When she is 12 years old, they tie a red ribbon around her pinky and attach it to his. He looks older than her, about three or four years, but looks and actions can be deceiving and she is vaguely aware that his life has spanned many lifetimes, many generations of her people.
"It is a good match," she hears her mother say.
His mother was silent.
"They will be good for each other," his father chimes in.
"For the future!" Her father had cheered, somewhat drunkenly.
No one took the time to ask her opinion.
Instead they put her in a white dress (a large, frilly, lacey monstrosity because it was her wedding day and every girl deserved to look like a princess on her wedding day) and stood her in front of a boy with wide amber eyes and long silver hair and the stoic expression of someone who could not be more unhappy. A man mumbled some words she understood but did not know the weight of and they both said 'I do,' and just like that they were married.
Well, not legally. But the ceremony was just a formality, just a bit of fun for the children. What came after was what bound them together, her name, scrawled in half cursive on a dotted line. Pledging that when she is 21 years of age, she will marry this boy, really marry him.
After she signed the paper there was cake.
After the cake there were years spent, living normally but always with the vague feeling of belonging to another. As if her actions and what she owned was not really hers, simply an extension of someone else. And the boy of gold and silver, who grew into a man before her eyes, became less like a shadow lingering in her world and more tangible, more real. And she liked it.
And one day, one deceptively unremarkable day when she is 15, he disappears. No one hears from him, he left not note, no clue.
She goes on living and finds there really isn't much of a difference, him there or him gone, because he was always really just a shadow, never really human, never really hers, and her 21st year comes and goes and for the first time in a long time there is not that presence over her, that weight of another blanketing her in a way that was not comforting, but foreboding.
And now she is 23 years old. High school and college have come and gone and she is has moved from technically living on her own to officially, with a steady job and a few good friends she is content, unmarried, and waking up in a bed that is not her own.
Something stirs her from sleep, another person moving beside her. Their breath brushes her cheeks, soft, warm puffs of air, and she knows she is being watched.
"Kagome," a voice, high pitched and only slightly gravelly with sleep, whispers to her. "Kagome."
When two hands reach for her hair and pull, Kagome launches herself forward, pulling a scream from her attacker as she leans over her and begins to tickle her into a frenzy.
"Rin, my darling," she taunts over the young girl's squeals. Her tiny hands try to pull her away, but they are weak with her laughter. "What did I say about letting me sleep?"
Her attempts at protestation or apology are broken by giggles, but finally Kagome lets up and gives Rin, her nine year old ward, time to take in deep breaths of air and finally speak.
"I just," another giggle, "I just wanted to let you know that Sesshoumaru called. He said he'd be home soon."
"Hmm. We'll then we should get you dressed before he gets here. Have you eaten breakfast?"
The child shakes her head, following Kagome's lead as she climbs out of bed and runs her fingers through her hair. "I was waiting for you."
"Well, do you want an omelet? It's my specialty."
Rin, already aware of this, nods her head emphatically and follows her friend into the kitchen. She is sitting at the island in the kitchen as Kagome cleans up after an almost finished breakfast when the man of the house walks through the door. His movements are still silent, he has yet to learn to alert people to his presence with polite noises like footsteps or the creak of a door or breathing, despite the annoyance of another ("Darn it Sesshou! Make a noise or something, it's creepy!"). If it wasn't for the loud squawking of his lackey behind him, neither girls would be alerted to his presence. At the sound Rin's face, still stuffed with egg and rice, brightened and she swallowed quickly to run into the living room, only to turn and see her father already there.
"Sesshoumaru!" She cried excitedly, rushing to throw her arms around his waist. His suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, with the other hand he patted her gently in the back then smoothed over her hair, stilled messed with sleep. When she moved to look up at him he smiled and cupped her cheek. "Have you eaten your fill?"
She nods, wiping her cheek with the back of one hand in case there's any stray rice.
"Then go prepare for school."
"Yes Sesshoumaru."
She gives him one last squeeze, then bounds out of the room. The soft patter of her bare feet mark that she is already half way up the steps when he tells Jaken to remind her to brush her teeth. The little green man gives a "Yes my Lord," before running off to do his bidding.
Alone, he turns to her. "Thank you for looking after her last night. I did not know the flight wou-"
"It wasn't a problem," she shrugs, smirking at him. "When I said I could watch her any time I literally meant any time."
He smiles again, that small crook in his lips. "I know. But I am still grateful."
"Well then, you're welcome," she is about to load the dishwasher but instead turns to look at him. He is like the boy she once knew, gold and silver. His features a finer, sharper, and Kagome never forgets that his face, which appears expressionless to the untrained eye, is beautiful. "Have you eaten? Are you hungry?"
"I'm fine."
"You know, I make a mean omelet an-"
"I am well aware."
She shrugs again and goes back to her task. "Suite yourself."
He throws his jacket over one chair and sits in the one that Rin just vacated.
"So how did it go?" She asks, looking at him over her shoulder.
"Fine, I suppose. All of his assets seem to be in order. There are still some things to go over, of course, but Naraku might make a fine business partner."
"Hmm. And him? How do you feel about him?" Sesshoumaru shrugs but says nothing. "Oh come on Sesshou! This is my department, I need to be informed."
"You do realize that Sesshou means killing, correct?"
"With hair like yours, I'm sure you can knock 'em dead."
He smirks and she is wiping her hands dry on a towel. He is not surprised, not anymore, when she comes behind him and he can feel her hands moving on his shoulders.
The first time it happened he thought it was an attempt at seduction, overused and a bit clichéd. But years have passed since that day and he knows now that she prefers to give and receive comfort through touch. And he will not deny that he has come to enjoy it.
One hand moves and he sees it move to the table in front of him. He picks up the piece of paper she has left behind and reads what is written.
"This is an address."
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Why?"
"I'm moving. And I'd like it if you knew where to."
He reads the scrap of paper again, though he has memorized what it says. "I don't know this street," he remarks.
"There are a lot of things you don't know."
He stiffens at that and she laughs, warmly. "I'll be fine. Trust me."
She puts her arms around his neck and he places a hand on her wrist. She moves a moment later, when Rin's footsteps and Jaken's yelling can be heard and she laughs again, but stops when she feels that Sesshoumaru still holds her wrist.
"You three..." Kagome can hear both the green man and the sunshine girl calling Sesshou's name and he pauses, as if to take it in. "You three are the only people I trust."
She puts her arms around his neck again, buries her face in his hair. "Me too."
It is her first year of college when Kagome Higurashi takes an internship at Takahashi Enterprise, the company where her father, Akio Higurashi, is a partner and that Sesshoumaru's father, Inutaisho, owns.
He remembers her face, but takes no real notice of her. He never has, not when she was making small talk at the little get togethers his father would throw, not even when she was marrying his brother. She is wearing a simple white blouse and a midlength black skirt. Practical shoes and her hair in a tight bun. Her father stops her before him and says something he does not catch. She bows deeply, deeper than needed for a family friend, muttering "Sesshoumaru Sama" then scurrying away.
She is sent to his office once that day, to collect a file. She briefly looks through it, surprises him by telling him a page is missing. He frowns, finds it in another pile and she bows again before leaving the room.
People (sheep) whisper about her when there is no one else there, but he can hear it. And as the rumors they tell get more and more vicious, she gets quieter and quieter and Sesshoumaru knows she must be overhearing things as well and knows that one day she will break, she will burst into tears. This does not happen. She begins to avoid the bathrooms, the breakrooms, any place where she might overhear something. On one occasion he sees her face fall before she apologizes and runs from the office, lunch in hand and cheeks red. And he waits. Instead, one day, she stops all the false pleasantries and sweet smiles.
"Please, leave me alone," she said in response to someone's question.
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, I didn't think you would want the help of someone who can't close her legs." Sesshoumaru's eyes shot across the hall to see the older man's face fall. "That is what you said isn't it?" Her voice is surprisingly calm, as are her movements and her expressions. "Perhaps you expect me to spread my legs for you as well?"
"Ms. Higurashi, I -"
"Please, leave me alone," she picks up a stack of papers, fixing him with a look of annoyance. "I'm getting tired of dealing with you people."
It isn't until weeks later, after the other employees had become much more careful in their gossip, that he can hear the short sounds of her crying from the supply room. He doesn't know why, but after minutes of listening to tears and stunted sobs he goes to her, opening the door without ceremony and standing above her.
"Why are you crying?"
She is stunned into silence, into calmness. "What- why-"
Oh, how he hates repeating himself. "You are crying. What is the reason?"
"They hate me."
He sighs, then crouches down to where she sits on the floor. "There are two sorts of opinions in the world. The ones that matter and the ones that do not." Her eyes are still red, so he continues. "Your father is a partner a company that owns a modest fraction of the world. You are engaged to one of the heirs of that company. They think that you have earned nothing. And they are right," she looks ready to cry again, "so far. Prove them wrong."
She nods, wipes red eyes and stands up. "Ok. You're right. Ok."
The next time he sees her she still bows and calls him "sama," and it surprises him how much he dislikes those little formal pleasantries, but the offence is soothed by the soft smile she gives him and the hand briefly touching his arm. A few days after that they go to lunch together and conversation is surprisingly easy, perhaps because they both knew that no one else would deal with them. He isn't exactly sure about when it became friendship, but he knows that they shared a lot of little moments together. He is there when she graduates college and decides to join the Public Relations department.
She is there when he returns home from Guyo. There is an earthquake and they don't hear from him for three weeks. He is under a bridge for four days, cared for by a five year old girl that he adopts. There are a hundred dinners and late nights in the office and words passed and one night, weeks after she turns 22, she forces him to go to a club with him.
He hates these places, too much noise, too many smells, too hot, but she makes it bearable when she grabs his hand and pulls him into the cool night air.
She kisses him that night, or he kisses her. It is long and lingering and laughing between lips touching and he holds her close even when they stop because they are each other's. A thread was tied between them as well, maybe not the red heart thread that tried to tie her to his brother, but definitely a vein, a link between them for the rest of their lives. And they both seemed to understand that. Friendship would always be what kept them together.
She kissed him again. "You are my best friend."
He nods. "We were meant for each other."
"Am I riding with you to the office?" She asked, pulling her hair into a knot at the top of her head.
He doesn't answer, because it is a stupid question, but she smiles all the same. "Tell me about Naraku?"
That catches his attention. "Why are you so curious?""
"I'm going to be the one to present this relationship as beneficial. I should at least know about the man."
"You will get to know him," he looks at his watch. "You will meet him in 6 hours."
