To my reviewers: how frolicsome my soul has become. Gamboling about, donning the pink cloak of a flattery-induced blush, she is jump-jigging across the floor as carelessly as Vash the Stampede. Thanks.
A/N: I lay claim to neither KFC nor Josh Turner's "Don't Mess Around With Jim." (If you recognize the lyrics without my reference, you're cool. If you don't, you're probably cooler.) I apologize profusely for bastardizing such coruscating nuggets of cultural aestheticism. (Though I don't feel so bad about KFC. I'm a vegetarian.)
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"The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love." - Margaret Atwood
Is it not incredible how things work? How the earth turns in the same direction every day? Does it not get dizzy? Is it not awe inspiring how winter is inevitable, but always redeemed by spring? How birds take to the air so effortlessly? How dolphins sing? How salmon find their way back home? How your navel, in all its simplistic glory, is as good as an undated death certificate?
That is law in this life. If you are born, you will die. You may be longevous beyond the comprehension of those of briefer lifespan, but there will come a time when your cells will grow weary of reproducing, your heart of pumping, your nerves of firing. There is but one certainty in life: if you are born, you will die. (That, and if you are American, the IRS will always find you, no matter how far you run. There are no borders to our regime.)
Even youkai, with their boasted immortality, will perish. They will not die of natural causes, though. They can be killed at the hands of others, which is commonly the case being that youkai tend to be belligerent in nature. However, those who escape the threat of their brethren and survive have been known to meet the same fate, as though some ancient curse had been cast over their race. Upon reaching their first half-millennium of age, they all choose the same route. They always take their own lives. Somehow, five hundred years always seems to be enough, perhaps too much. With the unending destruction and devastation that is obligatory in life, in all lives, an unending existence does not seem as appealing. There is power to be had in immortality. There is suffering to be had in immortality. Amaranthine life is not a katana. Both edges of that blade slice deep.
But Naraku was lumbering before them right there, with a meager fifty years under his belt, and his adversaries were not about to wait four hundred and fifty more for the jigsaw hanyou to kill himself.
His macabre face, once the handsome visage of some poor, unsuspecting lord, gaped into an obscene grin. His red eyes glowed through the predawn darkness like the headlights of a backwater truck driver, pinpointing Bambi in his windshield. His arms, now elongated and spidery, wavered and clawed at the air around him as though to snatch any innocent life form that was unfortunate enough to wander too close. From a behemothic, rubbery mass of pulsing, undulating tentacles, his gaunt torso sprouted, brandishing like a banner the purple scar marring his back: the spider. Deep within his dark, stolen lungs, a laugh began. It bubbled and rumbled below the surface before finally erupting into the air, polluting the clearing as potently as his leaking miasma.
"This is it," Inuyasha said. "It's now, I can feel it."
Kagome stood slightly behind him where she had been pushed. As Inuyasha began to move forward, away from her, Kagome's hands shot out on their own accord and seized his arms, pulling him backwards.
The hanyou stumbled, keeping the transformed Tessaiga away from his mate with practiced grace. He had, in calmer times, bemoaned her habit of jerking him around while he held the sword, ready for battle, but when Kagome seemed disinclined to alter the pattern, he simply learned to deal.
"Inuyasha," Kagome breathed, holding his sleeves so tight her hands began to tremble.
All the things that she had wanted to tell him, that she had pined for the opportunity to spill over him seemed suddenly timid. How could she squeeze her love into words and then squeeze those words into the moments they had before Naraku took the first swing? How could he fight if she refused to let him go? How could she survive if anything happened to him?
"Yeah?" Inuyasha asked, turning toward her. He wished it were day so he could look at her face and see her more clearly. He wanted to memorize her eyes right then, just in case he somehow forgot them.
Even through the darkness, Inuyasha could see his mate's face crumble and strain from tears. She drew in a long shaky breath and fought back her sobs. She had such important things to tell him; she could not waste her breath wailing. "You've got to go," she said when her frenzied declarations of love and adoration were not forthcoming.
Inuyasha nodded. Normally, her prompt would have irritated him, but not now. Not now when he knew there were so many things they both wanted to say but could not for the severity of the moment.
"I know," he said, watching her.
Naraku let out a roar-like laugh, watching the emotional exchange playing out before him.
For a moment, the mates watched each other. Through their expressions everything was spoken and everything was understood as words would never suffice to do. Inuyasha gave her a curt nod before turning back to his writhing opponent.
"No!" Kagome cried, tugging him back once more. Before Inuyasha could protest, Kagome threw her arms around his neck and locked him in a deep, charged kiss that reiterated with much more vehemence what their gazes had communicated. Inuyasha allowed his sword and arm to drop while capturing Kagome fiercely with his free hand. He could taste her tears running from her eyes, dripping into their open mouths. Breathing deeply, he savored her smell, now partly his after their years of proximity.
"Please," Kagome gasped, her breath short. She put her hands on either side of his face and brought his forehead to hers.
For a moment, they both inhaled the breath of the other in silence.
"Please, Inuyasha," she repeated.
"What?" he asked, his heart wrenching in his chest.
Kagome allowed herself a quiet sob. "Come back." Her voice was thin, barely a whisper yet it echoed in Inuyasha's ears like a shout.
"I will," he replied, opening his eyes to watch her poignantly. His mate, now fully awash with tears turned her face away, as though ashamed of her passionate display. With gentle fingers, he held her chin in his hand and lifted her face to look at him once more. "I will. But promise me you won't interfere, Kagome."
"But I-"
"I work better solo. You know that. And if anything happened to you... just promise me."
"Inuyasha," she began to protest but was cut off by another cackle from Naraku.
"Spare me your sentimentality," he bellowed, his voice a screeching combination of the voice of others whose lives he had taken and devoured. "I would expect you to be more enthusiastic about our battle, Inuyasha."
Turning from Kagome, Inuyasha growled. "I can hardly contain myself, Naraku," he snarled. Snapping his head back to his mate, he demanded, "Promise me, Kagome."
She had no time to disagree. As much as she wanted to offer her aid, she nodded.
"Thank you," Inuyasha murmured before pushing her in the direction of the edge of the clearing. Once he was certain his mate was a safe distance from the melee, Inuyasha swung Tessaiga around in a broad circle, bring the blade to point at his enemy.
"Ready to die, Naraku?" asked Inuyasha.
The evil hanyou smirked. "Ladies first."
From the twitching knot of tentacles, a single gray-green appendage shot out toward Kagome, who was huddled just outside the clearing. She shrieked and darted out of the way but not before Inuyasha severed the arm with an arch of his sword that caught the moonlight in a flash.
"Leave her outta this, you son of a bitch!" Inuyasha shouted as he positioned himself more carefully between his mate and Naraku.
"Humans add flavor to a battle. Wouldn't you agree, miko?" Naraku turned his burning eyes on Kagome.
A growl tore from Inuyasha's chest as he charged Naraku head-on, Tessaiga taking on a red hue, hissing with energy. "Your fight's with me, Naraku!" he declared in a voice that reverberated through the woods. With a mighty swing, he struck the barrier that surrounded Naraku.
The dome was shot through with streaks of blue lightning before crackling and fading under the weight of Tessaiga's blow. Inuyasha wasted no time once within striking range. Mercilessly, he began hacking off Naraku's limbs, globs of flesh falling to the ground with sick thuds.
Kagome watched her mate working feverishly from her place out of the way. With every slash of Inuyasha's blade, she gasped, barely pausing to let the captive air free from her lungs. She could tell Inuyasha was tired. He was still strong and swift, but he was not up to his full potential.
At dusk, Naraku had attacked. Inuyasha had faced him alone, as he was currently doing, Sango too heavy with child to fight and Miroku too heavy with pregnant wife to participate as well. Kagome had stood ready, her arrow notched and bow raised, but Naraku never gave her an opening. Inuyasha had managed a handful of lethal blows, forcing Naraku back until the evil hanyou finally retreated, his disembodied flesh creeping after him.
They had hoped that was the end, but they knew it was not. With the newly completed Shikon Jewel in Kagome's possession, hanging around her neck, they knew Naraku would fight with all his strength to seize its power. Unable to steal away any rest, Kagome and Inuyasha had sat side-by-side in their hut, waiting in silence.
Tears of regret rolled down her cheeks as Kagome wished she had asked him to make love to her during those few, restless hours spent waiting. While her mind told her that there would be plenty of time for that once Naraku was dead, her heart berated her when she knew that the possibility of Inuyasha's death was present.
An unpredicted spire of Naraku's flesh shot at Inuyasha, piercing his first careless opening. Through his abdomen the tentacle pushed, forcing a strangled cry from him. Kagome stifled a scream with a hand clamped over her mouth.
Grinning toothily, Naraku guffawed in sadistic glee as he hoisted Inuyasha into the air. He brought the skewered hanyou closer to him to look him into the eye.
"You are defeated, Inuyasha," purred Naraku, sneering.
Inuyasha, wincing against the excruciating pain of impalement, still held Tessaiga tightly in his fist. "You haven't won yet, you slimy fuck."
"Ah, but I have," insisted Naraku. "It would appear your woman is in the process of betraying you."
Inuyasha went rigid for a moment before turning as much as he could while still perforated by Naraku's projected flesh. Through the darkness, he could discern Kagome frantically loading an arrow into her bow. Her hands shook so badly that the entire mechanism twitched. Inuyasha's eyes widened in terror. He knew exactly what Naraku planned to do once that arrow was fired.
"Kagome, no!" shouted Inuyasha.
But he cried out a moment too late. The arrow, illuminated and engulfed in pink flame, was launched awkwardly at Naraku, who held a very convenient shield in his grip.
The hanyou exchanged a quick glance: Inuyasha terror-stricken and Naraku sneering at his impending victory.
"NOOO!" Kagome shrieked, dropping her bow and holding her hands to her face as her arrow, poorly aimed at her enemy, was stopped by the back of her mate. Naraku held up Inuyasha in the arrow's trajectory by a ropey tentacle, all the while grinning at Kagome's misjudgment.
Inuyasha choked as the arrow flared brightly, burning away whatever youkai there was in him. In the place of the white haired hanyou, was a dark haired boy. Tessaiga transformed back before clattering to the ground.
"Inuyasha!"
Naraku's laugh began as a quiet chuckle, deep in his throat. From there it climbed in volume to a malicious laugh before bursting out as a cruel bellow. He held Inuyasha captive for a moment longer before tossing the human body away from him, still cackling loudly.
Kagome ran toward where Inuyasha's body had skidded to a stop, the Shikon Jewel bouncing against her heaving sternum. Falling to her knees at his side, Kagome bent over her mate.
"Inuyasha," she whimpered as she brushed his black bangs from his eyes. "Oh, Inuyasha, what have I done?"
"You promised, Kagome," Inuyasha groaned, taking her hand in his. "Why did you disobey?"
"I... I..." she began impotently. "I thought he was going to kill you. I had to do something, Inuyasha. I couldn't just... just... Oh, God, what have I done?"
His dark eyes slid closed slowly before reopening halfheartedly. "It's all right, Kagome."
"No, it's not! What have I done? What have I done? Inuyasha..." Kagome threw herself over his bloodied torso and sobbed. She could feel Naraku lumbering closer and closer behind her, but she did not care. She could not care.
"Kagome," he breathed. "You have to do it, now."
"Do what?" she asked, her face still pressed to the front of his haori.
"Kill... Naraku."
"No, no, no, you'll kill him. I'll fight him back now, and... and when he returns, you'll be all healed up, and you can fight him. You'll kill him next time, I know it. I'll stay out of the way next time."
Inuyasha shook his head slowly. "No, Kagome... I won't."
"Then he can kill me, too," she sobbed against his chest. "What's the point if you're not here?" Kagome curled her hands into his haori and held herself close to him.
"There's... a point." Inuyasha's face suddenly contorted in pain.
"No, wait, Inuyasha. Please wait!"
His breath became shorter as he labored to speak. "You've... got to... kill him, Kagome."
She shook her head. "Not without you!"
Abruptly, what little light existed in the night was wiped out. Kagome and Inuyasha had both been swallowed into a dark cavern, the hot, wriggling walls pressing in from all sides. Kagome pushed herself closer to her mate.
"What's going on?" Kagome asked, looking around blindly.
"We're being... absorbed. You've got... to kill him."
"I'd rather be eaten alive by him than live without you, Inuyasha!" sobbed Kagome, her fingers finding his hair and curling in the strands. In the darkness, she felt two human hands touch her cheeks. Those hands guided her downwards to received a soft, trembling kiss.
"You've got... to... Ka...gome..."
"Inuyasha," she breathed. "Please wait."
And the hands fell from her face.
"Inuyasha?"
The digestive juices in the flesh around her gurgled.
"Inuyasha!"
Nothing save the quiet sound of her heart breaking.
"Inuyasha! Inuyasha, no! No, no, no! Please! Inuyasha, don't leave me!" Her voice broke into an agonizing wail. She threw her arms around him. "Don't leave me! Inuyasha! NOO!" With her ear pressed to his chest, she heard nothing within. Just stillness. His skin felt cold.
And with that, Kagome resigned to her death, to her navel's destiny, there pressed to her mate.
Naraku giggled, listening to the miko sobbing as his tentacles closed tighter and tighter around her and Inuyasha. Her wailing was muffled by the partition of flesh between the source and his ears, but Naraku could hear every pained stutter, every wrenching breath. Oh, how it delighted him to know he had won. After so long, he was victorious. Before his eyes, images of his many uses for his newfound power played out in imax-quality cinematography. He could taste the carnage. He could smell his imperium. And it was beautiful.
The miko's sobs ceased beneath him to be replaced with the sound of his muscles constricting around his prey; however, as Naraku began to squeeze in tighter, he felt a resistance. His tentacles were brawny beasts, and he knew it would require more strength than the miko had to balk him. So what, he wondered, was pushing back?
A strange sensation rose underneath him. Naraku raised one eyebrow as he tried to ascertain just what was contending him. It felt as though something round was growing under him, like an expanding bubble.
The bubble grew larger and larger until he could see his mass bulging from the pressure. Then, rather abruptly, whatever force was resisting him began to burn his skin. It was not a subtle burn. It was a searing, excruciating pain that made his skin blister and peel from his muscles. It was a holy burning.
With a shriek, Naraku flung himself off the growing, scorching sphere.
The night was illuminated brighter than noon by a pale blue light, emanating from the bubble Naraku had just exposed. With the light came the smell of his charred flesh and a rush of hot air against the winter chill.
"Naraku!" a voice cried from within the incandescent sphere.
The hanyou squinted his eyes against the overwhelming light. He could feel the air suddenly charged with an energy in direct rivalry with his. It was the opposite of youki. The air itself was holy.
"Gah!" Naraku choked as he felt the stinging sensation of purification.
"Naraku!" the voice cried again. "You're mine!"
Baring his teeth against the pain and light, Naraku righted himself and prepared for an attack.
In a blink, the sphere opened from the top and disappeared into the ground, revealing that slip of a miko and the dead body of a now human Inuyasha. Without her barrier, she looked unimpressive to the eye, but Naraku could feel her aura from his distance. Mingled with the holy energy of a miko was the amplified, purified power of the Shikon Jewel.
"Are you going to fight me, little miko?" asked Naraku, bringing himself up to tower over her. His skin still burned from her aura, but, without the searing light, it was easier to bear. The pain was lessened enough that he gained the confidence to challenge her.
"You're not going to know what hit you," said Kagome, her hands balled into fists.
"Where's the jewel?" Naraku asked abruptly when he saw the bare chain hanging around her neck.
Slowly, gracefully, the miko put a hand over her chest. "Where you'll never get it."
Naraku's snarl filled the heavy air. "I'll rip you apart!" He charged her, limbs flailing madly.
"No," Kagome said firmly. The air around her pulsed, sending a wave dense enough to shove the attacking hanyou backwards.
"The jewel is mine!" cried Naraku as he climbed upright. He sent three, thick, rippling tentacles at the miko.
"No," she repeated. In a flash, the barrier rose around her and the body of her mate. The tentacles glanced painfully off the shell, triggering another shriek from Naraku.
"Try as you might, you cannot deflect me forever, miko. I will have my prize!" Once more, Naraku darted in Kagome's direction.
"No," she declared, lifting her hands, now glowing with that eerie, blue light.
"Fisticuffs? Ha!" He projected a tentacle at her head.
With calm, serene hands, Kagome caught the appendage before her face, holding it at bay despite how Naraku pushed forward.
"No!" cried Kagome. As the sound of her voice ripped through the forest, the force of purification ripped through her opponent.
"What?" Naraku asked, suddenly frozen midmotion. "What are you-" his words, strangled with panic as they were, melted into a scream. He shrieked in pain so loudly that Kagome winced against the mounting decibels. "No!" howled the hanyou.
"Die, Naraku!" Kagome shouted over his wailing.
Once again, the clearing filled with light so bright Kagome was forced to close her eyes. She felt something rushing out of her like a wind blowing through her entire body. That rush filled her veins, every cavity, every extremity. She felt warm, dipped in a hot bath that smelled sweet and clean and pure.
In an instant, the feeling was gone. The air was cold once more and smelled mossy like the forest. Hesitantly, Kagome cracked open an eye. Naraku was gone.
And Kagome was alone.
The thighs are the emotional holding tanks of the body. Somehow, in the twelve columns of muscles spanning from the hip to the knee, we, as human beings, store more withheld thoughts and repressed memories than any other place in the body. Perhaps the storage facilities of the brain simply grow too full; the card catalog is still registered on little slips of paper in drawers instead of pragmatically stowed in the expansive RAM of a computer. Yes, our hard drives, as fast and efficient as they are, only like to store certain types of information. The rest, painful memories for example, are put aside into what professionals have titled, "muscle memory." Why would our muscles be the unlucky recipients of our abandoned collections of recollections? Because, where our brain falls short, muscles excel. What our brain has been evolutionarily trained to ignore, our muscles give the most acute attention. Our muscles can feel. Our brains cannot. And is it not true that to recall something, not simply dates and locations, we must feel? We remember the sensations of happiness and sadness in our hearts. We remember hunger in our bellies. We remember softness in our fingers. We remember pain in our thighs.
It does not make very much sense, does it? No, but it is the truth.
Our thighs, those long, fleshy avenues to the genitals, are our receptacles. What our brains fear to recall is ingrained in our thighs. The thigh contains the longest bone (femur), the longest muscle (sartorius), the filet mignon (psoas). For all of the records it sets, the thigh is an insecure aspect. It is often unloved for its tendency to like adipose. It is often ignored because a touch to the thigh is always considered sexual, and it has become the norm to shun sexuality. Poor thigh. Poor, lonely, uncaressed thigh.
Let us all take a moment to appreciate our thighs.
Kagome loved her thighs. They were long and smooth and quite good at carrying her around. Her thighs had been good to her, and for that she would remain forever grateful. Her thighs had no emotional problems. They knew they were good what with the great deal of exposure they had endured and the quite blatant appreciation of anything male they received because of that exposure.
As useful and strong as her thighs were, Kagome was not saved from the muscle memory of those dense bands of flesh. Her thighs remembered every touch they had ever received. They remembered her barest intimacy, and therefore remembered Inuyasha. Embedded there were fond anecdotes of gentle claws and warm hands, soft kisses and wet tongues, the beautiful friction of other, more muscular thighs.
There had been a time when her thighs' affinity with Inuyasha had not been painful. Now it was.
And, as you now know, oh well informed readers, thighs store pain like nothing else. Consider that next time you order a bucket of drumsticks from KFC. (Sesshomaru would be the first to tell you, if he ever felt inclined to tell anyone anything, that the thigh is the juiciest meat on all creatures. He has sampled a wide variety of fleshes and can make that statement with conviction. Of course, there is no flavor sweeter than fear to a youkai.)
Somehow, during the night, Kagome had managed to uncover her right leg. Probably in her restless tossing in her shallow sleep, the blanket had slipped, displaying her skin to the uncaring dark. Thighs do love to be free despite their owner's often fear of flaunting them, so if Kagome's movement in her sleep had not been the culprit, it was possible that her thigh had willed he blanket back with shear mind power.
It was not the exposure that bothered Kagome. The chilly air was not what set her off in a sour mood though it did collaborate in waking her uncomfortably. It was not the knowing that she had not shaved in over a month as had been her mate's preference. What sparked in Kagome a recollection of all the things she did not want to recollect was the soft, smooth stroking against the side of her leg.
The caress was unintentional. Kouga had rolled onto his side in his sleep, turning his back to Kagome. His tail, swishing with a cognizance all its own, had reached its brown, furry self out and decided to try to make friends with Kagome's thigh by giving it friendly pats.
His fur was glossy and coarse. It tickled as it flicked by, sending Kagome's leg into its version of a blush: goosebumps.
For a time, Kagome watched the offending appendage as it passed over her skin lightly. The urge to touch it, to either pet it or jerk it, took roost in Kagome's hands, so she kept them very close to her chest. From the tip of his tail, Kagome's eyes traveled up to its source. A furious blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck when Kagome found her eyes lingering on Kouga's well shaped backside.
With a huff, Kagome turned away and looked at the ceiling. Silently, she cursed Kouga and his delightful rump. Why did he have to be so nicely shaped? Why did he have to wear so little clothing? Why did he have to be so brainlessly in love with her that, no matter what she did, if Kagome rolled over and began letting her hands run rampant over his skin, he would not stop her?
Why did guilt have to burn like this?
Despite her internal mantra of, "don't look don't look don't look don't look," Kagome found her head turned to the side once more, her eyes tracing the grooves in Kouga's back. He was symmetrical and distinct, every edge built and yet welcoming. For all his hard, muscular appearance while in battle, at rest, he looked soft enough to lay down on.
It would be so easy, Kagome thought, to close my eyes and pretend. I could ignore his voice and his clawless hands. I could ask him to take his hair down. I could...
Letting out a muffled whimper, Kagome rolled over and put her back to him but not before giving his agreeable ass a swift kick.
"Ow!" Kouga declared loudly, jarred from his sleep. "'The hell was that for?" He sat up and looked accusingly at Kagome, who promptly faked sleep.
Kagome suddenly felt very foolish for kicking the innocent wolf. Was it his fault she wanted to grab him by the bum and have her way with him? Kagome frowned. Yes, it is his stupid fault.
"Huh? What?" Kagome stammered blearily, feigning a waking blur.
"You just kicked me!" said Kouga indignantly.
Kagome smiled sheepishly. "I did?" she asked.
"Yeah. You woke me up." Kagome grudgingly admitted to herself that Kouga had never looked cuter. He was tousled from sleep and pouting, his shoulders slumped slightly while his hands fell between his sprawled legs.
"Well, you woke me up back, so we're even.," responded Kagome as she ran a hand through her mussed hair. She was overcome by a yawn which she accompanied with a long, languid stretch.
Kouga grumbled a complaint to himself before scratching at a not quite healed wound below his ribs on his left side.
"You hungry?" he asked before giving a delicious looking stretch that made his shoulders pop. Kagome was once again reminded that she was lying in her bed with a muscular, half naked man lounging next to her. She could have slapped herself.
"Yes," Kagome replied quickly, perhaps too quickly to sound comfortable. Kouga cocked his head to the side slightly and looked her over. "I'm starving, but the service here isn't that great."
"How could the service be bad? We're in a regent's palace!"
"I don't know. I doubt Sesshomaru puts up with the crap I deal with." Kagome folded her arms and frowned at the floor. "They always bring my meals to me cold. Plus they make me wait for everything. It'll probably be another hour before they bring me a clean kimono."
Kouga furrowed his brow. "It doesn't work that way, Kagome. You've got to assert yourself."
"Assert myself?" Kagome exclaimed. "You try being a lonely, little human surrounded by demons sometime. I'd like to see you assert yourself!" She threw back her blanket in frustration and climbed out of bed. Perhaps it was the allure of getting out of Kouga's aura that drew Kagome to the window. She told herself she was checking the status of the blizzard. During the night, it seemed, the storm had grown weary. The sky was still low and leaden, but the snow had ceased falling. Had Kagome been a better mood, the garden would have looked rather inviting.
"You're Sesshomaru's sister-in-law, right?" asked Kouga, still slouched on the floor.
"Unfortunately," muttered Kagome.
"Well, whether you know it or not, that gives you a little power."
"Yeah, right. My rank here is just below the scullery maids. I bet those stupid dog tapestries are higher in the pecking order than me." Kagome turned around and leaned against the sill. "You know, I haven't seen Sesshomaru since I got here. He hasn't even spoken to me!"
Kouga wrinkled his nose slightly. "Do you want him to?"
"Oh." She had not thought of that. "I guess not."
In a flash, Kouga was on his feet, strapping on his armor. "So what do you say to hunting down a kimono and then demanding breakfast from those impudent servants?"
"I don't know," Kagome said, looking away from Kouga's brilliant, blue-eyed smile. "I don't want to run around in this, and I think I'd rather not make waves."
"Ah, come on," Kouga urged, gently batting Kagome with his elbow. "What happened to that fiery girl I kidnapped all those years ago?"
"I don't feel very fiery anymore, Kouga. I haven't felt fiery in a long time. I think I've forgotten how."
"Well, I'll remind you. I'll show you how its done." He took her arm in a gentle hold and started tugging her toward the door. "Let's go push around some servants. That's what they're there for."
For all his blatantly not fastidious ways, his coarse upbringing, and his inelegant etiquette, Kouga walked around the palace like he had lived there his entire life. Had he not needed a bath, Kagome would have thought he blended in quite well.
The first matter to which Kouga saw was finding Kagome a clean kimono. His ways of reaching his goal were unorthodox; Kagome was appalled. Upon entering the main hall, Kouga seized the first servant that passed, a young female, and demanded that she provide the "illustrious sister-in-law of Lord Sesshomaru" a kimono. Though his technique was rather uncouth, it was far more effective than Kagome's method of sitting back quietly and waiting. As grateful as she was to get clothing, Kagome could not help but wonder where Kouga had learned the word illustrious.
With her new kimono draped about her and the knowledge that her clothing would be prompt in the future, having just enduring the embarrassment of standing near Kouga as he threatened the young servant to the brink of tears, Kagome and her new thug headed to the kitchen to demand breakfast.
Watching Kouga shake his fist, consequently shaking the poor old cook clutched in his fist, did little to lessen Kagome's blush. She did, however, notice that no one gave her snide looks anymore. No, they were all too busy giving Kouga very wide berth.
Together, miko and wolf settled down into an empty room typically reserved for entertaining esteemed guests and enjoyed a large, hot, and punctual breakfast. Once more, Kouga displayed his upbringing in his eating habits, but he looked so contented that Kagome could not bring herself to correct him. His flagrant disregard for all the things that could have made him an esteemed guest seemed to lighten Kagome's mood. It was quite refreshing to be around someone who was shamelessly comfortable and casual.
Kouga talked with his mouth full. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth when he thought things were getting too messy. He slurped his tea. He ate with his fingers. He plucked tidbits off Kagome's plate when she said she was done. Kagome had not felt this comfortable since she had arrived in the palace, and Kouga could not seem to cognize her reasons for smiling at him. That made it all more wonderful.
"So what do you do around here?" Kouga asked after a servant came quite promptly to take away their trays.
"I read," Kagome said. She caught sight of Kouga's incredulous expression and added, "A lot."
"The last time I came out here, Sesshomaru had just bought a new masseur from some foreign country. Thailand, I think." Kouga rubbed his chin in thought. "I wonder if he's still around."
"When were you here before?" Kagome asked. "How often do you come to visit?"
Kouga shrugged. "I had to come by a few years ago because I'd just taken over the tribe, and I wanted to make a few changes to our treaty with Lord Dogface."
"Did he let you amend it?"
"Eventually," grumbled Kouga. "We sat in negotiation for an entire day. The bastard kept trying to confuse me by talking in circles. He's sneaky, you know?"
Kagome chuckled. "He seems pretty smart."
"He's manipulative, that's what he is."
Kouga would have continued to describe Sesshomaru in his own terms were it not for the quiet knock at the door. The wolf suddenly sat up straight and alert with a warning at glance toward Kagome so she would not reply. He looked thoughtful as he sniffed the air. The knock sounded again, and Kagome was given an absent gesture signaling that it was safe to respond.
"Yes?" Kagome called.
The door slid open to reveal a bundled up little girl looking rather tortoise-like with her small head peeking out from her abundant layers. She bowed quickly and scurried inside without waiting to be invited in.
"Good morning, Kagome-san!" Rin said, ever cheerful.
"Good morning, Rin," replied Kagome. "You look like you're ready to go outside."
"I am!" chirped the girl as she settled herself between Kagome and Kouga, paying little attention to the wolf and his quizzical expression. "It's finally stopped snowing. Sesshomaru-sama said I could not go outside until I'd had my breakfast, but I just finished. I'm so excited!"
"Wait a second," Kouga said, plugging up any lull in the conversation with which Kagome might have filled with her response. Both human females turned to the interjecting youkai. Wrinkling his nose, Kouga hooked his index finger around Rin's unbound, dark hair. With the look of a scientist peering into a petri dish accidentally left out over night, Kouga pulled her hair back and examined the side of her head. Rin giggled.
"You're a human," Kouga said to her pointedly not pointed ear.
She shook her raven head, pulling her hair from his loose grip. "Yep. I'm like Kagome-san."
"Who are you supposed to be?" asked the wolf.
"Rin," she replied quickly, beaming and glowing. "Who are you?"
Kagome hid her laughter behind her hand.
Kouga gave her a bewildered look before replying, "Kouga. What's it to you?"
"I saw you yesterday, Kouga-san, at the gate. I've never seen anyone speak like you did to Lord Sesshomaru before." Rin shook her head. She turned to Kagome. "You should have heard him, Kagome-san. He was so informal!"
"That's Kouga for you," replied Kagome, tossing a sweet smile at the wolf.
"The old dog deserved it."
"I disagree," Rin said indignantly as she sat herself up a little higher. In all of her silken barriers against the cold, she looked rather like a bird who had just ruffled its feathers in an attempt to intimidate a predator. She turned her nose up a notch. "I found your behavior inurbane."
From the sound of the girl's usage, Kagome could tell Rin was repeating something the Demon Lord had said in her presence. Though she could easily be irritated by Rin's attitude, Kagome merely found the entire performance ridiculously endearing. Between Rin's conditioned and not quite mastered pompous air and Kouga's endeavor to hide the fact that he did not know what inurbane meant, Kagome was better entertained than she thought she would ever be within Sesshomaru's walls.
"A little snubbing is good for him. It builds character." Kouga folded his arms across his chest, determined to not let this little female, this little human girl win the upper hand in their debate of the psychological value of cutting back the overgrowth of the ego. Little did Kouga know, it took a great deal more than the impudence of one wolf demon, whatever the status, to trim Sesshomaru's shrubbery.
"Again, Kouga-san, I disagree."
"Listen," Kagome interjected, deciding it was best to put a stop to their argument before wolf and girl-child resorted to physical violence, which seemed to be, considering Rin's love for her lord and Kouga's love for himself, a very viable possibility. "What are you up to now Rin? Perhaps you'd like a little company?"
And with that, the girl's Sesshomaru impression faded. Her shoulders rose excitedly as she turned her back to Kouga. "I was just about to go outside, Kagome-san. I would enjoy it very much if you came with me."
Kagome frowned internally. Rin had mentioned playing in the snow, had she not? Now Kagome found herself suckered into a romp outdoors with the girl. Just when Kagome began to ask for a rain check, or more appropriately, a snow check, Rin pulled out the secret weapon of her big, sad brown eyes, the trump card Kagome knew Rin possessed because she herself had used it on unsuspecting hanyou before. Rin's eyes grew wide, her mouth grew pouty, and her hands found their way into a little beseeching ball against her chest.
Kagome sighed. "Sure."
"Hurray!" Rin exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Quickly, Kagome-san, put on something to keep you warm and come outside!" Rip leapt to her little feet and dashed toward the sealed shoji doors leading out into the blanketed garden. Without regard for her less prepared companions, Rin threw open the doors and bounded into the snow like something undomesticated reintroduced to its natural habitat.
Before the girl would take five steps, she slipped and fell face down in the snow, disappearing from view. Kagome gasped and sat forward, ready to jump up and aid her young friend; however, Rin quickly bounced back up, joyously coated in white fluff. She shook her head and laughed loudly.
"Come on, Kagome-san!" she called, springing up and down. "You can come, too, Kouga-san," added Rin before pivoting on her booted heel and trudging further into the snow.
"Goody," muttered Kouga lamely.
Kagome was brought a second and third kimono by a terrified little female before being presented with a neatly folded, washed, and slightly fragrant red haori. The sight of the fire-rat robe made Kagome suddenly self-conscious, concerned that its presence would offend Kouga. While the wolf had his back turned, Kagome hurried pulled it on, reveling in the feel while battling back a combined army of guilt and sad remembrance. Kouga turned to beckon Kagome out only to find her studying the floor, looking timid in a haori he could not help but recognize.
"Kagome," Kouga said, drawing her attention up. He watched her for a moment before smiling and gesturing toward the door. "You warm enough?"
She hesitated, waiting for him to do something. But what? Kagome steeled herself before realizing how silly she was being. What would Kouga do? Tear the haori off her? Rip it to shreds? Of course not. He would smile compassionately at her and hurt inside quietly, feeling betrayed, feeling like a runner-up who had only just been told that he had not won.
She had not known Kouga could be so forgiving.
"I'm set," replied Kagome, grinning at the youkai standing before her.
Into the icy detritus, they plowed, Rin bouncing ahead of them. Kouga and Kagome walked side-by-side in a companionable silence until they found themselves on the receiving end of a guerilla snowball attack launched from the protection of the hidden flank of a decorative stone. Kouga, as always, reacted protectively, pulling Kagome back away from the fray, but she was quick to wriggle from his grip and initiate her own campaign against the clever little general crouched out of sight.
After a week of days that had passed like eternities, Kagome thought she would never laugh again. She feared she would never know the joy of a careless game, the exhilaration of a chase that was neither perilous nor dire, the sting of cold in her skin instead of in her heart. Rin's raucous laughter sounded like spring trying to find purchase on the slick ice of winter as she darted from one shelter to another, lithely dodging the barrage of snowballs aimed at her in between. She had the advantage of being small. She had the advantage of knowing the garden: how many steps from one rock to another, what parts of the path tended to ice over and what parts did not, where low stones waited to trip the unaware. She could have run the garden without her sight. And she looked so happy. The little girl was overjoyed to exercise her knowledge of her home, ignorant to how much she took it for granted.
Kagome could not even remember how many steps were in the flight of stairs leading from her foyer to the landing in her modern, Tokyo home.
"Do you surrender?" Rin called, peeking over a bush that resembled a large wad of misshapen marshmallow.
"Never!" responded Kagome, heaving a kamikaze snowball, knowing that her chances of hitting the little target of Rin's head to be slim. As was expected, her artillery collided with the shrub, knocking some of the lingering snow from its leaves.
Kouga brushed clinging flakes from his shoulder guards. "The kid's quick," he noted before shaking out his hair.
"She probably picked up some things from living with youkai for so long," offered Kagome absently, absorbed in seeking a strategy against the wee battle prodigy. "Hmm," Kagome said, looking down at the cupped missile in her red, puckered fingers. "I don't think trying to hit her from this distance is going to work. Do you think we could sneak up on her?"
"Kagome, she's just a kid," Kouga reminded her, sensing that the female might be taking the battle a little too seriously.
"Yeah, I know," Kagome waved his remark off. "We could charge her. I bet we could run faster than her."
The wolf watched her skeptically. "Whatever you say, Kagome."
"Good!" Kagome declared, pulling her fist toward her body triumphantly.
Kouga followed Kagome, refusing to enjoy himself in this mock battle. He tossed snowballs when Kagome commanded him to, but made an effort for all present to know that he thought then entire event was inane. What he found even sillier was the way that both females, upon reaching a head-on confrontation, pummeled each other mercilessly before collapsing in the snow, laughing rambunctiously. They rolled, clutching their abdomens, dissolved in giggles in a way that was reserved for women only and, therefore, entirely beyond Kouga. He stood over them, watching the display, wondering if their behavior was common to females in general or just humans.
Once their war was resolved, Kagome showed Rin how to make a snow angel. From this demonstration, Kouga remained separate as well. Kagome then instructed Rin in how to make a snowman, which, in Kouga's opinion looked nothing like a man.
"It's three lumps of snow on top of each other," Kouga said when Kagome chided him playfully for not partaking in their creativity. "I don't see the appeal."
"You're no fun," replied Kagome.
"I can be lots of fun, but this is just stupid."
"Oh, come on, Kouga. It doesn't snow like this very often; you should enjoy it."
Kouga opened his mouth to retort but quickly shut it and jerked forward like he had just received a poke in the back. He frowned and turned around, revealing a little girl standing behind him, clutching his tail in a two fist grip.
"I didn't notice you had a tail, Kouga-san," Rin said.
"You didn't ask to touch it either!" he snapped, jerking the accosted appendage away and holding it close in his hand.
"Oh," Rin said, seemingly unaffected by the wolf's succinct reply. "Can I touch it?"
"No!"
"But it's so cute, Kouga-san. Don't you agree, Kagome-san?"
For a man who had once declared that he would never in his entire long life inflict pain upon Kagome, Kouga's expression looked threatening. His irises were circumambient with white, his mouth pressed into a line. Had he not just insisted that it was beneficial to one's character to keep the pride kempt and controlled? As a matter of fact, he had. Kagome grinned.
"It's absolutely adorable, if you ask me," Kagome conceded.
Rin let out an exuberant cheer and lunged for Kouga's tail one more.
"Hey!" the wolf yelped as he leapt backwards.
"I just want to pet it, Kouga-san!"
Is it not incredible how the things we loathe, the things we would wish to sweep under the rug and disown and ignore weasel their way back into our knowing? It seems the harder we fight to repel something, the stronger its magnetic reply sounds. And how often do we find that these things, these tiresome aspects, after clawing themselves free of the shallow graves we dig for them, find themselves little nooks in our libraries of penchants, nestled between our favorite pair of shoes and our favorite meal. (As fate would have it, Kagome did like oysters. Tough luck, Sesshomaru.)
They take root in the cracks of the pavement you lay down against them, pushing up shoots and blooms that beam their most contrary grin. Then, after you walk down the same sidewalk enough times, passing the same little flowers every morning, your dislikes in which you can have more faith than you can in your friends become less repugnant, less antagonistic. They are there every morning, even after you hose them down with the year old can of hair spray you found under your sink of denial. Until one evening, strolling home from a long day of work, you pass the flowers and pause. You think for a moment. You turn and stoop to dig up one of those little blossom and take it home to put in a clay pot on your window sill.
So we take out the rug and beat it, we call our estranged siblings, and we pay the water bill that has been sitting on the table in the foyer for weeks. And the things we loathe are no more.
By dusk, Rin was exhausted. In a comically out of place row, Rin, Kouga, and Kagome sat, dangling their feet off the edge of the covered, wooden walkway spanning the snowy garden from Kagome's living area to the main hall. Kagome snuggled down into the haori, her haori, and sipped the hot tea brought out to them by a suddenly sycophantic servant. She watched detachedly as Kouga recounted stories of the blizzards in the mountains while Rin added her commentary excitedly. In the little girl's lap, she held a long, brown tail, which she stroked affectionately.
"This snow is nothing compared to what me and my pack have seen," Kouga said, his chest slightly expanded with pride. "We've had to brave much worse than this."
"What's your pack like?" Rin asked before lifting her tea to her lips with her free hand.
"They're the best their is," replied Kouga, ignoring Kagome's quiet laughter. "Loyal and strong, and I'm they're leader."
"You are?" The girl's eyes widened.
Boy, is this good for Kouga's ego, Kagome thought. She's stroking more than his tail.
"Yep." He smiled, his fangs peeking out from under his upper lip. "Have been for a few years now."
"Then you're royalty, aren't you?"
"Sure am. Kouga, the Wolf Prince. That's what they call me back home."
"Don't lie to the girl," Kagome said, smiling behind her tea cup. "They don't call you all that. I can't imagine them being so formal-"
Kagome was cut short by the clatter and crack of a ceramic cup dropping to the boards of the walkway. Both Kouga and Kagome turned to look at the source of the sound: a suddenly ashen and motionless Rin.
"W-wolf Prince?" she stammered, her unblinking eyes leveled on Kouga.
"Yeah," he replied, the hue of concern coloring his cadence.
Rin slid her gaze to Kagome, as though seeking confirmation.
"Is something wrong, Rin-chan?" Kagome asked as she leaned forward slightly.
The little girl, pale and gaping, stared at Kouga, her veil of amicable ease blowing away in the gradually rising wind to be replaced by a ballast of wide-eyed fear that weighed their cheer down until it sank into the snow.
"Rin-chan?" Kagome repeated.
"I'm sorry," Rin said quickly, pushing Kouga's tail off her lap and standing up. "Forgive me for leaving so suddenly." She was beginning to shake as she shuffled around the jagged pieces of gravity-stricken tea cup. "I must... I must go. Please excuse..." The little girl hurried off toward the main building before she could even finish her sentence.
Upon seeing the distressed silence in the conversation, the wind decided now would be an appropriate time to strike up the band and perform her favorite requiem.
He had faced armies in his time. Standing alone, his own comrades too frightened to ride out with him, he held his sword firmly and stared down his enemies as they charged by the hundreds. He had battled beasts many times his size without hesitation or thought. He had stood up to his own father... once, a very long time ago. He had waited tearlessly as his mother was burned in her wicker casket, the fragrance of her scorching flesh wafting on the air carelessly. He had stood in flames, strode into water, stepped off cliffs, tugged on Superman's cape, spat into the wind, pulled the mask off the ol' Lone Ranger, and he had messed around with Jim and his successor, Slim.
When looking through his immense archive of emotions he had felt but never betrayed, Sesshomaru could find none as alarming as waking up to the sound of his ward crying.
With little regard for the half-asleep female curled up as far from him as the futon allowed, Sesshomaru threw back the blanket and dressed quickly. Sokkenai stirred, but did not turn to question him. In his exigency, Sesshomaru did not even pause to ponder why the female had fallen asleep in his bed at all. She usually was quick to find her way back to her own bedchamber once they both had had their fill. Had he given it thought, Sesshomaru would have felt the flame of his pride fanned at the thought that his pseudo-mate was too exhausted to lumber her way back to her own room.
But that mattered little. Rin was upset; Sesshomaru knew where his assets ranked in value.
Rin's bedroom was a distance from his, close enough that he could hear her but far enough that she could not hear him. Swiftly and silently, Sesshomaru moved through his hall, the sound of his charge's quiet sobbing growing louder with each step.
He paused outside her door where the smell of salt was strong. As he reached to open the shoji door, the weeping stopped. Sesshomaru hesitated, puzzled by her abrupt cease, and listened very closely. From within the immense room, probably too big for such a small person, Sesshomaru feared, a quiet sniffing sounded followed by a muffled, wet noise. Sesshomaru could picture Rin wiping her running nose on the sleeve of her sleeping yukata.
Disgusting, he thought out of habit. Habits are odd in their unending usage even after we stop needing or believing in them. If there was one thing Rin had taught Sesshomaru, it was that habits are foolish investments when life is nothing if not mutable.
He could only assume that Rin had sensed his presence outside her door and had stopped crying because of it. He knew Rin could feel his youki, and he could not help but admit that her sudden silence was her desire to hide her pain or fear. This habit, one that she did not always have, was undoubtedly one she had learned from him.
Giving himself no time to linger on the strange sensation of being mimicked, Sesshomaru slid the door open and entered his ward's bedchamber silently. The girl's back was to him, her trembling shoulders evincing repressed sobs.
"Rin," Sesshomaru said firmly, knowing better than to think he was capable of comforting her.
"Yes, my lord?" the girl asked, her voice quivering.
"Why are you crying?" Sesshomaru felt rather awkward, standing over her bed. If his intent was to coax her into speaking, which it was, he knew he needed to do better than intimidate her. Sesshomaru sank to the floor and sat a short distance from Rin's futon.
"I do not feel well, my lord. I'm sorry for waking you; I will be quiet if my lord wishes it."
"Are you ill?" asked the Demon Lord. He disliked speaking to her back but was willing to endure it if the girl was not inclined to face him.
"Not really," replied Rin. "My scars hurt."
For three years, Sesshomaru had lived with the peculiar little girl. In that time, she had challenged just about everything he was certain he knew; she had asked him every question he did not wish to answer, and had dredged up every memory he thought he had banished from the catacombs of his experiences. Most often, he would give her a terse, vague answer or dismissal and then remain in the silence to ponder what her unintentionally intrusive little self had triggered in him. He loathed it. He loathed the self-consciousness and the uncertainty and the insecurity, but he could not bring himself to loathe the girl.
He had learned her intricacies, the secret passages through the labyrinth of her childhood reasoning. This was a feat, Sesshomaru knew, because the girl often lacked logic and certainly saw nothing wrong with picking him up from one twisting corridor in her mind and carrying him somewhere completely different. Things did not need to make sense to Rin; Sesshomaru awaited her adolescence tentatively.
Since her revival, now celebrated as her birthday since her original date of emergence was unknown, Rin had fretted over her scars. She would only bathe and dress under the watchful eye of a select few maids and the Demon Lord himself. In the summer, she was hesitant to disrobe to play in the ocean with the other children for fear of exposing the jagged, puckered, pink bands that streaked across her right side.
Sesshomaru had hoped that she would someday learn to be comfortable with her own nudity as was common in youkai society, but he could not deny the twinge he felt when he saw her scars. They were pointed reminders. They were rosy banners of mortality carved into the girl that waved tauntingly, reiterating to him that he was housing a human, which was reprehensible to say the least. And while playing relentlessly with Sesshomaru's shame, they also chanted cruelly that he would not, could not house her forever.
"What has upset you?" Sesshomaru asked, his voice even and quiet.
"It's silly, my lord," she replied, snuggling down deeper into her blanket.
"Tell me."
"I played outside in the snow, today, Sesshomaru-sama. Kagome-san and Kouga-san played with me." She paused, sniffing as quietly as she could.
Sesshomaru knew immediately the source of her fear. Kouga was a wolf. How careless of him not to warn the girl. "You are not in danger, Rin."
"I know, my lord. I'm being foolish." She did not sound convinced.
"Rin," Sesshomaru said, his tone gently commanding. "Look this way."
The girl hesitated, reluctant to show her lord her tears. She knew he did not like to repeat himself, and Rin would never dream of disobeying a direct order. Holding her blanket close, Rin rolled over to face Sesshomaru. She pulled the cover up over her nose, allowing only her puffy, red eyes to peek out.
For a moment, Sesshomaru watched Rin. He knew not how to assure her of his sincerity if his gaze did not suffice. "You are not in danger."
And suffice, it did. "Thank you, my lord."
"Will you sleep now?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Good." Sesshomaru saw the girl's smile in her swollen eyes as they followed him on his ascent to his feet. At his full height once more, Sesshomaru was reminded just how small Rin was and just how much smaller she had been those three years ago. She was still petite; Sesshomaru hoped she would remain so.
As the Demon Lord turned away from his ward and began in the direction of the door, a little voice from behind him sounded, unmuffled by the blanket. "Good night, Sesshomaru-sama."
He paused and looked back at her. "Good night, Rin." She smiled at him once more before turning onto her stomach and snuggling down into her futon with a sigh.
Sesshomaru exited her bedroom as quickly and quietly as he had entered, closing the shoji screen at his back. He waited outside the door, listening closely to Rin. Her breath was now even and slow, free of gasp or sniffle.
When he returned to his own chamber, Sokkenai was absent from his bed, only her heady aroma lingering in the mass of rumpled sheets. Ignoring the scent, Sesshomaru returned to his bed and willed his senses to settle. And as he allow sleep to creep in, the Demon Lord absently thanked the girl for giving him a reason to throw the wolf youkai out of his abode.
Somewhere on the other side of the palace, across the gardens that were now covered in a fresh and ever growing layer of snow, another female human curled in her bed. She could not sleep for the shivering. The blizzard had, apparently only taken a day long hiatus before returning with a vengeance, and this human female had one dying brazier and two blankets, one of which was meant to go across her spare futon.
Somewhere on the other side of her bedroom, a wolf youkai dug through a closet, trying to find another blanket to drape over the human. But there was nothing.
What fun cold has at our expense. Certainly there is a frigid goddess somewhere, watching our petty endeavors against her as she laughs her ass off.
The air temperature plummeted faster than a lemming who had stopped taking his Zoloft. The wolf could hear the human trembling, her teeth chattering, and, though he was not cold, he could not sleep for the shivering as well.
A silent agreement was formed between the human, the wolf, and the goddess, and into the bed Kouga climbed. Laying on his stomach, his head resting against his hands, Kouga was careful to give Kagome a great deal of space.
They remained distant long enough for that despondent little lemming to choke out his last breath. Before he could even begin to sink, Kagome was flush with Kouga, her chilly hands shoved under his stomach and her marbly cheek pressed to his shoulder.
When Kouga began to shift his position, bringing his arms down to wrap them around Kagome, she bit his deltoid hard.
"Don't move," she commanded, unwilling to free her hands from their now toasty niche to stop him.
It was bad enough to be so close to him; Kagome knew not how she would react to his embracing her. Against her hands, she could feel his aortic pulse mixed with the sweat gathering on her skin pressed so closely to his. She could feel the taut fibers of his arm under her cheek. She could feel his ribs pushing into her solar plexus when he inhaled. She could feel his legs against hers, his hip against her groin. He fit perfectly.
"I've been thinking, Kagome," Kouga said, hoping she was not as painfully aware of how close there were as he was.
"Yeah?" Kagome asked. Kouga could feel the articulation of her jaw.
"You don't have to stay here," he offered irresolutely.
Kagome hesitated. "Where are you suggesting I go?" His shoulder tensed as Kouga shifted slightly. He cleared his throat.
"You could come with me. The guys would love to see you again. You wouldn't be so lonely all the time, either."
In the dark, Kagome was glad she could not see Kouga's face, his handsome, blue eyes imploring hopefully. She let out a long, rueful sigh. "And in return, I'd agree to be your mate?"
"No," he answered hurriedly, clearly trying to hide the fact that that was his ultimate motive. "Not unless you wanted to... I'd like you to."
Kagome found herself torn between keeping warm and keeping comfortable. Though her more logical judgment told her to sacrifice the feeling in her hands for the clarity of her message, she ignored that voice and absently wiggled her fingers. She felt Kouga tense at the movement.
"No, Kouga," said Kagome with as much finality as she could muster. She wished she could tell him how difficult it was so say that, how heart wrenching it was to know that she was voluntarily giving herself over to a desolate life that would, even in the height of summer, feel like a mobius strip of blizzard.
"I would take good care of you, Kagome. Better than Sesshomaru ever could."
"That's not the question, Kouga."
"Then what is?" He held up his head and looked at Kagome's face, watching her with his brow furrowed, his shadowed eyes nearing desperation.
Her better judgment finally won over, and Kagome shoved away from the wolf. "You really don't understand, do you?"
He frowned. "No, I don't. Explain it to me."
Kagome rolled onto her back and stared at her only counsel, the ceiling. "I really did love Inuyasha. I loved him so much... I can't even tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know how!" Kagome snapped. Her fist pounding the mattress, she sat up quickly and glared at Kouga. "Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?"
"You're not the only one who's mourned, Kagome. It's not fun, but you survive it," Kouga replied, sounding irritated.
"That's not what I'm talking about!" She huffed, wanting to hit the graceful lines inthe wolf'sback. "I want to leave this place so badly! I would give just about anything to escape this hell... but I can't go with you, Kouga."
"I wouldn't force you into anything you don't want to do, Kagome. I thought you knew that."
She shook her head and slipped back under the blanket. "I do know that. I can't go away with you because... you wouldn't have to force me. You wouldn't even have to ask me twice."
"Kagome," he began, pushing himself up on his elbows.
"No, let me finish," she snapped, cutting him short. "It's breaking my heart to do this, to make myself stay here, Kouga. I would go with you... and be your mate, too, but..." her voice threatened to crack with the weight of unshed tears. "I can't."
"Why not?" Kouga held himself up on a single elbow and pulled her over to look him in the eye with his free hand. He could see how near she was to tears. He wanted to hug her, but he knew she would not let him.
"Because," Kagome breathed. "Inuyasha would never forgive me."
"Kagome... Inuyasha is dead," Kouga said cautiously. The female jerked away from him.
"I know that," she murmured.
"That's not very fair to Inuyasha, don't you think? It's not him who'd never forgive you. You'd never forgive yourself if you came with me."
"I'll never forgive myself already, Kouga! I told you what happened... what I did."
Kouga rolled onto his back and shifted until he could feel Kagome's arm lightly against his. "Accidents happened, Kagome. You didn't do it on purpose."
"I know."
"Then why can't you forgive yourself?"
"I'll forgive myself when I remember how to feel."
"You looked like you were having a pretty good time today. You must have felt something."
"That's not enough."
"Why not?"
Kagome sighed. "I don't know."
Kouga watched her for a long moment that stretched out in the bed with them, stroking its lover, Silence. Kouga wished he knew what she meant. He wished he could offer her the magic cure, and he could not understand why she would not even consider what he was offering. He was giving her his loyalty, his adoration. But it was not enough. The good times he gave her were just not enough.
"Well, when you figure it out, I'll be waiting."
"Kouga... you're sweet... and stupid."
"It's not the first time I've been told that."
He heard Kagome chuckle quietly before she rolled onto her side, facing him. Once more, she thrust her hands under him and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "Don't move, or I'll bite you again."
He snickered. "What a threat, a bite from a human."
"I bite hard, though. You have to admit it."
"Yeah, sure," he replied. "Go to sleep, Kagome."
"Good night, Kouga... and... thank you."
"Sure."
Kagome could hear the hurt in his voice, the rejection cut so deep that he could not even show it. And, as much as it hurt Kagome to tell Kouga no, as much as it hurt her to lie to him and tell him she did not know why he was not enough, she could not bring herself to agree to go with him.
All the lust in the world, all the lust she felt brewing in her for an imitation would not fill the cavity where her heart had once been. She did not know what would, but pushing love with a man who could never be what she wanted him to be was certainly not the answer. Once more, Kagome found herself without the heart to tell Kouga the truth. She should have told him not to wait for her.
But Kouga was very warm, and for the night, he would do.
