One Year Ago

For those of you who faithfully read the manga: I do realize that one of the characters in this story is ahem no longer around. Please either 1) ignore it, 2) assume that Sesshomaru stepped in with his handy Sword of Resurrection, or 3) assume that this story is set before that point. The rest of you, ignore this paragraph entirely. I swear this story is entirely canon.

I don't own Inuyasha. If I did, I'd be publishing this story and selling it to make millions.

"Sango?"

The young demon-slayer didn't move. She remained hunched in a ball at the edge of the river, staring into it fixedly. But she wasn't really seeing it. Her only movement was that of her hair, blowing across her face in loose dark waves. She didn't even raise a hand to brush it out of her eyes. The fingers of her right hand trailed in the water, a parallel of the willow tree over her head, with its autumn-tinted leaves dangling in the river.

Miroku walked forward, dry grass and fallen leaves crunching beneath his sandals, and sat next to her. He looked at her, for once no sign of mischief in his face, no lecherous thoughts in his brain. He hadn't come for Sango's body, he had come for her soul.

Sango didn't turn. "Go away, Lord Monk," she said quietly. "I wish to be alone."

Miroku said nothing. But he didn't move.

Sango turned her head and looked at him. "I said," she repeated, "I want to be alone."

For a moment, Miroku merely met her eyes.

"You're thinking of your family," he said. He knew her well enough by now to recognize the signs.

Sango looked away again. She pulled her hand out of the water and rested it on the ground. She gazed at it. But she wasn't really seeing it.

"One year ago," she whispered. "One year ago today. That's when it happened. How can I not think about it?"

Kohaku swung his chainsickle into the tree trunk, pulled it out, and swung again. Over and over. Over and over. But his mind wasn't on it at all.

"Kohaku."

He paused for a moment, then continued his swinging.

Kanna hesitated a few feet away. She had battled with herself so much over the past year. Kohaku had somehow touched her heart, somehow roused her sympathy, in a way she never thought possible. She was worried about him, but never showed it—not to him, not to Naraku. Not even to herself. She'd thought that maybe if she ignored it, it would go away, and she could go back to normal. Back to being emotionless.

But it hadn't worked out that way. And when she'd seen Kohaku head out here, she'd had to follow him. She'd had to see if he would be okay.

She moved forward and stood by him.

He struck at the tree. "Go away."

Kanna was sorely tempted. This entire scenario went against her instincts. But she didn't move. She stood still, a stone in motion now as well as in expression.

His chainsickle bit into the wood more viciously this time. "I said leave."

"Something's wrong," said Kanna softly. "I want…" She forced the words out. "I want to make sure you are all right."

Kohaku swung the blade again, then stopped, hands on the shaft, the metal still embedded in the wood. He sighed, pulled it out and dropped it. But his mind wasn't on it at all.

"It happened today," he whispered. "One year ago today, I killed my father. How can anything be right?"

"One year ago today," Sango went on. Her voice croaked, but she didn't stop to clear her throat. A dam had burst in her heart, and she had to let her thoughts out. "Naraku ruined our lives. He possessed my brother, he killed my father and friends, he sent demons to my village—he tried to kill me, too. Pure determination left me alive."

"Your father," said Kohaku, pointing at Kanna. His finger trembled, as his pent-up emotion filled him suddenly. "Your father destroyed me, and my family. He controlled me, I murdered…I murdered my father, I tried to kill Sango. I died. He brought me back here, and now I am forced to try to murder the few people who I still care about. Your father did that." His voice rose to a shout. "And you dare stand there and ask me what's wrong!"

"I wish I hadn't survived," said Sango. "Wouldn't death be better than this?"

"I wish Naraku had never brought me back," said Kohaku. "I wish I were still dead."

Sango buried her face in her knees and cried. Her tears soaked into her skirt, running through the cloth like replicas of the river in front of her. She never wanted to lift her head again. She wanted to stay there, and never have to face the world, the world that had made Naraku, the world that had turned her baby brother into a zombie, the world that had become hell. She wanted to die.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulled her close to a body she had forgotten was there.

Miroku held Sango, but the usual reasons were farther from his mind than they had ever been.

Kohaku turned his back on Kanna, and marched away from her, towards the tree. He leaned against it, clung to it, pressed his face against the rough bark, and sobbed. It's not fair, he thought fiercely. Life isn't fair. Why did I have to come back? Why couldn't I have stayed gone?

Kanna looked at him, feeling an emptiness in her soul, one different than the usual lack of emotion. This absence was a presence, one so horrible she knew, for a split second, that Kohaku's was much worse, and understood him. She had tried to help, and had made everything worse. She was a horrible friend.

Tentatively, she put her hands on his shoulders.

Kohaku felt it, felt Kanna's presence.

Miroku carefully pushed Sango's hair away from her ear, bent down…

Kanna gathered her courage and spoke one sentence, a sentence fuller of meaning than anything she'd ever said….

And at the same time, the monk and the demon said to the person they cared about most:

"I'm glad you're still alive."

And the world stopped for just a moment, while everyone took the sentence in…

For a second, Sango stopped crying. Within seconds, the tears forced their way out again. But the reason was different. She felt peaceful and happy, the way she always did after crying, but even more so. The tears kept coming, releasing the happiness, because otherwise it would fill her and she would explode. The breeze on her skin was crisp and wonderful. The autumn colors were jewel-bright, perfect. The water was flowing, catching the sunlight, bouncing it off, singing, beautiful.

She looked at Miroku. His half-smile was all the beauty of the world, the beauty she had somehow overlooked, all combined into one expression of love.

Kohaku choked on his sob. Kanna's words cut through his dark cloudy despair, right to the tiny ball of sunlight that was hiding inside him, and made the light brighter. He still breathed too hard, and tears still slid down his face, but they were only leftover. The storm was gone.

He turned around to face Kanna. She was looking at him, worried, nervous, but ready to be strong for them both. He didn't know how he could have thought she was anything like Naraku. He didn't know why he had wanted to die.

Sango spoke the words resonating in her heart, just before she leaned forward and kissed Miroku…

Kohaku took Kanna's hands and said…

"I'm glad I'm alive.

If I were dead, I wouldn't be with you."

Thanks for reading, please R&R!