Title: All Too Familiar
Genres: General, very slight romance (if you're looking for it)
Rating: G, I think
Summary: The similarities made her uneasy, and so she decided to hide behind a mask of anger. Luckily, Miroku was there to help her vent.
Notes: I put the timeframe for this as somewhere between Season 1 and Season 2.
Originally written for the IY no Kakera LJ community, theme #7 – "made to be familiar."

..
…

Spar with me, she'd said. Of course, why not? Though Miroku was an odd choice for a sparring partner, he was certainly willing to help her, as he suspected she simply wanted to get some exercise after having been confined to her bed for so long.

Sango had been struck by a sudden illness that had left her weak and unable to eat anything heavier than soggy rice. The illness had had the poor humor to come at a time when a nearby village was suffering from the frequent attacks of a group of youkai. Inuyasha, Kagome, and Miroku had left to dispose of the threat, but had unanimously decided – much to her chagrin – that Sango should stay put in Kaede's hut to guarantee as speedy a recovery as possible under the miko's care.

The taijiya had looked rather mutinous at her companions' request for her to stay behind; but Miroku had assumed that her surly mood would pass as soon as she was feeling better. Sure enough, she'd greeted them at their return two days later with a bright smile. And when she'd come to him in her full battle attire that afternoon, telling him that she wanted to spar with him, he'd taken it to mean she was ready to get back to business as usual.

It was only when his stomach had taken the full brunt of her first swift attack that Miroku realized he was mistaken.

Five minutes later his body was screaming in protest; Sango hadn't even drawn her sword yet.

"Er, Sango—" he began, panting.

She didn't seem to be in a listening mood, however. "Waste time talking, and you'll get hurt." She twirled as she spoke, bringing her leg up towards his face.

But Miroku was regaining his composure, and he blocked her foot with his shakujou. "You might not have noticed, but I'm already getting hurt."

Sango sidestepped and lashed out with her elbow. "Then why not fight back?"

"Please," he said serenely as he caught her elbow with his palm. "I am a holy man. I have a strict policy of peaceful negotiations before resorting to violence."

She pushed his hand away with an angry grunt, then swiped her foot in attempted to kick his legs out from under him. "You mean unless it gains you a profit."

Miroku leapt away from her. "How cruel! You wound me with fists and words!" His voice was calm as ever, but he was also blinking away beads of sweat; she was a match for even Inuyasha at hand-to-hand combat, and it took all his strength to simply dodge her attacks.

Now she did draw her sword, swinging it down towards his midsection. He used his staff to block it, and they both pushed against each other, a close match in strength. "Then why did you come here if you weren't planning on fighting?" she growled, straining against him.

He managed a smirk. "Why would I be so foolish as to deny myself the pleasure of your company?"

Sango replied by bringing her knee up towards his groin; but Miroku repelled this attack with his own leg, and his smirk widened to a grin. He couldn't help what escaped his mouth next: "Ah, you shouldn't do that. I'm sure you'd regret it somewhere in the near future."

He barely had time to register her face, contorted with rage, before he felt a jarring force slamming against his skull. When he opened his eyes it was to a multitude of blurry stars against a backdrop of fluffy white clouds. He was lying on his back after Sango had knocked her forehead into his.

Through the hammering pain that would no doubt linger for quite a while, some obnoxious part of him asked, So, was it worth it?

"You know," he commented, his face stuck in what seemed to be a permanent wince, "if you'd wanted a more satisfying fight, you could've just asked Inuyasha."

She stood several paces away, her arms folded and her back to him. "Maybe. At least he wouldn't have held back."

Miroku sat up very slowly, gingerly tapping his heavily bruised forehead. "What makes you think I held back?"

Sango gave him slow, smoldering glance before returning her gaze to the woodland in the distance. When she made no further reply, he continued with mild incredulity, "Are you really still upset that we made you stay behind?" Her only response was the bristling of her shoulders. "You remember that you could barely lift your head at the time, right?"

"You didn't have to be so condescending about it," she said at last. "You were treating me like a child!"

"As I recall, you were acting like a child."

"I was no—" She cut herself off with a low growl.

"You wouldn't have been very satisfied anyway," remarked Miroku idly. "Inuyasha took care of them fairly quickly."

There was a heavy silence before Sango responded in a voice that he could barely hear: "I wouldn't have minded. I just wanted to be there."

Something about her plaintive, hesitant tone made him pause momentarily. Clearly, there was something below the surface that was bothering her, something that went deeper than having to watch her newfound companions leaving on a youkai-exterminating mission…

Ah.

Carefully deciding how best to gently prod her into talking on the matter, he said, "But I'm sure it would've been necessary for you to stay behind at the taijiya village had you ever been that ill."

When her back went rigid, he knew he'd hit the mark.

"Sango—"

She whirled around to face him, raising a hand as though to ward off the implication. "I… it's not…!" But she trailed off as her hand slowly lowered, her eyebrows furrowed in a lost and mournful expression. "It's just… watching you leave together, off to do the things that we once did together…" She looked away, ashamed. "I'm such a fool," she muttered.

He stood and walked towards her, stumbling a bit in the slight vertigo from the still-pounding throb in his forehead. "You aren't a fool. We are our own strange little group of taijiya, after all. It's only natural for you to compare us to that which was lost to you."

Sango shook her head angrily. "I should be seeking revenge, not replacements!"

Miroku smiled gently. "I should hope you don't think of us as merely replacements." She met his gaze reluctantly, but with her brows furrowed now in curiosity. "But surely there's nothing wrong with taking comfort in something familiar. And who knows? In time, maybe the familiarity you feel towards us will be wholly unique to that which you felt towards your kin."

It was only when he began to walk away from her and back to the village that he realized he was limping. Grimacing, he made a mental note to avoid any possible physical quarrels, no matter how friendly, with Sango in the future.

But he was halted by her voice, saying, "Mmm… hold on!" Miroku turned to find her hurrying towards him, reaching underneath the piece of armor on her shoulder. She pulled out a small, shell-shaped container that opened to reveal a cream of some sort. She dabbed at it, gathering a portion of it on her finger, which she then brought up to a nasty scrape that she'd given him on his cheek.

When she'd finished, there was a faint blush upon her face that Miroku found to be quite pretty.

"Thank you," he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and pleasure.

Sango nodded and whispered softly, "Thank you, Houshi-sama."

When Miroku caught sight of her face as she walked past him, he thought he saw a glimmer of something like contentment.

…
..

Characterization for this one feels kind of… um… bad. Yeah.