InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Separation ❯ First Contact ( Chapter 8 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: King Baka 
A happy reunion leads to some interesting developments.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Action / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.29.2008 | Updated On: 10.14.2013 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
A happy reunion leads to some interesting developments.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Action / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.29.2008 | Updated On: 10.14.2013 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inuyasha or any of the publicly known characters, plot, etc. I’m just renting them from Rumiko Takahashi, Viz, etc. I do own the plot of this story and any original characters I’ve created. I will make no money from this fic; I write for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers.
Fanfiction of the Week: Sex, Dogs, & Videotape, by Fenikkusuken & ButterYasha
A delightful, smutty AU citrus story. Not a PWP; it’s a porn with (some) plot. Not for kiddies.
First Contact
Sango returned to consciousness gradually, her awareness and memories slowly returning. Her entire upper body throbbed, the pain centering in her back and shoulder. That's right...I was shot twice trying to protect the other girls. Speaking of those girls, her ears were picking up the sounds of quite conversation nearby. Opening her eyes, Sango turned her head in the direction of the noise. Three young women, each a little younger than herself, were speaking quietly to one another. One of them noticed Sango's stare and rushed over to her side.
“Taijiya-sama! You're awake! How are you feeling?” Grunting, Sango attempted to sit up but several hands on her shoulders stopped her and pushed her back down. “You shouldn't be up, Taijiya-sama! It won't be good for you if we have to change your bandages again so soon.”
“You bandaged my wounds?”
The stranger nodded. “We found some bandages in the back of the cart, but unfortunately they were all out of pain remedies. Do your wounds hurt badly?” the girl asked, her eyes reflecting remorse and sympathy.
Sango smiled in an attempt to be reassuring. “No, it’s fine. I’ve had worse. It’s my fault anyway. I broke a man’s arm yesterday and he probably used whatever pain remedies they had. Wait, was it yesterday? How long have I been out?”
“You were first thrown into the cart last night. The battle was this morning. You've been asleep for about half a day now. We are truly grateful to you for saving us. Domo arigatou.” The girl bowed low from her kneeling position, her head nearly touching the ground. The rest of the crowd that had gathered around followed suit.
“I-it was nothing!” Sango stuttered awkwardly. “No thanks is needed.”
“Yet you still have our sincerest gratitude,” the first girl spoke once again. “If there is anything we can do for you, please let us know. Would you like something to eat, Taijiya-sama?”
“Please call me Sango,” she requested, already tired of the formal title.
“Nice to meet you, Sango-sama! My name is Akemi, and this is...”
Sango listened as Akemi introduced the rest of the dozen or so girls, her difficulty remembering several names indicating that the group was not all from the same village. Considering how light-headed she felt at the moment, Sango knew she probably wouldn't remember many of them either. Each girl greeted her warmly when her name was spoken, but she swore that she would go crazy if she had to hear another ‘-sama’ directed her way.
“Thank you, but just Sango-chan is fine.” The girls looked uncomfortable with that, so Sango endeavored to reassure them. “Look, I'm a taijiya, not some lord’s daughter. We're all in the same mess, are we not? Where are we, anyway?”
“We fled into the woods like you told us, and have not been followed. The men were all unconscious, and none of them looked like they were in any kind of shape to chase us, but we thought it was best to play it safe. We tried to commandeer the cart, but the horses were spooked and we couldn’t drive them. So we grabbed some bandages and food went on foot.”
At this mention of food, Sango's stomach rumbled noisily, causing her cheeks to flush as her companions pretended not to notice.
“Help Sango-san sit up while I prepare some food for her,” Akemi said to two other women.
Sango supposed ‘-san’ was the best she was going to get, and refrained from further comment. Gritting her teeth, she stifled a groan as she was helped into a sitting position. She leaned heavily against the other women, exhausted from even that small effort. Two young girls, probably not even twelve years old, walked up and knelt by her side. Their heads were down, but Sango could tell they were very repentant about something.
“We're sorry; we should have listened. It's our fault you got hurt.”
Sango reached over and patted them on the head. These must be the girls who made a break for the woods during the battle.
“Don't worry about it. You were just afraid.”
Raising their teary eyes to the taijiya's bright, smiling face, the two children suddenly launched themselves at Sango, hugging her firmly around the waist. They were careful, however, and didn't cause Sango much additional pain, just a small ‘oomph’ of slight discomfort.
“We were so scared!”
“Now, now, young ones, leave Sango-san alone. You're safe now. We'll have you back to your parents soon enough,” said Akemi, returning with dinner. Drying their eyes, the two girls stood and bowed once more before going off to find a place to sleep. Sango was very tempted to wolf down her meal, but she forced herself to eat slowly and get some questions answered. Including herself, there were thirteen girls and young women in the group, the oldest being twenty-three and the youngest twelve. Most were indeed strangers to one another; they came from five separate villages. The villages themselves seemed to be in fairly close proximity to each other, but it was not surprising that they did not mix all that much. Sango was able to figure out that the village she and Miroku had been traveling to was Akemi's home. She sincerely hoped the lecherous houshi was looking for her instead of flirting with village girls. A disturbing thought occurred to her, and she was forced to wonder whether Miroku was even alive. He didn't come to my aid; hopefully the bandits left him alone. Maybe he was trying to help me, but the smoke got to him? If that was the case, there was a very real possibility that the bandits had discovered him and killed him. Sango found herself praying to any Kami that was willing to listen for the houshi’s continued safety.
“Sango-san, is something wrong?”
The slayer started of her reverie, meeting the worried eyes of the women sitting around her. “N-nothing! I'm fine, just a little tired, I guess.”
Several raised eyebrows greeted this statement, but none of the women decided to comment. Seeking to change the subject, Sango said, “Well, it's getting late, and we have a long journey tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”
Nodding their agreement, the other women helped Sango settle down for the night before finding their own resting places under the dark forest canopy.
“Mmm, Sango…if you wanted some lovin’ you could have asked…”
*Mew!* Mew? Why does Sango sound like an angry cat? Oh… Sitting upright, he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while apologizing to Kirara. The fire-cat snorted, her glare informing him exactly what she thought of his lecherous habits. He certainly didn’t feel very amorous anymore, now the he remembered why his beloved Sango was not by his side. But at least Kirara seemed to be fully recovered.
“Shall we go?” he asked the cast, standing and stretching. Bounding excitedly, Kirara preceded him out the door and into the pre-dawn light. They had their direction, courtesy of Rokurou, and all other concerns faded as the two companions took to the sky, united in their worry over one woman who was dear to them both.
“Hey, what’s that?!”
“It looks like a youkai!”
“Hide!”
The girls raced back over the hill and ducked into the forest even as Akemi urged Sango to do the same. Damn! Hiding won’t do any good if it’s a youkai. Holding her arm out to the side, she waited until one of the women placed her hiraikotsu into it before straightening and gently pushing Akemi away. She wasn’t sure if she was well enough to defeat a strong opponent, but she would die before she let any more innocents get hurt. She gasped when she saw just who the approaching youkai was, her weapon falling harmlessly to the grass.
“Sango!” cried the monk, dismounting Kirara before she even touched down and racing toward her. Sango stared blankly as indescribable relief flooded through her. He’s alive…
“Sango, are you alright?” He was standing a few feet in front of her now, the concern in his voice and the worry in his eyes sending her heart soaring. He really was worried… Able to contain her joy no longer, she flung herself into his arms, knocking him off balance and pushing him to the ground.
“Sango, wha—” Miroku’s question was cut off as Sango leaned up and firmly pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened comically, but the kiss was over as soon as it began. Sango’s head collapsed against his shoulder, her breath coming in shallow hisses.
“Oww…” she groaned. It took Miroku a moment to respond, his mind still trying to comprehend what had just happened.
“Y-you’re hurt!” The kiss temporarily forgotten, he helped Sango into a sitting position and looked into her face once more. She was blushing prettily, though her lips were twisted in a pained grimace.
“I’m fine; just a couple of arrow wounds. Akemi bandaged me up, anyway.”
“Just a…you shouldn’t be tackling people with arrow wounds! You need to take it easy, Sango. Wait, did you say Akemi?”
Sango motioned to the forest behind her, where twelve female faces were currently peering out from the foliage. One stepped into the roadway, picking up hiraikotsu on her way.
“I am Akemi. Tell me, are you Sango-san’s husband, Houshi-sama?”
The slayer coughed in embarrassment, and Miroku patted her back.
“No, but we are engaged to be married,” he replied immediately. “Akemi-san, I met your father last night. He is very worried about you, and has been trying to get the village to send an expedition after you.”
“Yes, he probably won’t let me out of his sight once we return,” she replied with a tearful smile.
Kirara, who had hopped into her mistress’ lap to get reacquainted, suddenly hissed loudly. Spinning, Miroku saw the cat glaring at Sango, and the dark red spot appearing on her kimono revealed why.
“Sango, your wounds have reopened,” Miroku observed.
“It’s fine. Don’t wor—”
“Do not tell me not to worry!”
Sango gasped, mesmerized by the combination of passion and concern in his gaze.
“Please, Houshi-sama,” Akemi interjected, “allow me to redress her injuries.”
“I will do it,” Miroku answered softly, startling everyone. “That is, if Sango will permit me…”
Thus, Sango found herself faced with a decision. She had always resisted letting the lecherous houshi get too close to her, especially in the physical sense. It might have been the blood loss clouding her judgment, but more likely it was the honest devotion and concern he was showing that convinced her to nod her consent. She turned and shyly lowered her robes to reveal the wound on her back.
She tensed up as his fingers first came into contact and began removing the bandages, but quickly relaxed. His gentle, almost reverential touch soothed her as he continued his work, cleaning the wound before wrapping fresh bandages around her midsection. Sango was amazed at how easy it was to relax at Houshi-sama’s touch. Yet despite his amorous tendencies, his hands never strayed from appropriate boundaries. When Sango’s wounds were dressed and her clothing readjusted, he helped her to her feet. Not that he had any intention of letting her walk.
At his proposal, Sango briefly considered pointing out that the most logical place for her right now was on Kirara’s back. This time she was sure it was the blood loss that led her to climb upon Miroku’s offered back instead, Kagome-style. She reddened at finding herself pressed so intimately against him. But then again, as he himself had so resolutely stated, they were promised to be married.
The rest of the afternoon passed by swiftly, and the tired party was forced to make camp some distance from the nearest village. They wandered into the forest for a short time before settling down to rest, not even bothering to build a fire. They had no food remaining, and the effort Kirara would have to exert to catch enough meat for fourteen people seemed like a waste. They could go hungry for a night, even the little ones. No one complained, so overjoyed were they to be free of their captors.
Sango sat awake, leaning on Kirara’s larger form, long after the others were asleep. Her mind was in too much turmoil to rest. She was gripped by conflicting emotions about the events of the day. On the one hand, she was ecstatic that Miroku had made it the entire day without flirting with any of the women, but she was also wary. Was this just a one-time thing, or had he really decided to take their engagement more seriously? His open concern for her had really touched her, though it was probably the immense relief of seeing him alive that caused her to kiss him. My first kiss…I can’t believe I did that! I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!
“Sango?” His softly spoken utterance caused her to jump, and she looked away, unable to conceal her blush at the sincere worry in his voice. Sighing, the monk plopped himself down beside her, close but not touching. After a long silence, he spoke up.
“Sango, I feel that I must ask…why did you kiss me?”
Eyes widening, her head flew around to stare at him, her breath leaving her in a whoosh. She studied him as she tried to regain her composure. The light of the full moon illuminated his face, revealing not anger, but genuine curiosity. Biting her lip nervously, Sango contemplated her answer.
“I don’t know. Maybe I lost more blood than I thought…”
“Oh,” replied the monk, more than a little crestfallen.
“…or maybe I was just really happy to see you.”
Now it was Miroku’s turn to gape like a fish, though he quickly recovered himself and managed a heartfelt smile.
“I was really happy to see you too, Sango.”
The two sat in amiable silence for several minutes, listening to the musical chirping of the crickets and Kirara’s gentle breathing. Miroku’s hand closed over hers, and she held on, relishing in their closeness.
“Though I do feel a little cheated,” he said after a while.
“W-why?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Because…I did not get to kiss you back.”
Sango’s shocked gasp reverberated throughout the clearing, though she did not pull away. She was rooted to the ground, held fast by the love she swore she saw in his gaze. Slowly Miroku leaned forward, his hands coming to rest gently on her shoulders. She met him halfway, the feel of his lips sending waves of euphoria through her body as her heart swelled. The kiss was chaste, but filled with passion nonetheless. Unfortunately, it ended all too soon.
“How romantic…”
“Shhhhh!!!!!!” several voices chimed in, and Sango promptly jerked away. She glanced up just in time to see a dozen heads turn away, their owners set on pretending to be asleep. Certain that her tomato-red face could be seen even in the moonlight, Sango hid it in her hands. The monk’s chuckling, however, caused her to turn a fierce glare his way.
“What’s so funny?” she growled. Unfazed, he gazed upward at the stars, his lips set in an amused grin.
“Somehow there’s always someone watching. Kagome-sama would have said the same thing, if she were here.”
Sango had to smile at that, sadly. “And Inuyasha would have feigned disinterest while secretly watching closely.”
Silence returned between them, as both wondered what Kagome was doing, and how their hanyou friend was faring in his quest to return her to this world. Eventually Miroku hooked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to body against his. He was tense, as if expecting rejection, but quickly relaxed when the only reply Sango gave was a warm sigh as she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He watched her for a moment, then brushed a stray hair back behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead. A contented smile worked its way to Sango’s lips as she slipped into slumber.
Joyful cries, both male and female, jolted her awake sometime later. Looking up, she realized they were at the outskirts of a village, most of the inhabitants of which were already rushing toward them. Several of the girls bolted toward the crowd, reuniting with cherished loved ones. As for the other girls, the village headman ordered some men to escort each of them safely to their homes. Miroku set Sango on her feet, and the two stood together, watching the joyous spectacle with matching grins. Akemi came up to them towing an older man, presumably her father. The man smiled brightly at Miroku before bowing deeply and grasping his free hand.
“Thank you so much for retrieving my daughter, Miroku-sama! I can live again knowing she is safe!” Glancing at Sango, he said, “And this must be your lovely fiancée. Akemi tells me that you played the major role in her rescue, Taijiya-sama.” Bowing even deeper than before, he expressed his gratitude. Many other villagers did the same, but Sango waved off their thanks as not necessary.
“People,” the village headman boomed in a loud, authoritative voice. Once the crowd quieted, he continued, “Our lost wives and children have returned! Let us rejoice for a time, remembering that danger still lurks in the shadows. I have sent messengers to other villages to request assistance in this struggle. We will have a meeting of elders before sunset to discuss our next course of action. I assume that our two heroes will not be averse to attending?” He looked to Sango and Miroku, who nodded their consent. “Excellent! Let us celebrate the return of our lost women!”
The crowd cheered, then began dispersing. Addressing them quietly, the headman asked the monk and slayer if they would like to dine at his residence. The rumbling of their stomachs could have answered for them, but as it was Miroku managed a verbal acceptance as well.
Over the next few hours they were fed and bathed, their clothes freshly washed and ready when they emerged. Sango's wounds were examined by a proper healer, and she was released with orders not to overexert herself for a few days. They spent much of the afternoon napping, exhausted by stressful days. When not asleep, they were content to simply lie on adjacent futons and enjoy each other’s company, each relishing the close proximity of the other. They did not rise until one of the servants poked his head into their room and informed them that the elder’s meeting was about to begin. Sango stood and stretched as much as her wounds would allow, working the kinks out of her sore muscles. For Miroku, the temptation was just too much to resist.
Sango was more than a little frustrated by the familiar sensation of his hand on her backside, and she didn’t hesitate to deal him a properly reproachful slap. Just when she was starting to believe that Miroku was leaving his old habits behind, he gropes her. What other old habits would rear their ugly heads now that she was safe and healing? She sighed and stalked out of the room. She had been a fool to get her hopes up. Miroku would need to prove that he was not a hopeless lecher before she opened up her heart to him again.
For his part, Miroku sensed that while her reaction was normal, the emotions behind it were not. She seemed more sad than angry, which threw him for a bit of a loop until he noticed she was no longer there. Hurrying to catch up with her, he noted her clenched fists and quick stride.
“Sango?” he tried.
“It’s fine. Forget it.”
Miroku didn’t believe it was really ‘fine,’ not by a long shot, but they had already arrived at the elder’s meeting, so his questions would have to wait. Later, he promised himself. The gathering quieted as they entered, and the headman rose from his place at the front of the assembly to greet them.
“Honored guests. Please, come down here and address the council. We are all anxious to hear anything you can tell us about the bandits.”
“But I thought that you had been dealing with them for years?” Miroku stated in confusion. “What can we tell you that you would not already know?”
“You are correct, Houshi-sama. Up until very recently they were what you would consider normal bandits. We paid them ‘protection’ money and they left us alone. But things were different the last time they picked up a payment. Instead of the people we usually dealt with, there were new people more arrogant and violent. And now they use new tactics and strike us when we least expect it. My guess is that our problems stem from a change in leadership in the organization.”
“My daughter said something strange when she returned today,” another man added. “She said she was rendered unconscious by a small bauble that emitted noxious smoke.”
Sango could have smacked herself for her stupidity. The smoke pellets! Of course! Why didn’t I see it before!
“Yes, that smoke is quite powerful,” Miroku replied. “It knocked me out for almost a full day, and Kirara even longer. Only once before have I experienced such a powerful potion.” Mukotsu had made the other, and he could not even have been considered truly human.
“I’ve seen them before,” Sango interrupted suddenly, causing all eyes to look to her in anticipation. “They’re typically used by certain groups of shadow ninjas.” She frowned, perplexed. “It’s strange, though. Ninjas specialize in assassinating other people. I’ve never heard that they had such a technique for incapacitating youkai. It is not an easy thing, to render a youkai unconscious.”
The elders sat deep in thought, contemplating this new information. “So do you believe we are dealing with rogue ninja?”
She shrugged. “It's possible. The men I fought with were not very proficient in close combat, but their ambush style of attack could very well have been taught by ninja. Do you know how many men they have?”
“Not in exact figures, but if we put the able-bodied men of all the villages together we should easily outnumber them two or three to one.”
“Good. If it comes to a fight we'll need that advantage.”
Several of the elders rose to their feet at this last statement, their loud objections ringing through the room. From the look of things, those opposed to war had the support of more than half of the assembly on their side.
“People!” yelled the headman to restore order. “I know many of you are reluctant to go to war. I myself was once among you. But I have seen the sorrow on the faces of those who had a loved one taken, heard their pitiful cries and prayers. We can no longer sacrifice the lives of a few for the prosperity of the many. Our small community must survive together, united, or not at all!” Pausing for effect, the headman gazed around the room, making eye contact with each and every man. “Besides,” he continued, motioning to Sango and Miroku, “we have never before had such strong warriors to lead us.”
Miroku and Sango shared an identical thought: we didn't agree to that. But they held their silence; if such a thing had been formally asked of them, they would have been unable to refuse.
“And what if the other villages abandon us?” one of the naysayers demanded. “Then we all die horrible deaths!”
“It matters not. I, for one, would rather die than sit and stew in cowardice and watch any more of my neighbors be taken.”
Both Miroku and Sango found themselves impressed with the headman’s eloquence. In a single stroke, he had forced the overcautious village elders to think about the community as a whole while tacitly hinting that anyone who did not wish to fight was a coward.
Deciding to further advance the cause, Sango interjected, “Yes, and if I was able to take out six of them by myself, I’m sure your men will be able to defeat them without a problem.”
She smiled inwardly as the elders paled, her implication setting in. If you want a man to do something dangerous, tell him that a woman already did it. Miroku was staring at her as if she had just sprouted another head, but she really didn’t mind saying something like that. She had been proving such chauvinistic thinking wrong her entire life. At her old village, there were those who had been quite vocal in their disapproval of her training to be a taijiya. They believed a woman’s place was in the home, and slaying youkai should be left to men. In the end, the only opinion that had mattered was her father’s, and his was the only one she had ever paid any heed.
“B-but Taijiya-sama…” one of the elders pleaded, evidently not convinced.
“Look!” she growled, losing her patience with the gathering. “Do you think the bandits will leave you alone now? Not likely. They need to make an example so the other villages will not resist. They are probably on their way here as we speak. Your only option is to fight.”
No one spoke for several moments, and for many the harsh reality of the situation finally set in. The headman proposed a vote on the matter, and the decision was unanimous. “It is decided,” he said evenly, “our village will prepare for war. Any men from the surrounding villages are welcome to join us. Though I do see one problem, Taijiya-sama. If the smoke is as powerful as the Houshi-sama says it is, we have no way to counter its effects.”
But Sango had already considered this, and had an answer ready. “Years ago, my father showed me how to construct a makeshift breathing mask in case mine was lost or destroyed. The wood and leaves of a fairly common type of tree have filtering properties. Come with me to your forest, and we shall see if I can find it.”
The meeting adjourned immediately, and the waning daylight lasted just long enough for Sango to find the tree she was looking for. The project began by firelight. First, the men cut down the tree. While some chopped it into smaller pieces, others took those pieces and shaped them into roughly-curved slabs. They would not fit perfectly over the mouth and nose, but the padding of leaves attached to the inside would provide a sufficient seal. With a few holes drilled into the wood (but not through the leaves) and a fastening strap, the crude devices were ready. Though it was a community effort, the project continued long into the night. By the time last of the villagers turned in, they had enough masks for all the able-bodied men and extra for any reinforcements who showed up. Sango yawned, barely able to keep her eyes open as she sat by the remains of a dying fire. Damn, why am I so tired? I slept late and I had a nap today. I guess this is why that healer told me to take it easy.
Purple cloth came into her vision as Miroku put out the fire, then held his hand out to her. “Come Sango,” he beckoned, “let’s go to bed.”
His words caused Sango to blush, but there was nothing lecherous in his tone or his eyes. He clearly meant that they should merely return to the adjacent futons in their room, a suggestion which Sango happily accepted.
Sometime later, as Miroku lay on his back snoring softly, Sango turned over to face him. She studied his peaceful face, her resolve to keep distance between them wavering. She supposed it was not guaranteed that Miroku would return to his old ways once the danger had passed. At any rate, he had shown no sign of making any inappropriate advances toward other women tonight. That gave her some hope at least, though it could easily be explained by the tension in the atmosphere. Perhaps instead of pushing him away she should try to enjoy this time with him, before he reverted to his old ways.
Hesitantly, she reached out and grasped his hand in one of hers. She rested their joined hands between them, praying he would not wake. When he showed no sign of stirring, she released the breath she had been holding and closed her eyes.
She missed the way Miroku’s lips quirked up in a grin moments later. Apparently whatever had bothered Sango before had blown over. He looked forward to many more nights like this in their future.
Fanfiction of the Week: Sex, Dogs, & Videotape, by Fenikkusuken & ButterYasha
A delightful, smutty AU citrus story. Not a PWP; it’s a porn with (some) plot. Not for kiddies.
First Contact
Sango returned to consciousness gradually, her awareness and memories slowly returning. Her entire upper body throbbed, the pain centering in her back and shoulder. That's right...I was shot twice trying to protect the other girls. Speaking of those girls, her ears were picking up the sounds of quite conversation nearby. Opening her eyes, Sango turned her head in the direction of the noise. Three young women, each a little younger than herself, were speaking quietly to one another. One of them noticed Sango's stare and rushed over to her side.
“Taijiya-sama! You're awake! How are you feeling?” Grunting, Sango attempted to sit up but several hands on her shoulders stopped her and pushed her back down. “You shouldn't be up, Taijiya-sama! It won't be good for you if we have to change your bandages again so soon.”
“You bandaged my wounds?”
The stranger nodded. “We found some bandages in the back of the cart, but unfortunately they were all out of pain remedies. Do your wounds hurt badly?” the girl asked, her eyes reflecting remorse and sympathy.
Sango smiled in an attempt to be reassuring. “No, it’s fine. I’ve had worse. It’s my fault anyway. I broke a man’s arm yesterday and he probably used whatever pain remedies they had. Wait, was it yesterday? How long have I been out?”
“You were first thrown into the cart last night. The battle was this morning. You've been asleep for about half a day now. We are truly grateful to you for saving us. Domo arigatou.” The girl bowed low from her kneeling position, her head nearly touching the ground. The rest of the crowd that had gathered around followed suit.
“I-it was nothing!” Sango stuttered awkwardly. “No thanks is needed.”
“Yet you still have our sincerest gratitude,” the first girl spoke once again. “If there is anything we can do for you, please let us know. Would you like something to eat, Taijiya-sama?”
“Please call me Sango,” she requested, already tired of the formal title.
“Nice to meet you, Sango-sama! My name is Akemi, and this is...”
Sango listened as Akemi introduced the rest of the dozen or so girls, her difficulty remembering several names indicating that the group was not all from the same village. Considering how light-headed she felt at the moment, Sango knew she probably wouldn't remember many of them either. Each girl greeted her warmly when her name was spoken, but she swore that she would go crazy if she had to hear another ‘-sama’ directed her way.
“Thank you, but just Sango-chan is fine.” The girls looked uncomfortable with that, so Sango endeavored to reassure them. “Look, I'm a taijiya, not some lord’s daughter. We're all in the same mess, are we not? Where are we, anyway?”
“We fled into the woods like you told us, and have not been followed. The men were all unconscious, and none of them looked like they were in any kind of shape to chase us, but we thought it was best to play it safe. We tried to commandeer the cart, but the horses were spooked and we couldn’t drive them. So we grabbed some bandages and food went on foot.”
At this mention of food, Sango's stomach rumbled noisily, causing her cheeks to flush as her companions pretended not to notice.
“Help Sango-san sit up while I prepare some food for her,” Akemi said to two other women.
Sango supposed ‘-san’ was the best she was going to get, and refrained from further comment. Gritting her teeth, she stifled a groan as she was helped into a sitting position. She leaned heavily against the other women, exhausted from even that small effort. Two young girls, probably not even twelve years old, walked up and knelt by her side. Their heads were down, but Sango could tell they were very repentant about something.
“We're sorry; we should have listened. It's our fault you got hurt.”
Sango reached over and patted them on the head. These must be the girls who made a break for the woods during the battle.
“Don't worry about it. You were just afraid.”
Raising their teary eyes to the taijiya's bright, smiling face, the two children suddenly launched themselves at Sango, hugging her firmly around the waist. They were careful, however, and didn't cause Sango much additional pain, just a small ‘oomph’ of slight discomfort.
“We were so scared!”
“Now, now, young ones, leave Sango-san alone. You're safe now. We'll have you back to your parents soon enough,” said Akemi, returning with dinner. Drying their eyes, the two girls stood and bowed once more before going off to find a place to sleep. Sango was very tempted to wolf down her meal, but she forced herself to eat slowly and get some questions answered. Including herself, there were thirteen girls and young women in the group, the oldest being twenty-three and the youngest twelve. Most were indeed strangers to one another; they came from five separate villages. The villages themselves seemed to be in fairly close proximity to each other, but it was not surprising that they did not mix all that much. Sango was able to figure out that the village she and Miroku had been traveling to was Akemi's home. She sincerely hoped the lecherous houshi was looking for her instead of flirting with village girls. A disturbing thought occurred to her, and she was forced to wonder whether Miroku was even alive. He didn't come to my aid; hopefully the bandits left him alone. Maybe he was trying to help me, but the smoke got to him? If that was the case, there was a very real possibility that the bandits had discovered him and killed him. Sango found herself praying to any Kami that was willing to listen for the houshi’s continued safety.
“Sango-san, is something wrong?”
The slayer started of her reverie, meeting the worried eyes of the women sitting around her. “N-nothing! I'm fine, just a little tired, I guess.”
Several raised eyebrows greeted this statement, but none of the women decided to comment. Seeking to change the subject, Sango said, “Well, it's getting late, and we have a long journey tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”
Nodding their agreement, the other women helped Sango settle down for the night before finding their own resting places under the dark forest canopy.
* * *
Miroku suffered through a long, predominantly sleepless night. Every time he would close his eyes, horrible visions would flash through his mind. Haunting images of his beloved Sango bound and beaten, her body and spirit broken by evil men with lascivious intent. His eyes would always snap open of their own accord before things got too intense, but the possibilities danced inside his head, taunting him from a distance. Finally, perhaps a couple hours before sunrise, exhaustion caught up with him and he drifted into a blessedly dreamless sleep. He was roused from slumber by something wet passing repeatedly over his cheek. And in that blissful state of pre-wakefulness, when one does not remember recent events, his thoughts turned away from worry in favor of lechery. “Mmm, Sango…if you wanted some lovin’ you could have asked…”
*Mew!* Mew? Why does Sango sound like an angry cat? Oh… Sitting upright, he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while apologizing to Kirara. The fire-cat snorted, her glare informing him exactly what she thought of his lecherous habits. He certainly didn’t feel very amorous anymore, now the he remembered why his beloved Sango was not by his side. But at least Kirara seemed to be fully recovered.
“Shall we go?” he asked the cast, standing and stretching. Bounding excitedly, Kirara preceded him out the door and into the pre-dawn light. They had their direction, courtesy of Rokurou, and all other concerns faded as the two companions took to the sky, united in their worry over one woman who was dear to them both.
* * *
Not surprisingly, Sango was the last among her party to wake that very same morning. Her wounds felt better, enough so that she was able to sit up without too much difficulty. Akemi’s skill with wrapping wounds had much to do with that, and she told her so. After eating the last of the plundered food, the small group set out, heading back to the road. They checked to make sure their former captors were no longer in the vicinity, then emerged into the open and followed the path, making sure to stay close to the relative safety of the forest. The women offered to carry her, but Sango insisted on walking, a decision she soon began to regret. It had been easy at first, and she had started out leading the group, but now she was lagging behind, leaning on the ever-helpful Akemi for support. She had told the girls not to wait up for her, though they clearly were not walking as fast as they could. There was no telling when their enemies would send reinforcements, and the sooner they got back home to their villages the better, but Sango was secretly grateful they refused to leave her behind. Suddenly, several cries carried over the small rise in front of her. “Hey, what’s that?!”
“It looks like a youkai!”
“Hide!”
The girls raced back over the hill and ducked into the forest even as Akemi urged Sango to do the same. Damn! Hiding won’t do any good if it’s a youkai. Holding her arm out to the side, she waited until one of the women placed her hiraikotsu into it before straightening and gently pushing Akemi away. She wasn’t sure if she was well enough to defeat a strong opponent, but she would die before she let any more innocents get hurt. She gasped when she saw just who the approaching youkai was, her weapon falling harmlessly to the grass.
“Sango!” cried the monk, dismounting Kirara before she even touched down and racing toward her. Sango stared blankly as indescribable relief flooded through her. He’s alive…
“Sango, are you alright?” He was standing a few feet in front of her now, the concern in his voice and the worry in his eyes sending her heart soaring. He really was worried… Able to contain her joy no longer, she flung herself into his arms, knocking him off balance and pushing him to the ground.
“Sango, wha—” Miroku’s question was cut off as Sango leaned up and firmly pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened comically, but the kiss was over as soon as it began. Sango’s head collapsed against his shoulder, her breath coming in shallow hisses.
“Oww…” she groaned. It took Miroku a moment to respond, his mind still trying to comprehend what had just happened.
“Y-you’re hurt!” The kiss temporarily forgotten, he helped Sango into a sitting position and looked into her face once more. She was blushing prettily, though her lips were twisted in a pained grimace.
“I’m fine; just a couple of arrow wounds. Akemi bandaged me up, anyway.”
“Just a…you shouldn’t be tackling people with arrow wounds! You need to take it easy, Sango. Wait, did you say Akemi?”
Sango motioned to the forest behind her, where twelve female faces were currently peering out from the foliage. One stepped into the roadway, picking up hiraikotsu on her way.
“I am Akemi. Tell me, are you Sango-san’s husband, Houshi-sama?”
The slayer coughed in embarrassment, and Miroku patted her back.
“No, but we are engaged to be married,” he replied immediately. “Akemi-san, I met your father last night. He is very worried about you, and has been trying to get the village to send an expedition after you.”
“Yes, he probably won’t let me out of his sight once we return,” she replied with a tearful smile.
Kirara, who had hopped into her mistress’ lap to get reacquainted, suddenly hissed loudly. Spinning, Miroku saw the cat glaring at Sango, and the dark red spot appearing on her kimono revealed why.
“Sango, your wounds have reopened,” Miroku observed.
“It’s fine. Don’t wor—”
“Do not tell me not to worry!”
Sango gasped, mesmerized by the combination of passion and concern in his gaze.
“Please, Houshi-sama,” Akemi interjected, “allow me to redress her injuries.”
“I will do it,” Miroku answered softly, startling everyone. “That is, if Sango will permit me…”
Thus, Sango found herself faced with a decision. She had always resisted letting the lecherous houshi get too close to her, especially in the physical sense. It might have been the blood loss clouding her judgment, but more likely it was the honest devotion and concern he was showing that convinced her to nod her consent. She turned and shyly lowered her robes to reveal the wound on her back.
She tensed up as his fingers first came into contact and began removing the bandages, but quickly relaxed. His gentle, almost reverential touch soothed her as he continued his work, cleaning the wound before wrapping fresh bandages around her midsection. Sango was amazed at how easy it was to relax at Houshi-sama’s touch. Yet despite his amorous tendencies, his hands never strayed from appropriate boundaries. When Sango’s wounds were dressed and her clothing readjusted, he helped her to her feet. Not that he had any intention of letting her walk.
At his proposal, Sango briefly considered pointing out that the most logical place for her right now was on Kirara’s back. This time she was sure it was the blood loss that led her to climb upon Miroku’s offered back instead, Kagome-style. She reddened at finding herself pressed so intimately against him. But then again, as he himself had so resolutely stated, they were promised to be married.
The rest of the afternoon passed by swiftly, and the tired party was forced to make camp some distance from the nearest village. They wandered into the forest for a short time before settling down to rest, not even bothering to build a fire. They had no food remaining, and the effort Kirara would have to exert to catch enough meat for fourteen people seemed like a waste. They could go hungry for a night, even the little ones. No one complained, so overjoyed were they to be free of their captors.
Sango sat awake, leaning on Kirara’s larger form, long after the others were asleep. Her mind was in too much turmoil to rest. She was gripped by conflicting emotions about the events of the day. On the one hand, she was ecstatic that Miroku had made it the entire day without flirting with any of the women, but she was also wary. Was this just a one-time thing, or had he really decided to take their engagement more seriously? His open concern for her had really touched her, though it was probably the immense relief of seeing him alive that caused her to kiss him. My first kiss…I can’t believe I did that! I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!
“Sango?” His softly spoken utterance caused her to jump, and she looked away, unable to conceal her blush at the sincere worry in his voice. Sighing, the monk plopped himself down beside her, close but not touching. After a long silence, he spoke up.
“Sango, I feel that I must ask…why did you kiss me?”
Eyes widening, her head flew around to stare at him, her breath leaving her in a whoosh. She studied him as she tried to regain her composure. The light of the full moon illuminated his face, revealing not anger, but genuine curiosity. Biting her lip nervously, Sango contemplated her answer.
“I don’t know. Maybe I lost more blood than I thought…”
“Oh,” replied the monk, more than a little crestfallen.
“…or maybe I was just really happy to see you.”
Now it was Miroku’s turn to gape like a fish, though he quickly recovered himself and managed a heartfelt smile.
“I was really happy to see you too, Sango.”
The two sat in amiable silence for several minutes, listening to the musical chirping of the crickets and Kirara’s gentle breathing. Miroku’s hand closed over hers, and she held on, relishing in their closeness.
“Though I do feel a little cheated,” he said after a while.
“W-why?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Because…I did not get to kiss you back.”
Sango’s shocked gasp reverberated throughout the clearing, though she did not pull away. She was rooted to the ground, held fast by the love she swore she saw in his gaze. Slowly Miroku leaned forward, his hands coming to rest gently on her shoulders. She met him halfway, the feel of his lips sending waves of euphoria through her body as her heart swelled. The kiss was chaste, but filled with passion nonetheless. Unfortunately, it ended all too soon.
“How romantic…”
“Shhhhh!!!!!!” several voices chimed in, and Sango promptly jerked away. She glanced up just in time to see a dozen heads turn away, their owners set on pretending to be asleep. Certain that her tomato-red face could be seen even in the moonlight, Sango hid it in her hands. The monk’s chuckling, however, caused her to turn a fierce glare his way.
“What’s so funny?” she growled. Unfazed, he gazed upward at the stars, his lips set in an amused grin.
“Somehow there’s always someone watching. Kagome-sama would have said the same thing, if she were here.”
Sango had to smile at that, sadly. “And Inuyasha would have feigned disinterest while secretly watching closely.”
Silence returned between them, as both wondered what Kagome was doing, and how their hanyou friend was faring in his quest to return her to this world. Eventually Miroku hooked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to body against his. He was tense, as if expecting rejection, but quickly relaxed when the only reply Sango gave was a warm sigh as she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He watched her for a moment, then brushed a stray hair back behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead. A contented smile worked its way to Sango’s lips as she slipped into slumber.
* * *
Empty stomachs ensured a restless night's sleep for everyone, and the fourteen humans and one youkai were all eager to continue their journey come morning. Miroku insisted on carrying Sango again, and this time she did not hesitate to accept. She did, however, find it necessary to twist his ear when one of his hands ventured a little too high up on her thigh. His sheepish grin told her that it was no accidental slip. She let it go in light of his recent good behavior, and concluded that the monk would always be a hentai at heart. The other women reluctantly took turns carrying her hiraikotsu, but practically fought tooth and nail for the chance to hold Kirara. The cat was certainly enjoying the attention, a bunch of pretty girls fawning all over her. Miroku might have been jealous if Sango was not pressed so intimately against his body. Eventually, the steady motion of the man beneath her lulled Sango into a light doze, her arms hanging limply at her sides as she trusted the monk not to let her fall. Joyful cries, both male and female, jolted her awake sometime later. Looking up, she realized they were at the outskirts of a village, most of the inhabitants of which were already rushing toward them. Several of the girls bolted toward the crowd, reuniting with cherished loved ones. As for the other girls, the village headman ordered some men to escort each of them safely to their homes. Miroku set Sango on her feet, and the two stood together, watching the joyous spectacle with matching grins. Akemi came up to them towing an older man, presumably her father. The man smiled brightly at Miroku before bowing deeply and grasping his free hand.
“Thank you so much for retrieving my daughter, Miroku-sama! I can live again knowing she is safe!” Glancing at Sango, he said, “And this must be your lovely fiancée. Akemi tells me that you played the major role in her rescue, Taijiya-sama.” Bowing even deeper than before, he expressed his gratitude. Many other villagers did the same, but Sango waved off their thanks as not necessary.
“People,” the village headman boomed in a loud, authoritative voice. Once the crowd quieted, he continued, “Our lost wives and children have returned! Let us rejoice for a time, remembering that danger still lurks in the shadows. I have sent messengers to other villages to request assistance in this struggle. We will have a meeting of elders before sunset to discuss our next course of action. I assume that our two heroes will not be averse to attending?” He looked to Sango and Miroku, who nodded their consent. “Excellent! Let us celebrate the return of our lost women!”
The crowd cheered, then began dispersing. Addressing them quietly, the headman asked the monk and slayer if they would like to dine at his residence. The rumbling of their stomachs could have answered for them, but as it was Miroku managed a verbal acceptance as well.
Over the next few hours they were fed and bathed, their clothes freshly washed and ready when they emerged. Sango's wounds were examined by a proper healer, and she was released with orders not to overexert herself for a few days. They spent much of the afternoon napping, exhausted by stressful days. When not asleep, they were content to simply lie on adjacent futons and enjoy each other’s company, each relishing the close proximity of the other. They did not rise until one of the servants poked his head into their room and informed them that the elder’s meeting was about to begin. Sango stood and stretched as much as her wounds would allow, working the kinks out of her sore muscles. For Miroku, the temptation was just too much to resist.
Sango was more than a little frustrated by the familiar sensation of his hand on her backside, and she didn’t hesitate to deal him a properly reproachful slap. Just when she was starting to believe that Miroku was leaving his old habits behind, he gropes her. What other old habits would rear their ugly heads now that she was safe and healing? She sighed and stalked out of the room. She had been a fool to get her hopes up. Miroku would need to prove that he was not a hopeless lecher before she opened up her heart to him again.
For his part, Miroku sensed that while her reaction was normal, the emotions behind it were not. She seemed more sad than angry, which threw him for a bit of a loop until he noticed she was no longer there. Hurrying to catch up with her, he noted her clenched fists and quick stride.
“Sango?” he tried.
“It’s fine. Forget it.”
Miroku didn’t believe it was really ‘fine,’ not by a long shot, but they had already arrived at the elder’s meeting, so his questions would have to wait. Later, he promised himself. The gathering quieted as they entered, and the headman rose from his place at the front of the assembly to greet them.
“Honored guests. Please, come down here and address the council. We are all anxious to hear anything you can tell us about the bandits.”
“But I thought that you had been dealing with them for years?” Miroku stated in confusion. “What can we tell you that you would not already know?”
“You are correct, Houshi-sama. Up until very recently they were what you would consider normal bandits. We paid them ‘protection’ money and they left us alone. But things were different the last time they picked up a payment. Instead of the people we usually dealt with, there were new people more arrogant and violent. And now they use new tactics and strike us when we least expect it. My guess is that our problems stem from a change in leadership in the organization.”
“My daughter said something strange when she returned today,” another man added. “She said she was rendered unconscious by a small bauble that emitted noxious smoke.”
Sango could have smacked herself for her stupidity. The smoke pellets! Of course! Why didn’t I see it before!
“Yes, that smoke is quite powerful,” Miroku replied. “It knocked me out for almost a full day, and Kirara even longer. Only once before have I experienced such a powerful potion.” Mukotsu had made the other, and he could not even have been considered truly human.
“I’ve seen them before,” Sango interrupted suddenly, causing all eyes to look to her in anticipation. “They’re typically used by certain groups of shadow ninjas.” She frowned, perplexed. “It’s strange, though. Ninjas specialize in assassinating other people. I’ve never heard that they had such a technique for incapacitating youkai. It is not an easy thing, to render a youkai unconscious.”
The elders sat deep in thought, contemplating this new information. “So do you believe we are dealing with rogue ninja?”
She shrugged. “It's possible. The men I fought with were not very proficient in close combat, but their ambush style of attack could very well have been taught by ninja. Do you know how many men they have?”
“Not in exact figures, but if we put the able-bodied men of all the villages together we should easily outnumber them two or three to one.”
“Good. If it comes to a fight we'll need that advantage.”
Several of the elders rose to their feet at this last statement, their loud objections ringing through the room. From the look of things, those opposed to war had the support of more than half of the assembly on their side.
“People!” yelled the headman to restore order. “I know many of you are reluctant to go to war. I myself was once among you. But I have seen the sorrow on the faces of those who had a loved one taken, heard their pitiful cries and prayers. We can no longer sacrifice the lives of a few for the prosperity of the many. Our small community must survive together, united, or not at all!” Pausing for effect, the headman gazed around the room, making eye contact with each and every man. “Besides,” he continued, motioning to Sango and Miroku, “we have never before had such strong warriors to lead us.”
Miroku and Sango shared an identical thought: we didn't agree to that. But they held their silence; if such a thing had been formally asked of them, they would have been unable to refuse.
“And what if the other villages abandon us?” one of the naysayers demanded. “Then we all die horrible deaths!”
“It matters not. I, for one, would rather die than sit and stew in cowardice and watch any more of my neighbors be taken.”
Both Miroku and Sango found themselves impressed with the headman’s eloquence. In a single stroke, he had forced the overcautious village elders to think about the community as a whole while tacitly hinting that anyone who did not wish to fight was a coward.
Deciding to further advance the cause, Sango interjected, “Yes, and if I was able to take out six of them by myself, I’m sure your men will be able to defeat them without a problem.”
She smiled inwardly as the elders paled, her implication setting in. If you want a man to do something dangerous, tell him that a woman already did it. Miroku was staring at her as if she had just sprouted another head, but she really didn’t mind saying something like that. She had been proving such chauvinistic thinking wrong her entire life. At her old village, there were those who had been quite vocal in their disapproval of her training to be a taijiya. They believed a woman’s place was in the home, and slaying youkai should be left to men. In the end, the only opinion that had mattered was her father’s, and his was the only one she had ever paid any heed.
“B-but Taijiya-sama…” one of the elders pleaded, evidently not convinced.
“Look!” she growled, losing her patience with the gathering. “Do you think the bandits will leave you alone now? Not likely. They need to make an example so the other villages will not resist. They are probably on their way here as we speak. Your only option is to fight.”
No one spoke for several moments, and for many the harsh reality of the situation finally set in. The headman proposed a vote on the matter, and the decision was unanimous. “It is decided,” he said evenly, “our village will prepare for war. Any men from the surrounding villages are welcome to join us. Though I do see one problem, Taijiya-sama. If the smoke is as powerful as the Houshi-sama says it is, we have no way to counter its effects.”
But Sango had already considered this, and had an answer ready. “Years ago, my father showed me how to construct a makeshift breathing mask in case mine was lost or destroyed. The wood and leaves of a fairly common type of tree have filtering properties. Come with me to your forest, and we shall see if I can find it.”
The meeting adjourned immediately, and the waning daylight lasted just long enough for Sango to find the tree she was looking for. The project began by firelight. First, the men cut down the tree. While some chopped it into smaller pieces, others took those pieces and shaped them into roughly-curved slabs. They would not fit perfectly over the mouth and nose, but the padding of leaves attached to the inside would provide a sufficient seal. With a few holes drilled into the wood (but not through the leaves) and a fastening strap, the crude devices were ready. Though it was a community effort, the project continued long into the night. By the time last of the villagers turned in, they had enough masks for all the able-bodied men and extra for any reinforcements who showed up. Sango yawned, barely able to keep her eyes open as she sat by the remains of a dying fire. Damn, why am I so tired? I slept late and I had a nap today. I guess this is why that healer told me to take it easy.
Purple cloth came into her vision as Miroku put out the fire, then held his hand out to her. “Come Sango,” he beckoned, “let’s go to bed.”
His words caused Sango to blush, but there was nothing lecherous in his tone or his eyes. He clearly meant that they should merely return to the adjacent futons in their room, a suggestion which Sango happily accepted.
Sometime later, as Miroku lay on his back snoring softly, Sango turned over to face him. She studied his peaceful face, her resolve to keep distance between them wavering. She supposed it was not guaranteed that Miroku would return to his old ways once the danger had passed. At any rate, he had shown no sign of making any inappropriate advances toward other women tonight. That gave her some hope at least, though it could easily be explained by the tension in the atmosphere. Perhaps instead of pushing him away she should try to enjoy this time with him, before he reverted to his old ways.
Hesitantly, she reached out and grasped his hand in one of hers. She rested their joined hands between them, praying he would not wake. When he showed no sign of stirring, she released the breath she had been holding and closed her eyes.
She missed the way Miroku’s lips quirked up in a grin moments later. Apparently whatever had bothered Sango before had blown over. He looked forward to many more nights like this in their future.