Sango and Shippo were gone. Not dead-at least not yet-but they were taken and the rest of the group, along with the village caught in the middle, were left worse for wear. The timing couldn't have been anymore perfect, Inuyasha had reverted back into a human and the village was celebrating a night of successful harvests. In the dark of night, in the span of what seemed like lost time, Inuyasha and Miroku were down for the count and half the flammable housing was burned to the ground, the villagers injured and scattered

The next seconds, minutes, hours were spent in damage control. Kagome, the temp. Priestess, did her best in consoling the remaining conscious village leaders and strongmen, the pink glow of her fingertips lingering.

With Miroku and human-Inuyasha taken care of, the rest of the villagers were left to their own devices. The crying children were satiated, the injured cared for, the fires put out, and the village dead quiet as they slept and waited for the light to come. Kagome couldn't be more grateful for the hospitality-after all it was her group who led them to the village.

In their own hut on the edge, shabby futons were laid out for the broken group but she couldn't bring herself to lay down as the abandoned Kirara paced around by her side. Miroku was definitely the worst out of the two. Not good. Their breathing surprisingly felt calm, face occasionally twitching at the pain, and Kirara fiddled with their discarded-for-first-aid clothing.

Holes. Holes. Holes. Maybe Kagome could put her mother's teachings of embroidery to use. Getting out a small sewing kit from her bottomless bag, she couldn't wait for the morning to come but then again she didn't want to see the sun rise.

"Miroku-sama, stop!"

A shoulder harshly brushed aside and robes haphazardly thrown together by muscle memory with a wrapped up arm.

"No! No, Kagome-sama."

Small hands trembled at messily-covered shoulders in another attempt.

"Miroku-sama!"

The hands on his robes were ripped off at the fabric, a grunt escaping from the rigid motion. A moment of instinct and desperation.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier? Don't-! Don't you even care?"

"I-"

"Just why?! Because of this set-back, Sango-!... Sango an- Sango and Shippo are farther and farther away. They could be dead now for all we know!"

Purple eyes blazed, the early lights of the afternoon sun flickered in his gaze as he directed his attention into the floor. As if he were imagining the stompened blades of grass as the demon horde that ambushed them the night before. Fists clenched, heavy panting and unsteady balance, it felt as if there was a wounded, wild beast before her and she was afraid. Afraid to get close. Afraid that

"Kami-sama above, below, and beside us stupid mortals, I have to go. I have to be there for them. Kagome-sama, you understand… right!? I can't just stand here! We have no time to waste, just laz… Jus- Just lazing around here!"

He faced her, his expression scrunched and the most vulnerable she had ever seen. Sango. It stripped at Kagome's most strongest defenses until he attempted to step away. He stumbled over his own staff and barely caught himself as his outbursts caused the other villagers to slowly stop and gather.

"Miroku." No honorifics, just firm, warm, and unwavering. He didn't turn, she cursed, "You're injured, damn it."

"It doesn't matter."

"YES IT DOES!"

He felt the trembling strength in her grip as Kagome forced him to face her, hands stretching the fabric of his robes. He expected tears, he expected a slap, he expected childish Kagome. Flitting eyes met the fiery depths of ancient blue as she slammed her forehead against his, keeping him close and lowered at eye-level.

"You can't come. You're hurt and I don't want you to die, do you hear me!?"

"Kag-"

"No, shut up. Shut up! Do you hear me? Can't you see that this village needs you here? Your left arm is also useless right now and you can't even walk without using your staff! I-."

Her voice decided right then and there to crack but her gaze refused to waver, eyes shining with a new wetness that added to the fire within. He didn't say anything, a frown gracing his features as she pulled harder on his robes.

"Inuyasha's already healed and he's got his stupid ears and old man hair back so we can't stay here long, they're terrified of him. They've agreed to keep you here though… So please. Just stay here. We need to know that at least you're safe and sound..."

Something poked at his legs and Miroku looked down, forehead still brushing softly against Kagome's bangs. Kirara let out a small mew, pawing at his toes with a knowing look, before she bumped her head into Kagome's defensively-tensed calf. Taking a small breather, he let out a small curse at his own misfortune and looked back at the quivering Kagome. She wasn't finished.

"...And of course I care, Miroku-sama. I… I'm useless, I know I am, but I never give up. You know that. I'm just so scared. I'm just scared that we're already too late! That I won't be able to do anything if we ever find-!"

"When, Kagome-sama. When you find them."

Miroku, gaining the advantage of her sudden loss of composure, adjusted the staff in his hand to wipe at the tear in the corner of her eye before letting a bitter smile fall on his lips.

"I just… I need you to stay here. Can you promise me that?"

"...Yes. So please get them back safely."

Kagome couldn't respond to the succumbed tone of his voice or to the hand that brushed against her reddened forehead. She just nodded with a newly found determination and ran back into the forest with Kirara in her arms as a glimpse of red greeted her.

Left alone, he watched their silhouettes disappear as the eyes of all villagers suddenly burned into his back. He sheepishly looked back at various expressions scattered on their equally battered faces.

"Aye, young monk-sama, was she your wife perhaps...?"

He coughed and bought his wrinkled robe sleeve up to his face to cover the abrupt embarrassment on his face, "W… wife?"

They nodded simultaneously, eager to hear the answer. He brushed the fabric against his face again at their eagerness and paused. There was an intrusion in the fabric against his chin-a slight raised threading against bunched and bloodied cloth. Looking down, he found something and thumbed the mended area. Flowers. Fragile white flowers against dark, tainted fabric. He fixed a softer, relaxed smile at the crowd.

"No, just a precious friend."

The villagers looked between themselves with doubt at his smile before returning back to their duties while he, with the help of a rejuvenated, single young girl, moved back onto the porch of their mostly-emptied out hut and slumped against the wall. They'll make it. Without a doubt. Sango and Shippo are safe… With a sigh, Miroku started praying, fingers playing with the minuscule light flowers embroidered on his mended sleeve.