To my reviewers: This chapter is dedicated to Lyn and Malicious Panther Lo for all the vibrant, embellished, elaborate feedback they so generously gifted upon me. I am forever grateful. I can only hope to be as well spoken and artfully verbose as they.
Installment four brought to you buy Ego-Fuel, provided by Dia and her ass-kicking review. Ego-Fuel, We Make You Feel Less Worthless!
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Predawn is the most beautiful time of the day. Those who wake in those hours, though few are present enough to enjoy their consciousness, see how the world truly looks. The landscape, hidden in darkness and waiting thirstily for those first long draws of sun, is in its most natural form, its shape at birth. As we were brought into existence naked and trembling, terrified and enthralled and expectant of a world that we could not cognize until that flashbulb moment, the earth was born very similarly. When Earth first gained consciousness, she was scared as well, waiting in the dark for what she did not know. She sensed, in her immense, eternal knowing that there was something more, something titanic just about to be born, but Earth could never truly wrap her mind around a concept as grandiose as the sun. The first stones, merely clumps of dust that were merely clumps of atoms, could only imagine what waited for her as she drifted, hoping to one day form something larger, more influential, more significant in the millennia to come.
There was no light present in Earth's first memories. She was small and unnoticed, but she knew something incredible would happen to her. She could divine nothing concrete, but she felt, as only a planet could, that she would be more and that light would be with her.
And the day the sun burst into creation, long before Earth would ever reach maturity, Earth nearly wet herself with excitement. It had been petrifying in the dark, charged with nervous supposition of an existence of which she could only dream, but her dreams had been sweet and reassuring, telling her of a strong, warm lover who would give her everything she would ever need. With a long sigh of relief, Earth decided that she was indeed fond of Sun and resolved to set up a permanent residence at the perfect distance: not too close and not too far.
Their dance began. And, oh, it was beautiful.
In those moments before day, Earth remembers that feeling at her birth. She recalls the darkness and the cold. She revisits a time when she was small and alone, but madly in love with and absolutely terrified by the thought of the mammoth that waited just below her horizon.
Earth's innocence, her unknowing gives space for the thoughts of her children. In the vast void where her confidence and growth usually hung during the day, the universe aches for a certainty only brought by the pondering of other, much smaller beings. For that reason, the Demon Lord, ghostly white and wind tugged, stood on his balcony in contemplation of too many things for him to be comfortable.
Below him, he could see his sister-in-law's residence, icicle-encrusted and snow-caked. Within those rooms, he could imagine her, in all her human inferiority, curled into a tight ball, milking her own body for warmth.
Did he feel guilt because of his treatment of her?
No, he did not, and for some reason that made him feel a little guilty.
The girl was his responsibility; he knew that very well. There was no possible way she would ever survive on her own. With his other responsibilities, the Demon Lord was quite attentive. He was, dare the author tread so far to say, passionate about his obligations. They gave him purpose when the other aspects of his infinite existence did not. Where everything else seemed flippant, his duty reminded him of his honor, and his honor was what got him out of bed each morning.
Sesshomaru had spent his entire life, from his naked, trembling, terrified birth preparing for his responsibilities when he became sovereign. He had never lived for a greater reason; however, there had been a time in his more reckless adolescence that he had considered a meaning beyond his birthright. All the delicious discoveries he made in those years had broadened his horizons immensely, giving him perspective of a life outside lessons and training, outside obligations and burdens.
He had even gone as far as to attempt an escape, an event about which Sesshomaru was still bruised. Had Sokkenai ever learned of this little occurrence, she would have devoured him whole and worn his pride like a cloak. She would leave him in a murky puddle of his regret and shame. His behavior had been ignoble to a severe degree, and he had suffered a self-inflicted wound from which he knew he would never recover. He could not describe his actions with enough self-loathing to properly convey his oppressive shame. The author will now attempt where the Demon Lord feared to tread: Sesshomaru had run away.
His father, the mighty, beloved, bepedestaled Toga-sama, the first and most exulted Inutaisho, the male who had begun and almost ended a dynasty, had taken leave of his lands for the semiannual journey made by all the regents and lords of significant clans to convene in counsel in the north, at the home of the Sarutaisho. The journey would last for nearly two months, carrying the Inutaisho away his ancestral home and far from his seat of power.
Many of the lords made the nervous temporary passing of the gauntlet to retainers or trusted advisors, but not Toga-sama. He had a son of age in whom he had unwavering faith. Not once had Sesshomaru ever led Toga-sama to believe the boy was anything less than wholly dedicated. Beaming with pride, Toga-sama informed all open ears with relish that his son, Sesshomaru, the august and venerable heir to the throne, would be acting as regent in his stead.
Sesshomaru had accepted with grace, as he had been trained to do. He was nearing sixty years of age, not quite full maturity, but certainly well beyond the tender reaches of childhood; he understood the albatross that acting in his father's place would be. And, despite his decades of preparation, it was not a burden he wished to bear.
"Who says you have to?" Naiou, a green eyed female asked from her perch in his lap. "If it is such an incubus, why not doff it off on someone else?" She was the only one who knew. With no one else had Sesshomaru shared his apprehension. And to his chagrin, Naiou had laughed at him as she so delighted to do when she felt he was taking something out of perspective. Sesshomaru hated her diminution but craved it in the most unnerving way that always had him seeking her out with furtive desperation.
Sesshomaru chuckled mirthlessly. "It is not so easy as that. This is a duty far greater than any I have ever received."
She shrugged her naked, slender shoulders. "Toga-sama is coming back, isn't he?"
"He is."
"Then it's really not all that much, Maru-kun. Perhaps when you actually inherit then you can fret like this, but there is no need to feel so stifled over something so temporary." She put her hands over his where they rested resignedly against her thighs.
"This is my first trial. I cannot fail."
A honey laugh trickled out of Naiou as she planted a warm kiss on his collar bone. "You're so serious!"
"I must be."
"No, you mustn't, Maru-kun! Is is so inconceivable to you?"
"Is what inconceivable?"
Naiou gave him the grin she always put on when she was feeling mischievous. Her emerald eyes flickered as she allowed her fangs to peek out and her nose wrinkled slightly. "The world outside," she replied. "There is a great big world out there that has nothing to do with trials and duty. Out there, you can make what you want of it, and if you want it to have nothing to do with obligations than it doesn't have to."
Sesshomaru closed his eyes when the events, poorly hidden behind a brittle shell of arrogance, became recollection and moved into the space for rent of his thoughts. What a fool. What a naive, childish fool.
He should have known she was lying. She was telling him the biggest, juiciest, most appealing lie he had ever heard. There was no such thing as a life without obligations; Sesshomaru learned that very quickly... but not quickly enough.
Toga-sama left at dawn, and by dusk, Sesshomaru was preparing for his own departure. Naiou, with resplendent, sensuous words, had woven a vibrant tapestry of the life that they could share, simply buried in one another, disregarding such frivolous things as onuses. She had told him of the world outside the walls. And it was the most glorious thing Sesshomaru had ever heard.
Hand in hand, they slipped out of the palace into the humid summer night. Through the city, they spirited the young heir to the west through shadows and back passages. Once outside the city walls, Naiou tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him into a run. Together, they darted through the sleeping forest toward the sea. When dirt faded into sand and the sound of wind through trees gave way to that of crashing ocean waves, Naiou threw her arms around her lover and they tumbled to the ground. In a panting, sweaty knot of limbs and trunks, they laid in silence.
For the first time, Sesshomaru listened. He truly listened. In the distance, the waves crashed recklessly against one another, lapping at the shore affectionately before receding back to do it again. Closer to his ear, he heard the air pulled in and pushed out of Naiou's lungs. He heard the wind blowing over them, ignoring them for wind, like all conscious creatures, always had better things to do when at the beach. Sesshomaru liked the feeling of being ignored. It was alien and liberating. He liked the feeling of such powerful things going on without his accord. The ocean churned regardless of him. Naiou breathed without his consent.
"You see?" Naiou asked. "Do you see it now?"
Sesshomaru could have laid there, listening to the elements for the rest of existence's stroll down the figure eight. "Yes. I see."
As adolescents often do when given a shared privacy or when wallowing in elation or whenever they felt like it, the young heir and the female weasel youkai began to make love in the sand. They rejoiced in their sensations. They indulged in each other. Never before had Sesshomaru felt so truly youkai, so unbound and undomesticated. They reveled in the freedom of it all.
In a nest made of shed clothing and displaced sand, they lay, breathing and existing unabashedly. Around them, the world continued unnoticed; time sauntered by without a second glance.
Sesshomaru watched the stars as he had never done before, and he was reminded of his size in comparison to much greater things.
"What do you see?" Naiou asked as she absently traced the veins in the striped arm that she had pulled against her solar plexus.
Sesshomaru was not sure if she meant what he saw in the sky or what he saw in his newfound deliverance. He decided to answer both. "Something on which I have never reflected before."
Naiou giggled quietly as she brought the back of his hand to her lips. "Do you like what you see?"
"Very much."
She sighed contentedly. "Where would you like to go next, Maru-kun? We could go anywhere."
"For now, we will remain here. I will consider our proceeding in the morning," replied Sesshomaru, enjoying the way the words moved across his tongue. They tasted careless, a flavor he had only just enjoyed for the first time.
"That sounds wonderful to me."
On the edge of Sesshomaru's consciousness, now spread far in the depth of his parasympathetic overhaul, something jabbed. It was a sharp sensation as though someone were poking the butt of a blade into the tenderized flesh of his awareness. His attention was drawn away from the stars. He flinched as he only allowed himself to do in the presence of Naiou.
"What's the matter?" Naiou asked, her eyes widened slightly with concern. She turned to her side and leaned over Sesshomaru to get a better look at his face. He looked away from her and concentrated on the poke in his perception.
Sesshomaru shook his head slightly.
Naiou tittered quietly behind her hand. "Don't disrupt such a peaceful evening, Maru-kun. Whatever it is can wait." She walked her fingers down the curving trail of his clavicle before picking up a tousled lock of hair and twirling it absently.
The heir glanced at his lover. Something in her laughter sounded unnatural, seemed forced.
He felt the jab once more, harder now that he was aware of it. Naiou made a dramatic display of flopping down across his chest.
"I love the beach at night, don't you?" she asked in a smooth, sensual voice. Her hand, migrating south for the winter that she sensed he was about to drop on her, stroked his chest with feathery pressure.
"I must leave," Sesshomaru declared as he pushed Naiou off him and began to dress, barely taking time to shake the sand out of his clothes.
"But, Maru-"
"There is something wrong. I must leave," he repeated more firmly, his trepidation mounting.
"Maru-kun." Naiou rose to her feet and pulled her clothing about her. "You don't really want to go back, do you? You want to stay here with me." She giggled. "You look so worried. Surely nothing could have happened. You've barely been gone-"
"You may return if you wish," Sesshomaru interrupted succinctly. He wondered why Naiou, who seemed content to remain at the beach, was dressing so quickly. She looked a little stung by his terseness but did not hesitate to run after him when he took off in the direction of his home.
That was the night that everything fell apart. That night was the end of Sesshomaru's Beginning, and the next morning, when he rose to pick up the pieces in the morning light, was the first day of his Rest.
By this time, the sun had peeked over the mountains in the east. Earth sighed in relief. Sesshomaru sighed in inanition. Alone on his balcony, he felt a sort of solidarity with the land, his land, his easy-earned and hard-kept land. It would seem that Earth, in her love for the sun, had fallen into a pattern that could not be broken, even if she had desired it. The wheels on the cart of time had gouged out furrows in the road of existence, and now they were stuck, wearing the same grooves deeper and deeper.
Sesshomaru clenched his single hand tightly around the railing before him. He had dug his ruts in the road with his memories, carving out his disgraces. He had three of them: one for his mother, one for his father, and one for Inuyasha. For some reason, they looked distinctly grave-shaped.
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No sensation known to man is more comforting than being held. Our systems are organized so that without the touch of another, without the consoling caress of a body other than our own, we cease to function as humans and resort back to the animalistic propensities stowed away in our brain stems. Children who are not held will grow, but they blossom into something merely human shaped, lacking the essential hardware to operate properly. They were not raised with the first and fundamental form of love we can know: touch. When you love something, enjoy something, desire something, you want its presence. You want to touch it. So to live untouched, is to live unwanted.
The abundance of skin to skin contact triggers the release of a chemical called oxytocin into our bodies that makes us feel good. It makes us feel wanted. This is simply a bodily reaction. We are built to touch each other. We are built to hug and kiss and cuddle and fuck. That is human nature. Anything else is simply human tendency.
Kagome loved mornings like this one. It was the paragon of ways to get up on the right side of the bed. Their sheets were warm and knotted about them in a way that tied them together, and they could not escape without effort.
After so long, Kagome was convinced that Inuyasha and she were puzzle pieces. When spooned up next to each other, they fit together, leaving a seam so small, it was barely visible. No, they were better than puzzle pieces, those rigid bits of immobility that only seemed to lock one way. She and Inuyasha fit together no matter how they were. Even when they argued, they still fit together. At least, they always did afterwards.
She awoke first, which was a rare luxury with Inuyasha since he liked the sense of control he got from being the one to shake or stroke or nuzzle her awake. For that reason, Kagome loved to be the first up. Not that she did not like the ways Inuyasha had discovered to best rouse her; he could be quite creative when he wanted to be. Kagome enjoyed these mornings best because she never took them for granted. They were little jewels to her to be savored and remembered and donned whenever she felt ugly.
Inuyasha looked so pleasant when he was asleep. His frown was gone, replaced with a slightly parted, relaxed mouth, expressionless and as potentially smiling as it was potentially frowning. His forehead was smoothed of the worry lines he was developing, and the deep crease between his eyebrows was absent, taking the morning off. If Kagome was lucky, it might just take the whole day.
When Kagome thought of her mate, this was how she liked to picture him: soothed and preciously vulnerable. He was neither intimidating nor dominating. He was just hers without the needless protective layers that the psyche tends to drape over a person.
She made a quiet contented sound and gave into the urge to wrap her arms around him. She knew it would wake him, but she did not care. He was there, and so was she. That was all that mattered.
Shimmying her way closer with the intent of fitting herself against him, Kagome found the uncompromising sheets working with her. Just as she started to pull them together and tighten the sheets about them, Kagome was stopped.
Oh my, she thought, there's something there.
She found an obstacle in her path, poking into her thigh as though to make sure that he, too, was noticed in the cuddly exchange about to occur.
There had been time when Inuyasha's unprovoked erections had annoyed Kagome. She thought is was simply rude that he could not control himself. Was he such an animal that he could not have some semblance of power over his libido? No, silly Kagome. That did not make him an animal; that made him male. Waking up to that insistent jab in the back of her thigh or her hip or her butt just put her in a foul mood. It made her feel unappreciated and used. Even in his sleep he was thinking of doing her? Was that all he ever thought about? Of course not, but in Kagome's naivety, that was her interpretation.
Mornings had passed when she hadelbowed him to wake him up, complaining that he was poking her again. This did nothing to make Inuyasha comfortable with the notion of sharing a bed with someone, a practice he had never taken up before. He could not help it! On darker mornings, Kagome would grumble to herself about how inconsiderate he was being before grabbing and pulling his poor, unsuspecting erection. This did even less to make him comfortable.
It was not until one morning, the day before Kagome began her menstrual cycle, (a difficult day for both of them) Kagome had been so irritated by the morning nudge that she had turned around and flicked him hard. Inuyasha awoke with a yelp and declared that they were never sharing a bed again.
This resulted in an argument that eventually ended with a blush-ridden lesson for Kagome on the physiology of the erection. She came to understand that Inuyasha had about as much say on the Boner Committee as the guy they sent to get coffee or Chinese takeout when they had to make a late night decision. He was not even present for the vote on morning wood.
Kagome was proud of her enlightenment, and since that awkward morning, she had made an effort to be kinder to Inuyasha's abused penis.
Perhaps that was another reason why she enjoyed waking up before Inuyasha. It gave her a chance to remind him that vulnerability is not always a bad thing. While he slept peacefully, Kagome wove her hand through the sheets to find that roboreous prod that had once infuriated her so. Inuyasha stirred at her light touch, but did not wake. Boldly, she turned her hand and gently brushed the back of her knuckles against him. That got more of a reaction, and when Kagome began to trace a single, distended artery, she was certain Inuyasha was awake.
Two hands clasped her shoulders and dragged her closer, careful not to disengage her hand from its delightful business. Kagome turned her face and leaned her cheek against his chest. This was the perfect morning
"Kagome," Inuyasha rumbled distractedly.
Normally, she would have grinned and replied sheepishly, but there was something distinctly different about Inuyasha's voice this morning. Kagome furrowed her brow.
It was not Inuyasha's voice at all.
Her eyes shot open. Suddenly, she was not in hut painted in warm, yellow sunlight but a large room, dripping in the gray of a morning overcast and dark. She found herself staring at a throat that was not Inuyasha's. A black tail of hair hung over not Inuyasha's shoulder. The hands that held her had no claws. The voice that murmured her name was deep and gravely. Against her wrist she felt the coarse fur of an animal pelt.
"Kagome," Kouga said, his voice cracking a little. He shifted until they saw eye to eye. "You're not meaning to do that, are you?"
"Kouga!" Kagome cried, shoving away from him. She scooted all the way to the edge of the futon but did not dare go any further for fear of leaving the warmth of the blanket. "I'm so sorry!" she managed to stammer out. When further babbling did little to mitigate her utter humiliation, Kagome sat up and turned her back to him.
"No, it's okay, Kagome." It was more than okay. Kouga began to reach out to touch her shoulders, a gesture meant only to comfort her, but Kagome jerked away from him.
"Don't touch me!" she exclaimed, putting her face in her hands. Belatedly, she remembered what one of those hands had been doing moments before, but by then, she did not care.
Why? she wanted to scream. Why? Why! WHY?
The human psyche is cruel. It hold us accountable for acts that we wish to ignore; it clings to images we wish to purge. Though, with a strong will, a person can move those memories to larger capacity facilities, the thigh, for instance, there is no escaping those experiences designed to either break us in two or teach us vital, arduous lessons. However, those fresh hurts, those wounds that have not even begun to knit themselves closed again stare at us, and our psyches do not let us look away.
Kagome thought her psyche was laughing at her. It was throwing back its head and guffawing mercilessly at her expense.
Her mind was two toned and churning. It was walking a thin tightrope over a canyon of voracious stasis, balancing precariously in one hand utter embarrassment and in the other a souvenir from a journey that she wished she could forget. And on her back she carried a bag filled with regretful rocks and shameful stones until its seams nearly burst.
"I'm sorry," she heard Kouga say from behind her.
The pity made her want to slap him. As if it were not bad enough to mocked by one's own memories, the last thing Kagome needed was for the wolf to feel sorry for her. "It's not your fault," Kagome muttered, pushing her tears back into their compartment. She would deal with those later.
"Are... are you all right?" Kouga wanted very badly to offer her some kind of solace, but he knew better than to try.
"I feel like dying," said Kagome, her words muffled by her hands. She could feel her cheeks burning hot against her palms.
"I'm not offended, Kagome," Kouga endeavored without gumption.
"Of course you're not offended, Kouga!" exclaimed Kagome. When the wait of her grief had grown too large, too overwhelming for her to bear, she stumbled upon the next best alternative: anger. "Why would you be? That's what you were hoping I'd do all night, wasn't it?" She turned furious, tears filled eyes on him. Kouga recoiled slightly.
"Kagome, I never-"
"You've just been praying that I would turn over in the night and think you were Inuyasha! Maybe I'd mistake you... or maybe I was lonely and pathetic enough to go for second best! That's what you've just been itching for me to do!"
"Wait a minute, Kagome," interjected Kouga, gaining a little frustration of his own. "I gave you plenty of space. You're the one who-"
"Oh, I know!" Kagome threw up her hands. "I was the miserable one who scooted up to you. I know!" She paused and looked away, trying her hardest to force back her tears. They were insistent little bastards, though, and soon found their way to mosey themselves down her cheeks. "But it's your fault!" A single, shaking finger jabbed in Kouga's direction.
She was crumbling before him. He could watch her falling apart into brittle, jagged pieces, little chunks dropping off her as he had once imagined articles of clothing to do. Kouga may have been brash and coarse, but he knew he could not be angry with her when she was like that. "What's my fault?" he asked as calmly as he could.
"Why do you have to look like him?" Kagome asked, her face red and wet and contorted. "You're arrogant and loud and stupid just like him! You're shaped like him! How could I..." A painful sob burst from her mouth before she could stop it. "How could I not? How could I..." Who was she asking, Kouga wondered. "How could you do this to me, Kouga?"
She hunched forward and let out a keening sob into her hands. "How could you?"
Inside his broad chest, Kouga's heart twisted painfully. The woman he loved - yes, he truly loved her - was dissolving before his eyes, and all he could do was sit back and watch impotently; he had never felt so worthless in his life.
Maybe I was lonely and pathetic enough to go for second best! Her words still hung in his ears like a knife in his back, and all of his arrogance told him to be angry with her, to rage indignantly and roar at the little human who had dealt such a blow to his pride. However, at the same time, his love, his painfully unrequited, unnoticed affection that had been left on the door step to wait in the rain, reminded him that if first best is gone, then second best gains a little status. And as the new first best, it was his responsibility to clean up after his predecessor.
And for the first time, Kouga felt a flicker of anger at Inuyasha for abandoning her. How could he
Resolving to risk being hit or worse, being shunned, Kouga moved closer to her. When she did not bat him away, Kouga put an arm around her.
"I'm sorry, Kagome," he said quietly. It seemed like that was all he could say. His slick way with words had abandoned him, and all he was left with was his own wits. What could he possibly do with those?
"Kouga," Kagome moaned before gradually turning into him. "How could you?"
He swallowed. "Do you want me to go?" His voice sounded foreign to him as though someone more compassionate and sensible was speaking through him. Perhaps his voice had retreated, refusing to ask the question in fear of her answer.
"No!" Kagome cried quickly, throwing both of her arms around his waist as though to anchor him there. She pressed her face into his shoulder and continued to weep pitifully. "Don't leave."
"Okay," he replied evenly, smoothing her hair down her back.
"It's not my fault," Kagome uttered against his skin.
"I know."
"It's not my fault."
"I know."
As she continued to chant, Kouga realize that he was not the one she was reassuring. "It's not your fault," he said, tightening his arms around her.
"Oh, Kouga," she breathed deeply. "It is my fault."
He frowned. Clearly this was not working. Without preamble, he tugged her around to face him and caught her chin, forcibly turning her eyes toward him. For a moment, he held her swollen, red gaze. "You're confused, and you're upset, Kagome. It is not your fault."
"What's not my fault?" she asked, her lips trembling. "Maybe I'll believe it if I hear it."
Kouga let out a gently exasperated laugh. "None of it. You're the only one who blames you for Inuyasha, and I'm certainly not pissed at you. Hell, I've never had a better wake up call in my life."
Kagome's already red face darkened a shade. "I was dreaming," she murmured, pulling her eyes away from his.
"I figured."
"I'm ashamed of myself," she admitted quietly to Kouga's knee.
"Don't be," he replied, blotting away a descending tear with the knuckle of his index finger. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Kagome smiled weakly. "I can see why you'd think that."
His bravado restored, Kouga grinned. "Anyone on the receiving end of that mistake would tell you that you were actually very, very right."
"I bet," she muttered before wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand and sniffing loudly. "Sorry, Kouga. I cried all over you." She gestured to his wet shoulder.
Kouga looked down and shrugged. "I'll dry," he replied as he rubbed away her tears. "I've suffered much-"
Suddenly, the door to the main room slid open with a clatter and what sounded rather like a crack of splitting wood. Both Kouga and Kagome jumped in shock and looked up. Two sets of very loud footsteps followed the crash.
"What was that?" Kagome asked, watching her bedroom door.
"I don't know," replied the wolf. In an instant, his tender exterior transformed into that of a predator. His muscles coiled and his pupils dilated, readying him to lunge at whomever was creating the raucous beyond the door.
The shoji screen between the main room and Kagome's bedroom was opened abruptly, and two large, armored males entered. They wasted no time with pleasantries as they moved toward Kouga. The wolf leapt up from the futon and seized Kagome by the arm. Growling menacingly, Kouga dragged the female back with him.
"Wait, Kouga," Kagome said, putting a placating hand on his arm. "These are Sesshomaru's guards. They're wearing the uniform. See?" She gestured to the large, circular devices on their shoulders.
"What do you want?" Kouga snarled, tugging Kagome closer.
"Lord Sesshomaru has sent us to escort you out," said one of the guards as he rested his right hand on the long sword in his obi.
"What the hell? Why? I haven't done anything to him!"
The guards declined to answer, and instead moved ever closer.
"Maybe it's for pushing around his servants," Kagome offered, her hands still gripped his arm in an ever tightening grasp.
"I always push around his servants. He does it, too!"
The guards were upon his quickly, grappling him by the arms and jerking him away from Kagome. Kouga would have darted out of the way to avoid them, but as he stepped backwards, he bumped into the female that had haunted his dreams for years and faltered, giving the guards enough time to overcome him.
"No, Kouga!" Kagome cried, chasing after the guards and struggling wolf. She ran ahead and turned, facing them and awkwardly jogging backwards. "Kouga, what's going on?" she asked, paying little attention to the snow that crunched beneath her bare feet.
"I don't know," Kouga said, jerking at his captors.
"Out of the way wench," one of the guards bellowed, lifting a large hand and swatting her to the right. Kagome let out a yelp as she was flung into the snow. The ice, clearly offended by her artless attack, bit back hard. Before she could recover, the guards had passed her and continued their way through the garden toward the front gate.
"Kagome!" Kouga exclaimed, craning his neck to see her as he was pulled ahead. He began to fight them with more force, but both guards were much larger than he. His endeavors were futile.
She leapt to her feet and ran a few steps. "Kouga!" she yelled into the wind. She took to running again as the wolf was dragged around a corner, but she misstepped and fell into the snow with a painful thud and a loud pop of her ankle.
"No! Kouga!" Kagome pushed herself to stand once more, limping as sharp pains shot up her right shin.
But he was gone. The softly falling snow had swallowed up any traces of the guards and Kouga by the time she hobbled around the corner. Icy flakes blustered around her, stinging her cheeks and hands and exposed heart, falling like curtains on the final act of a tragedy that critics had reviewed as leaving the audience more hollow than they had been upon entering the theater.
"No!" Kagome cried, pounding a fist against a nearby wall. "No, no, no!"
All her indignation, all the anger that had been building up with each snide glance and spiteful act suddenly burst into flame. It roared so loudly that Kagome did not notice how cold she was or how hard her ankle throbbed. She spun around in the snow and stormed back toward her rooms. As she neared her door, she paused, a familiar sensation tugging at the hem of her notion.
"Sesshomaru!" Kagome shouted before pivoting on her bad heel and glaring up at the specter of a male standing on his balcony high above everything else. His voluminous white sleeves swelled and collapsed with the sheet of silvery hair behind him while his unreadable face remained unearthly still.
The Demon Lord, present for the entire ordeal, watched the female below him as she plodded through the snow, shaking her fist at him. She had her red face turned up to him, keening his name wrathfully. She looked terribly small so far below him, and her weak voice was barely discernible over the wind.
Tightening his lips, Sesshomaru decided that he did not and would not feel guilty where the girl was concerned. Responsibility or not, she was merely human. She was no more than an insect in his stores, a cockroach feeding off the scraps of whatever he felt like giving her. She was scurrying around, a pest that could be easily crushed under the heel of his boot. It could be so simple to abandon her in his own palace. He could leave her to her own devices and wait out the remainder of her meager life. He could kill her in the night. There were so many options, he knew, and yet something in him, an emotion born of honor and apathy, held him at bay. And that made him rage all the more. Why could he not remove it? Why could he not lock it away somewhere and forget its presence. Why could he not stop thinking about, not the girl, but the responsibility that he ignored willfully?
It drove him to distraction.
"Shut it up," Sokkenai said from the doorway behind Sesshomaru. He did not grant her a glance. "It's still early, Sesshomaru. Come back to bed." She reached out and tugged on his empty sleeve in a way that she knew irritated him. His loose sleeve, after all, was a potent reminder of what supposed to be filling it.
"Go inside, Sokkenai," replied Sesshomaru, still observing the human girl beneath him. She continued to yell.
"Do you really enjoy watching it that much, Sesshomaru? Certainly I can find something more entertaining." Sokkenai sauntered up behind the Demon Lord and curled her long claws in the back of his haori. She leaned forward and blew in his ear.
Heel, boy, Sokkenai gloated to herself.
Sesshomaru swung his right arm backwards, dislodging the female from him and pushing her against the wall behind them.
"I said, go inside!" he barked, glaring at her.
"What?" Sokkenai asked, aghast. "What has you so sore, Sesshomaru-sama?" She pushed herself away from the wall and studied him. His back was to her now, and the thought of his eyes trained on the despicable vermin in the garden made her nostrils pale from the strain. "Don't tell me you feel bad for it!" she gibed skeptically. His shoulders tensed.
"Inside, Sokkenai," Sesshomaru growled, his voice dropping in pitch.
The female watched him for a moment with her abrasive eyes. A malicious grin crept across her face before she threw her head back and laughed a cruel, bitter laugh. "Oh, poor Sesshomaru-sama! You've upset your pet human. What will you do now? I suggest you feed it a treat and rub its belly before it runs away."
"Female," he ground out, turning to her slowly. Her smirk did not falter, and her flagrant lack of fear tossed a spark onto the powder cake of Sesshomaru's repressed temper. A long, low growl rumbled up from his chest. Sokkenai merely lowered her lids and peeked up at him through her lashes as she pushed herself up against the wall.
He felt the taut tether on his raw, blistered, prideful anger snap from the stress. Sesshomaru found his claws, all five of them, buried in the wood of the wall by Sokkenai's head, his hematic eyes held directly before hers.
She licked her lips. "You look good enough to eat." She lifted a slender, clawed hand to trace the stripes on his cheek. "You're so easily provoked, so quick to anger."
"Tread lightly, female," he snarled, shoving his right knee between her legs and pushing her up slightly.
She chuckled. "Hmm, so sensitive, too, my lord. I fear you may wound too easily for my tastes." Her gaze remained adhered to his, simply begging him to strike her. She watched as he bore his fangs.
"Sesshomaru!" Kagome's cry was suddenly clear in a lull in the wind. "You heartless, soulless... faceless pig! Get back here!"
Sokkenai began to laugh once more. "It sounds quite angry, Sesshomaru-sama."
The Demon Lord freed his knee from her thighs and shoved Sokkenai back with great force against the wall. He reeled back on the clumsy, ugly human flailing around repellently in his garden. How the hell did that get there, he wanted to ask. It scampered around, clawing at the air with its clawless hands. It sickened him so see a creature so foul and so low in his own home. It roiled in his stomach until he tasted oysters. The human made him want to vomit. And what of the fool who had left the back door open all night so any abject thing could crawl inside? He made himself want to vomit.
"Sesshomaru!" it screamed once more.
Putting a clawed hand to the railing, Sesshomaru vaulted over the parapet, uncaring of the harsh judgment Sokkenai would pass on his crude behavior later. He could still hear her laughing at him from the doorway to his bedroom. How he would have loved to stop her laughing, to shut her salacious, derisory mouth with a swift swish of his claws, but that would have to wait for another day when more of his honor had left him, lost like precious wisps of smoke.
His feet sank into the snow with a rewarding crunch. The human took a wavering step back from him.
"How dare you, Sesshomaru! Why did you send him away?" she cried, her fists balled at her sides.
A low growl escaped his chest as Sesshomaru rose to his full height, savoring the flickering fear that passed over the human's face.
"Did you grow so attached to the wolf? Less than a fortnight after the death of your mate?" Sesshomaru asked, his voice taunting and pompous.
He could have pushed a spoon through her trachea and caused less pain. "I would grow attached to a house plant in this hell!" Kagome shouted. "You have nothing here, Sesshomaru! You have your oversized palace with your oversized guards! It's all compensation for what you don't have!"
Kagome had meant his heart. Sesshomaru interpreted it otherwise.
The taiyoukai, terrifyingly white and standing stark even against the snow, lunged at the repulsive human. It squeaked and floundered backwards. With a wild wheeling of arms, it fell down awkwardly, giving Sesshomaru a target so easy to pin it was almost embarrassing.
He stooped quickly and scooped her up to her feet where he held her steady with a fist around her throat.
"I have everything," he snarled in her face.
Kagome watched his expression in terror. Never before had she seen Sesshomaru so furious. His hackles were raised, exposing two rows of sharp, ivory teeth. His eyes were narrowed slightly and edged in red from the blood that leaked into them when youkai rage surmounted sagacity. His stripes, typically rosy and smooth, were now vermillion and asperous, extending further across the hard ridge of his cheekbones. His straight, narrow nose was wrinkled from his snarl. For the first time, Kagome could recognize the dog in him.
"No you don't," Kagome choked, pulling at his large claw around her neck.
"I have more than you, human." He pulled her closer until their faces were merely inches apart, their condensing breaths mingling and intertwining into one single, hot cloud that curled about them.
She gagged out, "I have a soul."
He squeezed harder around her neck. "And it has brought you nothing but pain."
Kagome winced, more from his accuracy than the pressure, and clawed harder at the back of his hand. "Let me go," she choked. "Sesshomaru, I can't breath."
"That was my intention," he growled, watching her contorting face with something between appreciation and disgust.
"Sessho... maru..." Kagome wheezed. "This is... going to hurt."
She had wanted to avoid this tactic. She knew how much pain it would cause him; at least she knew how much pain it had caused Inuyasha. As much as Kagome wanted to be grateful to her brother-in-law, she would not let him kill her. Not like this.
Closing her eyes, Kagome looked deep within for that wind. She reached into her heart and brought out that sweet smelling, warm power. It bubbled like a spring from the hidden jewel in her chest before casting out long, phosphorescent tendrils into her flesh. Racing through her veins, squeezing into her capillaries, Kagome suddenly felt feverish, uncomfortably hot. The snow around her feet recoiled from her sudden increase in temperature. Even Sesshomaru drew back slightly, sensing something odd stirring in the female.
In the world outside her closed eyes, Kagome heard Sesshomaru hiss in pain and drop her suddenly. She fell heavily to the snow and gasped in a much-needed breath. Sensing that he had stepped back, Kagome slowly opened her eyes.
She found herself in a translucent, blue sphere that shifted in hue and crackled quietly with sparking, searing holy energy. Through the barrier, she could see Sesshomaru scowling down at her. He stood motionless, appearing to be waiting for something. Kagome could only assume he was fending off his rage at her use of her miko powers against him. His typically smooth pulchritude was still marred by the roaring youkai within, and her sudden strength to resist did little to mitigate it.
Had Sesshomaru been less attached to the only arm he possessed, he would have bore the pain and reached through the barrier for her. He would have ripped her head from her neck, female or not. She was not his mate, and he had about as much attachment to her as her head would have to her shoulders if he could only reach her.
He bound his anger back, pushed his temper into the cage where he could hold a perpetual vigil over it. As much as he wanted to stain his snowy garden red with her thin blood, he knew it would not be wise. Sesshomaru forced himself to heed the voice that told him that his behavior and his urges were inappropriate and disgraceful.
Theblotch of color in the human's sizzling barrier that had blocked her face from view shifted and faded, revealing her trembling, moist visage below.
"Stop crying," Sesshomaru demanded. "Get up."
"No!" Kagome snapped. What, she wondered, was so appealing about sitting pathetically in the snow? Nothing, other than by remaining there, she was brazenly disobeying Sesshomaru. That was quite appealing, actually.
"Were you so affixed to the wolf?" he asked, looking down his nose at her.
Her face contorted more, yet her voice came out strong and convicted. "No," she replied. "But you didn't even let me say goodbye."
She was lying, he could smell that much. She was also spouting the most frivolous crap anyone had had the audacity to utter in his presence in ages. So, not only was she a waste of space, a void to devour his time, energy, and guest quarters, she was inanely sentimental as well. Sesshomaru should have expected as much from a female who would mate his brother.
He scoffed and reached for his sword, Tokijin, at his hip, only to find cold air in the place where its hilt should have been. Silently, Sesshomaru cursed his informality of dress when in his own home. How simple it would have been to draw his demonic sword and cleave cleanly through her flimsy barrier. How enjoyable it would have been to accidentally swing too hard and cleave through the human at the same time.
"Be ready, female," said Sesshomaru lowly, glowering down at her.
"Ready for what?" Kagome asked once she figured out what he had said to her; however, by that time, he was already retreating back to the main hall, leaving her alone inside her barrier. She began to shiver from the cold.
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A/N: Well, there you have it. Sesshomaru and Kagome have actually interacted. Hurray! They'll be rutting like rabbits any minute now. What's that smell? Is it... dare I say... love! Actually, no, that's last week's vegetarian burrito that I left on my kitchen counter; somehow, I think love between Kagome and Sesshomaru would smell a bit like rotting avocado, though.
Ego-Fuel: We Make You Feel Less Worthless!
