IV
Kafun
"Would that, like the smoke of the watch-fires that mounts and vanishes at random in the empty sky,
the smoldering flame of passion could burn itself away"
Kagome carries the words that slip out of Kouga like a talisman as she ties her obi awkwardly and then rushes out into the night, barefoot, her robes hanging, her hair disarranged.
She has to make a show of it, after all.
The Inu's eyes are always, always watching.
She leaps into her carriage and demands movement; behind her, gaining ground but not too quickly, the "hue and cry" that Kouga had demanded begins to rush behind her. The howls of wolves beat at her blood; in the security of her carriage, her face hidden behind closed shutters, Kagome smiles at the sound and presses her hand against her breast; her heart is pounding.
She should be thinking about how easy this will be, but in truth it will be hard and she knows it, unless Sesshomaru is more eager now that his enemy is dead than he has been in the months since. She has mastered the art of setting sleepdust free in a youkai's presence; she is human, miko, immune to it – all she needs to do is get enough in the air between them to lull him.
Kagome takes a deep breath and finds within herself the mask of Mitsubachi, the mask of the killer, the mask of the seductress, the assassin.
The cry of the wolves begins to fade into the distance behind her, and she leans across and opens the shutter, peers outside. The pack is turning, stopping, going back into the distance; the walls of the city are before her and the soldiers on the wall are throwing fire and power and darkness out into the night.
It is almost two o'clock in the morning; she must be quick.
When she steps out of the carriage she is Mitsubachi, and while she walks she makes a show of plucking out the elaborate ornaments that are askew in her hair one by one. Unseen, unscented, sleepdust powder flows from the movements of her sleeves. Every eye follows her; many draw as close to her as they can – she is a beautiful woman, and she is not out of bounds, even if she has a dangerous reputation.
By the time she reaches the Emperor's own chambers those on the walls are begin to yawn; when she kneels before Sesshomaru and bows, her eyes on his face and the slow, cruel grin of pleasure that spreads there, guards all along the path she walked have begun to fall asleep.
"Sesshomaru-dono, I hope you have prepared my fee. The Rebel Emperor is dead, and I am alive – barely."
"So I see...the wolves chased you even to the gates, I hear. A narrow escape for the formidable Mitsubachi."
His tone is mocking, but she answers mildly.
"They were his pack, Sesshomaru-dono. I imagine they are most displeased with me."
For the first time in her memory, he laughs – but it is not a pleasant sound, not the warmth of her Kouga or the panting amusement of his pack. He is laughing because he thinks Kouga is dead; he is laughing because he thinks himself and uncontested ruler once more.
Yet the sound is reassuring, and Mitsubachi considers the first of the ploys she had thought to use upon – the easiest and perhaps if she is lucky the one with he swiftest success. She bows low before him again, and then speaks while she is still prostrate, her fingers reaching toward him.
"Sesshomaru-dono, if I may beg an indulgence – I was required to flee in great disorder and my robes are improperly tied. Might you summon a maidservant to assist me in righting them?"
His laughter rumbles to a halt, and he considers her – the length of her hair unbound, her obi a mussed and hasty knot, the layers of her robes in great disorder indeed. He considers that now that she has completed this most vital of tasks, he has no more for her – that there is no longer any reason for him to keep her around, this Mitsubachi, this woman of scathing wit and scorching beauty...but she has other talents, he thinks. Carnal promises she's made to him with her eyes, her leaning – is there any reason now not to want her?
He takes advantage of her request just like she wants him to.
"Come here, Mitsubachi; I will assist you myself."
She stands and steps toward him, mounts the dais and undoes the knot of her obi with one hand at her back. The layers of her robes fall to the floor one after another in puddles of bright silk, and as they fall Sesshomaru's eyes are on her body and not the faint glitter of sleepdust as it slips from her sleeves and her fingers and filters through the air.
She stands bare before him except for an open gauze robe and her koshimaki; he reaches out a finger and touches her nipple, fear-puckered, cold-puckered, and thinks her shudder is lust.
A/N: Part 4 of 5; only one bit left, my dears, onward to the end!