The War is Over

My statues are falling
Like feathers of snow
Their voices are calling
In a whispering world
Waiting for the morning glow

Somewhere in the dark, Sango stirred. Miroku was aware of her agitation, but did not move just yet. He was still taking in the reality of being alone in a room at night with Sango – and not sneaking around behind anybody's back or pretending they didn't occasionally sneak a kiss when they thought they weren't being watched. He curled his right hand into a fist. For once it did not hurt. That obstacle was gone now, as surely as his greatest enemy was dead.

He was not quite sure what to do. The need to sire an heir and to somehow beat the odds and destroy Naraku to lift the curse that plagued him... these things had consumed him for so long that he was very nearly lost without them. But now, in spite of his loss, not really a loss at all, he could have Sango. And, somehow, her presence made all of this worth it, all the suffering, fear, and heartache they had endured had brought them together and forged the strongest bond he had ever known.

"You should get some rest." Sango's voice, interrupting, was stern. It was almost as if she thought he needed someone to take care of him. Maybe he did.

"I am having trouble believing my good fortune," he murmured, not sure whether or not he should bother her so late. It had been a long day, and it seemed a miracle that they had survived at all. Another miracle to do so intact, with all of their small group surviving.

"Good fortune," she repeated, sounding a little lost. He immediately regretted what he had just said, but it was too late to take it back. Those words were said, and no matter how much he wished he could not take them back. He had managed to forget, even for a moment, that while he gained more than he had ever dared dream, she had lost nearly everything she had ever held dear.

"Ah, Sango, forgive me," he whispered.

"What is there to forgive? We are alive." She kept her voice quiet, but was beginning to sound more like the Sango he knew, his Sango. He even heard the words she did not say: "My brother is alive."

Still, the slip troubled him. "True," he paused pensively. He wanted to take her hand in his and say comforting words, promise that the bad times were over, and found that he could not. "Does my presence here upset you?" Suddenly their small hut, little more than a room, really, was stifling him.

He was already halfway out the door when, her voice puzzled, she asked, "Upset me?" He slid the door shut and stepped carefully into the cleared yard around the newly repurposed hut. The moon had set long ago, and now the stars shimmered alone in the heavens. The air was warm, but his blood was chilled; he shivered in the dark.

"Miroku." He turned his gaze from the stars, but could barely make out the soft whiteness of the robe that Sango slept in, the dark hair that framed her face just so. She was standing in the doorway, one hand resting upon the wall as if for support. He did not answer her. "Have I done something wrong?"

He moved toward her then, drawn by the almost hidden fear in her voice. He stopped when he could see her face in the darkness. "No, lovely Sango, you have done nothing wrong. But it seems I am too thoughtful for my own good tonight. I am truly sorry to have bothered you and said something so inconsiderate."

There was a smile in her voice when she responded. "I do not think you were inconsiderate. I think I am too concerned with the past." It was damnably hard to tell what she meant by that. Was she blaming herself for the impact of what he had said? And yet the tone of her voice was pleasant, almost cheerful.

"Do not blame yourself."

"I should say the same thing to you, monk."

"Perhaps that is true," he acknowledged, though he did not believe it.

"It's cold, will you come back inside?" Strange, how she too felt the cold where there truly was none.

"I wanted to see the stars," he said by way of explanation. Unsaid: only a short time ago I feared I would never see such a sight as this again. And yet, here he was, somehow alive after everything, staring at the stars with Sango. And Sango by starlight was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, though for all his flirtations he could not tell her. Not yet.

They were promised to one another, but it had always been the impossible dream. Now...

They even shared a dwelling, and the distance was as great as before.

As if she could read his thoughts, she asked, "Do you still fear for your life?"

"It's not quite that. I am grateful to be alive, yet I cannot help but think of the cost of our victory." His voice was quiet. Everything they said had been whispered, or close to it. It simply felt right that way.

"I see."

"I have offended again." He had hoped she would understand what he meant; clearly she had misinterpreted his allusion to their missing companion. Sango had been beside him during the days of waiting, had seen the look in Inuyasha's eyes when the Well reappeared and he returned – alone. That look was the physical embodiment of the sorrow that Miroku knew he had been spared, if just barely.

Sango turned her head away from him, staring at the shadows just inside their small abode. "It's not that. I had hoped that you were serious in your proposal, that's all. But," she swallowed audibly, "if you are not, then I will do my best to bother you no more."

"I have made you think I no longer wish to marry you?" He had to laugh at himself then. "Sango, losing Kagome made me realize how lucky I really was. We both survived, and we are able to be together, should we wish it. But, to be honest, I am a bit lost now that I find myself without a mission to fulfill or a curse to break."

"Be my husband," she said forcefully. Now that was an unexpected show of enthusiasm, though it was not at all unwelcome.

He smiled. "As the lady commands." He found, when he finished bowing deeply, that he rather liked the look on Sango's face – an endearing mixture of confusion and tenderness. From her, this might even be called a display of affection. One that didn't involve hitting him, that was.

"Y-you mean that?" she asked, as if she could scarcely believe what he was saying. Then again, he had given her ample cause to doubt his intentions over the years. Too many, it seemed. He forced the memories away, determined to focus on Sango, and not the myriad half-remembered names and faces from his journeys. This one woman had come to mean more than all the others; now, with the battles won, he was wary of letting her slip away.

And somehow during that thought process, without really thinking about it, he slipped past her defenses, realizing belatedly that she was allowing him to hold her. Even a few days ago, this might have been forbidden, and now he reveled in the closeness. It seemed a small miracle that she had not yet screamed or pushed him away. Instead, she leaned into the embrace, resting her head against his chest.

She sighed contentedly. "Sango, of course I will be your husband," he managed, focusing on a sudden drizzle of rain rather than the thrill of holding her, lest his body betray him. The clouds were sparse, allowing the stars to shine through despite the rain. It was a lovely sight. It still was not enough to distract from the woman in his arms. He sighed, too, and wished his heart would stop racing.

He risked a glance down at her. One hand moved of its own accord, gently brushing against her chin, caressing the line of her jaw, coaxing her to look up at him. And when she did, he lost himself in those dark eyes. "Sango," he whispered, his voice husky. "Forgive me."

Heaven is calling
From a rainy shore
Counting wounded lights falling
Into their dreams
Still searching for an open door

Sango managed a small sound of confusion before Miroku claimed her lips with his own. He tried very hard, or so he told himself, to keep the kiss chaste, but could not resist slipping his tongue out to taste her lips. He knew it was time to pull back, to be done for the night, for surely Sango would insist on being married before going any further. It would not be the first time he had forced himself to back off for her sake. He simply did not wish for the moment to end just yet.

When he finally did pull away, he tugged gently on her lower lip. "Sango, I think we should –" he began, intending to do the right thing and go to sleep with Sango's honor intact.

It would seem, however, that she had other ideas. Her hands snaked up into his hair, pulling his head down so she could kiss him. The thought momentarily crossed his mind that it had always been him doing the kissing and that she had never before been the one to initiate... All thoughts went out of his head when she pressed her tongue against his lips and then into his mouth. His heart beat fast as she ran her tongue along the length of his; his groin stiffened in response to the delicious sensations coursing through him.

She moaned something that might have been his name and he could not resist moving his hands downward to grip her bottom and pull her hips against his. A yelp of surprise turned quickly into another moan as he turned the tables, gripping her hard and running his tongue along hers, exploring her mouth. She returned the favor eagerly, and it was not long before they were both breathless.

He pulled back then, panting slightly, but unable to escape her gaze. Enjoying the feel of her hips pressing into his erection, he informed her, "If we do not stop now, I may not be able to –"

Somewhere in there, she indignantly interrupted, "I don't care," and stopped his protest completely by kissing him soundly. Pulling back momentarily, her eyes glinting in the dimness, she added, "And before you ask, I've never been more certain about this."

"Good," he managed. With his hands on her hips, he guided her back into their hut, releasing her only long enough to slide the door shut behind them. It was dark, and not much warmer than the outside, but Sango was already tending the brazier. The dim light cast a warm glow over her skin.

He could not help but stare at her, trying to memorize every curve. His fingers ached to touch, to slowly remove her sleeping robe and explore all the hidden details, but he willed himself to be still.

"Miroku." The sound of his name from her lips got his attention like little else could.

"Yes, Sango?"

"Do you like what you see?"

For a moment he paused, wondering at how bold she had become; and then he realized that he could not figure out why or when he had decided that Sango was likely to behave like a delicate flower of a woman when they finally consummated their union. He had spent the past few days uneasily cohabitating with this woman. This... was more than he would have ever dared hope for.

Finally: "Oh, yes." It came out much more lecherously than intended, but still had the desired effect of causing her to smile. The look on her face was somewhere between seductive and predatory.

"I'm glad," she murmured, approaching him softly. With a hand on his chest, she guided him until he was sitting beside her on the futon, and then, exerting more force, pressed so that he was lying on his back. Her hand stroked in lazy circles across his chest, his thick robes the only barrier between them. He shivered under the light caress, then moved to draw her down on top of him; abruptly she ceased the soft movements.

Shaking her head, she admonished, "Not so fast. Up until now, you've done all the touching. It's my turn for a while."

Although he was loath to admit it, she had a point. He laid back down, as placidly as he could considering every fiber of his being seemed to be demanding he speed things up, and it really was not all bad. He quite enjoyed her enthusiastic exploration, and there was honestly not much they could do but wait for morning to arrive. They still had much of the night – he could be patient a while longer.

He realized that Sango had stopped moving her hand and was gazing down at him, her expression quizzical. "What's that look for, monk?"

In morning dew
A glorious scene came through
Like war is over now
I feel I'm coming home again
Pure moments of thought
In the meaning of love
This war is over now
I feel I'm coming home again...

Miroku grinned even wider. "Thinking about what we're going to do when it's my turn."

The tone of his voice made Sango consciously suppress a shudder; he was not normally so serious when it came to touching her, which somehow made his sudden earnestness all the more erotic. Almost of their own accord, her hands slid to the ties of his clothing, cautiously picking at the knots. She was nervous. It was not out of fear at what she might see, but because it was Miroku she was doing this with. Baring themselves fully to each other, in her mind at least, meant acknowledging that she had learned to love again, after all that she had been through, and would make him a permanent part of her world. It worried her, to take to her bed a man who might always look at other women.

He seemed to sense not only her hesitation but her agitation as well. "Sango, there is no need to be nervous. Would you rather we wait until we can be properly married?"

She shook her head.

"It is almost as if we are already married," she said finally. "We have been joined in life and purpose for a long time now." They were both silent for a while, then: "I have thought about this a great deal. There is no need for a formal ceremony. This will be enough for me."

Miroku did move then, pulling her on top of him and into a crushing embrace. Stroking her back all the way down to that delectable butt, he teased, "My turn." Without waiting for a response and knowing that it would take Sango all night to overcome her shyness and get undressed if left to her own devices, he kissed her again, one hand gently cupping her chin and the other deftly loosening her yukata. Probing her mouth with his tongue, he was grateful for all the training in self-discipline he had endured. This was the most wonderful torture...

And somehow, while he was lost in the pleasant sensations of kissing Sango, she managed to get the upper hand again, pinning his shoulders firmly to the futon. She moved to straddle his hips, ignoring the way her yukata opened, gripping him with powerful thighs to keep him still beneath her. His hands, freed from holding her to him, slipped into her loosened yukata to cup the fullness of her breasts. She stiffened at the contact, only easing up when he gentled the kiss and began to lightly massage her flesh. Pulling back to trace his tongue along her lips, he paused to look into her eyes, so near his own; it was amazing how she could be so bold one moment and so timid the next.

He wanted to coax her, to say something that would convince her to relax, but he knew that he was as likely to push her away as to convince her to let him have his way with her. So he did the next best thing and pulled her down so he could trail kisses along her bared neck, up to the sensitive skin just behind her ear. She trembled slightly, but tilted her head to one side to give him better access. He took advantage of the allowed opening, gently licking and kissing. And when he rubbed a thumb across her nipple and gently rolled the hardening peak between his fingers, her hips twitched, grinding against his.

"Sango." He had meant to say more, but her name was all he got out. Since it was such an effort to speak coherently, he began to explore her body with his hands – his whole hands, with no covering or beads to hinder the touch – and to eagerly watch her face for the telltale signs of pleasure.

Her response was a soft, wordless moan that was perhaps the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, because it came from Sango and because he was the one that caused it. He slipped his hand lower, fingers brushing softly against her hip before reaching down to tease between her legs. Her folds were hot to the touch and slick with the moisture of her arousal.

With gentle, teasing strokes he traced along her folds and caressed her thighs, taking care to randomly slip a finger or two inside her and to pay special attention to the sensitive nub at the apex of her thighs.

She hid her face against his shoulder, but he could still hear her quiet moans and the sudden intake of breath as she responded to his touch. He could still feel her shudder against him, hips grinding against his hand in the throes of her climax. It was almost more than he could take, to pleasure her so. He was suddenly acutely aware of the way her thighs gripped him, the way her breasts brushed against his chest, how close they actually were to being joined.

He was taken by surprise when Sango began, somewhat hesitantly, to undo the ties to his clothing. Gently, he pushed her away so he could help with the awkward knots. In one smooth motion, Sango moved from straddling his hips to kneeling beside him, though she kept her eyes focused on his movements. He could not help but grin lecherously when he realized how intently she was watching him.

"Care to help?" Her face flushed bright red at the invitation, but she helped him remove his robes anyway. She tentatively reached out to caress his chest, tracing her fingers gently along the muscles before brushing over his nipples. She continued with her ministrations, being careful to avoid looking downward at his arousal; her hand seemed to have a mind of its own and, a few moments later, accidentally brushed against his hardened member as she ran her hand along the smooth muscles of his abdomen. Embarrassed, she yanked her hand away.

"Is something wrong?"

"I want to..." she paused, frowning slightly, "touch you, too." Reddening further, she added, "The way you just touched me, I mean. Is it –" She slowly stopped talking as Miroku took one of her hands and guided it back to his erection. Her gaze shifted downward, to where their hands were both wrapped around him. Trepidation flowed through her veins.

An arrow of freedom
Is piercing my heart
Breaking chains of emotion
Give a moment to pray
Lost innocence to find its way

With his hand over hers, he showed her how to touch him; she got the hang of it quickly, and her grip was strong as she eagerly pumped the straining flesh. A groan escaped his lips.

"Faster."

Sango felt heated by the candor of his words, how he could so easily tell her exactly what he wanted her to do, but she did as he asked, if only to see how he would react. She already had to admit that his reaction to her touch was exciting, even though her lack of experience made her feel a bit shy about the whole thing.

His shaft twitched against her hand, and he let out a moan that might have been her name. His whole body tightened and he could not help but give into his climax, thrusting against her hand until he came. Sango pulled away from him, making a muffled sound of surprise at finding her hand suddenly covered with sticky white fluid.

Breathless, he sought to apologize.

Strangely, Sango felt compelled to giggle. "Why should I and not you?"

Miroku smirked. He took her hand in his and raised it to where he could see. Sango felt her face grow heated to see the visual evidence of what had just occurred. She had hoped to discreetly wipe her hand clean. Unable to stand it any longer, she had to look away.

And so she was startled, a few moments later, when Miroku began to lick her hand clean. The sensation of his tongue against her flesh was almost strangely erotic. She felt her gaze drawn to his mouth and found she could not look away.

She should have been outraged by the grin that spread wide across his face, but when he took her finger into his mouth and sucked, all she wanted was to ease the tension that had been steadily building within her.

"Nnnn," she tried to speak but found that words would not form.

"You like that, huh? Here, lie down. I'll show you something you'll like even more," Miroku said, patting the mat next to him.

Hesitantly, not quite trusting him, she did as he asked.

When she was settled, he rolled over on top of her, propping himself up on knees and elbows so he could kiss her without crushing her. She lost herself in the sensations. It felt as if his strength and warmth were wrapped all the way around her.

The not-quite contact was heating her blood as surely as his hands had done earlier.

Just when she was sure she couldn't take it any longer, he began to move, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the length of her body.

He suckled briefly at each nipple – just long enough to make her squirm and arch into him – before slowly making his way down to the apex of her thighs. There he paused, looking up to meet her gaze.

She shuddered in anticipation, though she was not wholly prepared for what happened next.

Miroku lowered his head and his tongue darted out, tasting her most intimate flesh.

Fields of sensation
A cry in the dark
Hope is on the horizon
With a reason to stay
And living for a brand new day

Sango gasped at the touch of his tongue, mildly shocked at the intimate act.

Miroku did not seem bothered by her surprise. He licked along her folds and even dared to slip his tongue inside her a couple of times, tasting the moisture there before moving up to gently toy with her clit.

He kept the rhythm erratic, almost random, building her pleasure slowly until it was nearly unbearable. She realized vaguely that he was teasing her.

She needed...

A soft groan escaped her lips as he pulled away slightly. She could still feel the lingering warmth of his tongue against her when he spoke, asking breathlessly, "Is there something you want?"

The heated air of his breath only added fuel to the fire. Sango squirmed, panting.

He asked again, patiently. She had a feeling he was smiling, but could not be sure. She managed a sound that was more helpless moan than speech.

She was throbbing.

Again, he asked that infernal question. "Is there something you want, Sango?"

Furious now and unable to form a coherent answer, Sango made a sound akin to a growl, seized the monk as best she could, and hauled him upward until their lips met. He chuckled against her, only further inciting her rage.

She slipped her legs up to wrap around his waist, bringing her hips flush up against his and grinding. She dragged her core slowly along the length of his arousal, breaking away from the kiss to take a few deep, heaving breaths.

"I want you... inside me," she managed to whisper, finally.

Her whole body thrilled from the admission.

He started to say something, stuttered for a second, and then gave up on speech altogether. He probed gently with the fingers of one hand, and then she became aware of the blunt head of his penis pressing against her, slipping inside until he was fully sheathed within her.

Sango had been prepared for pain, having heard the women of her village whisper of such things, but this was not at all what she had expected. She was rather surprised to find that this was more discomfort than pain, a strange and foreign sense of fullness, and that what she really wanted was for Miroku to move.

He had paused, shaking slightly with the effort of remaining still.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed along his neck, pausing just long enough to whisper, "It's all right if you move. I'll be fine." She was not yet brave enough to outright ask this of him.

This time the small encouragement seemed to be enough.

He moved then, with shallow thrusts that quickly became deeper, harder, and more urgent.

"Sango – " He gasped in a breath. "I don't think I can –" He'd laid himself bare with that confession; he wanted to please her, but the reality of making love was fast becoming too much for him.

Sango wordlessly slipped a hand between them, her fingers rubbing at her clit, slick with the moisture of their union. The friction of his thrusts and the movement and pressure of her fingers pushed her over the edge. She bit back a scream as white-hot pleasure overwhelmed her.

She was only partially aware of his climax, as she came down from the high of her own.

Miroku moved off of her, rolling to his back with a huff. She cuddled up beside him then, pillowing her head on his shoulder and struggling to remember each of the many things that had just occurred between them.

They lay, sometimes drowsing, sometimes talking, for a long while after that. They spoke dreamily of love and loss and loneliness, and reminiscences of their days of adventure. They were the lucky ones, after all. The fate that had befallen their friends could so easily have been their fate as well. And yet, here they were – together.

It was near to dawn when Sango finally slept, and she clung to Miroku in her sleep as assurance to keep the loneliness at bay.

In morning dew
A glorious scene came through
Like war is over now
I feel I'm coming home again
Pure moments of thought
In the meaning of love
This war is over now
I feel I'm coming home again to you...

In the days and months and years that followed, Miroku and Sango did their best to follow Inuyasha's example. His was the sort of stubborn, fierce loyalty that never quite seemed to fade.

It was not always an easy thing to emulate, especially after their first children were born, but such devotion and love were hard to forget. It was burned into their memories, and it happened that the love they gave their family extended as well to their long-time companion.

If he could not find happiness for himself, they made sure to find their own happiness in his honor, and to support him in any way that they were able.

And one day, three years of dedication and undying loyalty were rewarded.

Note: audio samples of The War is Over Now are available at Sarah Brightman's homepage.