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Sango walked aimlessly, weaving between crowds of people. Her eyes glanced between stalls of merchants calling out for people to purchase their goods, trying to find something worth her time and money. The late afternoon sun beat down upon her as she shielded her face, a glimmer catching her attention.
The group had found themselves with some down time as they passed through a bustling beachfront village. It was late enough in the day, and they’d manage to convince InuYasha to stop here for the evening. Taking advantage of the plentiful food, shelter, and most importantly, warm beds. Sango had broken free from the group, coming up with an excuse that she wanted to look for some gear. But the truth was, this time of year was painful for her.
Especially today being what it was.
She needed a distraction. So, she wandered off to look for supplies in the hustle and bustle of the market. She was hoping to find any useful weaponry or perhaps salve for medication or poison crafting.
Instead, she found herself in front of a jeweler's stand. The sheen of the luxurious stones caught her eye as they glinted in the setting sun across the alley. She thought for a moment that they could be weapons until she approached the stall, and by then her feminine side had become captivated by the beautiful stones and luxurious fashions she knew she’d never possess.
Sango released a sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. It reminded her of home, honestly. Even in an austere place like the slayer’s village, the women still kept up with the latest fashions. Especially considering the status of most of their patrons and the sort of payments they’d often receive.
Being the daughter of the chief, she and her mother used to have a decent collection of jewels and gemstones. Sango had personally never worn them herself, but she remembered with fondness how beautiful her mother looked done up with jewels for ceremony days, her hair braided and decorated for the occasion.
While Sango’s passion was demon slaying, she secretly imagined that one day she too would wear them. Perhaps when she decided to settle down, or became the new chief. Of course, that dream died the day her village did. Her mother’s jewels had been stolen from her, just as her father and Kohaku had been. She wondered if she would ever personally see such a collection again.
Haunted by the painful nostalgia, Sango found herself blinking back tears as she eyed the jewels before her. She discreetly wiped them away when a hairpin caught her eye. It looked similar to the one her mother used to wear. Without thinking, she reached out to inspect it.
It was stunning. Her breath caught in her throat, grief clogging her airways. It was a beautiful mixture of colored pearls and coral twisting in a floral pattern. It reminded her of the tiger lillies she and Kohaku used to enjoy in the gardens those few short months ago. Months that seemed distant as decades now.
The coral was rough beneath her fingertips as she ran her hand over the spectacular piece. Her chest ached as a fleeting memory ran through her mind. One where she set a hairpin in place, giggling as she told her mother how beautiful she was. What was she, five? Six, perhaps? Her mother had bent down to kiss her head, telling her how one day she would be just as radiant wearing the decorative ornament. Then, she had run out to play with little Kohaku, the lily gardens filled with their echoing laughter as her mother and father watched on from the enclave near his practice room.
There at the jewelry merchant, hairpin in hand, Sango mourned how happy she’d been such a short time ago, and how contrastingly bleak her life seemed now.
“It’s beautiful.” Sango startled at the monk’s deep voice behind her, breaking her from her reverie.
A gasp escaped her lips as she whirled around, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. She couldn’t believe he’d caught her staring at something so girly. Afterall, she wasn’t the housewife type. She didn’t wear copious amounts of makeup and braid her hair. She was a warrior. A serious-minded combatant with the weight of her entire clan’s tragedy on her shoulders. She wasn’t destined to be the type of woman who dolled herself up, looking pretty for a would-be-husband.
But deep down, she wanted to be. For Miroku.
What she wouldn’t give for life to be that simple again. For the grief not to hang so heavily over her like a fog, suffocating her every waking moment.
This was her first birthday in her new life, and it may as well be her last. She no longer had the luxury of thinking about what the future could hold, knowing fully well that her future may never come. She had a duty, and that duty was to defeat Naraku. To avenge her family. To save the man she had come to love.
“It’s extravagant,” Sango replied with a nonchalant shrug, ducking her head to hide the want in her eyes behind the fringe of her bangs.
He chuckled next to her, hand touching the piece. His fingers brushed hers for a brief moment. “Yes, but even with that being the case, I’m sure it would look even more lovely on you.”
Sango turned her face, hair shielding the pink tinge of her cheeks at his usual flattery. “Still, there’s no use for such frivolous items on our journey.” She hesitated a brief second, admiring how the pearls gleamed in the orange light of the sun, before placing them back upon the table. “Our money would be much better spent on food and medicine, after all.”
Sango drew her bottom lip between her teeth, shooting one last longing glance at the pin. Mourning the life the pin represented. So fixated on the ornate piece, she missed the intent gaze of her companion studying the melancholy undertones in her expression. Miroku watched her chest heave with conviction as she turned and walked away from the stall, forcing her feet to carry her away from the memory of better times. So caught up in her tumultuous thoughts, she missed how Miroku lingered behind at the merchant’s stand.
Splashes of red, orange, and pink hues painted a beautiful picture in the shimmering water. Sango sat upon the edge, letting the sand drift between her fingertips. She’d fled the marketplace after the jeweler’s stall had stirred up feelings and memories she’d sooner forget. She stared blankly into the crashing waves, her thoughts a million miles from the ocean in front of her.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there before the familiar jangle of the shakujo shook her from her intrusive thoughts. Her heart synched up to their rhythm. Her cheeks fought the blush that threatened to take over as she turned to find Miroku approaching her.
“I thought I might find you out here,” he mused with a smile, moving to sit next to her.
Unsure of how she could explain her latest melancholy, Sango released a pent up sigh and turned back to face the water. She rubbed a grain of sand between her thumb and forefinger, concentrating on the feeling instead of the watchful gaze of her companion.
Instead of contributing more to the conversation, a familiar and comfortable silence fell amicably over them. It amazed her how his mere presence did wonders to lift her spirits when she could never seem to pick up the pieces herself. That wasn’t unsurprising, though. His quiet, comforting presence was something she’d come to rely on in their journey together. Sometimes, she thought it was the only thing keeping her sane when the hard moments came.
“I got you something,” he piped up. The unexpected sound of his voice startled her, her hand twitching in the sand beside her.
“Miroku, you–” Before she had an opportunity to decline, to tell him he didn’t have to get her anything, he pulled something out of his robe. He held out his palm toward her, fervent blues washing over her.
Her breath caught in her throat as a lump formed. Her eyes furiously darted between his face and his hand, which was holding that beautiful hairpin she’d been looking at in the market. It was every bit as beautiful as it had been earlier, and every ounce as extravagant.
She brought her trembling hands to her mouth, whispering a breathless, “Miroku.” Sango was unsure of what to say. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. It was simply too precious a gift to accept, and certainly not the kind of thing they should be spending their dwindling purse on. “We…we can’t afford this!” She shook her head, curling his fingers over the hairpin. “The others would kill you if they wasted our supply money on this…. I’m flattered, but I cannot accept.”
A sly grin tugged at his lips. “I didn’t spend any money on it,” he said matter-of-factly, the mischievous lilt in his tone indicating that his acquisition of this treasure likely wasn’t by the book either.
He didn’t. “You stole it?”
“Sango, my dear, no.” A roguish chuckle fell into the space between them. “I traded him for it.”
“So, you swindled him for it,” she chastised, a glare piercing through her gaze. The bemused smile toying at her lips, however, negated any of the bite she’d intended to have in her tone.
“Sango, I can’t believe you’d think so little of me,” he said, clapping his hand over his chest in mock indignation. “I traded that man a fortune telling, fair and square.”
Al laugh floated from her, creasing the corner of her eyes with mirth. She shook her head lightly at him. He really looked so ridiculous sometimes, but damn if she didn’t love him. And sometimes, especially in moments like this, she’d swear he felt the same.
He held his palm out once more as her gaze fell back to the beautiful hairpin. She took it from him, holding it in her lap. She studied it for a beat, musing on all it represented.
“Thank you, Miroku.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing around them.
“Happy birthday, my dearest Sango.”
She snapped her head up to meet his gaze again. She opened her mouth to protest, to deny, to ask him how the hell he knew, but stopped. An emotion she didn’t recognize flickered in his dark, turbulent ocean eyes. The affectionate grin on his lips softened as her eyes searched his, stealing the air from her lungs all over again.
He would be the death of her. Or maybe bring her back to life.
“How did you know?” she breathed out.
“Well, I didn’t know for sure, but I knew it’d be around this time, and I had a hunch after seeing you so down the last couple of days.”
At her questioning stare, he continued. “I remembered you told us the story about your twelfth birthday. When you finally got into solo combat for the first time. Based on what you told us, I pieced together that it must be in this season.” He paused for a moment, fingertips brushing against hers. Testing the waters. “I thought it might be hard on you this year, with everything that’s happened. I thought you might be missing home. So, when you were quieter the last few days, I thought it must be close. Then, you left to go out on your own so I had a feeling it was today.”
Her head was spinning. Mind reeling. He noticed that much about her? He remembered that story she’d told late one night, campfire light flickering around them? Did he…care that much about her?
Shyly, she asked with confusion lacing her voice, “You…you remember that?”
“Of course. I remember everything you tell me.” He paused to look over her briefly, a grin erupting on his face before continuing. “Especially the important things,” he added with a wink.
Her heart clattered against her chest, causing an all-too-familiar blush to crawl up her neck and settle in her cheeks once again. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know if words would work right now with the way her mouth ran dry at his heated gaze. Without permission, her eyes fell to his lips, thoughts overtaken by this intimate moment shared between them.
Affected oceanic eyes followed hers, shamelessly lingering on her succulent pink lips as both of them, it seemed, weighed the option of finally crossing lines and taking their relationship past platonic.
After what seemed like eternity, Sango’s nerves got the better of her. Her heart dropped in disappointment, and she gasped in salty air as she forced her gaze back to the waves in front of them. That same familiar silence fell over them again. She desperately wondered what he was thinking.
A bundle of nerves, she spoke up meekly. “It reminded me of my mother’s jewels.”
She snuck a glance at him. He sat there, patiently waiting for her to continue. His smile as warm as the sun sinking into the waters.
“But…it’s too much for me. I don’t know when I’d ever have the opportunity to wear something so lovely.”
“I’m sure you’ll find an opportunity,” he said, a seriousness swirling in his blues before his tone shifted to something more easy-going. “And besides, until that day comes, you can always use it for stabbing if you really want to make sure it’s practical.”
A short laugh burst free from her lips as a smile lit her face once again. She shoved him lightly at his ridiculous suggestion. “You’re absurd,” she chastised between laughs. He joined her, his deep chuckle bringing another wave of color to her heated cheeks.
“Well, whatever you choose to do with it, I hope it makes you happy and you enjoy it.” After a pause, he continued, “I know first-hand how difficult the first birthday after a loss can be, but I hope you remember we’re all here for you now.” He gave her hand a squeeze, the warmth of his skin on hers lighting a fire in her veins. “You’re not alone. And, if you let us, I’m sure everyone would love the opportunity to celebrate with you.”
She willed her hand to stop trembling beneath his. They’d had many intimate moments where one had comforted the other with a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, or even amicable silence to process the dark thoughts. But this was by far the most intimate, and closest she ever felt to him.
The hairpin was stunning, but his comforting presence in her life was the greatest birthday gift she could imagine. He always had this uncanny ability to know what she needed at any given moment. She could drown in her love for him, and she knew he would breathe her back to life anew.
Sango kept the hairpin close to her heart throughout their journey, only taking it out to finally wear on their wedding day.