Author’s Note: Huge thanks to my betas, houses (for daring to read a fic for a fandom she’s never even heard of, and still being able to offer good advice) and celeste for bringing up important issues and being really thorough.
This takes place fairly early in the series, prior to
episode 50 I think. If you don’t watch Inuyasha, you won’t have any idea what
the hell is going on. If you forge on regardless, well, I hope you enjoy it J
By CinnamonGrrl
The sound of Sango’s hand connecting with Miroku’s
cheek echoed off the trees, causing birds to scatter en masse from the
overlooming branches, but that was not the primary cause of drama at that
moment. No, the tension was due to the receding figures of both Kikyo and
Kagome, each heading in an opposite direction from the red-clad figure in the
middle of the clearing, his silver head bowed by heavy sorrow.
Once again, Kikyo, Inuyasha’s former love, had come
to taunt and torment him; once again, Kagome had demanded (and not received) a
declaration from the hanyou that his heart belonged only to her.
And in the middle of it all, Miroku had had the
audacity to take advantage of Sango’s preoccupation with the scene before them
to palm her backside. Her slap had been automatic, but it was clear that not
only were the slaps ineffective in dissuading him from trying again all too
soon, but his grin of delight gave her the worrying impression that he was
really starting to enjoy them.
Sango closed her eyes, mentally counting to ten to
keep herself from launching at the echhi monk and beating him senseless. She
was furious, more so than she should have been, but how could she not be?
Miroku’s wandering hand, Kagome’s distress at feeling like a cheap imitation of
an original, and throughout it all, Inuyasha’s sorrow.
Had he not endured enough already? Sango’s heart wept for him, for the child that had been orphaned and abandoned, mistreated by his brother, despised by both youkai and human realms. He belonged nowhere, was wanted only by the single soul shared by the two mikos, and it appeared to Sango that even gentle Kagome saw him more as an achievement, proof she was just as good if not better than Kikyo, than as an actual person with feelings.
Kirara trotting at her heels, she strode away from
Miroku, who still grinned witlessly at her whilst rubbing his pinkened cheek.
Reaching Inuyasha, she reached out to pat his red sleeve. “Let’s go, Inuyasha,”
she said, her eyes soft on his downturned face.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, golden eyes flashing.
“I’ll decide when we go.”
A year ago, Sango might still have been hurt or
offended by his abrasive ways. But she had long since learnt two things:
firstly, neither hurt nor offense was likely to be mended by Inuyasha any time
soon, so if she were expecting an apology she’d be waiting a long, long time;
and secondly, that he behaved as he did to cover his heart, his tender and
easily wounded heart. If he struck first, then it was more certain that he
would not be struck himself.
And so she waited patiently, her eyes revealing
nothing as he glared at her. “All right,” he said at last, every syllable
grudging and reluctant. “Let’s go.”
They walked. Soon, Kagome returned from wherever
she’d been indulging herself in yet another good cry over Inuyasha’s
insensitivity, Shippo trailing adoringly behind her and glaring daggers at the
hanyou. Still miffed, she refused to join Inuyasha and Sango at the head of the
procession, preferring to walk beside Miroku to the rear.
It was not long before night fell, and with the
shadows wrapping so closely around them, Sango felt an odd sort of intimacy
spring up between her and her companion. “Inuyasha,” Sango said suddenly, “I
don’t think less of you for not being able to choose between them.”
His head whipped toward her. “What the hell are you
talking about?” he snarled, and even in the sliver of moonlight that managed to
wend its way through the trees, his eyes were flashing in anger.
Sango wished fervently she’d been able to keep her
mouth shut, but now that she’d begun, she had to finish… “I know that Kikyo
wouldn’t have you unless you used the Shikon no Tama to become human… and I
know that Kagome is disappointed in you for not choosing her.”
At her words, his ears drooped though his furious
glare lost none of its intensity. “So?” he demanded. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re my friend, Inuyasha,” she said softly,
forcing the words past stiff lips. Oh, why had she spoken in the first place?
He would never accept any comfort from her; even now, she could sense the
tension in his body, how he was straining to keep himself from leaping up into the
canopy of trees, fleeing from this unwelcome conversation.
“I just wanted you to know that, even if they don’t
like you as you are, I do. I think you’re plenty good enough as a hanyou
instead of full demon or human, and if I were you, I wouldn’t want either of
them, so I don’t blame you for not choosing!”
This last was said with a bit of spirit. Kikyo had
utterly no personality except for her endless thirst for pointless and
misdirected revenge, and Kagome… Sango loved her friend, but she had to admit,
Kagome could be very whiny, and unrealistic, and clingy, and helpless…all
things guaranteed to drive an energetic, not-possessing-much-patience creature
like Inuyasha round the bend.
In fact, Sango was pretty sure she herself had
strained his limited stores of patience, and braced herself for the explosion
that was sure to follow. Thus, she was very surprised when, instead of shoving
his face into hers and screaming, he threw back his head and laughed.
“I thought you were Kagome’s friend, too, Sango-chan,”
he said, teasing her about the friends comment, and resumed walking before the
girl, Miroku, and Shippo could catch them up.
“I am, Inuyasha-kun,” she replied, unable to
hide a smile. Inuyasha in a playful mood was rare, and she was determined to
take advantage of it. “But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to her faults, any more
than I’m blind to yours.”
He huffed out a breath, his golden gaze intent on the
dim trail before them, and was silent a long moment. “Sometimes I feel like all
there are, are faults,” he murmured, his tone wistful, and Sango wondered at
the last time anyone had complimented him instead of criticizing. She decided
that she would wage a one-woman war on improving his self-esteem, and there was
no time like the present to start.
“Inuyasha, that’s not true,” she contradicted. “You
have plenty of virtues, more than anyone else I know!”
He turned to stare at her again, this time in
surprise. “Wait, this is me we’re talking about?” he clarified, frankly
disbelieving.
Sango laughed. “Yes, you,” she confirmed. “Should I
list all the good things about you, since you seem unaware of them?” Dumbly, he
nodded. Feeling bold at his good mood, she tucked her hand companionably into
the crook of his elbow, ignoring how he stared down at it in shock, and tugged
him forward once more.
“Well,” she began, “first of all, you’re strong.”
“Of course I’m strong,” he grumbled. “I’m a hanyou,
you stupid girl.”
She punched his arm lightly with her free hand. “No,
I mean emotionally strong,” she said. “You’ve been through so much, and
you just keep going, no matter what. And not only that, but you’ve helped the
rest of us be strong, too. All the times I could have given in to despair
because of Kohaku, and you never let me pity myself. You’ve kept me going,
Inuyasha.”
She looked intently at him, just now realizing how
much she meant it. He refused to return her gaze, steadfastly staring at the
ground in the distance, but a faint darkening of his cheeks told her he was not
unaffected by her praise.
“Then there’s the fact of how smart you are,” she
continued.
He snorted. “Hah,” he said flatly. “I hardly know
anything. I’ve never been to school, can barely read or write.”
Sango frowned. “There’s more to intelligence than
book-learning,” she told him sternly. “You never seem to go into battle with
any sort of plan, and yet always win. That takes quickness of mind, Inuyasha.”
This time he actively looked away from her, studying
the trees to his left as if longing once more to get away. Sango tucked her
hand more securely under his arm; if he tried it, he’d be taking her with him.
“You’re brave,” she said. “The bravest person I’ve
ever met. There have been times that I was so scared I thought I’d wet myself,
and you charged right in. Some people think that’s stupid, but I know better.
You have more courage than anyone else I know. It goes along with the strength
thing—to have been treated as you have, and still be able to go on… that’s
courageous in the extreme.”
“I was scared those times, too,” he said, his voice
barely audible. The slanting shadows fell over them, and Sango knew that
without his superb vision they’d have no chance of staying on the path. “I’m
scared a lot.”
“Courage isn’t being fearless,” Sango told him, her
voice nearly a whisper. “Courage is being afraid, and doing it anyway. Like you
do, every day.” Though she could barely see him, she stared at his profile,
taking in the spiky bangs and straight nose and dark eyebrows. “And,” she
continued with a sort of desperate humour, trying to lighten the heavy mood,
“you’re cute, too.”
His head snapped round to face her once more. “What?”
he demanded, his voice harsh and cranky like usual. “I’m not cute, you idiot.”
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “Your ears are the
cutest things ever, and the rest of you is…“ She stopped suddenly,
before she could embarrass herself thoroughly. The truth was, she thought
Inuyasha was the best-looking man she’d ever seen, with his long sweep of
silver hair and eyes of liquid gold. She’d seen him shirtless many times, and
naked once (by accident) and each time was seared into her memory, little
moments that had sent a ping of awareness through her in a way that
Miroku only ever dreamed of being the cause of.
Inuyasha went very still. “The rest of me is what?”
he asked, but she ducked her head, cheeks flaming. He put his clawed finger
under her chin, forcing it up so he could look at her. “Is what, Sango-chan?”
Clouds overhead shifted at that moment, and moonlight
streamed over them, lighting his face with unearthly glow. His eyes were molten
amber, and Sango felt like a tiny insect caught in them. “Is beautiful,” she
breathed before she could catch herself.
He said nothing, just stared into her upturned face
with something akin to wonder on his own, until Shippo bounded around the bend
in the path that had kept them out of sight of the rest of their group.
“What’s going on, Inuyasha, Sango-chan?” he asked,
little face creased in suspicion at their proximity.
“Nothing that a nosy little pest like you needs to
know about,” Inuyasha snarled, aiming a fist at the kitsune as he detached
himself from Sango, but Shippo danced nimbly out of the way, shouting to Kagome
that Inuyasha was being mean again. Sango felt the loss of his warmth beside
her keenly, felt untethered and aimless, and stuffed her arms into her sleeves,
hugging herself as she kept walking.
She stared blindly at Inuyasha’s bare feet as he
strode purposefully a dozen steps ahead of her, and wondered what in heaven’s
name she’d just done. So intent was she on her musing that she failed to notice
how he turned to look at her, his face quizzical and still a little awed.