After parting ways with Kohaku, Kagome entered Sango’s home, calling out as she did. With it being so cold out, the children were inside, playing quietly together by the hearth. They’d been subdued like this ever since their father’s death. It hurt Kagome’s heart to see it, their somberness and frowning faces. 

“Where’s your mama?” she asked.

One of the twin girls pointed to the bedroom, frowning deeper. “Mama’s in there. She’s not feeling well.”

Kagome could see the fear trembling in her dark eyes, and the eyes of her siblings. Still reeling from the loss of one parent, they were clearly now terrified more than anything that they might lose the other. Their world, and their innocent faith in the fairness of it, had been irrevocably shaken. 

Repressing her own concern at this news, Kagome mustered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she said, brushing back the little girl’s mussed bangs. “I’m sure your mama’s just tired, that’s all. I’ll go in and check on her now. Will you big kids watch Shin for me?”

The three nodded eagerly, desperate to feel helpful after feeling so helpless. They’re such good-hearted kids, Kagome thought as she handed Shin over to them, speaking to Miroku’s spirit in her mind. You and Sango-chan did well.

Kagome went into the adjoining bedroom, the one Sango had once shared with Miroku. She was there, curled away from the door on her side, toward the shaded windows. Kagome circled around to face her, and her throat caught.

Sango’s normally sleek dark hair was lank and lusterless. Her skin was pale and waxy and her eyes were so bagged and shadowed they looked bruised. Kagome knelt down, like her heart was dragging her down to her knees at the bedside.

“Sango-chan,” she whispered, “what’s wrong?”

Sango gave a hollow sort of laugh that made Kagome feel abashed.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome said, gazing down. “That was a stupid thing to ask. I meant, you don’t look well. Are you feverish?”

Sango certainly looked feverish. She looked downright ill. But the sudden sigh and wrench she gave as she flopped over onto her back made Kagome wonder. Sango hid her tired eyes in the crook of her arm.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon, that’s all. I kept it together while Kohaku was here. Just barely. Just long enough for him to leave the house.”

“I met him outside,” Kagome said with a nod. “He’s worried about you.” Her eyes scanned over Sango’s haggard form. “Honestly, I’m worried, too.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Well, I can’t help it. I’m worried.” Biting her lip, Kagome let the silence draw out a beat. “I think you should go with him when you feel up to it.” As Sango stiffened, Kagome soldiered on, “The kids are uneasy here. You’re uneasy here. Inuyasha and I and everyone else—what we want more than anything is for you and your family to be happy and well. So if you’re not, why stay here? What’s holding you to this place?”

Sango sat up abruptly. Her eyes were dark and blazing in her waxen face. “What’s holding me here?—how can you even ask such a thing? My husband is here. He’s here forever, and I…” Sango’s face crumpled as her voice cracked, falling to a hoarse whisper. “…I’m afraid.”

Kagome’s lips parted to ask why. But as her eyes searched Sango’s, she found the answer—a half second before Sango uttered it herself.

“I’m pregnant, Kagome-chan.”

Kagome stared back at her, for a moment rendered speechless. “That night,” she said haltingly, at last. “The night that Miroku-sama—that he…”

Sango nodded, her expression torn. “I’m certain of it. It was on the night that he died.”

Again, Kagome didn’t know what to say. Sango didn’t seem to know either. Tears glistened in her agate eyes. But after a while, Sango spoke, as if she had no choice but to speak to this secret that had been weighing on her heart and mind.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, “how I should feel about this…”

“You should feel happy,” Kagome said, clasping Sango by the arms. “That’s how you should feel. That’s how Miroku-sama would feel.”

Sango seemed to brighten for a moment, before she frowned again. “But, he’s not here. He’ll never…”

As Sango trailed off tearfully, Kagome shook her head. “No, Sango-chan. You can’t think that way. This is a gift that he’s given you. This baby is a blessing.” Kagome smiled. “You have to tell the children—they’ll be so happy to know they have a new brother or sister on the way.”

Sango’s expression remained tremulous, but there was a hopeful light in her eyes. “Oh, Kagome-chan, I want to be happy. But I’m so afraid. Miroku’s always been by my side, but now…the thought of giving birth without him frightens me. That’s why I don’t want to leave Edo. I want to stay here, where he is. Where I feel safe.”

As Sango’s eyes held hers, Kagome knew what she meant. Who she meant. 

Inuyasha had been Miroku’s best friend, the godfather to his and Sango’s children. Inuyasha had protected them both time and again in the battle for the Shikon no Tama. His courage and strength had given Sango courage and strength even in her most vulnerable moment, when Naraku had set her upon him in her grief-stricken state. It had left an indelible impression upon her—how could it not? What made Sango feel safe now, once again, was Inuyasha.

Kagome smiled, soft and pained. “I understand, Sango-chan.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 1/9/23