Chapter 28: Transparency

One week turned into two and there was still no sign of Kohaku. Sango was devastated.

In the days between receiving the news and the present day, she floated along with the pace of those around her. Sango went to her apartment to get her things when Miroku and Kagome thought she should. She went to get groceries with the lot of them when Miroku realized they needed more food to feed four mouths. She did laundry with Kagome. Then she would go to bed immediately after dinner to lay in bed and stare at her cell phone as if news about Kohaku's whereabouts would appear in a message or call any minute now. Sango's eyes purposefully disregarded the flashing battery in the uppermost right corner, signifying Sango had used the phone to the brink of its death.

Everyone was worried about her. Kagome and Miroku seemed to switch shifts between asking Sango how she was and asking her what they could do for her. It was getting to the point where she had to withhold the passive aggressive comments that lingered on her tongue. It wasn't their fault Kohaku was taken. But she wasn't fine. She wanted them to stop asking.

If you want to do anything for me, go find him. Go find my brother, her mind would shriek upon recognizing the question they were about to ask the second they said her name. It got to the point that Sango knew what they were going to say to her by their tone: when they wanted to ask her how she was doing, they softened it for her, whispered it to her, like she was this delicate thing on the verge of breaking.

But the truth was: they weren't wrong.

When she couldn't sleep, she defiantly decided to go for walks down the country road in the evenings to clear her head; however, when she first decided to take a walk, Inuyasha wasn't too thrilled with the idea. He even tried to stop her from leaving the condo a few times. Fortunately, Inuyasha didn't know how to respond to a woman's tears, so that worked in Sango's favour when she became overwhelmed with anger. She never felt that she needed a male's protection. She had managed independently all these years; yet, she kept her thoughts to herself when "the group had decided what was best" and Miroku started to accompany her on her evening walks. She would leave the bedroom to put on her shoes and he would follow suit without a complaint or a grimace. Despite his presence initially being an annoyance to her while she walked, after the first week she grew used to having him there. As he followed a few steps behind her—the toe of his shoe almost meeting the heel of hers a few times—she appreciated that he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

The next time after that when Sango slipped on her shoes to escape into the early summer weather, she had expected Inuyasha's same eye-roll-inducing, "And where do you think you're going?" but he didn't. Maybe Miroku had said something, or maybe Inuyasha was just pleased to have some time alone with Kagome.

Even though it was an unspoken attraction—a look here, an accidental touch there—the connection between the two of them made the condo stuffy, and Sango didn't like being around them all that much. Not since Kohaku went missing. It was too much for her to be around. She didn't want to see others happy when she was hurting so much. She knew it was selfish, but she wasn't in a mental place to care about prioritizing the emotions of others.

Despite her concern for Kagome's well-being and mental health, she wasn't able to be a stable shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen for her girlfriend. When the tension would get really bad (to then be broken by a sexual innuendo by Miroku), Sango just wished the two of them would kiss or fuck or something just to get it out of their system, because it was driving her crazy. The nights when she decided against going for a walk, she would lay in bed, staring at her phone—her eyes occasionally drifting over the phone case to sneer at the sun's rays behind Miroku's blinds, taunting her for going to bed so early—and she would try to drown them out. Inuyasha and Kagome's playful banter from the living room would sift under the door and cause knots in Sango's stomach. The blatant flirting was driving her crazy. Probably because it kept reminding her of her own need. A need she was suppressing out of guilt because of her current circumstances. She wanted to find comfort in him, but her pride and her anguish refused her that solace.

Sango's mind went blank whenever she thought of Miroku, as if the guilt she felt for how she'd been treating him seared all thoughts from her head. She had been nothing but short, distant, and sometimes outright rude with him, and she would become angry at seeing how well he handled it all; he would take all her anger and snips of passive aggression without word or scorn. She hated that he seemed okay with it. His flirtatious touches, winks, or comments had disappeared the moment they left the hospital that morning after being interviewed by the police. Sango knew he was bearing the brunt of her as his way of offering help. By doing nothing he was trying to do something. And Sango appreciated it, but she hated that that was how she was treating him.

She wanted to be able to throw her arms around his neck and allow him to rub her back, whisper in her ear that Kohaku will be found, and kiss her into the morning.

But pride doesn't disappear overnight.

On this particular night, as she lay there, her hand gripped tightly to the warm and vibrating device in her hand, the battery life almost depleted, Sango wanted to get up and go into the office to confront Miroku. She wanted to apologize, ask him how he was feeling for a change. She hated sulking, but she didn't know how else to behave knowing that her brother had been taken. Knowing that he had been showing optimistic signs of brain activity made the sulking worse.

She threw herself upwards in a disappointed rage, angry at herself for treating her friends the way she had as she drifted through her days like a reactionless zombie.

In her zombie-like stupor, Sang had skipped the last group session at For Souls and unsurprisingly received text messages from both Shippo and Ayame. She told them she was fine, said it was related to Kohaku, and that she was safe. Ayame had come out directly and asked if Sango had thought about killing herself and Sango laughed out loud at the idea, as if it was such an indignant thing to ask.

My brother has been kidnapped and instead of going to look for him, instead of making sure he's alive, you think I want to kill myself? Are you crazy? How selfish do you think I am?

She didn't respond with that, though. She just said no, repeated again that she was safe in the company of friends and that she would let Ayame know of any developments.

Feeling restless in bed, Sango glanced over at the darkening blinds, the blackness of the material appearing a hazy red from the setting sun. Kicking the blanket off her shins and standing with a heavy breath, Sango threw on the pair of jeans she had discarded before climbing into bed.

That's enough of this, she thought as she opened the door to Miroku's—her and Kagome's pseudo—bedroom.

"Sango," Kagome claimed, turning her gaze over the back of the couch as Sango appeared in the hallway. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm going for a walk," Sango responded, her eyes low, purposefully ignoring the ever-annoying question of being 'okay'.

Inuyasha put the cards in his hand face-down on the coffee table and stood with a groan, "I'll go get him."

Sango bit her lip. This again… she inwardly grimaced.

"I don't need him."

Inuyasha scoffed and rolled his eyes, thinking: Fuck me, not this again.

"You're not going out there by yourself," he stated matter-of-factly. "I don't care that you don't need him, or you just want to be alone, or whatever fucking reason you're going to give me this time. Until we can be sure that that douchebag is no longer stalking Kagome, you're not going to be by yourself out there. So deal with it."

Sango stifled an angry sigh and flinched at hearing and watching Inuyasha shout Miroku's name into the silence of the apartment. A few seconds later, following the slight squeak of the office door opening, Miroku appeared with raised eyebrows.

"I've been summoned, have I?"

"Sango wants to go for a walk."

With downward cast eyes, Sango angrily spat, "I'm not a dog," at the same time Miroku said, "I'll get my shoes."

Kagome's eyes danced between her three comrades from her position on the couch.

Her game of "Go Fish" with Inuyasha had been interrupted when she saw Sango appear in the hallway. The cards lay face-down on her stomach as she rested her arm on the couch's back. Concern felt heavy on her brow for her friend. She had felt so useless over the last few days; however, Miroku had provided Kagome a comfort in saying, "She'll come to you when she's ready," and Kagome decided to remain idle, sitting back until Sango was ready. Kagome sighed at the realization that Sango was still not ready.

The last two weeks felt agonizingly slow; however, at the same time, the last week felt like it could have been a month ago. Her relationship with everyone felt strained: Inuyasha, Sango, her family. Inuyasha had been hot and cold with her as usual, Sango was distant and it pained Kagome that she couldn't do anything to help her, and her family…

Kagome always grew flustered when she thought about her family. Feelings of guilt and panic overwhelmed her at the lie she had consistently been telling them since she had left the shrine those few weeks ago. I got a job. No, Mama, I'm sorry I won't be able to visit for a while. I'm new, I don't want to be fired for being unreliable. I'll call when I can. It's an administrative job. No, you wouldn't know the company.

She didn't want her family to worry. She lied about where she was living, what she was doing, who she was with. But the issue was, in reality, how could she possibly say, "I'm being stalked and Inuyasha thinks my life is in danger, but I'm otherwise fine." Her white lies were for the best. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

After the hospital incident, Inuyasha had been intent on learning exactly who this guy was who stalked Kagome, spied on Sango and Miroku, and had followed Inuyasha to her family shrine. In response, Miroku had dove into Internet search engines to find all the news articles he could on the man named Onigumo. It was a suspicion Kagome had had from the start, and she thought it was something that would be worthwhile to look into.

Onigumo's resume left Kagome with a knot in her stomach and a dry, aching throat.

He was a renowned identity thief, assaulter of women, kidnapper, arsonist, and murderer. Well, presumed murderer; it hadn't been proven yet that Onigumo was the one who murdered Kikyo. The news stated it was still only speculation since there didn't seem to be a motive. It also didn't help that the only evidence that linked him to the crime was the murder weapon; the Lincoln Navigator that ran down Kikyo had belonged to him.

But despite the news referencing speculation, Inuyasha made it clear that he thought there was evidence enough that Onigumo killed Kikyo. Between the notion that Onigumo assaulted women, was wanted for attempted murder, and had previously kidnapped a young girl, Kagome felt her heart in her throat at the realization that Onigumo could even have been the cause of Kohaku's disappearance.

This was a comment that she had made as an aside to Miroku one evening; however, Miroku just seemed to roll the idea over in his mind and then told Kagome "he would look into it." That was almost a week ago and a possible connection between Onigumo and Kohaku hadn't been brought up since.

Several of the more recent news clips that Miroku found online included toll-free phone numbers for people to call if they had any information or leads on Onigumo's whereabouts. Kagome felt sick knowing that this man was on the loose, God knows where, and completely invisible from the authorities.

To Inuyasha's chagrin, none of the articles contained an actual picture of Onigumo. However, one of the articles released two days ago contained an artist's rendering. The description has been given by a prostitute who claimed she had been molested by a man who referred to himself as 'Naraku,' an identity Onigumo had previously stolen a few years ago. Kagome had turned from the image angrily, spite and rage rising feverishly in her stomach.

The artist had perfectly captured his musty brown wig and beak-like nose. Her reaction to the article spoke loudly to the others around her, confirming that Onigumo was the one they were after, and the one who was after Kagome.

But why? Why was he after Kagome?

It was a question that kept Kagome up most nights.

Kagome's gut told her that it had something to do with Kikyo—why else would he have said Kikyo's name when Kagome was cornered in Jinenji's? Over the weeks, the more Inuyasha and Miroku talked about Onigumo, the more Kagome's guilt and self-pity turned into seething hatred. She didn't want to hide, she didn't want the other's involved in this. She didn't like how Inuyasha reacted anytime one of the other's spoke Onigumo's name. Kagome appreciated his concern and apparent desire to protect her, but a deep part of her still felt convinced that part of Inuyasha's concern was due to Kikyo.

Kagome couldn't imagine how he must be feeling.

Kagome had had time to try and reflect on her visit to the room outside the condo, the room Inuyasha had so hastily and intentionally wanted her to see. But she still couldn't understand why. Did he want her to know that he still had feelings for Kikyo that he couldn't process? That he couldn't get rid of her stuff even after she died? What was the point? Why would it matter that Kagome see a bunch of Kikyo's old shit?

Kagome was present during the conversations around Miroku's computer as he read aloud the articles. She had seen the intense emotion in Inuyasha's eyes anytime Onigumo's or Kikyo's names were brought up when Miroku narrated the news, and Kagome didn't want to trigger those responses from him. She didn't want to confront him once Sango went to bed, Miroku went to his office to work, and it was just her and Inuyasha in the living room to play cards or watch a movie. She had started to look forward to their quiet evenings alone, it had become an unspoken routine that she appreciated and grown used to. Yes, he would sometimes get on her nerves by being inconsiderate, nosey, or disrespectful, but she appreciated that they had fallen into this friendship. And she was partly scared that bringing them back in time to that moment in that room across the hall would ruin where they were now.

Despite their growing closer as friends, she also wished that something would trigger another…exchange…with him, like what had happened between them two weeks ago. She saw the looks he cast her from across the table while the four of them ate. She saw the way he would always choose to stand near her when the four of them were together. She was sure it was obvious even to Miroku and Sango (despite his apparent attempts to make it appear natural or accidental) that he would always choose to sit on the same couch as her, to be in the same room as her, or generally be around her whenever possible. She knew he would never admit it, but she knew he was making a conscious choice to be near her. That part of him, of his protectiveness, she found endearing. He could sometimes be annoying, but more so endearing.

Did he want her as much as she wanted him? She chided herself for wanting to pursue an answer to that question. With what was happening with Onigumo, with Kohaku? It was an inappropriate time to be thinking about…that.

Inuyasha and Miroku had started to bicker about something, drawing Kagome's thoughts outwards. Sango stood by the front door, her arms crossed, staring at her shoes waiting for the chaperone she didn't want but seemed to accept.

Kagome hadn't paid attention to what the boys were arguing about, but the conversation ended when Inuyasha scoffed and headed into the kitchen, dismissing Miroku with a wave of his hand. Miroku sighed triumphantly and then bid Kagome goodbye as he held the door open for Sango.

Kagome watched the door close behind them as the silence of the living room consumed her.

Sango was livid. Beyond livid. She was raging.

Why did Miroku have to accompany her? Why did she let Inuyasha always get his way? He gets the last say, the final word, the authoritative demand. Since when was she so prone to follow the lead of another, especially a male who asserted himself as alpha of the group. Sango felt shaken. She knew she was likely overreacting, that it was a good thing Miroku was here, but she couldn't let her brain relax. In the last week, she had started to find comfort in anger.

"I know what you must be feeling," Miroku said, his voice like a silver blade slicing through the cricketed silence of the summer night. "He means well, Sango. He has a funny way of showing it, I know. But he just wants you to be safe."

Sango hmph'd, "I don't need protection; I can take care of myself."

Miroku smiled; his hands behind his back as he trailed one pace behind her.

They fell back into silence after that. Other than the crickets, the only sounds were the crunching of small stones under their shoes and the groaning of trees in the distance.

Sango's mind then began to replay the infinite loop it had started since two weeks ago: Kohaku, Father, Miroku, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry."

The words came out of Sango's mouth before she could register she had spoken them. It was something she was thinking, and she had been thinking so intently she didn't mean for the words to be breathed into the night air.

"There's no need—" Miroku began, but Sango spun on her heel with balled fists and tears in her eyes. She didn't mean to say it. She didn't want this confrontation now. She didn't have the emotional stability to be able to face him like this. She refused to meet his eyes.

"There's every need!" she interrupted. "How can you be like this? How can you just stand there and let me treat you the way I have? I've been rude, I've been inconsiderate. And you've been fine with it all! What's wrong with you?"

Miroku released a breathy laugh through his nose and took a step closer to Sango. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were stinging from tears not yet shed, and her heart began beating wildly. Sango could feel her jagged nails pressing into the palm of her hands as she gripped them tightly.

"There's nothing to forgive, Sango," he said delicately. Sango could hear the smile in his words without even looking at his face. "I never had any siblings. I suppose you could say Inuyasha was the closest I ever came to having a brother. But I understand that it's not the same. I understand that I didn't share a womb with him, and that despite growing up together, there's a bond we shall never have simply because Inuyasha is not blood."

As he spoke, Sango felt the tears subside to the point that she grew brave enough to raise her head to make eye contact with Miroku. Feeling anxious from the confrontation, she turned her eyes upwards to observe the frown lines embedded in his forehead; she watched the skin periodically disappear under his bangs whenever the wind picked up. It really was the perfect summer night.

Sango felt her observation of him come to end as she saw him take a step closer to her.

"I can't say I understand how you feel, Sango. I realize that there's a barrier between us that you refuse to take down. It's a solitary pain you feel because of all of your friends, you alone are the only one to know Kohaku. How could I possibly understand how wounded your heart may be if I don't know the person for whom it aches? How can I mend something I know nothing about?"

"Miroku…"

Sango's words died in her mouth at hearing him voice the sentiments she had previously thought. She couldn't fathom how he understood her, how transparent she was to him. She felt her heart double in its pace.

"I've never told you about my family, Sango. We've never really spoken in depth about ourselves, so I realize it's quite natural that you wouldn't have the trust in me to confide something so personal. Let me be the one to start.

"Despite modern medicine, my mother died during childbirth, leaving me to be raised by my father. From the stories I heard, she was quite the woman. Pictures I've seen showed me how beautiful she was. I remember my father telling me that, back in the day, she was quite sought after by many suitors." Miroku smiled, "My father, the impractical businessman he was, told my mother that, as a token of his affections, he would build the grandest building this town would ever know and name it after her. So that even the neighbouring districts would learn of the beautiful woman who inspired the creation of the beautiful modern tower."

"The condo?"

Miroku laughed, "He actually meant to build her one of the modern glass-covered skyscapers in the downtown business sector; however, my mother was so moved by the gesture that she said she'd always wanted to have the city comforts while living in the country. So, naturally, the condo—a home for the two of them—is what followed."

"What happened to your father?" Sango asked blatantly, "I—" she paused, blushing, realizing the bluntness of her question, "I never hear you mention him."

Miroku smiled sadly, "It's alright. He died when I was young."

"I'm s—sorry," Sango stuttered, covering her mouth with her hand. She felt guilty for inducing Miroku to confront a woeful past; however, Miroku surprised her in smiling at her and giving her the lopsided grin that melted her ice-cold demeanour.

"Once again, my dearest Sango, there's nothing to apologize for. If my father hadn't passed, I wouldn't have met my Sensei, who wouldn't have introduced me to Inuyasha, and I would have grown to be a solitary and miserable man obsessed with maintaining his father's legacy."

"Legacy?"

"When my father died, he left me the condo, his company, everything that belonged to him. It was his last will and testament that what was his would all become mine at the age of eighteen. And, as I'm sure you can see, I'm a man now and my father's legacy has become my livelihood."

Miroku took another step towards Sango and gave her a look with his dark irises that made her part her lips to take in a breath. His handsomeness winded her.

"I also have my father to thank for my ability to seek out beautiful women."

Sango blushed and felt her eyes go wide as Miroku grabbed her hand in his. She watched him lower his head to focus on the pale, taut skin covering her knuckles. He caressed his thumb delicately over the knuckle of her middle finger.

"I know you're hurting, Sango. And I know it must be hard for you that I don't understand, nor will I ever understand just how you're feeling." He paused, then locked his emotive eyes on hers, "I just wish that you could see me as the support I want to be for you."

"Miroku…" Sango whispered, her eyes darting back and forth between his.

There were no lights on them or around them. The towering presence of the condo lingered behind them as they stood isolated in the darkness of the summer breeze. Sango adjusted her stance, her cheeks burning at the realization that Miroku still held her hand in his.

"You've been very kind to me," she said, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Her hand felt heavy in his.

Miroku smiled, "You surely must realize it's because I've grown quite fond of you, Sango."

Sango laughed, "I'm sure you say that to all the girls, Womanizer."

Miroku smirked, "No, Sango, I mean it."

Sango rolled her eyes and smiled up at him, placing her hand on his to slowly pull her other hand from his grasp.

Miroku chanced her a flirtatious look, "I can tell you feel the same way too, Sango."

"I—" Sango paused, her mouth agape, "—I what?"

Miroku smiled devilishly, "You like me."

"I…"

"Like me."

"Miroku…" Sango chided, her cheeks aflame and her heart thudding so loudly Sango worried Miroku could hear it from his proximity.

"You're not denying it."

"I'm not admitting it either."

Miroku laughed then took a step closer to her, "If you were really against the idea, I'm certain you would have said so."

"Miroku…" Sango said again, the fluttering of her heart matching her bouncing eyes as they tried to observe the look in his.

Miroku continued to close the distance between them until Sango could feel the material of his shirt brushing ever-so-gently against the tips of her breasts. Her heart was uncontrollable. The need that she had felt coursed through her blood, heating her to the point of discomfort. She desperately wanted to kiss him, and she feared that she knew that. That puck-like grin was plastered on his face; he looked proud that she allowed him to be this close to her. She could see the whites of his teeth from how close he stood, and Sango suddenly became consumed with the desire to know what he tasted like.

Her Kegel muscles flexing at the memory of the sex mirror above his bed, Sango's sudden train of thought made her wonder how he would respond if she were to lean forward, place her hands on his chest, devour his mouth with hers, and bite on his lip before taking his tongue between her lips.

His eyes could read her so well. She knew that he knew how she was feeling. He had known how she felt about Kohaku, and now he knew how she felt about him. She hated that she was so transparent to him; but, in this moment, she ached with want.

Sango had been so consumed with grief, guilt, and regret that she had denied herself any pleasures for the last two weeks. She wanted to give in; she wanted to be brave, to do something for herself, to take what she wanted. But she was scared. She didn't want him to think the worst of her. She didn't want to him to think she was using him to displace her grief. He teased her, and he flirted, but those sexually-driven behaviours didn't have any emotional weight. Sango didn't want to be a plaything to him, and she didn't want him to think she wanted him to be one for her.

But, with him this close to her, the small mounds of aroused skin on her breast rubbing against his chest, the small bead of wetness developing between her legs…she didn't care. She wanted him and she didn't care.

Once again transparent, her thoughts were loud and clear, and Miroku finally claimed the distance between them and, gently, joined his lips to hers.

As they stood there, lips locked, tongues exploring, hands entangled, bodies yearning, they didn't realize the presence of another. This whole time, they didn't notice. How could they? They were so consumed by each other, Kagura's presence was missed entirely. Her body was simply a shadow. She was an obedient shadow following orders and doing as her master commanded. Yes, she would watch them as instructed

However, she had plans for herself.

Before the night was over, she would make a move to get a step closer to freedom. And those two lip-suckers were going to help her.