Chapter Six – The Plan Goes Awry

Dinner was a more pleasant affair than either of them chose to acknowledge. As Rin had originally guessed, they spent much of it discussing So'unga and the past, volleying questions back and forth and finishing each other's train of thought as courses came and went.

When Sesshoumaru inquired with an arched brow if she wanted a second bottle of wine, Kagome nodded, swirling the last dregs from her glass. She didn't usually imbibe, but the warmth pooling in her belly made their current topic on an ancient tree-youkai named Bokuseno all the more sublime. Her surroundings had long ago faded to background, and the man across from her held her riveted. The wine was doing lovely things to her ears, making Sesshoumaru's deep baritone nearly hypnotic as he spoke of how Bokuseno had gifted his own boughs for the scabbards of the twin swords on his office wall, Tessaiga and Tenseiga.

"What was your life like back then, Sesshoumaru?" Kagome asked, unaware she'd been using his name for the past hour. "Do you miss it?"

He leaned back in his chair, contemplating. How to explain the unexplainable. "It was… different," he hedged.

Kagome scoffed, blowing bangs from her face. "Name your favorite part. Without thinking too hard. Go."

Although Sesshoumaru felt no influence from alcohol, he was pleased with its effect on his assistant. The woman before him, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, had grown bold. Hints she had shown before were on full display now, and he found himself eager to indulge, wishing to see all that she'd hidden.

"I enjoyed mastering new techniques and using them to defeat my enemies in battle," he answered. "Being able to call forth my powers at will, without public repercussions, was gratifying as well."

"What powers do you possess?" She tapped her nose. "Aside from your keen senses."

"Most humans don't truly wish to know," he said, nearly flinching at his honesty. Perhaps the evening had inexplicably loosened his tongue, even without intoxication.

Kagome angled herself forward, staring at him in avid interest – not interest others so often doled, like he was a tamed monster brought to heel – but like she wanted to unwrap every mystery to him, savoring the layers as she went.

He knew which power would dazzle most. "I can fly," he said simply.

Kagome didn't react, waiting expectantly. "What else?"

Sesshoumaru frowned. "You are not impressed?"

"I almost married someone who was half-youkai, and grew up in a Shinto shrine," she reminded. "I may not know all the small things for full demons – your immunity to temperature or how cacophonous restaurants must seem to you – but I'm more familiar with your powers than our favorite, little hostess."

He thought of how she'd just tapped her nose and narrowed his eyes. "You wear your perfume on purpose," he accused.

Her grin was unapologetic. "I do," she bobbed her head. "There's no need having my personal feelings broadcasted without my permission, when one can simply ask."

He crossed his arms. "Will you stop wearing it now that I've uncovered its intent?"

"Why?" Kagome shot back. "Am I a puzzle you'd like to figure out?"

Sesshoumaru knew he should just offer a quip about how potent it was, but the spark of happiness lighting her gaze pulled at him. She was enjoying his company, pact or no, and a part of him – alarmingly sizable upon inspection – wanted her to continue doing so.

"Yes."

Kagome took the sentiment in stride. "Doesn't that seem a bit unfair?" She asked. "I don't have any inhuman traits to discern your moods."

"So you wish to figure me out as well?" They had returned to the battlefield – this one decidedly flirtatious – and Sesshoumaru felt his mouth go dry.

Kagome paused, thinking. The second bottle chose that moment to arrive, and Sesshoumaru motioned to have her glass refilled. She watched the waiter pour, staring at the dark liquid for what felt like eternity before bringing her gaze back to his.

"I would," she acknowledged, fingering her glass's long, thin stem. "It's been a long time since I made a new friend."

Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to crane forward in his seat and seek clarification. Had her mention of 'friend' been purposeful? She had dropped the title in the car as well.

"This has been a lot of fun," Kagome continued, taking a sip. "And you might actually get away with this without anything backfiring on you."

Sesshoumaru heartily disagreed. The night had revealed there was much peril to this plan, though not where Rin was concerned.

They waited outside on the curb for the car, the chill of late January a welcome contrast to the roasting restaurant.

Sesshoumaru eyed the woman holding his arm, the fluff of her hat so tall it almost grazed his chin. "You put this back on inside just to goad that hostess," he accused, lifting his face to avoid its ticklish volume. "Your mittens too."

Kagome snorted. "Psh."

Her perfume had finally started to wear off, and she was a dizzying array of pleased, impish, and proud. Sesshoumaru took full advantage of the insight his olfactory senses gave him and inhaled deeply, gathering all he could. "You prefer it just to be contrary."

"No," she corrected. "I like what I like."

His stare grew knowing. "And part of why you like it is because it's so outlandish."

Her small smile was answer enough, but she adamantly declared, "It's warm and cute."

"It's furry."

"I like furry," Kagome insisted.

Sesshoumaru gave a brief thought to his mokomoko, then sobered, remembering when he'd last summoned it. Rin had been a crying seven-year-old, unable to stop her torrent of anguish; only the beckoned mound of white fur had comforted her tears. The helplessness he'd felt then, dulled to an ebb now, flared anew. He hadn't been able to eviscerate her tormentor – her human father had robbed him of retribution, slowly drinking himself to liver failure – and the lack of avenging his pup still galled. Calling forth his mokomoko had also required concentration and effort, which he had never needed before, and he'd privately wondered if caging his youki for so long had dampened its potency.

"And besides," Kagome added, unaware of his mind's dark turn. "It was a gift from my little brother."

Sesshoumaru was grateful for the distraction she provided; a host of bleak thoughts suddenly threatened to crowd in close on their section of sidewalk. "He must be very young to have selected it," he heard himself say.

Kagome chuckled. "He just knows me well."

Sesshoumaru fell silent, gazing out at the parking lot as a pair of headlights drew near. How small the lot was – he could have sailed over it in a lone stride in his true form. Perhaps as a towering canine Rin would've been his daughter earlier, saved from her first father by one crunch of his enormous maw, her trust spared from becoming a brittle, rare thing. Despair began edging his vision, until he felt a gentle pressure on his arm.

"Hey," Kagome squeezed again. "You're making me wish my nose was as strong as yours. You seem faraway."

Sympathy and concern entered her scent, and he frowned. Obviously, it was not only his powers which may have gone dormant and feeble – his face belied much of what it once hid.

"I'm just watching for the driver," he assured.

"You know," she started, nudging him with her hip. "Confiding is one of the many benefits of friendship."

Sesshoumaru knew she meant it only in support, but her latest mention of the status brought out near-rage. The why was unclear; he only grasped he didn't want to be her… friend. "I have not magically transformed into one of your chattering, human girlfriends," he snapped. "I'm not here to swap stories or braid your hair."

Hurt rushed his nose, but Kagome's features betrayed none of it. "Your loss," she said breezily. "I'm a very good listener."

Sesshoumaru sneered. "One must be quiet for five seconds to listen. It is a wonder you pause enough for oxygen."

Kagome stiffened and stepped back, sliding her arm from his. "Right," the response was clipped, bridled with embarrassment. "Got me there."

Sesshoumaru allowed himself an outward cringe. "I did not mean to say that," he began, before steel stiffened her spine and regret added to the hurt, intermingling in a bared cocktail that made his head spin more than alcohol ever could.

"Aloud, you mean," Kagome finished, holding up a hand. "I completely understand, sir. Sorry to have butted in; it was presumptuous."

Sesshoumaru's fangs appeared as he scowled. "Why are you calling me 'sir' again?"

"Because I'm more comfortable using it."

"To punish me?"

Kagome flushed and anger spiced her scent. "You'd have to care in the first place," she muttered. "And no, I'm not that petty. It's just to remind myself where we stand," she stared out at the sea of asphalt, illuminated in ghostly swathes by streetlights. "There was no need for us to blur any lines tonight. Or whatever," she gestured vaguely. "Rin wasn't even here."

The town car pulled up beside them, a timely interruption to an exchange Sesshoumaru could see he'd ruined with a single cruelty. Kagome spoke of trust and confidence, when her fiancé had left both in short supply. He had done a marvelous job reaffirming such malevolence.

Caught up in his own miserable musings, he missed their audience. As he woodenly opened the passenger door for her, the innocuous click of a phone's camera sounded from beyond the glass of Iris' front door.