Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters in this fan fiction are the property of Rumiko Takahashi. The original characters and plot are the property of Chiaztolite, who is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary of Previous Chapter: Tōga took Kagome and unconscious Sesshōmaru to the realm of the palace in the sky. He supplied Sesshōmaru with his own yōki so his son could start the road to healing. Kagome confronted Tōga about Tenseiga and Meidō Zangetsuha, telling him how unfair he had been and accusing him of not knowing his son at all. This prompted Tōga to seek out King Kaien, only to receive similar rebuttal.

The Way to Elysium

Chapter 15: Someone to Protect - Part Two

Sesshōmaru felt a thrum of energy inside him. The inner sanctum that had been silent for days was now vibrating with life. The aura he felt was foreign, but similar enough to his own yōki that his body and his beast accepted it. Still… it was different.

It felt like his father's.

He opened his eyes to the familiar sight of elaborate coffered ceiling: black-lacquered, gilded, and lined with silks embroidered with red and gold chrysanthemum patterns. Utterly excessive, like the rest of the palace. This was his mother's residence, no doubt about it. He visited her very rarely. Almost never, since he had reached maturity. But during his youth, on the rare occasions that he came, she would place him in this room.

It was night time, and someone had lit lanterns and placed them all over the room, casting flickering golden shadows across its walls. He had been undressed to the inner layer of his clothes; the silk felt cool and smooth against his skin. Feeling around with his right hand, he found both of his swords placed beside him, just a few inches from his hand.

Assessing himself, he realized he felt more like himself than he had in days. The severe hunger that had nearly driven him to insanity was now sated by the fresh supply of yōki brimming inside him. His beast was purring contentedly in its place. His heart was beating strongly, painlessly. His breathing was deep, smooth, and even. It seemed the heart and lungs had fully recovered. Everything else that was broken or torn had been mended as well.

The scents that were becoming as familiar as his own had him turning his head slightly to the left, catching the sight of raven hair spilled upon the quilt that covered him. The miko had fallen asleep — in a position that could not have been comfortable, no less.

Had she stayed the entire time?

Her hands were splayed on the edge of his bedding, palms facing up. He looked at those hands. Bakusaiga had burned her when she wielded the sword. He traced the scars gently with the side of a claw, following the lines that formed a perfect copy of the motif on Bakusaiga's handle, branded onto the soft flesh of her palms.

It had taken him a while, but eventually his body mended and he came out of the battle unscathed. But her… these scars might remain with her.

As though she felt his touch in her sleep, she stirred and opened her eyes. As soon as she saw he had awakened, she straightened herself, but not before she stretched like a sun-warmed lioness. Then she sat by his futon, her eyes meeting his stare.

The last time he had gazed into these fawn eyes, she had held a knife in her hand, ready to plunge it into his jugular at his behest. In this gilded environment, it felt quite surreal now, like it should never have happened other than in their dreams.

And yet it had.

These dark musings were chased away by her sleepy, yet warm smile. The eyes sparkled, chestnut flecks turned gold by the soft lights from the lanterns. Traces of slumber falling away from her features as her smile widened.

"You're alright now, Sesshōmaru."

He nodded. "Are you hungry?" He asked her. "Do you need some blood?"

She shook her head. "I haven't been doing anything other than sitting here. It doesn't really require any energy, so I'm okay."

He sat up. "Miko, what happened after I collapsed?"

"I took more blood from you and tried to hold the spiders off with my barrier for as long as I could. Your father arrived and finished them off. And—" She looked around the extravagant room. "He took us here."

His father…

As though his subconscious mind had sent out a summon, his father appeared in the doorway.

Inutaisho looked just as he had the last time Sesshōmaru saw him on that beach: young, large, imposing. However, there was a hint of something he had never sensed in his father before. Something that looked and smelled a lot like uncertainty, and… guilt. They used to never look at each other in the eyes. Like two ships passing in the night, they merely occupied the same body of water. This time, his father's golden eyes met his own, just for a moment. He caught the flicker of guilt there before his father broke contact.

"Miko," Inutaisho addressed his companion. "May I have some time alone with my son, if you've no objections?"

As soon as the miko left, leaving the screen doors slightly ajar, Sesshōmaru felt guarded. The nostalgic feeling from his childhood, this wariness he always felt whenever he was around his father, washed over him.

"Father," he said.

"Sesshōmaru." Inutaisho nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "You look much improved." His lips curled up into a small smile. "I am glad."

There was a tense silence as they stared at one another, not speaking, like two fighters circling each other in a ring.

"How did you find us?" Sesshōmaru finally asked.

"Firstly, your mother told me you've come here to fetch a miko's soul and bring her back to the living realm. She's concerned about you. She asked me to search for you."

Sesshōmaru thought his mental capacity must not have returned to full strength yet, because everything his father said confused him. "You speak to my mother?"

"Of course I —" His father frowned. "Sesshōmaru. Why the strange question? Of course I speak to your mother. Why wouldn't I?"

He was not sure how to answer the question. He had assumed that since his father embarked on an affair with Izayoi, his parents' relationship had suffered and they had not spoken much — except on extremely important matters, like Tenseiga and the Meidō stone. And then, he had died. Was it a common occurrence for anyone to commune with the dead? Perhaps it was their mating bond that made it possible for them to communicate even after death?

"It took me some time to find you," Inutaisho said. "And perhaps I would not have, had I not seen the light from your sword."

He must have meant the power that the miko had unleashed with Bakusaiga to free his beast from the spiders.

Which reminded him…

"Did you— " He paused, then backtracked. "Because of my severe injuries I asked the miko to kill me and revive me with Tenseiga. With the presence of my blood in her system, I believed she was able to do it. But someone — or something — stopped her just before she did it. Was that you?"

He seemed to have stunned his father into a long silence.

"No, it was not my doing," Inutaisho finally said. "Whoever they were, I am relieved they managed to stop her. Even if she had your blood in her system, that miko is still not Tenseiga's master. And we do not know how the sword performs here in the afterlife. It would have been a grave gamble to rely on Tenseiga to bring you back, my son."

This gentler side of his father was not something Sesshōmaru saw often when the Dog General had been alive. It discomposed him somehow, and made him wary and uncertain.

"You came to our rescue, and I am grateful." Sesshōmaru intoned. "Also for the supply of yōki you've given me. It is —" He thought for a moment, cautiously searching for the words. "— most generous."

His father surprised him again by looking… ashamed. "It is not generous," his father said. "In the end, it is the most I have ever given you," he said.

His conversation with his father started off very strange. This was not how he had envisioned his reunion with the Great Dog General. He had expected some form of criticism, some kind of rebuke for his rash decision to ask his companion to send him to an early death so he could be resurrected anew. To encounter something else that was positive instead…

His father approached and sat down cross-legged beside his bed. He seemed to be settling down for a long conversation.

The wariness returned.

"I think—" Inutaisho said, then paused. That uncertainty again, which was so bizarre to see on a male as confident as the Dog General. "I think a conversation between the two of us is long overdue. What do you think, my son?"

Sesshōmaru had feared this. He knew, when his grandfather had first mentioned he would have to face his father, it meant he must face his past as well. It would be impossible to separate Inutaisho from the painful parts of his past. They were intertwined, weaved together into a tangled mess of webs that he would rather shove into a corner and never look at again.

But here they were. He did not think he could avoid it any longer.

"Have you—" His father started. "— ever wondered why we left you in the Southern Isles?"

"I know why," Sesshōmaru said. "It was because you were tasked with conquering the western lands."

Inutaisho nodded. "During the time that you were born, the western lands were completely unsuitable for rearing a child, let alone a newborn pup. Your mother and I — we believed we made the right decision to leave you in the kingdom by the sea under your grandfather's care."

"Yet you never came to check up on me, or sent messages," Sesshōmaru said. "I never once saw you — not until I was shipped off and arrived on your side of the ocean."

His father looked ashamed. "We never meant to be apart from you for so long. There were much to do to get the western lands to heel. The lands were wild and undeveloped. The yōkai were feral and they attacked in relentless droves. Back then, we lived life as though we were in a war. Every day was about fighting and survival. I did not—" Sesshōmaru saw his father's cheeks darkened during his pause. "I did not give you much thought because I believed we had left you in the safest place possible. Before we knew it, a quarter of a millennia had passed, and you suddenly arrived on our shores."

When Sesshōmaru disembarked the ship that had carried him across the ocean and found himself standing before his mother and father, he could not say a single word. His memories of that time were muddled, but he remembered looking up at them, afraid and uncertain: his father — the fearsome Great Dog General, and his mother — the beautiful Princess Yōhime, as they looked down upon him. He could not believe at first that they were his true parents. They had looked like strangers, and he felt no kinship, no affinity whatsoever towards them.

He remembered wishing Chikatani was there to hold his hand, wishing for his grandfather to give him a reassuring smile, but his hand merely clutched the air, and it did not clutch back.

Sesshōmaru lowered his eyes and stared at his hands upon his lap. "I thought perhaps, upon my arrival in the western lands, you took one good look at me and you did not like what you saw."

"It was nothing like that." His father's response was passionate enough to get Sesshōmaru to lift his head. "You looked and smelled like our son, a splitting image of your mother. But — you were…" His father paused. "Unresponsive. Silent. For days. Back then, your mother and I thought we had tried everything. Despite our combined efforts, we could not get through to you, or draw you out of your shell. In the end, we left you alone."

His father looked at him ruefully, his mouth thinning into a grim line. "What a mistake it turned out to be. Had we —" He took a deep breath. "Had we taken you into our arms and assured you that you were safe, and promised you we would right everything that was hurting in your life… Perhaps, things would have been different between us."

Sesshōmaru knew such way was not the yōkai way. But yes, as strange as it sounded, perhaps it was exactly what he had needed. He let out a grim chuckle and shook his head.

"I know — how difficult it must have been to… accept me. To… love me the way I was: silent and distant. Uncooperative. But at the time, I was in no capacity to tell you what had happened. There was nothing I could do to get one word past the lump clogging my throat, not when it took every ounce of strength I possessed to stand before you in one piece."

Inutaisho nodded. "Your grandfather had said the same," he said. "And how right he was."

"As days passed and you remained silent, I began to think your silence was because you were unhappy to be sent away from the aristocratic environment of Southern Isles to live with your mother and… your common-born father. Blinded by my own insecurities, I became convinced you resented the common blood running through your veins, which you received from me. Because of my blood, you were nearly thrown into the ocean at birth."

Inutaisho heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, a remorseful smile on his lips. "It had crossed my mind that perhaps… perhaps you preferred to stay with your uncle Zetsubōmaru, a pure-blooded royalty. The thought of my own son favouring the company and guidance of another… It amplified my insecurities. Since then, every time I looked at you, I saw my own shortcomings reflected back in your eyes. Soon enough, I could no longer bear to look at you."

"You thought… I preferred to be with Zetsubōmaru than with my own father?" Sesshōmaru felt the urge to laugh. A dark, grim, crazed laughter.

"It did not help that you — resembled him. Or so I thought. It was not until I saw the king again, just last night, that I realized… it wasn't Zetsubōmaru that you resembled, or perhaps subconsciously emulated, but your grandfather. His blood runs strong in both of his children after all, and you take so much after your mother."

Sesshōmaru never really thought about it, but even the miko had made the same remark of how he resembled his grandfather. It chilled his spine knowing he, by coincidence, resembled Zetsubōmaru as well. Enough to get his father to shirk away from him because of it.

"I tried… to be closer to you," Sesshōmaru said, eyes flinching as he recalled that time when he felt like he was constantly trying to build his life on shifting sands, always so uncertain of everything. "But I've never had a father before, I wasn't sure if I was even doing the right things."

All he had been able to do was to follow his father around — or attempted to. But the General was always busy with something else: his army, his stronghold, his territories, leaving barely enough time for any interactions with his son. Inutaisho often told him to go elsewhere, or ordered someone else to come take him away. It stung, knowing the only father he had — and would ever have — had no desire for his company, when all he ever wanted as a child was to be with his father.

In the end, he stopped trying.

"Looking back," Inutaisho said, staring at the floor beneath his knees. "I realize I actively pushed you away. I did not know what to do with you, how to treat you. I had no desire for the reminder of my own shortcomings to constantly be on my tail. Instead of guiding you myself, I hired tutors to teach you everything they knew while I focused on staking my claims on western lands. And by that time, your mother — well, she never liked the western lands in the first place, so she spent most of her time up in the sky. In the end, you were all alone."

Sesshōmaru thought he had unrooted and discarded his hurt over the loneliness and desolation he often experienced during that time, growing up without the attention of his parents. But now, revisiting those memories of empty halls — empty everything — brought the old wounds back to the fore.

His mother and father had been close by, but he felt so removed from them they might as well be on the other side of the ocean.

"Years passed and I continued to set my sights on the glory of the western lands, claiming every part of it piece by piece. I couldn't see it back then, but in my ambition to conquer the territories, I had neglected my duty as your father. It seemed like it was only a blink of an eye. But within that time, you grew up. And what had seemed like a distance between us in the beginning became the breadth of a tempestuous ocean — impossible to cross. Though deep in my heart I Ioved you, I found it… difficult to get close to you. And then—" He looked down. "Inuyasha was conceived. And in the idea of him I saw my own redemption. I thought perhaps, with him, I could have my second chance of being a good father."

They were entering a dangerous territory. Sesshōmaru knew it would be impossible to have a discussion with his father about the past without the mention of his half-brother. But the mere sound of Inuyasha's name on his father's lips drove a stake straight into his chest.

"And so you did," Sesshōmaru said, taking in a deep breath, feeling his insides quaking with long suppressed something. Not rage — not anymore, but something even darker. The gnawing pain of a wound left to suppurate until the damage rooted deep within the bone. "At least, you got to a marvellous start. You… died to protect Inuyasha. You prepared an elaborate scheme to ensure his protection and future even after your death. Tell me — In those moments when you were busy making all your plans, did you ever… spare a thought… for me? Other than during the part you decided I would be the perfect candidate to perfect Meidō Zangetsuha for him."

His father's expression was pained. "Sesshōmaru. You were born a full-blooded yōkai, with inherent strength and power that Inuyasha would never possess. You were always meant to find your own strength."

"But I wasn't always this strong, was I? As a child, I bruised and bled like everyone else. And you were never there to protect me then either."

The words came out unbidden. Like a body that was trying to rid itself of poison by regurgitation. Perhaps it was unfair to say them, especially now that there was nothing anyone — not even the Great Dog General — could do to change the past. If he was aiming for retribution by throwing them in his father's face, he received neither pleasure nor satisfaction from it. Even looking at his father's face now, pained and at a loss for words, that same pain ricocheted and hurt him in those same spots.

He knew it would be so easy right now to torment his father with tales of what he had experienced and had to endure during childhood, but — was there any point? He had learned his lessons: every time he had bullied and hurt Inuyasha with his words and actions, he hoped they would lessen his own pain. Every time, he ended up making the pain worse instead. Throughout the years that followed, he had worked diligently to not let that gnawing pain took over his entire being. He refused to live his life constantly tortured by his hurt and his anger. Though they returned from time to time, some visits worse than others, he learned to fend them off.

In the end, self-preservation won.

"I did not come here to rehash the painful parts of my past," he told his father wearily. "You want to be a better father to Inuyasha? Go on, I commend you. I have always lived my life without your guidance and will continue to do so." He clenched his teeth when he sensed his emotions rising. Pausing for a long time, he strived to get himself under control.

"You said deep in your heart you loved me, but how could you — when you did not know me, and still do not?" He asked. "If you had known me, you would not have brushed off my goal of supreme conquest as merely a vain, imperious ambition. If you had even a smidgeon of interest in me, you would have asked me what it was all about. When you were alive, you had always cast me as a simple, two-dimensional character who desired power just for the sake of having it. If there is one thing I want you to know about me, Father, it is this: I am much more than what you make me out to be."

… …

Somewhere along the open-air corridor not far from Sesshōmaru's room, Kagome sat on the porch with legs folded, knees against her chest. She did not mean to eavesdrop, but she had no idea where to go and thought she could just sit there and wait for the conversation between father and son to conclude. She had not expected their voices, carried by the wind, would reach her ears.

She pressed her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes. Body strung-tight with tension, she had her hands balled up into fists.

She had been worried – at the beginning. At the start of their conversation, something in Sesshōmaru's voice, in the resigned, defeated way he said the things he said, made her want to march back into the room and tell him: 'Nē, Sesshōmaru. Let's pack up and get the fuck out of here.' She resented that his father had somehow managed to make him sound that way, when otherwise he would never ever sound that way. It was irrational, but she almost wished Inutaisho had not shared his yōki with Sesshōmaru, so that his son would never have any reason to feel indebted towards the father who had disappointed him for so many years.

But then, Sesshōmaru regained his convictions. His voice became stronger, more like himself, especially when he started talking about his supreme conquest. He really took flight then.

She let out the breath she did not even know she had been holding. Looking up at the moon, she smiled to herself, swinging her legs that dangled over the side of the porch.

He would be okay.

… …

Sesshōmaru's eyes glowed like embers as he continued to confront his father.

"That night on the beach, you asked me if I had someone to protect, although even before you received any answer, you had already made up your mind that I protected no one and would fight for no one. I wished I could have told you back then: I did have those I wanted to protect. But I —" Sesshōmaru cast his eyes down onto his lap, his fingers clutching at the bedding so hard his knuckles turned white. "I didn't know… how to protect them. No matter what I did, no matter how much I wanted to hold on, they still slipped out of these hands."

Tōga stared at Sesshōmaru's lowered head, wondering how he could have overlooked this: the desire to protect was strong in him. Even if it was not always apparent, even if sometimes it was forgotten, he had carried this fire inside him the entire time.

He smiled a rueful smile inwardly. The Great Dog General had never been happier to have been proven wrong.

"It is true that in the foolishness of my youth I desired Tessaiga," Sesshōmaru continued, raking his fingers through his tresses, the only thing that hinted at his frustration. "I would have done everything to obtain that sword, killed anyone who dared to stand in my path, thinking that blade would aid me in my quest to defeat Zetsubōmaru for what he did to those I loved. During those early years I thought of nothing but honing my skills in the hopes that one day, I would be the one to stab a sword in his throat. I was convinced that Tessaiga, and its power to slay a hundred demons in one swing, would be a shortcut to achieve that goal." He let out a mirthless chuckle. "I have been proven wrong time and time again."

Tessaiga. And Tenseiga. The crux of the problems between him and his first born. And, as the miko had told him, between his first and second born. He had never intended it to be this way, and yet here they were.

He could see now that Sesshōmaru had learned compassion since a young age. Chikatani's meticulous care and sacrifice had made sure of that. But instead of nurturing the seedlings that the young inuyōkai had sown, he let them wither and die. Tōga realized he would carry the shame of it for the rest of his life. Then — he had bestowed Tenseiga on Sesshōmaru, even when he knew the blade his first born desired was Tessaiga. All in the hopes that his son could learn compassion, which he had already learned in the first place.

In that regard, he had mucked it all up, in a grand fashion.

However…

He also knew how crucial it was for Sesshōmaru, in order to become a full-fledged daiyōkai, to come into his own power. Would he have obtained Bakusaiga had Tessaiga been his from the start? It had taken him a long time, but his true power really shone when he had relinquished his obsessions with his father's fangs.

In the end, despite everything, Sesshōmaru reached his destiny.

"Sesshōmaru." Tōga said, giving him a gentle smile when his son lifted his eyes. "One hundred Tessaiga will not defeat Zetsubōmaru. But one Bakusaiga can."

His son's eyes widened.

To fight and defeat a foe, one must relay on one's own strength, not borrow the power from someone else. If defeating Zetsubōmaru was what Sesshōmaru wanted, then his son was on the right path.

"Sesshōmaru. Your father does not deserve explanations. But thank you — for telling me your side of it. For caring enough to do it, despite everything." Tōga looked at his son and smiled. "It would have been much easier for you to brush off my attempts to communicate with you. After all, it is just as you said: you have lived all your life without my guidance, and you have matured to become a magnificent daiyōkai, all on your own."

Instead of refusing him, Sesshōmaru had sat there and listened. It was much more than he deserved, considering how little had done for his son.

"I will not insult you by asking for… forgiveness," Tōga said. "Or by asking you to believe in my love for you, when all I have ever shown you is proof of the opposite. I could only hope that you will let me… show you. And perhaps one day… you will allow me to know you a little more."

He seemed to have shocked Sesshōmaru into silence. A part of him — that stubborn, proud part of the Great Dog General that would not take no for an answer — wanted to demand his son to tell him everything now. To accept his love now. To forgive him now so they could start on a brand-new leaf immediately.

But he understood their reconciliation should not be on his terms, but on Sesshōmaru's. He would not make his son accept anything he was not ready to accept, or give anything he was not ready to give.

He would try harder, prove himself a better father, and wait.

"Your little miko—"

Sesshōmaru's yōki sparked briefly as his son narrowed a look at him. "She is not little in any way."

"Of course not," he said, feeling both chastised and amused. "Forgive me. Your miko."

Sesshōmaru shook his head. "She is not mine either."

Is that so? Tōga fastened a bemused look at his son. "Well, in any case, she is quite your stalwart defender. Even more than your grandfather, I think, if you can believe it. She gave me quite a scolding last night, about how I treated you when it comes to Tenseiga and Meidō Zangetsuha."

"She did?" Sesshōmaru's eyebrows arched so high they disappeared under his bangs.

"Oh yes." Inutaisho chuckled. "She… said a few things to me. None of them complimentary."

He stared at his firstborn, relieved that his daily supply of yōki had brought his son back to a picture of health. No one else could have known how close Sesshōmaru had been to the brink of death. He caught sight of Sesshōmaru's hand, showing no blemishes from the bite marks from before.

"My son. I suppose it is true that… you fed her your blood when Limos tempted her to eat some fruit from this realm."

"We were both starving, and there was no food," Sesshōmaru said, almost defensively.

Thus his solution to the problem was to turn himself into food for her.

The miko had called it 'survival instinct'. But what had been awakened was not 'survival', but his 'protective instinct'. And perhaps — a bit of his mating instinct, though his son himself did not seem to realize what he had done. Most likely because Sesshōmaru, albeit a daiyōkai, was still young and had yet to take a mate. He did not yet understand how intimate and extraordinary the gesture was. Even yōkai pairs who had been mated for centuries did not often reach such intimate level of blood-giving.

And furthermore, when his beast hounded him to feed, he had fed from himself to continue to protect her.

It was incredible.

"Did you feel… anything, my son, when you were doing it?"

Sesshōmaru frowned. "What do you mean?"

"A sensation akin to—" Inutaisho stopped to think for a moment. "— something being pulled out of your chest. Like someone has reached into your chest to pull your heart out."

Sesshōmaru returned his stare, looking quite aghast. "No," he finally replied. "Thankfully."

Inutaisho held back a smile. Perhaps it was still too early, he thought, grinning inside as he rose to his feet.

"I will leave you to rest now, my son, and I will ask your miko to come inside."

He did not wait for Sesshōmaru to voice another protest before he left the room, keeping the doors ajar.

Tōga knew the road of redemption in front of him would be long and difficult, if at all repairable. Sesshōmaru's wounds ran deep and as a father he had made many, many mistakes. Even a thousand apologies, no matter how heartfelt, were too feeble. To simply say he had not known, or that it had not been his intention to hurt his eldest son, were merely excuses that would not even begin to make up for his grave mistakes.

The only silver lining was that he had all eternity to make it up.

As he turned and began to stride along the corridor, he caught a glimpse of the priestess sitting on the porch a short distance away.

"Miko, you should go inside," he said to her. "I think he is waiting for you."

After the miko left to see his son, Tōga strolled to a small courtyard hidden between two wings of the palace. There was a secret little garden there, filled with crimson plum blossom trees that always bloomed. It was there that he found her, sitting on the varnished wooden porch, staring at the moon. He stood behind her, and they both watched the moon for a while.

"I have an inkling that our son's heart will be broken in the near future," he said, sighing.

Izayoi lowered her head and let out a soft chuckle. "If Kagome's heart truly belongs to Sesshōmaru-sama, Inuyasha could hardly expect to keep it," she said, smiling a gentle smile. "And he should not want to."

In silence, together they both watched the crimson petals of the plum blossoms slowly falling from the trees, floating and fluttering in the air before they landed on the ground. Crimson plum blossoms had always been Yōhime's favourite. The palace was always filled with them, blooming all year long.

"I will go to visit Yōhime," Tōga finally said. "There are some questions I must ask her, and I need to deliver a message from her father as well."

This time, Izayoi turned to look at him. There was a flicker of something in her eyes that made him wonder if she knew something he did not. However, she only nodded.

"I wish you a swift travel and a safe return, my lord," she said.

Tōga was about to turn around to leave, but he paused to look at her again. She had returned her attention to the sky, lifting her head and her eyes to the moon above. He had not revealed to Sesshōmaru, or his miko companion, that this realm was not his Elysium, but Izayoi's.

He would reveal that nugget of knowledge in time.

Gently, he touched Izayoi's jaw to turn her head so that she would gaze at him.

"Would you like me to pass on a message, Izayoi?" He asked, smiling.

Her thick, sooty lashes lowered as a comely rosy blush — pure yearning and unadulterated joy — suffused her cheeks.

"Please tell my Princess—" she said. "— that Izayoi waits for her, always."

Not long after his father left, a glimpse of white and red had Sesshōmaru lifting his eyes to the open screens. The scents of hinokicypress, shrine incense, and those mandarin peels wafted to his nose. She was standing there, filling the doorway. The moonlight had silhouetted her lithe figure, highlighting the shape of her breasts underneath her white clothing.

His eyes drank her in, as though the sight of her was balm to his soul.

She came into the room. "Nē, Sesshōmaru." She bit her lower lip and tilted her head sideways in question. "Are you… okay?"

He was not accustomed to feeling so much emotions, he felt drained from them. Exhausted, even though he had just woken up after so many days of sleeping.

"I don't know," he replied.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Should we leave?"

"Miko, we cannot leave," he told her gently. "We still need to ask Inutaisho if he could help us bring you back to the living realm."

She came to kneel by his bedding. "To be honest, I'd rather be on my hands and knees begging the Death God himself than to have to ask your father for anything."

Sesshōmaru sighed and wiped his face. "I had thought it the last resort, but now that option does seem more and more enticing."

"Never mind that now," she said. "Did you get to tell your father some stuff?"

"Some." He rubbed his temple. "There is just… so much, my head is still reeling."

"Do you feel better?"

"At first I thought I did not care," he said after a pause. "But now — yes, a bit. To have corrected some misconceptions he had about me, at the very least."

"Did you get to resolve anything?"

He thought about it. "No—" He replied. "There is no resolution, though there was a good amount of explanation. I think—" He drew a deep breath. "I think he is asking me to be… open minded to a reconciliation."

She tilted her head to the side again. "Is a reconciliation possible?"

Sesshōmaru responded with a soft scoff and a twitch at the corners of his lips. "After seven-hundred years or so? Only time will tell."

He regarded her. "He also informed me of your valiant display when berated him about Tenseiga and Meidō Zangetsuha." He nearly chuckled, wishing he could have been awake to witness it.

"You had some nerve, miko, facing the legendary Inu no Taisho head on like that."

"Oh—" Her cheeks pinkened. "He told you about that, didn't he?"

He could not contain his smirk. "The Great Dog General is not accustomed to being told he is in the wrong. He is not going to forget it in a very long time." He paused thoughtfully. "Perhaps never."

"Well, good," she replied. "I don't want him to ever forget."

He stared at her in an equal mixture of amusement and wonder. Having someone else feel outrage on his behalf was not something of a common occurrence for him. To think that his saviour came in the form of this priestess…

"Nē, Sesshōmaru, that's the problem with being the strong one," she said. "No one lends you a hand. But don't you worry." She reached out and patted his hand. "I know I'm nowhere as strong as you are, but I'll protect you, okay?"

The smile she gave him held such radiance that he felt it in his chest like a bolt of something fierce. How could it be that he was asleep for three whole days to repair his heart and lungs, yet she wrecked them within minutes?

It defied all logic.

For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like smiling. A true smile, not a caustic smirk he usually gave everyone whom he deemed deserve his display of amusement. As he watched her eyes widening in shock, he knew, even though it had been centuries, his lips had not completely forgotten how.

"You did protect me," he reminded her. "Not just against my father. During the past few days, as we faced Hunger and Grief, you were with me every step of the way, calling my name, anchoring me to the little bit of sanity I still possessed."

He reached out to touch her chin with the knuckle of his forefinger. "Miko, it was you alone who kept me from going insane."

He watched the rosy blush appearing on her face as he grazed her cheek with the back of his hand, her skin warming up under his touch.

"Until death, this Sesshōmaru will never forget what you have done. For him."

… …

As their eyes met and held, the atmosphere seemed to be charged with something that thrummed so sweet. For a moment, with his knuckles still caressing her cheek and those honeyed golden eyes shifting lower to her lips, she thought he might kiss her. She felt the urge to lean into his touch, into his embrace, to feel his strong arms wrapped around her, so she could know for a certainty that he had truly recovered.

When he drew back, she could not help but feel… disappointed. She squashed the dismay, knowing full well she should not be feeling such things, and wanting such things.

Lowering her head, she busied herself with rearranging his quilt, biting the inside of her cheek.

"You should… sleep more," she stammered. "I think you're still looking a bit…" She looked at him from the top of his head to his waist, at the point where the rest of him disappeared under his quilt. "…pale."

He arched an eyebrow, looking as though he knew exactly what she was doing, that she told him to go back to sleep only so that she could breathe properly again before she asphyxiated. He made no comment as he settled back in his bed and closed his eyes.

She sat there for a while, just watching him. When his breathing deepened, thinking he had truly fallen asleep, she made a move towards the door. His mokomoko reached out and wrapped itself around her waist, gently pulling her back to where she was seated: right next to his bed.

"Stay," he said in that signature tone that brook no argument.

He made a comfortable nest for her beside his bed, coiling his fur so she could curl up inside it and be surrounded by softness. She laid back, her head cushioned on his plush pelt, gazing at a slice of silver moon she could see from between the parted screens. This realm… it is quiet. Unlike the Southern Isles with its constant sounds of waves breaking upon the shores and the cries of seagulls, here, only the gush of wind occasionally provided a soothing white noise.

Sesshōmaru was silent too, though she doubted he was asleep. A quick glance at him confirmed her suspicion: just like her, he was staring at the moon. She did not know how and when, but the silence that had been so overbearing at the beginning of their journey had slowly morphed into an easy, companionable silence.

Turning her attention back onto the moon, she wondered what occupied his mind, and if he was perhaps thinking about Chikatani. He had not told her directly, but from his demeanor and the conversation with his father, she could conclude Chikatani had died, and it had most likely been a horrible, traumatizing death.

She wondered if Chikatani too had been granted an eternal rest in Elysium. And if yes, would they one day wander into his realm?

Would Sesshōmaru be reunited with him, even for a short time?

"Nē, Sesshōmaru…" She said as she nuzzled against his fur, sinking deeper. "If you could see Chikatani again… what would you say to him?"

He was silent for such a long time, she did not think he would ever answer.

"'I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.'"

A/N: My heart is still aching as I write this note, so I hope I was able to transfer some of the pain to you through the words.

I don't think any parents began their journey to parenthood with the intention to screw up, but unfortunately, Sesshōmaru's parents, because of various circumstances, ended up hurting their son. I hope the scenarios I presented are realistic and seem to make sense. The goal is not to turn his parents into villains here. It would be interesting to see how they will attempt make it up to him.

Kagome continues to be a stalwart defender. Their relationship has shifted a bit in this chapter. I think real friendship is developing. He is less lord-like with her in this chapter. More open and less guarded. We have had many intense, angsty moments for the past few chapters so the next chapter will be more easy going and more romantic, to give our couple a chance to get to know each other a little more. There will be an ache of a different kind (LOL).

I have received so many love and support for the past few chapters. Thank you so so much to everyone who is following this story. I love reading your thoughts in your comments. They help me tremendously in shaping up the continuation of this fic. As always, your thoughts and comments are more than welcomed. Please drop me a few lines if you have a chance. Until next time!

To Guest: I hope I have answered your question about why his parents never visited or sent messages for 250 years. When they lived life as though they were in a war during that time, unfortunately their son got pushed to the back burner.

To Jaz: I want happy things to happen too! Although their happily ever after is still ways away, we will get some respite in the next chapter, I promise!