It was a curious matter, the subject at hand, and an interesting predicament, though not too terribly a troubling one.

Kinumi knew who her son was, that was without a doubt. She knew his quirks; she knew his likes, his dislikes. She knew what he hated, and what he valued, what he treasured, and what he despised. Sesshōmaru had always been her son more than he had been his father's, so she had always known more about him than his own father had. In fact, Sesshōmaru had rarely seen his father until after he had reached puberty. Kinumi had raised Sesshōmaru to be the person she wanted him to be, and that was exactly how he had turned out to being with a few minor differences.

She had not raised him to covet his father's sword so much. The boy did though, and Kinumi found nothing to terribly wrong with that. If this was how he would achieve his fullest potential, then so be it, she was fine with that.

She had not raised him to hate humans so much. She did not really hate humans, they held nothing of value and she had been sure he knew of that, but it was not like she hated them. They could be amusing. Her son hated them though, perhaps because when he had finally gotten the love of the father who had abandoned him for so many years, a human stole it away. It didn't matter; it meant that he would not follow in his father's footsteps so she was quite alright with it.

But she had also not raised him to take a human girl under his wing, and a boy for that matter. Kinumi found this amusing, slightly appalling, quite contradictory, a sign of maturation in her son, and also rather ironic.

When her son had tracked her down, she had been pleased to see him. What mother wouldn't? He had grown up to be quite a strong son who demanded much respect, and he was also gorgeous thanks to her of course. When he ascended the steps to her palace though, trailed by some toad-demon, a dragon, and two human children, she had been quite baffled.

"Do you intend to eat them?" she had asked.

He was not there for that though, instead to expand his meidou, which involved her meidou stone. She helped him, with more than one thing, but her eyes kept returning to the little human girl who wore the most dazzling smile.

She had to say first before she continued with anymore of her thoughts regarding her son and the girl, that the girl, Rin as she was called, was adorable. Kinumi had felt the most intense desire to whisk her away and play dress up with her in the most colorful of kimonos she could offer and braid flowers into her beautiful black hair. It was uncharacteristic of her, but she didn't care, that girl was adorable and was completely deserving of it.

At first though, after her joke, she had tried to figure out why she was there. Was Sesshōmaru following in his father's footsteps, falling in love with a human girl? That did not seem right though. Kinumi was aware of the fact men took younger brides, but those brides were all of child-bearing age, just the youngest of that age range. The girl was at most ten, and she knew most girls did not get their first bleeding until thirteen. It seemed wrong. Did her son really want a child to warm his bed, to nourish his loins? Kinumi hoped not.

Then she watched. She watched as the hell-hound stole away the little girl, and how, without a second thought, her son chased after the beast to rescue the girl. She saw his conflict, his turmoil, as he stood surrounded by mountains of souls clamoring for his blade and he realized he could not save her. The heartbreak, the pain, the sorrow. She knew what that was. She felt it too.

It was the love of a parent, for their child.

So when he'd brought her corpse back into the realm in the living, the toad-demon balling in his master's place, and his master on the very verge of tears, she could feel his pain as well. She felt like crying too. She hid it behind her mask of conceited indifference and offered to restore the girl with her meidou stone. When the child opened her eyes again, not only did her son's heart leap with joy, so did her own. She could tell with the way he caressed her, and looked at her with delight and pain, that Rin was most certainly not there for his physical pleasure, but because he felt the unconditional love of a parent for their child.

"You have become like your father in the strangest of ways," she commented as they had departed. Had one wanted to be blind, they could've read what she said as an argument for her son feeling romantic notions for the child, but it was not that. He had become like his father, he loved a human, but the difference, the "strange" way, was that he loved the human as if she was his own child.

It was peculiar. Many things were peculiar. She found love in general to be peculiar. She could rationalize romantic love as the gods' way of making sure their creations bred. She could write off parental love as so that children did not die before they could stand on their own. Love was still strange though, for one would never think that paternal love could form between two so very different people without witnessing it for themselves.

She bore witness, and she believed in it whole-heartedly.