A Rickety Bridge

Chapter Four: Recreational Needs

Miroku leaned against a tree on the outskirts of the clearing, facing away from the camp and away from the path to the hot spring. He had just found release and shot it into some bushes a few feet away. It hadn’t taken him long in the state Sango had left him. He could tell from her wide, shaken eyes that he would not be touching her again for a while, and there was no way he was going to try to talk to her while his body was whining for attention. That conversation was going to be torturous enough as it was.

He was more than a little angry with himself. Why? Why had he used his cheap tricks on her? “One kiss…one little kiss....” He sighed, guessing that this meant Sango’s naivety ran a little deeper than he’d thought. Had she any real sense of what he’d intended to do, she would have pushed him away and smacked him, as per her usual reaction.

No, he admitted to himself, he’d known she wouldn’t stop him. She’d been vulnerable, more vulnerable than usual and something in him had jumped at the chance. Which made him the worst sort of rakehell, but that was hardly surprising and wasn’t what was bothering him. So he’d seen a chink in her armor, did he have to treat her like a teahouse girl or a farmer’s daughter and half-ass his seduction? Was there any real reason use the same line on her that he had used on a good twenty others? His lips twisted into a shadow of a scowl. Did his feelings for her really terrify him so much he had to push her down to the level of a casual encounter?

If so, his fear wasn’t communicating with his conscience. Never, in all the years he had used that line, had he stumbled before the finish—never until today. She had been naked and open beneath him, outright begging him to take her, when nobility had reared its cursed, shining head. So he hadn’t made her his as he had set out to do when he’d made his harmless, little request. He had begun his task the lecher and ended it the decent, respectful martyr. Sort of. He didn’t understand how, with Sango, he couldn’t just be one or the other. This back and forth bullshit was getting him into trouble. Now he’d frightened her off, shattered her trust in him, and he didn’t even have her virginity to show for it.

He thought of Sango’s expression as she fled to the hot spring and his face softened. She had been so shocked, panicked when she realized just how exposed she was. If he had learned anything about this woman over the past months it was that she didn’t like feeling defenseless. She would probably lash out at him. The fact that she had been complicit in what they’d done would only make her anger more frenzied. He didn’t want that, he wanted to comfort her—if she would let him. Which she may or may not, depending on how long she decided to seethe. Luckily, he was patient. He could wait until she finished and was ready to face him.

He felt the change in the wind before he saw it. A shift in the direction of the breeze, then a tight funnel of turbulence extending over the tops of the trees. Miroku had barely registered its presence before it swirled to a halt in the center of the camp.

Kouga.

“Where is Kagome?”

“South,” Miroku answered, slightly bemused. “She headed there abruptly this morning.”

Kouga sniffed the air. “With the fucking dog turd and the kitsune runt?”

Miroku nodded. He casually picked up his shakujou, which had been propped up against a tree next to him, not completely trusting this sudden appearance.

The wolf prince seemed to catch something on the wind, and crouched to investigate the ground by the fire more closely. “Giving you and that taiji-ya privacy,” he rose to his feet. “Though your woman obviously didn’t finish you off.” He looked pointedly at the bushes to Miroku’s left.

Had Miroku been anyone less jaded and composed than himself, he might have blushed, but it had been years since a mere sex act had made him embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t put up with that shit,” Kouga said, his statement casual and matter-of-fact. His eyes fell on a pack beside the fire and he began to rifle through its contents.

“Might I ask what brings you to our camp?” Miroku asked, trying to be as tactful as possible while Kouga withdrew three small bags of potato chips and a package of ramen from the pack.

“I have a message for Kagome,” he moved to the southern edge of the camp and took a whiff of the air. “You sure she went this way, priest?”

Miroku nodded. “She may be difficult to track as she flew on Kirara.”

The prince flashed the houshi a brief, slightly unsettling smile, and Miroku knew the challenge would only make the task more enjoyable.

His eye caught movement and he turned to see Sango approaching wearing the slayer’s suit, her wet yukata draped over her arm. Her eyes flickered over Kouga, then shifted in askance to Miroku’s, also confused by the wolf’s presence.

Kouga was gazing into the trees, shifting his stance in a way that looked both restless and methodical, as though he were planning his path. Abruptly, he handed two bags of potato chips to Miroku, saying, “For when they come.” And with a sudden up-kick of dirt, as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

“What was—?” Sango began, but Miroku held up his hand, indicating with a tilt of his head that he heard something.

Seconds later Hakkaku and Ginta lumbered into the camp, panting.

Ginta opened his mouth to speak, but was wheezing too hard.

Miroku gave each a bag of chips as Sango pointed in the direction Kouga had gone. Nodding their thanks, the two royal retainers started immediately through the trees.

“Poor guys,” Sango said sympathetically.

Miroku shrugged. “He goes slowly enough for them to follow.”

“What did he want?” she asked.

“He said he had a message for Kagome.”

Sango nodded, then sniggered as the full implication of this sunk in. “That’s not fair,” she said in the tail end of her laugher. “They’ll already be fighting—even without him showing up.”

The houshi agreed. “And when Inuyasha discovers....” Miroku trailed off suddenly, eyes going wide as he realized just whom he was talking to and what he’d almost revealed.

“Hmm?” Sango prompted absently, hanging her newly washed clothing on a tree branch where it could dry.

“Nothing important. Did you enjoy your bath?”

He saw her spine go rigid and her hands freeze in their careful straightening of wrinkles in the fabric.

Miroku knew the change in atmosphere this comment would bring, but also wanted to get the conversation over with. The momentary shock of Kouga’s appearance had distracted her, curiosity briefly obliterating her anger and embarrassment. He could have seen how long he could make the peace last, but with Sango, it was better to charge out—with any luck, she’d vent too harshly or attack him and feel compelled to apologize later.

But she didn’t turn around. The silence stretched between them and Miroku swallowed. This was bad.

“Sango...?” he ventured uncertainly.

She took a deep breath that shook her whole frame, then faced him. Her expression was not what Miroku had been bracing himself for. She looked a little sad, a little weary, and nervous—so nervous her hands were shaking. “Can we sit?” she asked.

“Of course,” he sat on the log behind him a little heavier than he’d intended in his half-stunned state. He was further surprised when Sango sat next to him rather than across from him. Was this a sign that she wasn’t mad after all?—Or was she just getting in a position to strike? His hands tightened instinctively on the shakujou. If she attacked he was going to need to be ready—the incident at the village of oni women had taught him that Sango could kick his ass quite easily.

She was looking at the ground, almost as if she was gathering the courage to meet his eyes. “Houshi-sama...” she got off to an uncertain start, then suddenly plowed on, “houshi-sama, I’m sorry.”

Miroku nearly dropped his weapon.

“Y-you asked me to be your woman, I said yes. Then today, when you took what I’d agreed to give you, I got angry.” She swallowed, still not looking at him, “I haven’t changed my mind—I still want to give you a child, it’s just not what I’d expected—and you could have given me more warning,” she said the last angrily.

That was all he could take. He started laughing.

Her head snapped up to look at him, eyes flashing at his mirth over something that was clearly giving her stress.

“Sango, I didn’t even come close to taking you. If you find yourself with child after what happened today, I’ll be mightily surprised.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “But I knew when I agreed to be yours that you wouldn’t just want to...” she blushed heavily, “do those sorts of things just in making a child. I-I knew you were the type of man my mother warned against—the type who likes to...recreationally.”

He was laughing again. “Naïve Sango, all men like to recreationally. It’s my revulsion for all things dishonest that leads me not to conceal my wants.”

“Or perhaps your love of recreation is much greater than the average man’s,” she returned sourly.

Miroku considered. “You may be right.” He took her hand in his own, “But I thought the agreement was to wait till after Naraku was dead.”

She looked down at their entwined fingers, cheeks pink. “I thought perhaps that you had changed your mind.”

Miroku sighed. “I nearly did. But then I recalled our arrangement.” Actually, he’d only just remembered the exact terms of their engagement.

“So...that’s why you stopped?”

No, not really. “Yes, of course.” He’d rather not tell her that it had more to do with keeping his options open than respecting a contract he’d never really intended to follow in the first place, not now when he was touching her and she wasn’t hitting him.

Sango nodded. “Thank you, but I actually wanted to talk to you about that arrangement.”

“Did you?” Miroku’s insides were beginning to squirm in outright panic. He didn’t know which he was dreading more, the prospect that she was going to ask to speed things up, or the possibility that she would end them completely. Of course, different parts of him were screaming for wanting those very things, too.

“I was thinking that maybe we should stop—” she broke off abruptly as she saw something behind him, her eyes going wide.

He whipped around to see what was happening, only to be scooped up by the scruff of his neck, a sleeve of a red haori grazing his face.

Miroku was dragged into the forest a good a quarter of a mile before he was slammed against the bark of trunk and held there by a callused, clawed hand squeezing his neck.

“Inuyasha...you’re back,” Miroku said calmly, though he was sweating.

The hanyou’s face was contorted chillingly. “Kagome tells me that she didn’t have a fucking test. She says that she was sent on an urgent errand, not south to Kaede-babaa, but east to Mushin-jijii, because you’re dying.”

Miroku furrowed his brows. “I surely hope not. I wonder where Kagome-sama would get such an idea.”

“I don’t,” Inuyasha snarled. “Apparently, you were so fucking close to death that you insisted she leave immediately, swearing that you’d explain to me.”

“Well, I did have a bit of a scare. Luckily, I’ve recovered.”

Inuyasha’s claws flashed on his free hand. “I can get you back within pissing distance, you bastard. Then Kagome can get that damn priest for real.”

“Oh,” said Miroku, his voice quavering a bit, “you don’t want to do that.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“It would only slow travel down to have a heavily injured party member,” Miroku reasoned. “Aren’t we in a hurry?” he asked hopefully.

“Inuyasha! Put him down.”

Both young men looked in the direction of the command and saw Kagome dismounting Kirara, Shippou following suit. Coming up behind them at a run was Sango.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome said, soothingly this time, “put him down.”

“This bastard lied about dying so that he could have time alone to bone Sango,” Inuyasha bared his teeth.

“I know that. Let go.”

Miroku felt Inuyasha’s grip reluctantly leave his throat, and his own hand quickly moved to massage the sore muscles. He straightened just in time for a sharp sting to thwack the side of his face. It was one shock too many for his system and he slid down to sit at the base of the tree, black and white spots dancing over his vision.

Kagome stepped back, satisfied that her handprint hand made its mark sufficiently. “You made me worry, Miroku-sama. Please, do not speak to me for a while.” She stepped toward Inuyasha, taking his hand in hers and pulling him behind her as she headed back to camp. “Come on, Shippou-chan, let’s have some lunch.”

Miroku looked at Sango, who indicated with an inclination of her head for Kirara to follow after the others.

When they were alone, Miroku opened his mouth to explain.

“Please,” Sango said, “no more lies today, I’m exhausted.”

The houshi studied her. “You’re not mad?”

“Not really,” she said. “Nothing you do surprises me anymore, and, like I said, I’m exhausted. Maybe I’ll be angry tomorrow.”

Miroku smiled at her. “I’ll be ready.”

She pulled him to his feet and led him back to camp.

He had to sit apart from the group as they ate, an outcast, but he was more content than any of them could know. Half his plan had worked out exactly as he had hoped; united against him, Inuyasha and Kagome had forgotten their differences and were back to normal, Kagome even settling right close to Inuyasha during the meal.

As for the second half.... At least Sango wasn’t angry with him. Right then anyway. He was going to need to get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.