Running Up That Hill
By: The Hatter Theory
Chapter 37: Protect Me From What I Want
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Inu Yasha or anything by Placebo or Kate Bush
A VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Tuesday's update will be skipped. Due to the recent change in indifference to adult materials and for the sake of consolidation, I will be formatting and posting this story to ArchiveOfOurOwn in it's uncensored format as well. I will provide a direct link from my profile to the story for those that are the age of consent. Normal updates will be resumed next Friday. Thank you for your patience.
The inu daiyoukai eyed his mother coolly, gold eyes giving nothing away as she poured tea for the both of them. Ever since arriving back, she had been quiet and withdrawn. He assumed it was because of his ire for finding out her deceit, although he couldn't be entirely sure. The shadows smudging the pale skin beneath her eyes would have worried him if he had not been convinced she was planning something.
"And why has my son decided to visit me today?" She murmured, her vivid gold eyes meeting his own.
"I wish to learn how to cloak my aura as you do," He intoned, ignoring his cup of tea. The right corner of her lips tilted up in what could only be called a smirk.
"And why does my son finally come to me for this training?" She asked. "When he has always been more comfortable announcing his presence to the world?"
"My reasons are my own," He ground out, refusing to explain anything to her. Every time he looked at her his fury only seemed to grow, and it was only because she was one of the few youkai that could cloak her aura that he was asking her.
Besides, as he saw it, she owed him.
"Fine. It is not so difficult," She sighed. "And you have always been a quick study. Come with me," She announced imperiously, as if she were deigning to grant him some huge favor instead of submitting to penance.
He followed on silent feet, surprised when her path took him out of the shiro and to the skies. Wondering why they could not simply practice in the shiro, he followed. It was only when she began her descent that he realized where she had led him, and simmering anger began boiling into fury once more.
"Not here," He commanded, voice laced with ice.
"Why ever not?" She asked in what he assumed was feigned innocence. He refused to tell her that this was one of the few places he was free to be more than just the western lord. Saying such to her would give away more than he was comfortable with anyone knowing, and she might infer things that were not meant.
"Not here," He repeated, his body shifting minutely as he let his youki flare in an impressive display of dominance.
"I appreciate your theatrics, but did you not come to me seeking help?" She asked, brow tilting up mockingly.
"This Sesshoumaru is now your alpha, and you are no longer alpha female. You will grant this Sesshoumaru's request and follow his command."
He was surprised by the sudden flare of dejection in her gold eyes as they dimmed and she nodded once, her shoulders sagging infinitesimally, but enough for him to notice. Convinced it was due to her own brand of theatrics and manipulation, he brushed the surprise away and took to the sky, leading her to a small clearing over a mile away.
"Sesshoumaru," She started after they had landed. He looked at her, knowing every nuance of his posture proclaimed intense dislike while giving away none of the underlying rage. She seemed ready to say something, then stopped, shaking her head.
"You must pull your aura in," She stated simply. "If you can make such declarations through your aura, then you can control it."
Wondering why she had seen fit to take him from the shiro for such a simple lesson, he did as she explained. Feeling his youki spiking around him, he began by pulling. It responded, and it followed his command, his satisfaction reflecting in the energy that slowly began to recede into his body.
"No," His mother snapped. "You are only reigning it in, not concealing it."
He refused to point out that reigning it in was exactly what she had told him to do. How was he supposed to conceal it?
"Let it spiral into the core," She commanded, eyes narrowed in interest as he tried to follow her instruction. When it coiled into a tight spiral around him, she looked mildly satisfied. When the ki began to disappear, a glimmer of pride began to shine in her eyes.
When it was completely gone, locked tightly within him, she nodded once.
"You have inherited more than my poison at least," She quipped, tone devoid of pride at her son's achievement.
He refused to ask what she meant.
"Your father could never access the core, despite trying. It matters not. If you did not know that path, you could not accomplish hiding your aura. Masking, yes. But not concealing."
He had no idea if she was muddling through some form of backwards praise or trying to tell him something. And he didn't care. Despite the lesson, or whatever latent abilities he had inherited, she had betrayed his trust for one of her silly games. At the very least it was obvious she had not achieved her goal, whatever that had been. But it was not enough.
Forgoing any goodbyes or even a simple acknowledgment of gratitude, he vaulted into the sky, letting his own aura begin to escape, not quite ready to reveal this newest ability to those within the shiro.
"I just got back," She groaned when she met him in the gardens later that night.
"You have other coats," He answered, ignoring her grousing completely.
"I know, I just like this one," She responded, holding up her arms to reveal to small hands that barely peeked out from the edges of the oversized blue jacket she had been given last winter. He looked from the ends of the sleeves to her smiling face and refused to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was no longer complaining.
"Come," He commanded, not even waiting for her to form her cloud before launching himself into the air. When she shouted indignantly at him from the ground, he allowed himself a small, smug smile. She had been sullen that he wanted to get back to training so quickly. It was no longer an issue.
He landed in the field minutes later, content that his mother's presence had left no physical marks on what he had come to consider a very sacred space. When the miko landed across from him, her cloud dissipating with a pop as she jumped from it, he rushed her, darting to the left just as he was about to reach her. A girlish scream cut through the air and he paused, amused at the sight of her clutching her chest and breathing rapidly.
"What the hell, Sesshoumaru?" She demanded. "Are you trying to scare me half to death?"
"You are too noisy," He almost purred, adrenaline already pulsing through his veins, readying itself for the chase. She stilled, blue eyes widening to an almost comical degree.
"Run swiftly and quietly," He commanded. "Or I will catch you," He added, unable to stop the smirk from forming.
She didn't address the fact that no matter how quickly or quietly she ran, he could catch her. His superior speed made such a chase almost ridiculous. But she didn't think about it. Instead, she completely ignored reason and turned smartly on her heel, lunging forward even as she turned. He watched, eyes glimmering as she made for the treeline, intent on the forest and perhaps the hollow in Bokusenou's roots.
When she was halfway there, not even looking over her shoulder to confirm if he was following, he relaxed and began to pull his aura in. He could feel it spiraling and tightening into a coil, ever smaller as it heeded his will and began to wind into his body.
He did not understand the theory behind it, not completely. However, theory could come later. He was able, and at the moment that was all he cared about. By the time he finished, she was almost to the trees, and he looked to the moon, smiling at it's perfect crescent shape.
Darting forward, he made his way to her in seconds. When he was suddenly blocking her way, she gasped, clutching her chest once again and backpedaling, eyes wide in surprise.
"What-" She started even as she was moving backwards.
"Run," He commanded in a deep voice, something dark in him satisfied when she turned to her left and fled. Several seconds passed, and he wondered how long of a head start he should give her, or why he was giving her one at all.
One thing he did notice however, was that she was running quickly for a human and that she was as quiet as she could be while running over the fallen leaves. Accepting that men following would be creating their own noise in such a scenario, he didn't correct her. Instead, he listened to her breathing.
She was pacing herself, her breaths still even.
Time to remedy that.
Once more he appeared in front of her, seeming to blink into existence.
"Run," He rumbled, pleased when her scent was peppered with annoyance instead of fear. When she turned and chose a new direction, he allowed her time to put some distance between them. As he watched her flee, he was startled to realize that he was anticipating their chase, which was strange enough on it's own.
Training with her was no longer a duty. It had become something akin to sparring. To top that, it was fun.
Well, for him at least. He could hear her cursing him under her breath off in the distance as she circled back and headed for the field.
Catching up to her, he followed like a pale shadow, amused that she could no longer sense his presence. As she ran, he stalked, anticipation growing with each passing moment, although anticipation of what he could not say. Yet his blood seemed to burn as it coursed through him, hot and heavy, almost foreign.
When she began to visibly tire, her steps slowing and her breath coming in short pants, he decided the chase was over. With a strange, alien triumph made him want to howl his victory, he clamped his jaws shut and clenched his teeth to hold it in as he swooped down from the tree he had been residing in. Soundlessly he caught her, pinning her between his body and the nearest tree. She pushed back from the tree, forcing her back into his chest to avoid pressing her face into the bark.
"Caught," He whispered into her ear, feeling victorious, possessive and hungry all at once as his hands moved to her hips, unaware and careless of his grip.
She shuddered delicately, making him aware of how tightly she was pressed between himself and the tree. His already heightened awareness seemed intent on latching onto details. The clover and honeysuckle smell she emanated mixing with sweat, the softness of her hair against his cheek, but most of all the smell of her arousal, hot and heady, sent his senses spiraling into overdrive. Her bottom was pressed against his groin, and he had no trouble at all imagining what it would feel to like to be pressed against her naked flesh, sending jagged bolts of lust shooting through him.
It was her small, breathless moan filtering into the air that made him step back abruptly, as if he had been burned by the contact. Self loathing and revulsion formed a solid, leaden brick in his stomach.
That damnable mark! Somehow it had channeled his own lust to her. Even as his own hunger was obliterated by self derision and contempt her arousal was fading into confusion and spikes of fear. Not even questioning where the sudden lust had come from, he took another step back, needing the physical distance as much as he needed air.
"Sesshoumaru?" She asked, turning towards him slowly, as if afraid to look at him. When he met her gaze, he saw nothing but bewilderment. Feeling as if he had taken advantage of her trust, even if only in his imagination, he bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood as he fought his instincts and his senses. Her sudden confusion served to douse whatever he had been feeling much more quickly than his own mounting disgust.
"You are doing much better," He finally replied, his voice more harsh than he had intended. When she flinched he felt another stab of guilt. "You need to build stamina."
An image of them rutting until she passed out popped into his head and he cursed his word choice. Yet the miko was completely oblivious, and his own mental imagery was -thankfully- not shared through the mark. Instead, she huffed indignantly and began stomping away from him, heedless of the noise she was making. Thankful they had somehow skirted the edges of a possible crisis, he followed silently.
"How are you doing that?" She finally asked, voice tight as they passed the edge of the forest and began walking through the field.
"I had my mother teach me," He admitted. She scowled at the mention of his mother and continued on in silence. Feeling as if he had broken something between them, he was amazed by the realization that he didn't want it to be broken, and what was more, the idea of harming her, however unintentionally, made him feel guilty.
Which was ridiculous. But it didn't mean he could stop it.
"Miko-"
"Kagome," She interrupted. "Or do we have to go through all that again?"
"Kagome," He began again, stopping. She paused and turned to him, expression carefully neutral. The vacant expression on her face felt like a kick to his stomach.
'Please, do not let my foolishness destroy what she has gained,' He begged some unseen deity, cursing his instincts and himself for not realizing that they had somehow slipped past his guard, turning a chase into something intimate and sexual, something predatory. Things he could not be where his mate was concerned.
"Are you well?" He finally asked, shocked by how sincere the question sounded.
"I'm fine," She sighed, her tense shoulders relaxing. "It's just been a really long day. I could use some sleep on a real bed. Without ghosts randomly popping up."
"Ghosts?"
"Just this new duty. At least I'll never be bored," She replied with a small smile. "Although they can appear at the most inconvenient times."
Her scent was overwhelmed with embarrassment and tinges of anger and frustration. He waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn't, he refused to pursue it. They began walking again and he was relieved when the silence lost it's edge.
"I did not realize becoming my mate would further complicate your life," He finally apologized.
"At least we're friends," She chirruped, smiling up at him.
That trusting, innocent smile was another physical blow, more crippling than any of the others. Mate she might be, but in name only, and he had to remember that. First and foremost, she was his friend and pack, and that meant protecting her, even if it was from himself. Especially from himself.
Kagome bit back a sigh as she ran a damp cloth over her skin, washing away the sweat and dirt from her session with the daiyoukai. Sesshoumaru had been silent the entire way back, and his aura had remained locked away, hidden so that she could barely tell what he was feeling, which worried her.
When she had been pressed into his body in the woods earlier that night she had felt...Something. For a moment it had been as if he wanted her as intensely as she wanted him, and her body had responded to that thought before she even fully understood what was going on.
His whisper had been a purr and done a hundred things to her body that she had thus far only dreamed of. The solid heat of him behind her and his hands on her hips, claws pricking through clothing and grazing her skin had sent billions of suddenly very alert nerves into overdrive.
And the second she had moaned he had stepped away, making his position on the matter very clear. What wasn't clear to her was his concern for her, which she could tell from his question and vaguely through their mark. But it bothered her immensely that he hadn't revealed his aura during the meeting or the walk to their rooms.
Worry that had been forming since the incident roiled in her when she realized that he might have been hiding anger. Or worse, disgust.
Done with the bath, she dropped the rag into the basin and pulled the shift over her head, grateful that her skin had lost that over sensitivity from earlier. Shivering once, unsure if it was from the cold or from her own thoughts, she darted under the covers, pulling them tightly around her in an effort to ward off the cold.
Her thoughts however, lingered, and would give her no peace. The only relief she felt was that she had not gone through with Nanmei's suggestion, having considered it despite her vehement refusal of such a ploy. Despite her staggering relief at not having an opportunity to make such a fool of herself, she nonetheless felt humiliated that even an unconscious, innocent invitation, for it could have been nothing else, had been so completely rebuffed.
Worry that she had irrevocably altered her relationship with her best friend took second place when she allowed herself to indulge in a rare moment of being a scared, insecure young woman, rejected by someone utterly out of her reach. The tears came, and she found little consolation that she was allowed them in complete privacy.
By the time she arrived for breakfast the next morning, Sesshoumaru had already come and gone, and the children seemed no less subdued than normal. Nanmei, Sango and Kaede were all chatting amiably about the wedding as she sat. When they paused to greet her, they all stopped, noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the dull film that seemed to cover them.
"Kagome, are you alright?" Sago demanded, eyes wide. The miko murmured something noncommittal in return, not wanting to talk about anything to anyone. Sleep had not come after her bout of tears, or the mind numbing worry, the self berating or even the anger. In fact, she had cycled through all of those steps twice before giving up on sleep altogether, and by that time the sun had been rising.
"Kagome, you don't look so well," Nanmei started.
"I'm fine," She mumbled. "Just didn't sleep well." At all. Not that she was going to admit that to the women, knowing an explanation would be wanted, and she was too tired to lie or even evade such demands.
However, it seemed her reference to her sleep was enough, and she let the two women assume what they would. It was easier than the truth, and far less humiliating. Although in the cold light of day, the dreams took on a new cast, and she felt stupid for even dreaming of him, despite her lack of control over her subconscious. And a hundred times more foolish for speaking to anyone of them. It would have been better if she had said nothing at all. Perhaps they would have gone away if she hadn't.
"Child, what ails ye?" Kaede demanded, too observant for Kagome's tastes.
"I'm fine," She ground out, staring at the bowl of rice in front of her, unsure why she had even served herself. Her stomach was still tied in knots and the very thought of food made her nauseated.
"Sango, Nanmei, if you'll excuse us," The old miko quipped in her gravelly voice, not even looking at the two bewildered women as she stood and grabbed Kagome's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip. Given little choice, Kagome stood and followed, allowing the old woman to practically drag her from the schoolroom.
"Where may we speak in private?" Kaede demanded. Kagome chuckled, but it was a cold, mirthless sound.
"I never have privacy anymore," She shot out. Kaede, undeterred by the declaration, began moving through the shiro, somehow managing to find her way to the doors leading to the inner gardens. Kagome would have been amazed at the woman's memory if she wasn't so angry that the miko was dragging her out into the cold.
"What is going on?" Kaede demanded once they were a safe distance from the doors.
"Nothing," Kagome bit out, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to look down into Kaede's too observant eye.
"Child, I have known ye for four winters. Lying is not your strong suit."
"Why does everyone feel the need to get into my affairs?" She shot back, the hurt and insecurity still too close to the surface.
Instead of continuing their almost argument, Kaede sighed and began walking, not even checking to see if the younger miko followed. Feeling remorse for her poor treatment of her respected teacher and friend, she followed silently.
"Sango tells me thee might have come to the end of your mourning for Inu Yasha," The old woman said, breath steaming as the words hit the cold air. Kagome felt that the comment might have been an accusation or disapproval, guilt seeping into the mess her stomach already was.
"I think so," She admitted. "I still miss him. But it doesn't hurt like it did before."
Kaede nodded sagely. "As it should be. And you have explained your new duties to me."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Kagome asked, confused at the sudden change of subject.
"I am merely trying to understand what ails ye."
"It's just nonsense," Kagome muttered.
"If it is so foolish, why does it affect ye so? Rarely have I seen you in such a state," The old miko observed. They continued walking several minutes and Kagome wondered if she could somehow soak up the old woman's calm and serenity. Kaede had once professed that she had never been in love, had never desired to be. Inu Yasha and Kikyo's tragic tale had left too deep an imprint on her soul. Maybe that was her secret.
"I made a mistake," She finally admitted. "I fell in love with someone who doesn't love me."
The old woman made a clucking sound with her tongue as they continued walking circles around the gardens.
"Ye thought that once before," Kaede offered, gaze turning to the sky. "Ye were wrong once. Mayhap it is so again."
"I don't think so. It was a pretty clear rejection." And admitting that out loud hurt more than she cared to admit, even to herself. Mortified that the old woman didn't seem bothered in the least, she realized with a sinking heart that it was a stupid problem. Not even Kaede seemed overly worried about it.
"Perhaps ye might explain to me," Kaede demanded, her tone taking on a gentleness that had been absent thus far in their discussion. Faced with that tone from an older woman that she trusted, she gave in, knowing that while Kaede wouldn't be able to fully understand, she might have enough wisdom to point her in some general direction.
"We were together, alone. And he was-holding me," She lied, not sure what the old miko would think if she told the truth. Taking her history into account, Kagome was afraid the old woman would conclude that Kagome's rape had somehow linked a chase with sex in her head, and she knew it wasn't that.
"Go on," Kaede prodded as Kagome searched for words.
"I didn't offer or anything, nothing verbal. But it was out there. He pulled away. I'm afraid I screwed things up," She admitted.
"Thous mate is a strange one, to be sure," Kaede observed. Kagome was nodding when she stopped and glared down at the short miko.
"I didn't say anything about my mate," She groused, feeling as if she'd walked into a verbal trap. However, Kaede's raised brow only made Kagome feel as if the miko was silently calling her an idiot.
"One would have to be blind not to see it."
Kagome groaned, wishing once again that a hole would open beneath her feet and just end her ever mounting disgrace.
"It is nothing to be ashamed of," Kaede rebuked gently. "It is no great sin to love your mate, or even act on that love."
"It is a stupid childish fantasy," Kagome snapped, more irate with herself for the whole situation than the miko's words.
"It is not foolish, and ye are certainly not childish. Thou needs love, Kagome. Much as my sister needed it. Life without it is difficult to fathom. Ye have surrounded yourself with children and friends, and perhaps it is enough to sustain you. But it is not enough to make you happy. Although you seem to have a talent for loving those most difficult to love."
"It's not difficult to love him," Kagome whimpered. "It's so easy it's stupid. I'm the problem. Not him."
Kaede made a rude noise, jerking Kagome from her own spiraling self loathing.
"Why would thee be a problem?" The miko demanded.
"Maybe he wants a youkai. Or someone that doesn't have disgusting scars," She muttered bitterly. "Someone that hasn't been used by a dozen different-"
"Stop that this instant," Kaede cut in sternly, stopping and glaring up at the younger priestess. "Despite the short time I have spent with Lord Sesshoumaru, I feel comfortable in saying that such would not bother him. Ye engaged him in a draw, so you are both equals, despite the difference of thine blood. I also trust that he is not the kind of male to hold a woman's rape against her, or find scars disgusting."
"Then what is it?" Kagome demanded, knowing even as she shouted that she was being unfair. The miko was trying to help her, and even though she was being taciturn, she was right. Kagome knew she was indulging in self pity, but the insecurity ate at her. Was it her species? Was it her rape or the scars that blemished her skin, permanent reminders of another youkai using her? Who would want to see something like that on a lover? And he knew every detail of her ordeal, his voyage into her core long ago forcing him to see more than he had probably ever wanted to contemplate or know.
Or worst of all, he couldn't see her that way. She was just a friend that happened to be female. She wasn't sure which one would be worse.
"Perhaps it is his honor," Kaede answered simply.
The answer was so simple, so incredibly out of the blue that Kagome couldn't help the short bark of laughter that escaped.
"In what way would his honor keep him for making love to his mate?" Kagome asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Perhaps he does not think ye are ready, or that thou does it because it is expected of ye."
It was hope, and Kaede had dangled it in front of her completely unaware of just how much that hope terrified her. Kagome squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let the words sink in, however strange or desperate they were. But even as she tried to ignore them, they made a sort of sense to her. Sesshoumaru had promised to protect her, even if it was from herself. He had reiterated that once by the goshinboku. Was this his way of trying to protect her, to be honorable?
Before she could stop herself, she was clinging to those words of hope, savoring their warmth and sending a prayer to the kami that it wasn't foolish, that he wasn't disgusted by her or angry at her reaction to him. That he was simply keeping his oath.
"Are you alright, child?" Kaede asked again.
"I don't know," Kagome murmured. "I want to believe," She admitted in a small voice.
"Then believe it," Kaede said almost dismissively as she began to move closer to the shiro, intent on getting inside and warm again. Kagome, clinging to faint glimmer of hope, didn't even notice the cold anymore.
Yuugao was a mess, and not even the most polite of terms could disguise it. Shinzuru felt another flicker of unease as he sat across from her, watching her pour tea. Despite the dark shadows under her eyes and her normally kept, styled hair pouring down her back freely, she was perfectly composed and seemed oblivious to her state.
"Why is it you have come today?" She asked, voice rasping slightly, as if she was coming down with a cold. Which was ridiculous, although the edge to her voice was not lost on him.
"I need you to promise me that you will tell me nothing but the truth," he started. She flinched, gold eyes growing shadowed as she looked away from him. He continued, feeling twinges of remorse at his unforgiving tone. "No tricks, no deceptions, no manipulating. I need to know the truth, it's important."
"I will speak only the truth," She replied, eyes still off in the distance. He couldn't stop a brief flicker of worry to mingle with his own trepidation and hesitation. Her normally vivid gold eyes were dull and tired, almost vacant.
"You said that a mating mark can't create emotions." The statement was also a question, and he could see her shoulders sagging infinitesimally and knew that for whatever reason, she did not want to answer this particular question.
"It cannot. It can only share emotions, if it is a strong enough bond," She answered woodenly. "My son's bond with Kagome is of such strength."
"What of the one you shared with Touga?" He demanded, tone sharper than he had intended. But the truth loomed, and he was still unsure if he wanted to know. Even as he asked, he wasn't entirely sure he would believe her answer, or worse yet, that he wouldn't want to.
"It was not a strong bond. Merely enough to mark us as one another's mates. The only thing I ever felt through it was his death."
"He told me that the bond's magic caused him to think himself in love with you," He accused, temper spiking as he heard this new story. She flinched again, this time upsetting her tea cup when her arm jerked, it's contents spilling and soaking her sleeve. When she didn't even move to right the cup or clear her sleeve of the mess, he wondered if this was costing her as much, if not more, than it was costing him.
"I know what he told you."
"Was it the truth?" He demanded, angry at her hollow response. She stared at the wall blankly for several minutes, gaze turned inward. Ready to pose his question again, he was stopped when she whispered.
"No, it was not."
"Why would he lie to me?" The one eyed youkai snarled, the entire conversation derailed by his frustration. He had wanted to ask about the bond for Kagome and Sesshoumaru's sake. After hearing the girl's confession to the elderly priestess, his heart had shattered for her. The situation was not the same as he had experienced so long ago, but her anguish was close enough to his own, and he had to do something, anything, to help her, no matter the cost.
But his intentions had changed, and the conversation was no longer about helping his daughter. A seed of doubt that had been planted with Yuugao's comment had grown and flourished, making him distrust the man he had called brother.
"It was the best way to handle the situation," She answered honestly, voice thick with emotion. Ignoring her tone, he felt his temper spiking at her vague answers.
"The truth, Yuugao!"
"I didn't want to mate him. He didn't know at first, and he was infatuated, you saw him dote on me. I tried to be a good mate and forget. I tried to care for Touga, but-" She stopped, and he shocked to see her eyes misting, as if she were about to cry. Holding onto his anger, he waited for her to continue.
"Touga would not lie over something so simple. Or was he just trying to save face?" Shinzuru demanded.
"No! No," Yuugao repeated, her voice quieting. "He wouldn't have lied just to save face. I'm not sure he even cared about his reputation. It was not that I didn't love him, but that I loved someone else."
"Why would that be such a problem?" He snapped, not understanding and not believing, not wanting to believe.
"I cannot tell you. He swore me to silence," She whispered, eyes moving to the table. "The consequences of anyone ever knowing would be beyond comprehension."
He was going to press for more, feeling that he would get it if he pushed hard enough. But the woman's seeming fragility stopped him, slapping him in the face and only adding weight to her words. Though he couldn't completely understand his friend's motives, if the who was so important, perhaps it was enough to know the why. In the face of the why, did the who matter? Telling himself it didn't, he ran the inu's confession through his head again and again, picking it apart and trying to find anything that rang false.
When nothing presented itself, especially a motive for her to lie, he accepted it. Though it was a bitter pill to swallow, he couldn't fault his friend. If the 'who' was such a problem, then the deceased daiyoukai must have had good reason. While it hurt that he had been included in the deception, he acknowledged that at least now he knew the truth of the situation.
"You wanted to know why Sesshoumaru thought his feelings were caused by the mark," Shinzuru began.
"It was you. I guessed as much from your line of questioning. Touga promised our son would never know of it. Sesshoumaru will listen to nothing I say. The truth will have to come from you."
"How am I to explain that Touga lied?" Shinzuru asked, knowing that despite Sesshoumaru's longstanding grudge against his dead father, he still used him as the bar he measured himself against.
"I don't know," She sighed wearily. "You'll think of something. He trusts you."
While the last wasn't meant as an accusation, and hadn't sounded anything but resigned, it still felt as if he had done something wrong. Confused and soul weary, he nodded and stood, mind already trying to come up with the most diplomatic way to tell the pup that his father had lied, and hoped to cast it as something honorable. But without the person Touga had been protecting, he had no idea of their purpose, not really. Yuugao had made it sound as if the ramifications could be political, which wasn't entirely unsurprising given the climate of the lands around the time of their mating. But after finding out that he had been lied to, he wasn't eager to cover it with another falsity or assumption.
"You know, Touga's been dead for a good while. You're free to pursue this person," He offered, hoping it might evoke a name.
"Not possible," She murmured with such finality that he wondered if the other youkai was mated or dead. Choosing not to push any further, he exited the room, glad to leave the oppressive atmosphere. Once he had escaped however, the sorrow seemed to follow him, and when he was outside the door to Sesshoumaru's study he paused, no longer sure of himself.
'Tonight,' He resolved. By the end of the day, he would have something to give the pup.
Kagome looked at the training field with wistful eyes. After being resurrected by Tenseiga, Kotaeru had asked for time to go see his daughter and her new family, death having shaken something in him. She couldn't blame him. If she had died, she'd want to take some time off and see her family too.
But a goodly portion of her day had been devoted to training, and it had been a time when she could force everything else from her mind and focus on whatever physical tests the youkai would throw at her.
After her talk with Kaede she hadn't felt able to go back and face the other two women or even the children. Nanmei and Sango meant well, she knew that. But both of them were married to men they loved and pregnant, and she'd be lying if she didn't admit to herself that she was a little jealous of their situations no matter how happy she was for them.
Because of that love, they viewed the world, and especially the her specific problem, through rose colored glasses. Miroku and Resshin both were good men, men that were comfortable with their emotions. Kagome couldn't blame them for working with what they knew of love.
But Sesshoumaru was different from the forest youkai and the monk. Vastly different, and because of his ease with her she had forgotten that. Kaede had brought that realization back.
She wanted to curse Sesshoumaru's honor despite it being one of the things she loved most about him. The daiyoukai didn't like half of the things he had to do for his lands and his people, but he did them because it was the right thing to do. If he hadn't been doing the right thing, he would never have helped her. And he would never have become her friend.
More than anything, she wanted to hope that the lust she had felt echoing through their bond hadn't been her imagination. And if it was his honor that kept him from acting on it, then she would have to find some way to show him that she wasn't pretending to feel something for him. At the same time, the prospect frightened her. If she hadn't already done something to harm her friendship with the youkai, she knew she easily could destroy it.
They were stuck together, and he had admitted that they still had centuries to go. How bearable would those centuries be if she fumbled and did something to shatter the friendship they had already worked so hard to form? She wasn't sure if she could live with being mated to someone she never saw as Yuugao had. The idea of enduring centuries without even his friendship hurt worse than the idea of enduring it without his love.
Weighing her options, she stared at the field, eyes vacant. Would be taking a chance be worth it? Or would she endure in silence as she had with Inu Yasha? Could she do that again, and hope for the best as she had with the hanyou? The daiyoukai was much more reserved than his half brother had been. She could be waiting, hoping for centuries, and there was never any guarantee he wouldn't fall in love with someone else. Quashing that thought before it could sting her any more than it had upon conception, she pushed herself away from the wooden fence of the field.
A pair of emerald eyes watched his movements, and if he looked, he knew he would only see the insolence he felt bearing down on him. Refusing to acknowledge the kitsune's presence, he continued reading over yet another complaint.
After Kouga's refusal to take Harukaze's lands because of an attack she had known nothing about, he had rooted out the last of those who would attack. While it had left a bitter taste in both his and the new Southern Lady's mouths, it had been necessary to circumvent war, and the female had accepted that, and been grateful she had not lost her new title.
His advisers however, were trying to find a thousand different ways to say the same thing. The contract had been broken. Why hadn't he considered someone new for the title after the wolf's refusal? Why was he allowing enemies of the West to live, etcetera. And they still hadn't stopped despite each complaint being ignored.
But the highborns politicking was easier to deal with than the problem he was seeking to avoid. After his own error, he was willing to admit that spending time with Kagome, his mate, was not a good idea. He needed more time, more distance, to quell his own instincts and hopefully dull the effects of their bond.
How long would it last though? His own father had pupped his mother and fled within a few months, suggesting it hadn't even lasted that long.
"You know, you could just talk about what's bothering you," Mizu offered, breaking the daiyoukai's train of thought.
"Why are you here?" Sesshoumaru asked, ignoring the kitsune's statement.
"I drew the odd lot," Mizu sighed, leaning back and cradling his head on his arms. He appeared to contemplate the ceiling, but Sesshoumaru could feel the kitsune's magics swirling lightly around him, trying to discreetly probe for an answer.
With an impatient flare of his youki, he banished the magic and raised a brow when Mizu only shrugged with a sigh of resignation.
"While standing guard over the children, Kasai and I couldn't help but hear you and Cat return last night."
Sesshoumaru waited, wondering where the kitsune could be going with his observation.
"Cat cried for most of the night. And you threw a shield around your room, but we could tell you weren't pleased before you did it. I'm going to assume that like our new Lady, you didn't sleep last night."
"It is not your concern," Sesshoumaru intoned, voice devoid of any hint of his anger.
Mizu gave a derisive snort. "You're a jackass."
His comment was met with stoic silence, as he expected. Mizu said nothing else, electing to leave the daiyoukai alone to think over his words.
Yuugao stood and ignored the mess on the table, shedding the outer kimono she wore thoughtlessly, letting it fall to the floor in a careless pile. Walking into the inner chamber of her suite, she closed the door behind her and moved for the small chest in the corner.
Once opened, she pulled out a bundled swathed in layers of shimmering raw silk. The off white fabric, untouched by dyes or bleach, felt cool to the touch and slipped around what it concealed like water, unwinding with little help from the daiyoukai. After it had fallen away, she held a chunk of smooth volcanic glass, hands trembling.
"I know why you are here, and I will not let you complete your goal," She whispered as she stared down at the smooth, mirror like surface. Deep in the recesses of the darkness, she perceived fluttering, tendrils of smoke like limbs that waved in the darkness, anxious and yet patient.
The glass pulsed in her hands, an angry response to her quiet declaration. Feeling the stone's power weakening, she began feeding her strength into it, repeating a process that had become ritual over the course of the last three days.
Her reserves of youki already dangerously low, she gave until there was little left, then severed the connection between herself and the glass, satisfied that the prison had been reinforced. Exhausted, she was barely able to wrap the silk back around the small prison and put it back in the wooden chest before stumbling over to her futon.
"Lady," A voice whispered. Yuugao opened her eyes and smiled wearily at the beautiful spirit kneeling next to her bed.
"Yes, Harionago?" Yuugao rasped weakly.
"There is a mirror in her room now," The spirit informed her. Yuugao gave a small groan and wanted to bury her face in the pillow and suffocate herself and be done with it. However, she had created a mess that Kagome alone couldn't escape, and her son would be of little help. Knowing she owed it to them to fix it, she nodded once.
"Guard her. If another one comes, keep it away from her or her away from it. Do whatever it takes."
"If they would consummate their bond, this would cease to be an issue."
"No, if she is pupped, and that usually takes more than once," Yuugao sighed.
"You should tell your son," A new voice added. Yuugao gave an unladylike snort as she regarded the pale spirit through narrowed eyes. The snow maiden's face was a mask if indifference.
"My son will trust nothing I say."
"He will if it concerns the miko's safety."
"Go back to guarding her, the both of you. I will find some way to deal with my son. And if there is a way, destroy that mirror. At the very least, find a way to get it out of her room!"
Kagome was surprised by the mirror the servants had brought to her chamber. When she had asked, she hadn't expected anything bigger than a hand mirror. Instead, they had brought a full length mirror in a heavy frame up, setting it in a corner and bowing out silently.
Now that she had it, she wasn't sure she wanted to go through with her plan. A hand mirror wouldn't have been so completely honest, and the looking glass seemed to loom. Shaking her head and steeling herself, she walked over to it and looked at the woman that peered cautiously back.
She had changed since the last time she had clearly seen herself. Her face was a little longer, a little leaner. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes from her sleepless night. Blue eyes looked darker, wiser, than she remembered. There were a firmness to her mouth, and she wondered if it was because she had frowned so much.
She looked older, mature. The last time she had seen herself so clearly was well over a year ago, in her mother's home. Too busy for primping, it had been just a sparing glance as she brushed her hair. Back then she had still looked soft and girlish. While she could still see shadows of the girl she had been echoing in her face, she had matured beyond them, and looked like a woman.
The entire effect was disconcerting, and she looked away for a moment, afraid to continue.
Steeling her resolve, she began undoing the ties of her hakama, nervous fingers fumbling and taking twice as long it normally did. When she was finished, she let them drop around her legs, shivering once as her limbs were bared to the cold air. Her kimono followed, and then the first layer kimono she wore followed, leaving her in her sarashi and underwear.
She met her eyes in the mirror, afraid to look down. Inhaling deeply, she stepped back, letting her eyes drift down.
She had avoided looking at the scars, or even acknowledging them. For the most part, she had succeeded, and unless someone brought them up, she was able to forget they even existed. For the first time, she looked directly at each one.
Like two pale bracelets ringing her upper arms, one sat lower than the other, each about two inches wide. The skin was darker by a few shades and raised slightly. She was startled to realize for the first time that on her left arm the scar drew a line at the same level Sesshoumaru's arm had been cut off at. She brushed her index finger over it, noticing that the scar was softer than the surrounding flesh, smoother.
Feeling slightly braver, she dropped her gaze to just below her sarashi, where another ringed her ribcage, easily over two inches wide. It had healed as smoothly as the strange armlets, although it wasn't as raised. It seemed to stand out more, somehow darker than those ringing her arms. Lifting her arms and turning slowly, she craned her neck to look at the whole of it. Her back was smooth and white and interrupted by what looked like a reverse tan line. Finishing her spin, she was facing the mirror again.
Last of all came her legs. Each one had a band halfway up from the knee, and they had not healed as smoothly as the others had. The lines were irregular, from her struggling against him to close her legs.
Stepping back again so that she could easily gaze at the whole of herself, she considered the marks, turning and looking over her shoulder and then facing herself again, trying to see them as someone else would see them, instead of seeing only how she received them.
"It looks almost like some sort of tribal paint," She murmured, thinking of pictures of tribal peoples that had been in magazines and her textbooks. Each one interrupted her flesh and looked almost intentionally placed. And while no one would ever find them beautiful, they were striking in their own way.
"I'm beautiful, and they are a part of me. They're not disgusting of ugly. Just there," She said aloud to the room, still staring at herself.
Waddling into the room, Nanmei was surprised to see a very cheery Kagome already eating and talking animatedly to Sango about the taijiya's pregnancy. Both of them were saying names aloud, each shaking her head in turn.
"Hey, I resent not being included in this," Nanmei pouted as she struggled to sit down gracefully. Kagome blushed guiltily.
"I'm sorry. Sango told me you had gone for a nap and we were just passing the time," Kagome apologized.
"Still haven't thought of a name?" Nanmei asked with a smile.
"I still have awhile," Sango murmured.
"What about you Nanmei?" Kagome asked.
"Resshin and I have been thinking, but so far nothing seems to fit," Nanmei admitted. "He doesn't want to follow tradition since it entails naming his child after a passed relative. It would be too much of a reminder of losing his home and family. And we're not terribly creative," She sighed, her hand on her belly, rubbing it absentmindedly and wrinkling the silk.
"Do you know the gender yet?" Kagome asked. Nanmei and Sango both laughed at this, making her blush.
"How would we know the gender before it's born?" Nanmei finally asked.
"Oh, we have a way in my time, but it's not possible here," Kagome admitted.
"Your...time?" Nanmei choked, eyes going wide. "I thought you were from another land!"
"Might as well be," Sango giggled, earning a poke from the miko.
"Hello children," Kaede greeted as she shuffled into the schoolroom and took a seat. Everyone greeted the miko, the children themselves saying hello through mouthfuls of food and the women nodding and murmuring hellos to the old miko.
"So, you've traveled through time?" Nanmei asked, eyes gleaming excitedly. "What's it like in your time?"
"I'm not sure I can talk too much about it," Kagome finally sighed. "I'm scared of changing something."
"But if you're from there and here, it wouldn't change, would it?"
"How would we know anyway?" Sango asked.
"I hate time paradoxes," Kagome groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Mostly she didn't want to think of the well, her family, and what awaited them. Oh, she'd use what she knew to her advantage, and she figured she'd earned that much from her travels. But openly speaking of it seemed too much like chancing fate, and that was the last thing she wanted to do given the way her luck was currently going.
"Maybe some other time. Besides, we were discussing baby names," Kagome finally said, forcing a bright smile to her face.
"So we were," Nanmei giggled.
The two pregnant women and older miko kept the young priestess so busy with possible names that when dinner came to an end, she had barely noticed that Sesshoumaru had never come, although she refused to let it bother her when she did. After her time with the mirror, she felt a bit more confident, a bit stronger, and even, dare she say it, beautiful. Worthy.
And those strands of hope glimmering in the darkness were growing brighter, giving her something to cling to, making it easier to cope with his distance.
Shinzuru was sitting across from the pup he had, in part, helped raise. The daiyoukai looked calm and composed, completely indifferent. But the moth demon saw the cracks in the visage. Sesshoumaru's brush strokes were hurried and forceful. Despite the layers of kimono he wore, his tense shoulders were too easily apparent, and he sat straight enough that it seemed his spine had been replaced with a sword.
"Pup, we need to talk," Shinzuru finally told him.
"Speak," Was all the daiyoukai bit out.
"I spoke to your mother about the mark," Shinzuru started, stopping when the pup's cold, imperious gaze rose from the papers on his desk and to him. Reflecting that the deceased inu daiyoukai had never had a look like that in his arsenal, he realized that there were things Sesshoumaru had inherited from his mother other than appearance.
"It can't manipulate you, like I was led to believe," He added hastily, knowing he was treading on thin ice by mentioning the female at all. The daiyoukai, however, didn't seem to understand the significance of the statement.
"Are you suggesting my father lied?" Sesshoumaru finally asked, coolly, calmly.
"There was cause," Shinzuru defended. "Still not entirely sure about it, but your mother-"
"And just what did my mother," He uttered the word as if it were poison. "Say was the cause?"
"Your father did care for her, quite a bit. Then he realized she loved another. After they confirmed conception, he left."
"My mother is lying," Sesshoumaru bit out, his mask beginning to crack, revealing the fury beneath it. Shinzuru wanted to put some space between himself and the pup, but then he remembered Yuugao's quiet desperation and Kagome's declaration of love, and he couldn't bring himself to pull back before he'd said his peace.
"She isn't."
"My mother is a born liar. My father would not have lied for something so trivial. So she is lying about something."
"But she is not lying about the mark," Shinzuru insisted. "If you feel something for Cat then-"
Shinzuru knew he'd said something wrong even as the words left his mouth, although he had no idea what. After watching to newly mated pair together, he hadn't expected the daiyoukai to respond so vehemently to the suggestion that he might actually care for his mate as something other than a friend. But the displeasure emanating from the inu left little room for interpretation, and for the first time, Shinzuru was afraid that the daiyoukai would turn on him.
"My mother is using you to act out her schemes. If you think about my father's reason to lie, you will see it makes no sense. And my relationship with Kagome is none of your affair," Sesshoumaru replied coldly, eyes narrowed and filled with rage. "Leave."
Shinzuru wanted to say something more, wanted to try and reason with the pup, but he knew it was a losing battle. Nodding tightly, he stood and walked quietly, taking extra care with the door, knowing he would destroy it if he wasn't careful. Opening and closing it gently, he began walking, trying to figure out if the boy was just angry at the supposed lie or him.
And the more he walked, the more his thoughts were consumed by the female inu's confession. In the context it didn't make sense. Touga would not have felt the need to explain his sudden cooling towards the female to anyone. Not only that, but anyone that had gone through the process of the bond would have known it was a lie. So why the deception? It didn't make any sense. Despite the ring of truth to the woman's words, he couldn't imagine that they'd been the truth anymore.
Running a hand through his hair, he accepted that the inu was a more accomplished liar than he had thought. Damning himself, he knew he should have expected such from her.
Which only left him with questions again. Did a mating mark manipulate people's feelings? If it did, was it manipulating Kagome and Sesshoumaru? For a moment he wondered if it would be such a bad thing. The two had cared for one another before the mark. Perhaps such a manipulation could help friendship grow to something more. It's effects would eventually fade, as with Touga, but what if before that they-
Immediately he stopped those thoughts, knowing that such would not happen, and should not. Not if the two were to find any real happiness in their lives.
Another question looming before him was the female's deception. He could easily see her lying about the mark, and could understand her reasoning, especially after his own train of thought. But the reason for her dead mate's lie made no sense any longer. That it had to begin with only bothered him more.
Resolving to speak to her again in the morning, he headed for his room in the family wing, hoping to catch his adopted daughter before she went to sleep. Perhaps one of her embraces would ease the strange ache beginning to build in his chest.
In the dark of the night, he padded silently into her room like a sneak thief. No one stirred, not even the guards at the end of the hall. Feeling the slightest bit guilty, he slid past each door, taking care to close them quietly. Once he had finally reached the inner chamber, he paused, rethinking his decision. When she turned over, as if aware of his presence, he almost bolted then and there.
But she continued sleeping, blissfully unaware of the predator lurking in her room, eyes sharp on her dreaming form. He stepped forward, coming that much closer to his prey. Inhaling deeply, he was surprised by the lack of what he sought. Before her trial, her room had been soaked in the scent of her arousal. Now there was barely a trace of it, and even that was curiously stale.
Reasoning that she was safe so long as the scent stayed a pale shadow of it's former strength, he moved gently to the futon, kneeling near her head. The scent grew barely any stronger, but it mingled with the tang of her dried blood, and he worried for a moment that something had harmed her. With a light touch, he began moving the blanket down from where she had it tucked beneath her chin.
Shocked by the revelation, he dropped the edge, eyes widening as he moved back, careful to stay quiet.
The blood was on the collar of the kimono, and the scents that had been stale and muffled by the blanket had only strengthened with the removal of it, each one as recognizable as the last. Her blood and his scent, pure and undiluted and so impossibly clear mixed with the faint tang of her arousal and his own. Quickly he recognized it for the kimono she had worn the night he had marked her, a seeming lifetime ago.
Why was she wearing it? He glanced back to her face, saw the frown there as if she knew something was wrong. Quickly he checked to make sure his own aura was still concealed properly, and once done, almost sighed in relief. Something sleep addled came past her lips, unintelligible and muffled as she clumsily drew the blanket back up, covering even her nose this time.
Standing fluidly, he began moving away from her, knowing the tightening of his groin did not bode well for either of them. If he stayed, he risked hurting her and dishonoring himself, both of which he would not allow. Moving swiftly, barely conscious of the noise he made, he escaped. Completely forgetting to close either set of doors leading closer to her inner chamber, he closed the door to the corridor behind him and exhaled gustily, leaning back and wanting to groan.
"Neat trick," A voice commented dryly. Refusing to acknowledge the kitsune, he began to walk towards his rooms when the same voice stopped him.
"You could always try kissing her, see what happens," Kasai remarked in that same sardonic tone. "She's your mate. And she might surprise even you."
Sesshoumaru counted to ten, glad the kitsune could not see his face or read his still concealed aura.
"My relationship with her is none of your business," He finally managed, his voice as calm and cool and collected as he wanted, something he was very proud of in that moment.
"Well, at least you guys have a few centuries to work it out," Was all the kitsune said, and Sesshoumaru could practically hear him shrugging as he stepped back into the children's rooms, sliding the door shut behind him. Following his friend's example, he went to his own room, closing the door gently behind him.
Images of the miko, his mate, he thought with a groan that seemed too eager to escape, in that kimono, eyes open and filled with invitation was almost enough to unman him. Hastily he removed his clothing as he walked through each room, not even bothering to close the doors behind him. Grateful for the open windows and the cold seeping in, chilling his too hot skin, he practically fell onto the futon.
Sleep did not come easily, but it did come. With it came dreams of his untouchable mate, suddenly willing and eager for him.
When he woke, he could still feel her touch, her breath against his lips.