Memory
Sesshoumaru knew he might one day relish the memory of the miko-to-be's harried flight away, the sound of her geta clicking along the stone path echoing even still in his ears. She had looked quite beautiful—for a human—in the red and white kimono with her usually riotous hair piled neatly atop her head. And when the fear had crept into her eyes…she'd been delicious.
Turning, smirking to himself, Sesshoumaru prepared to continue on his way. No doubt he would hear of this later. Then his eyes caught sight of the slightly battered gift she'd wanted to give him.