Disclaimer: All Inuyasha characters/themes belong to their rightful owners (not me). Also, I lay no claim to any Tokyo or London establishment. Please do not sue.

Author's Note: Yay! I fulfilled my promise! :)

Anyway, I'd love it if you sent me a review-they're wonderful to see in the email. Hope you like the chapter (even if it's a tad short), and that you keep reading!

Translations:

Hajimemashite: How do you do? This is a customary greeting at introduction.

Yoroshiku: Pleased to meet you, but also, a request that the person you are meeting will like you and be friendly towards you.

Kochirakoso yoroshiku: The customary response to yoroshiku: It's I who should ask to be liked.

Chapter 8, Date Night?

Sango pulled her new blouse out of the shopping bag. It was ruby red with beautiful lacey detailing along the bust. Tiny buttons gave it a stylized, almost Edwardian look. A cream-colored sweater and black pencil skirt completed her look. She took out a simple silver necklace and tiny hoop earrings. She picked up Miroku's mother's comb, and sighed.

A knock on the door brought her around. She jumped into her heels, dropped the comb on her unmade bed, grabbed her clutch, and rushed to answer the door before Kagome could ask questions.

"Miroku!" she said, leaning against the doorframe for support as she smiled. He was dressed in a blue-striped button-down with a grey blazer and khakis. In one hand, he carried a bottle of very expensive Pinot Noir. He looked…remarkably handsome.

He smiled back, though the boyish look was gone. "Konbanwa, Sango," he said in a half-whisper. He offered his arm, she gripped her ruby-red clutch like a lifeline, and they were off.

(-)(-)(-)

The French restaurant was cozy and practically empty. A couple sat in the corner, sipping coffee and barely speaking to one another. The four other tables were unoccupied. The waiter whisked a reserved ticket off one of them, and lit the candle. Miroku pulled Sango's chair out for her, and motioned for her to sit. When she had done so, he scooted her chair in and took his own.

They had said nothing the whole ride over. Now, Sango almost jumped as a "so" broke the silence. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Sango said with a smile. "Thank you."

Their waiter came over, passed out the menus, and poured their bottle of wine into two crystal goblets. By the time he had finished, both Sango and Miroku had placed their orders in such exquisite French that the waiter suspected they might be tourists. He slipped away into the kitchen.

"French too?" Miroku said with a crooked smile. "What is it you don't do, Sango?"

Sango flushed and looked at her wine glass. She went to lift it to her lips, but Miroku frowned. "What is it?" she questioned.

"Can I taste it first?" he asked, pointing at the plumy liquid.

She gave him the glass obligingly. "What was it you said last time about not always being on the job?" she asked, laughing.

Miroku didn't laugh. He sipped the wine and waited. After a minute, he passed it back to her. "I believe the reason that I gave for you relaxing was that I'm here now."

"To taste test my alcohol?" Sango said, taking her own sip.

"Whatever you need," he said, smiling.

Sango looked at the ceiling in order to avoid those enchanting amethyst eyes. "How do you like work so far?" she asked.

"Well," Miroku said, fidgeting and fixing his shirt in mock nervousness, "when I started my partner was a real jerk, but I think she's warming up to me."

Sango kicked him, and grinned in satisfaction as the pain registered across his face. He was still rubbing his shin when the waiter came with the salad course.

"I was wondering if after this, you wanted to go with me to Rikugien," Miroku said when the pain had subsided and their salad plates were empty.

"The park?" Sango asked, confused.

"Just for a walk," Miroku said.

"Um…"

"We have two more courses for you to think about it," Miroku said, laughing.

(-)(-)(-)

Rikugien had been built during the Edo Period. It was filled with traditional Japanese landscaping, a beautiful lake, and a sprawling network of walking paths. Under the fragrant canopy, it was almost possible to forget that one was in the middle of one of the largest, most bustling cities in the world. Sango and Miroku walked along one of the paths, laughing and chatting about the people at work, the Night of a Thousand and Two Deaths ninja movie they had seen together, and the people they passed in the park.

Miroku bought her a snow cone, and they sat down on a bench over-looking the lake, which shimmered with the reflections of a million fluorescent lights.

"I can't remember the last time I was on an actual date," Sango said. When Miroku's head snapped around, her face flushed and she stammered, "N-not that this is a date! But, I mean… I should have said I can't remember the last time a guy took me out for a nice dinner when I wasn't going to kill him afterwards." She felt like socking herself in the face. Did she always sound this awkward?

"Well," Miroku said at length, "I hope you're not planning on killing me."

"No," Sango said, too firmly. Miroku laughed.

Then, Miroku stood and walked over to a nearby blossoming tree. He plucked a flower from it, and twirled it in his fingers. "My parents used to bring us to this park when we were kids," Miroku said.

"'Us'?" Sango echoed.

"My brother Kyoden," Miroku said.

"I didn't know you had any siblings," Sango said, licking her snow cone.

"I don't," Miroku said. "Not anymore."

Sango dropped her snow cone. It fell in the mud, and the colored juice rushed out across the blades of grass. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her eyes on the remnants of her dessert.

Miroku smiled and came back to the bench. His fingers brushed against her cheek-she dared not do so much as draw a breath as he pushed a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear, and placed the flower there. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Sango could say nothing, stunned by his proximity.

"Sango…" he breathed, so very close to her. "There's something that I have to tell you."

Sango turned her face towards his so that they were just inches apart. Her head was filled with a warm, dizzy sensation and her limbs were tingling dimly. And his lips…she couldn't tear her thoughts from his mouth. She looked at his eyes, and then she was certain. "You…you kissed me!" she gasped.

Miroku blinked. "What?"

Sango jerked back as though she had been burnt. "You kissed me! In the garden in the mountains-! I was practically unconscious and babbling from that poison, and you took advantage of-!" She slapped him across the face and stood.

"Sango, that's- I mean-!" Miroku stuttered.

Sango turned so that he couldn't see the embarrassment bring moisture to her eyes, and strode away. How dare he? How, how could he? She tore the flower from her hair and broke into a sprint. She wasn't even sure that she was headed home.

The memory was rushing back now. He had drawn her into his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She couldn't remember what she had been saying, and his words ran together like paint dabs on a wet canvas, but the sensation pressed down on her. She could almost feel his mouth encircling hers once again, and as she ran she attempted to leave it behind.

When she got home, Kagome wasn't in her room. There was a note on the microwave saying that she'd gone out with Inuyasha. "Perfect," Sango moaned before crawling into her room and crashing, face-first, into bed.

(-)(-)(-)

Sango and Miroku met the next evening at 6:30pm in the Narita International Airport, carrying large suitcases filled with American-style clothes and trinkets provided by Sector 4. They bought dinner and sat across from one another until it was time to board. Not one word was exchanged. They sat next to one another on the flight, so Sango popped a sleeping pill, rolled away from Miroku, and fell into unconscious bliss for the rest of the flight.

(-)(-)(-)

I had been years since Sango had seen London, and she had to admit that the energy of the city was, while wholly different from Tokyo, wholly thrilling. They had dorm rooms set up for them in Oxford-Sango's was a beautiful, sprawling oak room in a honey-colored quad that was meant for a princess, not a college student. Miroku's was a much more humble and modernistic quad verging on the description of ugly. Sango made a note of it so she could be sure to stay far, far away throughout their assignment.

They went to class that morning, collecting syllabi after syllabi and chatting with the other students. Both Sango and Miroku were in the humanities division, pursuing history and economics degrees. Sango became fast friends with a British girl named Margaret, who had grown up in the same town as their target. Miroku, meanwhile, focused his attention on their lovely teacher, an Irish woman named Dr. Kieren Casey.

"Kim, wait up!" called Margaret after class. Sango was making a beeline for the quad-hoping to avoid Miroku at all costs, but when she heard Margaret, she whirled around and affected a smile.

"Oh, hi!" she chimed. "Sorry-so totally out of it right now."

"Not a problem-Wondering if you wanted to join me for a bit of lunch?" Margaret asked.

"Oh, sure," Sango said. "That'd be great."

On their way off-campus, Sango spied Miroku having a 'spot of tea' with Dr. Casey in her office. 'Wastes no time,' she thought with such venom that her frame shook.

(-)(-)(-)

"Kim, this is Peter Clay," Margaret said, jumping up from the table and grabbing the arm of a young man walking by. "Peter, this is Kimberly Takahashi."

The man who turned to shake Sango's hand was, well, very handsome. He had brilliant blue eyes, black hair, and a proud carriage. Peter was, of course, their target. His father was one of the richest men in London, his mother, from one of the most influential families of Tokyo. Peter was attending Oxford, currently pursuing his doctorate in the humanities division, and focusing on history as well as economics. Sango and Miroku had been assigned to swipe his dissertation.

"Lovely to see you again, Margaret. Kim-san, hajimemashite. Yoroshiku," Peter said with a roguish smile. Sango felt herself blush.

"Kochirakoso yoroshiku," Sango responded through her desert of an esophagus.

"Won't you join us?" Margaret asked.

"Sorry-meeting some mates of mine," Peter said quickly, jerking his thumb at some chaps near the bar.

"Oh, alright then," Margaret said, clearly disappointed.

Peter nodded briskly to the two of them, and then dashed off. His friends greeted him boisterously, filling the bar with their hoots as Peter ordered a round of drinks.

"I've always had a crazy crush on him," Margaret said, sighing. "He's our age, but he got pushed way ahead in school due to tutors and his magnificent mind. I never had much of a chance to interact with him… He's the kind of guy that every girl falls for I suppose."

Sango nodded vaguely, already wondering what kind of girl a guy like Peter would fall for. She needed to get close to him, get her hands on the dissertation, and head back to Tokyo before exams. This wasn't going to be like Watanuki. This was going to take time. But, then, she mused as she caught Peter's bright blue gaze from across the room, she didn't think she'd mind taking her time here…

-Ichimu