Author's Note: Writer's block for the longest time, trying to work out how to end this... but the end isn't very far off now.

"Sango?"

She could not respond, shaking her head dumbly. Something flashed in Miroku's eyes.

"Sango, I'm sorry."

"N – no, don't be!" Breathing hard, she stumbled to her feet, face flushing dark. The last thing she wanted was for Miroku, caring, dependable Miroku, to be apologising for something she had done. "Houshi-sama – "

He stood upright in one smooth movement, his hand reaching for hers. She let it be.

The fine line of the monk's lips tightened. "... You're tired," he said softly. "Nothing happened here tonight, alright?" Miroku took a deep breath and strode away to the tree line, settling himself against a sturdy trunk.

"Good night, Sango," his voice drifted over to her. The flickering firelight illuminated the tilt of his jaw, his face turned from her.

Sango's knees gave way. She bit her lip, doing her best to suppress the tears that welled in her eyes.

Inuyasha, sulking on a comfortable bough, caught the discomfiting scent of Sango and tears, mixed on the wind. His ears flattened.

Here was a pretty problem, of the variety he had little experience in: girls. Or, in this case, women.

The hanyou had two choices; he could go back and find Sango. His instincts were pushing him in that direction, urging him to her side, because she needed him.

Inuyasha scowled.

Or he could always stay out in the forest and hope that Miroku would pick up on it, comfort her, and he could return in the morning to find things back to normal.

Which would be fine, unless Miroku himself was the source of those tears.

He wasn't used to caring for people's feelings, let alone their general physical wellbeing. Providing support was something he had learnt with Kikyou, along with numerous other social behaviours.

She had nurtured the human side of him and shown him how important it was.

Inuyasha clenched his jaw. Time was wasting, and the salty-bitter tang was beginning to grate on his senses.

"Is something wrong, Kagome-chan?"

She looked up from her drink, startled by the abrupt enquiry; up until that moment the conversation had been about Ayumi's favourite pop star and his misdemeanours.

"O – of course not," she said, taking a sip. "What's with the question?"

Eri tapped the paper cup. "You finished that about five minutes ago."

She flushed crimson.

"Well?"

Kagome took a thoughtful sip of air from her straw; how was she going to explain this? When she had told them she was returning to her time to clear her head, it seemed easier said than done. She had hoped the mundanity of daily life would grind feelings out of her – but even geometry and its mind-numbing drudgery had failed. All it made her see was the triangle between herself, the dog-boy and the demon slayer five centuries past.

Yuka leaned in, a serious look on her face. "... Is it that delinquent boyfriend of yours? Is he treating you properly?"

"W – what are you implying?" Too late, she felt the colour rise in her cheeks; getting defensive over nothing at all was bound to arouse their suspicions.

All three girls adopted serious expressions, Eri even reaching over to pat Kagome's hand. "Kagome-chan, we want you to know that we're here for you."

"Don't keep quiet, okay?"

She could have laughed. Somewhere in a detached corner of her mind she was sure she was laughing.

When Sango had recovered her composure sufficiently, she picked up her wakizashi. Casting a quick glance over at Miroku (Shippou stirred in his lap), she slipped into the forest.

She hadn't walked far when a dark shape landed in front of her.

"Where are you going?" he asked without preamble.

"A walk. I wanted to train for a bit." She nodded at the short sword in her hand.

Inuyasha studied her closely; overbright eyes, the taut way she held herself, the rigidity of her jaw. "You're in no condition to be training right now."

She started at the gentleness in his voice; and bristled in response. "I don't need you to tell me what I can or can't do."

"And I'm not," he snapped back. "I'm not going to do that to you, of all people."

They glared daggers at each other for a heartbeat. Sango broke the tension by slowly wrapping her fingers around the hilt of her sword. He caught the glimmer in her eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

Her draw was lightning-quick; he parried easily with his claws and sprang back. She pressed close, the blade humming in the narrow space between their bodies. Inuyasha struck – and was repulsed, having judged the moment inaccurately.

They sparred without words, the clang of sword meeting claw filling the void.

And as abruptly as it had started, they pulled away and paused to catch their breath. Sango sheathed her weapon and tossed it into the grass casually.

"Thank you," she breathed, her eyes still ablaze with the thrill of combat. He nodded, knowing it to be reflected in his own.

They had both sat in the grass, neither one willing to move. The sparring session had relieved the tense atmosphere somewhat, and it was a comfortable silence they inhabited.

"You ought to be getting some sleep," remarked Inuyasha.

"I really should," she concurred.

He sensed there was something she wasn't telling him yet, but he was perfectly comfortable with that; all the negative energy had been worked out of her system, and he trusted Sango to share it when she was ready.

How different from dealing with Kagome, he thought wryly.

"Inuyasha?"

"Hnn?"

"Do you think they were right?"

Instantly he knew what she was driving at, what had been dogging them both for ages.

"Right about what?" he hedged, wondering when had he gotten so evasive.

"Us," Sango said simply.

Her candour, easily a match for his, threw him off enough to make the first mistake. "This... this wasn't supposed to happen," Inuyasha said hastily, and regretted it immediately after.

"Glad to see you feel the same way," she remarked acidly.

"Shut up, dammit! Why do you have to make this so difficult?" he snarled back.

"Me? You're blaming me? You started this – you and those things about Houshi-sama and I – " Sango bit her lip.

Inuyasha visibly deflated. "... I understand."

"Inuyasha – "

He drew back from her. "Look, Sango, maybe we both made a very big mistake, okay?"

"Mistake?" she echoed. Sango had to pause; to choose her next words carefully – the disconcerting feeling of having the bottom dropping out of her stomach stilled her tongue.

He ran a clawed hand through his hair. "This could have been so much easier if we had just fallen for the right people. You and Miroku, me and Kagome – "

And then they came to her in a flash. "You're wrong," she heard herself say, "we did fall for the right person. In the end."

His cheeks reddened.

There. It had been said. Her mind had never felt clearer. It was so simple, when she stopped thinking about consequences and others.

She loved him, and he returned those feelings.

Shyly, she stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Hands encircled her back in that slightly awkward manner she was accustomed to observing from afar.

"It won't be easy."

Sango made an impatient noise, muffled against his shoulder. "If I wanted easy, I would have married Kuranosuke and spent the rest of my life as a pretty ornament sitting on a silk cushion."

Inuyasha pulled away a little so she could see his eyes; deep gold as always, transparent with amusement, happiness, shy affection. "You're kidding."

"Never been so serious in my life."

They were quickly falling back into the easy banter of their friendship – the interaction of comrades-in-arms accustomed to entrusting their lives to one another. Only this time, it was so much more.