Chapter Three: Inn

–

Silence fell and Sango stared in disbelief at Ayumi as the young woman caught up with them. Miroku, in turn, looked at Sango, a question in his eyes.

"Didn't you just say your name was Emma?" he said at last, raising one dark eyebrow and smirking. Sango inwardly groaned.

Maintaining her disgusted attitude towards him, she coldly replied, "Why don't you make use of whichever one you're most comfortable with?"

"Sango," Ayumi began again, having been listening in, "Why'd you lie to this nice-looking man?" She gave Miroku a coquettish smile, then whispered to Sango. "He seems like a fine catch to me, even if he is a pirate."

Sango tried to take a deep breath and only succeeded in making a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a groan. Last time she'd seen this girl, she'd been in a half hysterical state over the death of her husband, and now she was acting like a flirty gossip. Had she gotten knocked upside the head since the last time they'd met? "Apparently, I seem to be his 'fine catch'. Oh, and Ayumi? You're not helping."

Sango then paused as she took in the other woman's appearance. She was slightly out of breath, as if she'd been running, and the bottom hem of her petticoat was flecked with dust from the road. (Her normal dress seemed to have gone missing entirely.) Her hands were covered with much of the same, practically caked with dirt.

"What have you been doing?" Sango asked after the inspection, frowning.

Miroku, obviously feeling left out, volunteered, "I have a few ideas, all of which will get me slapped."

"Keep out of this," Sango snapped, causing mild indignation to flow over the man's features.

By now, they were all standing at the side of the road that wound through the entire town, connecting the brothels, bars, and run-down inns together and giving drunkards a place to stagger aimlessly.

"Well, I suppose that's why the price on you was set so low at the start," Miroku responded, running a hand down his face in mock sadness. "That temper of yours is absolutely deplorable! Such a shame that a lovely maiden like yourself is so corrupted with such an attribute. I weep for the loss."

Sango froze for a moment, then turned around to face him, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Excuse me?"

"Well, is it not obvious? What man in his right mind would want a companion who is as unpleasant as a hurricane? Honestly. I think I've met an naval officer or two politer than you, milady Sango."

Everybody knew that the Navy had no sympathy for pirates. They'd sooner hang one than pass one on the street.

Sango seethed at the insult. However, before she could give proper return, Ayumi gave a shriek, ducking behind Sango. Distracted from her conversation with Miroku, Sango peered over her shoulder at the curly haired girl. "Ayumi?"

"Those men!" she whispered, peeking over Sango's other shoulder and gesturing towards two scowling men headed the group's way.

"How'd you let the wench get away from yeh?" one grumbled, dragging his feet along and staring around at the surroundings. "She was a right frail one!"

The other pirate retorted, "How would you've handled it if'n she kicked you in the quarter-decks?"

Ayumi tittered slightly from behind Sango as the latter noticed that the second pirate was limping slightly. Miroku winced. "I revoke my earlier statement, Sango. Miss Ayumi makes you seem the lesser of two evils." A glare silenced him.

"Ah! There be the scurvy wretch! Get o'er here..." The second pirate, having caught a chance sight of Ayumi as she peeked over Sango's shoulder again, strode towards the two women. He made to reach around Sango and grab the other girl, but Sango knocked his arm out of the way, blocking Ayumi from sight. "What the bloody hell are ye doin', wench?" he hissed. "You be wasting me time."

Sango crossed her arms, practically looking down her nose at the pirate, never mind he was more than a head taller than she was. "You won't be laying a hand upon her," she said, and a look of shock crossed the outlaw's face before he burst into guffaws.

"Begad! This lass be thinkin' she's somethin'. Outta the way, bird," the limping pirate said, and his heavier companion shoved her aside just as Ayumi bolted. The two tars made chase as Sango stumbled to the side, almost falling until warm hands caught and steadied her.

"Careful."

It was Miroku.

"Let go of me," Sango practically snarled, trying to break away so that she could follow Ayumi and her two pursuers. His hands tightened on her shoulders, pulling her back against him.

"No," he murmured close to her ear, and Sango froze. "You can't be rash. You wouldn't be able to do much against them. Didn't you see, Sango? They were armed." She turned sharply to glare up at him.

"Then help me, you damned corsair!" she hissed. Miroku considered her, his face as blank as one who was playing a card game, then looked up the way the others had disappeared, before shaking his head with a sigh.

"There's no way."

"But-" Sango stopped herself, shaking from fury. Ayumi had been a link to the normal. She had been on the same ship as Sango, going to much the same place, even if they didn't know each other well. In fact, they hadn't even met, save for a brief introduction at the beginning of their journey, until their ship had been boarded. But it hadn't mattered...and, apparently, it still didn't matter. "Fine," she said at last, her fists clenching as she stared down at the dirt covered ground. "Just take me to wherever you were taking me."

He touched her elbow lightly, and Sango let herself be led on by the pirate Miroku.

––

Miroku walked steadily on, having let go of Sango after she had trodden on his foot rather heavily, who apologized for the little 'accident' in such a way that it was clear it hadn't been an accident at all. Frankly, he supposed that after letting those two scalawags run off with her friend, it was the least that he could do to allow her to walk under her own power.

They traveled in silence for a quarter of an hour; Sango was trying to take in everything at once, as if she were planning an escape route, but to no avail. There were many twists and turns, and often, Miroku led her down narrow alleys, reducing her to lifting her skirt and stepping over broken bottles and other, less alluring things. Her sense of direction was badly skewed by the time he stopped in front of an inn.

A sign was hung from a post that jutted out toward the road by large, clunking chains. It was heavily inked in a rusty red color that looked like blood, and it sinisterly proclaimed that the inn was named, The Eye of the Krakken. Twisting between the words was a sea monster, the same sanguine color as the letters. It tapered off near the top of the sign, its mouth open in a fanged leer.

The building itself looked rather run-down, the wood splitting in places. The second step up to the door was simply missing. Her eyes dubious, Sango turned to Miroku slowly.

"Why, exactly, have you brought me to an inn, Pirate?" Sango asked, her eyes fixing over his shoulder onto one of the grimy windows, where a large, smeared handprint was clearly visible in the dirt.

"Well," Miroku said mildly, "you'll need a place to wash all of that filth from your face, won't you?"

"Let me rephrase the question. Why have you brought me to an inn of such obviously low caliber?" She wrinkled her nose slightly at a box of refuse beside the steps.

Miroku smiled at her. "You can't judge a captain's log by the quality of its leather," he quipped, hopping up to the third step and extending his hand down to her, intending to help her over the gap.

After only a moment's hesitation, she took his hand, and he drew her up onto the step, placing a hand on the small of her back to help her steady herself. Sango glared at him sourly, and he quickly removed the hand. "Merely being a gentleman."

"I'm sure," she muttered, scaling the remaining steps and pausing at the top. For all of her bravado, she did not want to be the first to enter the inn. As such, she waited until Miroku pushed it open, then followed tentatively at his heels.

The atmosphere inside was like a slap in the face. Despite its outer appearances, the Eye was actually in very good shape when one was judging by its interior. If one could ignore the waves of pipe smoke and the pervasive scent of hard ale, it was actually a fairly homely place. Well, relatively speaking. A small group of men around a fire in the corner glanced up as the two entered, but made no move to approach. With a swift movement, Miroku swept his hat from his head and approached the counter where a wizened man sat, polishing his spectacles.

When the innkeeper noticed Miroku standing in front of him, he blinked blearily and perched the glasses on his nose once more. There was still a rather large smudge on the left lens, but it obviously didn't bother the man; he took a quill from where it had been stowed behind his ear. "Name?" he queried, dipping the utensil into an inkwell off to his right and poising it over the thick book sitting in front of him.

"Miroku Midara," the pirate offered, and the man scratched the name into the book, pausing when he noticed Sango.

"She'll be stayin' with you, then?"

When Miroku nodded, Sango sprang into defense mode. "What?" she hissed, but he calmly ignored her as the innkeeper dug around behind his desk.

"Now where are those blasted- ah, here we are! He came up with a ring of thin keys, then plucked one off and handed it to Miroku. "There you are. Room twelve. Right down that hallway." He jerked a thumb behind him, jotted a '12' down beside Miroku's name, then removed his spectacles once more, rubbing irritably at them. He seemed to have forgotten that the quill was still in his hand, however - his rubbing was causing specks of ink to splatter the lenses.

"You heard the man," Miroku said jovially. "This way."

Sango waited until they were at least halfway down the hallway until she caught him by the wrist, making him turn around to face her anger. "What do you think you're doing, Pirate? I am not going to share a room with you. You're out of your mind! If you think you're going to lay a finger on me-"

She stopped when his placed a finger against her lips, silencing her. Miroku's eyes were sparkling with amusement in the poorly lit hall, and a grin was on his mouth. She flushed, yanking away.

"Calm down, Sango. Rest assured, I'm a pirate, but I'm not a pig." He lowered his hand, and strolled over to the door that had a crude numeral twelve etched into the aged wood, inserting the key into the lock. "Besides," he said as Sango slowly caught up, "I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Especially if I value my life. The articles of my ship make it a rule that any man under the contract is not to meddle with a prudent woman without her consent, on punishment of death." Opening the door, he gave her a wink. "So, you're safe with me. Ladies first."

"Oh..." A little unsure now, but not quite convinced, she stepped past him into the room, looking around hesitantly. Sango started slightly when the door clicked shut, and Miroku brushed past her with another smile.

"Let's see... The wash basin is over here. The water looks as though it's been changed recently- good! I'd be disappointed otherwise. And here's a clean cloth for you." He tossed it Sango's way. She caught it and watched him moving around the room, checking it over. "Well then. All seems to be in good order."

Sango clutched the cloth for a moment, then crossed to the washbasin and dipped the rag into it. She lifted it to her face, sponged at her cheek, and grimaced as it came away blue with the old women's atrocious face paint. Apparently, the pale paste didn't mix well with water, and Sango was thankful that it hadn't been raining. Having made sure that the stuff wasn't stuck permanently on her face, she glared at Miroku.

"Why are you still here?"

"Whatever do you mean?" He answered her question with another, smiling as he leaned against an oaken bedpost. After a moment, he elaborated, "I am paying for this room. Also... Maybe I am ensuring that no one walks in on you!"

"You can do that from outside the door, I believe."

"But I won't be able to see the true beauty of your face through a slab of wood, and I do so want to see what I paid for."

Sango narrowed her eyes. "Don't try to feed me that sort of nonsense. Flattery goes nowhere with me, you stupid pirate. You'll have to try another tactic."

Miroku was silent for a moment, and she saw the way his eyes swept over her, taking in her every feature in a way that made her unsure as to whether or not she should feel inclined to beat him over the head with the nightstand. Finally, he spoke again, his voice low. "Ah, but what would the purpose of such tactics be? Could it be possible that, with the right skills, a mere pirate could win the heart of a pretty girl like you, Sango?"

Sango turned away, beginning to scrub at her scowling face again. "No," was her dismissive reply.

"Has one ever tried?"

Her breath caught when she heard Miroku say that. He wouldn't dare! Would he? Sango fumed.

"Of course not. But then, I don't consort with criminals, so I assure you that none ever had the chance to woo me. Even if they had, though, I assure you that no piratical charm could sway my heart."

"Indeed," he laughed. "However, Sango, is it not true that you now find yourself sharing a room with a criminal at this very moment?"

"Not by choice."

"Hmm..." It was then that he apparently decided to change the subject. Thank heavens. "You're still in a nightshift, aren't you? That won't do at all. I have a lady friend who could lend you some clothing, although she's a bit shorter than you, and you're a bit better endowed. But I think that it could work."

"Wonderful. Goodbye then," Sango said, choosing to ignore his comments about her body despite the temptation to slap him silly.

He chuckled. "I'll send her up when I find her then."

A moment later, the door opened and closed, and Sango was left mercifully alone.