Chapter Text
Ever since the last confrontation with Naraku’s lackeys, Sango’s mood had been noticeably down. It didn’t have anything to do with Kagura’s eternal sass or with the fight in itself, but rather with him.
Kohaku.
Her little brother, controlled like a mindless puppet by Naraku. Having to draw arms against him was too much for the young demon slayer to handle. Having already lost her entire family and comrades, she did not wish to, at last, end the innocent life of the boy she had raised for eleven years. God, if only she could hold him in her arms again without a care in the world! Unfortunately that was impossible, so long as Naraku had a grip on the young boy’s life.
The pain of having fought Kohaku that day was more than Sango could bear. That night, she had offered herself to Miroku, caving in to his every desire in the hopes of drowning out her sorrows in sex. While the monk had been in her, she could forget everything that had happened. Yet, as soon as her orgasm was over, the pain and guilt of being incapable to protect her little brother came back like a tidal wave. Enough was enough, if she couldn’t have Kohaku by her side, then Naraku wouldn’t have him either.
On that thought, Sango hurriedly dressed up again. After making sure that everyone else was asleep, she tiptoed away from their camp, her big sister heart driven by an almost motherly desire to see her baby brother again. Nothing and no one would come between them, she swore of it. Nothing mattered if Kohaku wasn’t back home to her, and that mentality made her all the more dangerous.
That same night, Kohaku was just as distraught. Playing the mindless slave who didn’t recognize his own sister really messed with his head. His hope of defeating Naraku by betraying him at the right moment truly conflicted with his childish need to run away and go hide in Sango’s bosom for a little while. That mental toll made fighting her that day even harder, as well as the pain glinting in her eyes every time their gazes had crossed.
To take his mind off of it all, the little brunet was slaying weak demons left and right instead of sleeping. One, then two, then five, then twenty, then eventually a hundred. Once all the demons in the area were dead, it was awfully quiet. So quiet that Kohaku first thought he was hallucinating the soft footsteps coming near him. When he realized that there was really someone coming, it was already too late. A floral-scented rag pressed to his nose from behind, and the boy was already feeling sleepy…
"And hop, on my shoulders you go!"
For someone like Sango, used to carrying a weapon bigger and heavier than her daily, Kohaku’s dainty frame was featherlight to lift. She didn’t feel any remorse for drugging him, as he was still under the enemy’s control and would have definitely fought back. And that was the last thing she wanted, to fight her own kin once more…