be at rest.

 

A presence floated up from the now deceased host body, roiling and black with rage and anger, and Miroku carefully placed a charm against it, chanting calmly. It amazed Sango that the ofuda could stick to something that didn't have a corporeal body, but before her eyes the spirit began to change, folding in on itself but unable to move from its position in front of Miroku, churning and spinning until all the corruption seemed to simply fall from it. Satisfied, Miroku stood and gave the spirit a sad smile before placing one more ofuda on it, keeping his hand pressed gently over the charm. He prayed for just a moment and then said simply, “Be at peace,” and it was gone.

 

~ ~ ~

 

They buried the remains of the youkai and sealed it, just in case there was any lingering residue from its long time acting as host to such a spirit. By the time that was done it was already dark out, but they decided to camp where they were instead of pushing on to Mushin's temple, too exhausted to be drawn into a two hour journey even with the promise of a roof over their heads.

 

Once the fire was made, dinner caught and cooking, Miroku separated himself from her almost immediately and spoke in quiet tones to Mushin. She glanced to the two youkai, to see if she could get any hints of what their conversation was about judging by the expressions on their faces, but all she got was curiosity and, perhaps, excitement.

 

Finally, after an interminable period of listening to their hushed conversation, in which Mushin kept glancing curiously in her direction, Miroku made his way back over to her, carrying two bottles of sake. “I had wanted to wait until we were at the shrine to do this, but I confess myself impatient.” That said, he pulled two small saucers out of his robes as well. “I asked Mushin to bring some of his finest for us.”

 

Sano was at a loss. Did he want to celebrate the defeat of this youkai? Granted, it was something of a more personal victory, but they faced death every day so she didn't see the need for the introduction of the liquor now.

 

“You…want us to get drunk?” she asked, hoping she kept the absolute confusion from her voice and pretty sure she failed.

 

Miroku did a double-take in her direction before staring a moment and chuckling. “No, no - not now at least.” He raised his eyebrows and Sango huffed. “This,” he raised the first bottle, “is merely to celebrate the acquisition and future use of this one.”

 

She examined the second bottle he held aloft and could tell by its markings that it was supposed to be special in some manner.

 

“What's the significance of that one?”

 

“Why, my dear Sango, this is Mushin's best bottle of sake: the one we'll use at our wedding.”

 

Sango sat back suddenly, face burning. “Wha-what do you mean?”

 

“The closer we get to the end and Naraku's death, the more I want it to happen immediately after our victory. With this,” he shook the sake, “we'll be able to minimize delay. Unless you're in opposition?” The intensity in his gaze, the solemnity of his words, touched her in ways she hadn't thought possible, and suddenly it was too much and the emotion burst out of her.

 

She laughed, joyously, riotously, only getting worse when she saw the consternation cross Miroku's face. “No, no, it's perfect,” she breathed, trying to reassure him. Her words didn't seem to do much in the face of her laughter, though, so she screwed up her courage and settled for action instead. Placing both hands on the sides of his head to hold him perfectly still, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

 

Pulling back she knew her face to be an even brighter red, probably detectable even in the orange glow of the fire, but she couldn't seem to care. Miroku's features were slack, his expression dumbfounded, and she found she rather enjoyed seeing him like that.

 

They sipped at their sake, sitting closely in companionable silence, Sango cradling the second bottle in her lap. When she went to bed that night there were no dreams of violent endings.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The next morning they slowly made their way to the temple, where they spent the rest of the week in more leisure than any of them could remember for months prior. They set out the morning of the sixth day of their journey, determined to return to Kaede's village before Inuyasha, and as such they bade Mushin a grateful farewell and were on their way.

 

They were crossing a rocky outcropping when Miroku's hand landed just a bit too low on her back for her comfort, and Sango warned him off threateningly. “Watch it. Just because we've had a good couple days doesn't mean you won't feel my hand.”

 

Miroku smiled charmingly and held up his hands defensively.

 

Sango punched him lightly on the arm - more in jest than to harm, just to prove she wasn't bluffing - but couldn't prevent herself from chuckling. Despite everything that had happened, or perhaps because of it, she harbored such feelings of hope as she hadn't had in a while, allowing herself the extravagance of wallowing in them the short time they'd have before dashing into battle with Naraku again.

 

After all, she was now surer than ever that they would come out on the other side, victorious.

 

~ ~ ~

 

End

 

Written for: Zigsa/Milareppa

Prompts: None (However, I cheated a bit and snuck onto your LJ to see what you've had to say about these two and saw you wanted emphasis on them working well as a team. Not sure I glorified that as much as I could've, but I attempted to honor that a bit.)

 

Word count: 13,414

 

A/N: I tried to broaden my horizons a bit while writing this and actually attempted a bit more action/adventure than is my norm. It didn't flow nearly as easily but I hope that doesn't show in the final product. As always, constructive criticism is encouraged, especially on characterization as this is the first time I've written something focusing predominantly on either of these characters.

 

The sake is question is referring to the traditional San-San-Kudo ceremony that is performed during a traditional wedding.