Chapter Eighteen:

The passing days were warmer, but the wind was blustery and the rains continued to tumble mercilessly from the ashen sky. With each breath of wind the trees, bereft of leaves, rattled their skeletal branches. Honey suckle frozen in full bloom, its fragrance captured in a prison of ice. Their pristine blossoms darkening to shades of dun as they drooped from vines clinging tenaciously to the house's weather battered eaves.

Sesshoumaru sat in solitude, listening to the sound of the wind and the occasional scrape of bare branches across the roof. He tapped his fingers, drumming a forgotten litany against unrepentant wood. Moments past, silence drowned in a heartless requiem of mournful wind.

Inspiration was a fickle creature one easily swayed by the difficulties of life. Adversity more oft than not, bred inspiration whilst privilege laid way to stagnation. He sighed, sipped his tea and willed the words to come. But they proved elusive, unwilling to impart their majesty onto the page.

Centuries ago he would have scoffed at the notion of he, Sesshoumaru answering to anyone much less an insipid lot of mortals. An urge, no more than a whim, struck him. Bade him to turn off his computer, discard his research and exclaim ''to hell with it all'. But, he would not. He would finish his book, deposit it in his editor's capable hands and once again be heralded as a genius. If they only knew how greatly they were mistaken. How deluded they truly were.

A humorless smile quirked at his lips. Delusion coupled with denial is a wondrous, though treacherous gift. One he, in his youth, had gladly accepted. Denial softened by delusion soothed his soul whilst regret echoed in his heart throwing his soul into anguish. Solitary truth sharps and jagged, brought painful lucidity. He had loved Kagome, loved her still, as much as he were able. He had been the cause of her pain. Had he for one moment been kinder, thought of someone other than himself all those years ago much of their misery may have been circumvented.

But he did not, and thus she had suffered. They had all suffered. His careless thoughtless actions spawned an innocent, his sole child. In one fell swoop he proved he was indeed his father's son. However, unlike his father he would endeavor to make amends. Perhaps he had judged his father too harshly, had held him responsible for matters beyond his control. In single crystalline moment, Sesshoumaru felt a spark of clarity. A realization that neither he nor his father was perfect and neither were bound to the other's crimes.

"What are you doing?"

Sesshoumaru blinked at the girl who seemed to materialize at the corner of his desk. Inwardly annoyance and a thread of pride swept through him. Even preoccupied as he was, it should have been impossible for a youkai as young and unaware of its latent power to be able to approach him without his notice.

Mitsukai crept up to him and leaned into his side until he combed through her waist length hair. In an unexpected display of affection she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

"Working," he explained softly. Sesshoumaru shifted stiffly unsure what to make of her current display of affection. Perhaps she had forgiven him, or perhaps was willing to try. She kneeled beside his leather chair and leaned her chin against the dark wood of his desk. Idly he brushed silken hair from a cheek too cold. A worried frown marred his elegant features. "You should be resting."

Sesshoumaru ran his hand down her back, inwardly cringing at the feel of vertebrae beneath the thin material of her nightshirt. His daughter's condition was the physical manifestation of his failing. To learn of his child and then loose her would be fate's cruel, though fitting, punishment for his pride. Juri's countless treatments, both medical and mystical merely alleviated symptoms, but offered no cure. Only through the power of her bloodline, their bloodline, did Mitsukai continue to linger.

"Mitsukai," he murmured softly, anxiety not often heard colored voice. It was time to begin their daily ritual. He would attempt to feed her and she would steadfastly refuse. Anger did little to aid the situation, as did threats. Force-feeding merely added to her anxiety, thus escalating her condition.

Her unwillingness to eat further exacerbated her malady and weakened her already fragile health. And everyday he faced with the bitter truth. She was dying. How he knew he was uncertain for it was matter not to be spoken. Sickness entangled her as she drifted haphazardly on the sea of death.

"Mitsukai," he called once more. His voice held the firmness and authority of five centuries past.

She hummed a questioning; "hmm?" sound in her throat as her slender fingers reached for the keyboard. "You misspelled supercilious."

The keys clicked as he clawed fingers slid over the keys. The dim light of the computer caused shadows to settle over her normally ethereal visage. Delicate bones, moon pale flesh, and beauty distorted beneath a prison of impervious darkness. Only her eyes dull, but slightly colored crimson offered any semblance of life.

Mitsukai settled back on her heels and laid her head in his lap. Her fingertips trailing feather light touches across the creases of his jeans. Tension slid from her body as her eyes drifted shut. Sesshoumaru traced the twin stripes on her cheek, their magenta hue screaming against her ashen flesh.

Moments passed in silence for her had tuned out all sound save that of her even breaths. Her hand fell limp, her head lolled to the side and for a moment he had thought she had fallen into slumber.

A breath, more a sigh, escaped from her half-parted lips as her eyes drifted opened to scrutinize him. "What I am supposed to call you now?"

A smile that did not reach his eyes curled at his lips. He tweaked her nose affectionately and bent to kiss her temple. "Whatever you like."

She drew silent for moment, her lips quirked into a miniscule smirk that gradually broadened into a grin. A mischievous gleam brightened her dull, listless eyes.

"Not what you are thinking."

His words were reflexive, but tone was laced with humor. Her bottom lip stuck out cutely as she pouted. "Please?"

He lifted his chin haughtily and pretended the out his window was utterly fascinating. She growled an adorable half whimper whine as she attempted to regain his seeming lost attention.

"But you don't ever know what it was!"

His face remained impassive though he answered with an unperturbed lifted brow. Mitsukai glowered, her eyes shifting playful beneath lowered lids.

"Then I'll just think of something more annoying."

The humor faded from her face, as her eyes grew dim once more. It was as if the light had stolen from her. Her head slid down his lap, past his knees stopping to lean against his shins. "I'm sorry," she whispered softly, almost beyond his hearing.

Confusion unseen flitted across his features now pinched in worry and a thread of fear. Her behavior was baffling, more so than usual. She hugged legs almost painfully tight. "Is Mama coming over?"

Her was voice brittle almost hollow as if she were afraid of the answer she sought. Seconds long as hours passed as a tremor ran through her willowy form as her shoulders shook. Hot teardrops streaked down her pallid cheeks landing with an almost audible plot on his bare feet. He closed eyes, his free hand going to his temple and before he could think snapped. "Stop crying."

He regretted his shortness instantly. Worry and helplessness had eroded the last of his patience. Sesshoumaru listened as her sobs slowed to hiccups. Finally she sniffed and wiped her face on the back of her hand. His expression grew dark, his eyes hardening.

Although humans in a human world had reared her, Mitsukai was a youkai bred from an ancient and powerful bloodline. This continued coddling was unbefitting her lineage. Unceremoniously he hauled her into his lap and locked his hands around her forearms. Her eyes were widened with surprise and her lips slightly parted. Sesshoumaru frowned forbiddingly as he pulled her forward until his breath warmed her face. "Your mother will visit tomorrow."

She nodded jerkily as tears she tried to quell tumbled down her porcelain cheeks. Sesshoumaru brushed them away with a gentleness that belied his earlier harshness. "In the meantime, you will eat then go back to bed." He looked her sternly in the eye. "Understood?"

"Okay," she sniffed and laid her cheek on his collarbone. She felt lost and alone and wanted desperately, beyond anything else, to be held. Perhaps sensing her need, Sesshoumaru awkwardly wrapped his arms about her. She inhaled deeply, tasting his scent. It was foreign though familiar, one that inexplicably calmed her. Instinctually her mind catalogued this scent to one of family, friend, and protector. And though she attempted to rebel, to hate him for his real and imagined crimes, she felt safe.

Guilt ridden urgency flooded her as a solitary question clamored in her mind. One that she was uncertain as to why it was of such great import, but nevertheless it demanded resolution.

"Did you love my mother?"

If the question surprised Sesshoumaru he offered no evidence. Instead tightened his arms around her fragile seeming form. "Yes."

It was a simple truth, more damning than any lie. He released her slowly shifting her into a sitting position, his hands falling to the side of her waist. Her gaze was questioning, but there was anger tempered with hurt in that wilting stare.

"But…"

He placed his finger on her lips silencing her for the moment. "Neither you nor I appreciate half truths. Consider carefully for the answers you seek are neither pretty nor kind."

Mitsukai nodded slowly, for ugly truths was something she had recently been made accustom. Still, Sesshoumaru promised to be more forthcoming than her mother. He looked away for a moment, a breath barely escaping his lips. It was sigh mourning, of regret, of unspoken and buried, but clearly unforgotten pain. Matters that were best left unsaid were to be spoken at her behest.

"It was a different time and I was a different person." He ran his hand affectionately down her arm. "I have no excuse other than I thoughtlessly fulsome."

Mitsukai bowed her had in sad acceptance. Always there would be wrongs between them. Platitudes wasted on lessons newly learned would never grant either resolution. Perhaps in the end repentance would hold far greater weight than rectification. Moments bled into minutes were neither spoke or even moved. Time froze as the wind howled through the trees and rain bled down frost-laden windowpanes.

"Who was Inuyasha?"

Her voice was so soft that at first he thought it was imagined. Inuyasha, it always circled back to that deplorable cretin. He had promised to answer her questions. Sesshoumaru placed his hands on her hunched shoulders, his thumbs rubbing tiny half circles into muscles knotted with tension. "My younger half-brother. I supposed he would have been your uncle."

"Oh."

The simple word, a single syllable that held more weight than a thousand charily selected words. She stared unblinking and he could almost feel her thoughts. Begged solicitations her mind clamored to voice from lips to youthful to form proper words.

"Mama dreams about him," she whispered, half to herself. "All the time-" her voice cracked- "She cries in her sleep and sometimes I-" she squeezed her eyes shut until the tender flesh of her face ached with the strain. They reopened slowly, lids unfurling as she blinked twice in rapid succession.

"I don't understand anything."

Her face was a mask sorrow, sadness rang in her voice but she did not cry. Feeling that perhaps it was best to allow her to speak her peace Sesshoumaru did not reply. He simply listened, his face as mask of cool serenity. Mitsukai chuckled softly and bit her lip. "There was this cat."

She smiled wistfully rolling her eyes skyward before staring forward at nothing. "I found it living in the well house." She made a face. "I wasn't supposed to go in there. Mama said it was dangerous. But the cat was in there so I would sneak in to feed it." Her eyes widened as her tone dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "One day when I try to pet her she scratched me."

"What happened," he gently prodded seeming unperturbed by odd choice of conversation. In her voice there was a plea not for sympathy, but understanding. It was a secret she had sooner be forgotten. Why she deemed him worthy of her confidence was unknown. He questioned not why, but merely accepted the burden she offered.

Silvery strands shifted as she delicately shook her head. "I killed it. I..I didn't even think twice. I just did it. Just like when…"

Pain flooded her face, as the light seemed to leave her eyes. It was as sudden as it was frightening. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes."

A plain truth there was neither shame nor pride in his tone. Mitsukai nodded slowly, the wheels of her mind churning, spinning in the attempt to form a coherent whole. Accusing eyes locked with his. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Often."

The accusation ebbed and then flowed into bewilderment, fear and oddly relief. If she was a monster, he was a greater one for he showed no remorse when he killed. She too had slaughtered, and there was no denying her guilt. It ate at her, consumed her thoughts, and casting her dreams into nightmare. There was always so much blood. She could feel it, the imagined blood warm and sticky on her hands, clinging to the wild strands of her hair.

Bile boiled at the back of her throat as her stomach lurched. Warm hands brushed the hair from her face as gold eyes, similar to her own, peered worriedly into her now overly pale face. Dizziness coursed through her as she drew a shuddering breath. Countless emotions, raw and frightening flooded her being.

Delicate fingertips tenderly brushed her lashes wiping away the tears she was commanded not to shed. Their foreheads touched lightly, their pale hair tangling into a single shimmering cascade of silver white. In a mirror's edge skew by time and difference there was commonality. Unity bequeathed from the realization she had inherited nothing from her mother's womb.

The blood coursing beneath her alabaster skin held no human taint. It was not a human heart that beat steadily within her breast. What was she, but a pale mistake in her mother's life?

"I…"

Then there were no more words. Nothing more to be said. And so they sat in silence. The thrum of their hearts, the echo of their breathing the only sound save that of the wind and rain.

A peal of thunder broke through the room shatter what had become an easy silence. Mitsukai smiled faintly as she rubbed her forehead against the man she knew was her father. The man she had dreamed of meeting since the moment she could form thought.

"She isn't coming back," she stated unequivocally. Her lips quirked into a consolatory smile. "But it's okay now."

Golden eyes as different as they were similar clashed, held. It was he who first looked away. Sesshoumaru knew she was correct. Kagome was lost to them or perhaps had always been elusive. Although there was no doubt Kagome loved their daughter it was a dutiful affection. Mitsukai did and possibly always would exist on outskirts of her mother's heart.

"No," he retorted coolly. 'It's not.'

Cool lips pressed chastely against his much warmer cheek. "Mama deserves to be happy," her tone was enigmatic, her gaze far away. "So, if…."

Sadly she shook her head in defeat and rose shakily from his lap. Her knees quaked, her legs trembling as they attempted to support her small weight.

"I don't hate you," Mitsukai whispered softly without turning around. "I'm sorry I said I did."

Sesshoumaru looked at her blankly. When words chose to elude silence was the best reply. Her feet shuffled as she walked across the dusty floor. She paused in the doorway, her lids heavy and her head was bowed. She tried her voice thrice before the words would come. "I'm going to sleep now."

Several heartbeats later the click of her bedroom door echoed in his ears. Grim determination filled him as he picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. The phone rang twice before it was answered. "Give the phone to your mother."

Yards of perfumed cotton shifted and tangled against tresses the color of pitch. Crimson eyes fluttered, a scowl twisted at her lips as Kagura barely listened to the mellow voice wafting from the receiver. Through half parted lips she breathed a downtrodden sigh. Incardinate eyes flicked to Kouga curled playfully at her side. Over the centuries only one matter truly remained constant. Sesshoumaru did as he pleased and at the worst possible moment. "Half an hour," she answered curtly, then hung up the phone none too politely.

Kagura slid her fingers into Kouga's hair jerking his face roughly toward hers. She kissed him roughly, hard enough to bruise. Kouga's lips parted beneath her onslaught his own hands tangling in her hair. Her tongue slid between his fangs to stroke the hard ridges covering the roof as his mouth.

Kouga broke the kiss abruptly and gazed at her with serious eyes. "What does he need?"

Kagura scowled. "A babysitter."

Kouga snickered, then yelped when she punched his shoulder reflexively. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his ear against her flat belly. "Be careful."

She worked her fingers into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Inwardly she smiled as he pressed a gentle kiss just bellow her navel. "Please," she huffed.

Kouga kissed a path from her navel to her lips, pausing briefly to caress each breast. "Woman," he growled, but there was no real admonishment in his tone. "I know she's a kid. And I know she's sick. But, Mitsukai is stronger than she looks. A lot stronger."

A decisive snort followed by an eye roll was the only indication she had heard. Kouga let the subject drop for the moment. Perhaps there was no real danger for Mitsukai was not particularly violent. And there were other concerns to fill his thoughts. "Have you told him?"

Another snort, this time more vocal. "Please," she said drolly. "I hadn't planned to tell you."

"Bitch."

A smirk curled at her lips, softening the scowl that had been ever present since Sesshoumaru phoned. Wordlessly Kouga rose from the bed and procured a change of clothes from their sturdy oak dresser. Kagura glared at them for a moment then with an annoyed sigh dressed, but none too quickly.

Kouga kissed her insteps before gently gliding her feet into her shoes. "Be careful," he repeated sternly, ignoring her annoyed scowl. He placed his palm on her still flat belly. "Both of you."

Defiance bled from her at the sound of the unadulterated awe in his tone. Their eyes locked, their lips brushed tenderly as his hands circled her slender waist. She fell against him, her hands searching his body. Kouga slid his arms under her buttocks and lifted her against him. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, his breath tickling her soft flesh. "You should go."

Her eyes crinkled in a frown but nevertheless she slipped from their bedroom and into the rambunctious embrace of her son. "Brat," she grunted as her son squeezed her a bit too exuberantly.

There was no inherent insult in her words more an odd sort of affection. Seichi flashed her a lopsided grin as his fingers fiddled with the fan tied to her belt. "I thought you were off today," he pouted.

"Me too," she remarked dryly. Kagura smiled down at the child and tapped him lightly on his nose. "Keep Papa out of trouble."

Seichi's expression brightened, a mischievous glint filling his azure eyes. For a moment he was the mirror of his father. "'Kay!" he crowed before bounding through the door at her back.

Kouga's pained 'ooph,' the last sound to grace her ears as she quietly strolled down the hall.

Kagura hugged herself, involuntarily shivering, her thin clothes granting little protection from the now freezing rain. Common sense would have suggested returning home for her umbrella. However that would mean admitting she had forgotten it in the first place. It mattered little for her destination was mere yards away.

She climbed the porch steps carefully, ever mindful of their rain and ice slicked surfaces. There was little risk of injury should she slip, regardless her delicate condition warranted extra precaution. Audaciously she flung the door open and strode into foyer.

Her entrance was met amongst silence for not a single soul came to greet her. Kagura, 'hmphed', as she unceremoniously kicked off her shoes and sent them scuttling across the hardwood floor.

"Kagura."

Startled she involuntarily jumped. A scowl cut across her features as she inwardly cursed her preoccupation. Centuries ago such a lapse could well have cost her, her life. Modern civilization with all its comforts had caused her to grow soft, though she dare not say weak.

"Yo."

Her expression was perturbed, her tone more than a little bored and in complete contrast to the erratic thrumming of her heart. Sesshoumaru cocked a brow at her as he busied himself rolling his sleeves up over his elbows.

"I will be gone an hour, perhaps less," he stated flatly. "If Mitsukai wakes tend to her wishes, but do not allow her to leave." He slipped on his shoes before grabbing his jacket from its hanger.

Kagura frowned, a protest hanging on lips. Sesshoumaru paused in the doorway to peer at her over his shoulder. "I will see that you are more than adequately compensated."

Not waiting for an acknowledgement he closed the door behind him. Sesshoumaru peered upward, gazing at the storm cloud laden sky. His thoughts were in turmoil as he took to the sky.

Though he loathed it, he knew what must be done. It was an action he should have taken when he first discovered he had a child. When he initially learned the severity of her illness and Kagome's mental instability. If he believed in gods or beings greater than himself, he would have prayed for another resolution.

But he did not, and thus could receive no guidance save that of himself. This decision was not right, nor was it remotely fair, but it was his and it was final. He realized in one brief shining moment that for five hundred years he had been pursuing a dream. He loved not Kagome, but who she had been and what she once had to the potential to become. His words to Mitsukai had been truthful. He was partially to blame. However if he would allow no pity for his child, he certainly would allow less for her mother.

In a backdrop of air he landed on in the shrine's courtyards, mere yards from the Goshinboku. Reverence filled him not for the tree, but for his brother whose remains were nestled amongst its roots. Inuyasha was the heart of this situation. Others consistently suffered for his sake whilst he had flourished. Even after Inuyasha death those he held dear languished.

Perhaps that was why he always hated Inuyasha. Nothing but misery ever came of a hanyou's presence. Perhaps it was simply chance and circumstance or perhaps Inuyasha had been cursed since birth. Regardless they were of the same blood. While that connection meant little to Sesshoumaru during Inuyasha's life, it meant everything in his death. He would kill him eventually he had once said. And he had, but the accomplishment had brought little joy. In the end, it Inuyasha who prove to be the victor.

Sesshoumaru?"

He turned on his heel. His expression was stony and his eyes flat. It was the visage of five centuries prior. "Kagome."

Kagome smiled weakly as she hugged herself against the biting cold. Her smile faded replaced by a worried frown. "Is everything okay?"

Sesshoumaru ignored her inquiry. If matters were satisfactory he would not have made an early appearance. His hesitation loomed heavily, but he would not allow it to wrest him from his course. Mitsukai was far more important than his personal concerns.

"It is time for you to make a decision."

Confusion flitted over Kagome features as her frown deepened at the curt announcement. "What sort of decision?"

Sesshoumaru, 'Hmphed' and crossed his arms over his chest. "Whether or not you desire to remain a part of our daughter's life."