"We built this city!"

'What is this?'

"We built this city on rock and roll!"

'It's hideous!'

"We built this city!"

'Where is that button?'

"We built—"

Sesshomaru ejected the disk. He wondered if humans were regressing. 'Do they play violins anymore?'

With a low sigh, the demon turned to stare at Tokyo's lights, blinking on and off like multicoloured fireflies. He had the urge to bound away from his spot on a frozen hill, towards the energy of a city heated with neon signs and flashy cars. He restrained his longing and sat still in place. Snowflakes fell gently onto his body, melting when it made contact with his warm flesh. He felt icy water seep into his pants. The chill touched his skin; though it didn't 'sting' the way humans describe it. 'What would it be like to feel winter's frost?'

He picked apart the city's noise from his perch near the sky. There were car tires that screeched sharply, layered on top of millions of human voices that crashed onto one another to form a low hum. Below them the electrical buzz of sky rises thrummed. The frantic atmosphere below invigorated him. He felt restless: he wanted to let his dog form take over and run through forests. He wasn't sure which body was his own, and which was the disguise. He just knew that living in this artificial world was uncomfortable and unnatural. There weren't even any animals, save for the birds and squirrels. He could sense the earth dying. The air, it was… off. Sickness surrounded him everywhere. Perhaps the demons had fled, knowing that humans would advance so fast that the earth couldn't catch up.

Another plane pushed slowly through the sky overhead. Its lights blinked on and off like red stars. 'Can they build stars, now?' But Kagome said that the twinkling orbs were suns, each one of them. A hundred questions unfolded as his eyes looked at the giant, white-speckled dome looming above him.

Beside him sat CD's and cases, a small book, and a gun. Such different things: art and war. 'Humans are truly complicated creatures.' He spent the night thinking about the new era. At those times—when the boughs of the trees danced in the moonlight—Sesshomaru felt that only the wind and clouds understood him. How lonely it was, to spend half your life awake in the dark. Even Rin used to crawl into sleep and desert him when the daylight dimmed.

'She is dead now, in this time.' He didn't see what that thought accomplished. Still, it sprung to his mind and wouldn't leave. 'Would Tensaiga work, if I found her grave?' No—she would be too far gone. How did his father manage to live for so long? Sesshomaru thought that he must have eventually accepted absolutely everything. How does one live with the world, the unfairness of it all? 'First,' Sesshomaru reasoned every day, 'One must understand it.' So the Taiyoukai would sit and think every night, trying to find peace: the one thing death brings, and life steals away. He caught glimpses of it in the billowing clouds; he saw rest in the rivers' black currents. He could not break apart and join them, like Rin had done so long ago. He was separate.

Sesshomaru watched the sun peek over the horizon, and almost joined it. Something, though, held him back from taking that final leap. The sense that something was off tingled within him, as it had since he'd arrived in that era. He felt the urge to stay and correct whatever was wrong. Breathing in the dark wind, he asked himself why the thought of suicide didn't seem right. Something bound him to this life; he wanted to find out what it was.


Kagome awoke with a sharp, stabbing ache in her stomach. She sat up in bed and gingerly probed it with her Miko powers. A hot tingle ripped through her fingertips and buried itself in the painful area. A warm, pulsing glow curled from her belly outwards. She smiled in pride—it had worked, for once—and then stood up to get dressed.

Only the pressure was still there. It had faded into a small tug, but it was present nonetheless. 'But I felt it heal me…' It was probably anxiety. She hoped that it wasn't a premonition. 'Stop worrying—it's all in your head.' As far as she knew, her abilities didn't stretch to heal mental ailments. That area was reserved for older, experienced priestesses—like Kaede.

Kagome frowned and pressed onward with her morning. Even after she'd showered and dressed, the sickly feeling hadn't left.

"Good morning sweetie!" Her mother hugged her tightly in the kitchen. Considering all the perils her daughter had survived, every day with her seemed a blessing. Each morning was a step towards the day when the final battle would be over.

Kagome let the woman crush her before heading over to the fridge. "Hey mom." She plucked an apple out of the drawer and wiped it across her cotton t-shirt. "Where's Sesshomaru?"

Ms. Higurashi set the kettle on the burner with a metallic 'clack'. "I haven't seen him. I assumed he left for his time." She paused, arm in a cupboard, and looked at her daughter. "He's quite handsome, you know."

Kagome choked on an apple chunk. "I know." She could feel herself blushing.

Her mother gave her a knowing smile before turning to prepare breakfast. "He may be in the yard."

Kagome rushed into the foyer with an aggravated sigh. She shuffled into her shoes, and then swung open the door.

"For god sakes Kagome, wear your coat!" A voice rang out from the kitchen.

The girl rolled her eyes while shrugging a heavy jacket onto her shoulders. "I am, mom!" She slammed the door shut.

"Bye Kagome!" Her daughter didn't respond, and Ms. Higurashi suddenly felt abandoned. Alone, she turned on the kettle. Souta would awake soon; she fixed her mind on preparing the boy's meal. She didn't want to dwell on Kagome--not when she was still in danger. 'She will return one day,' the mother thought, 'and it will be over.' The house's silence pressed against her aging body. 'She will come home.'


Bits of snow flew ahead of Kagome's sneakers as she kicked through the wet powder. Sesshomaru sat ahead, beside the trail falling towards the street. She grumbled to herself—why should she have to go out and fetch him? He didn't even acknowledge her presence as she stood behind his body. "I know you know I'm here." She frowned at his back.

Sesshomaru watched fog and chemicals spill out of factories. Morning rush-hour traffic honked below, inching across cracked asphalt. The fumes from the automobiles rose into the brisk air. "Your species is ruining the planet."

'Good morning to you too,' Kagome thought. Sesshomaru didn't elaborate on his statement; he sat still, his face turned towards the rising sun. 'What is he always looking at?' She peered at the geometric apartments: gray rectangles against the morning sky. The sun's rays reflected off their windows, creating golden fuzz radiating off of each pane of glass. To her, it seemed a pretty scene. "What do you want to do today?"

"Research."

Kagome sulked, grinding her foot into the snow. "On what?"

"The planet's state of health, medicinal technologies, history, visual arts, and poetry. I also wish to acquire more stories." His hand gestured to the book, half-buried in snow.

She bent down and brushed off the cover. The cold froze her fingers; she pulled her hands away from the ground abruptly. She didn't expect Sesshomaru to reach towards her red digits. The warmth of his skin surprised Kagome; she twitched a little in shock. He brushed snowflakes off of her hand gently, and then let his arm rest in his lap. Her thoughts fluttering around, she set her eyes on the solid purple cover. "So you've finished it already?"

"Yes."

"How did you like it?"

Sesshomaru gathered the CD's in his long arms in one fluid motion. He rose up and started walking towards the house. Kagome noticed that he left the gun in the snow. "Parts." He answered.

She jogged behind him, wincing as the motions sent a twinge of pain through her gut. She saw that his pants were soaking wet, and it struck her as sad. He didn't seem like himself in modern clothing. "Which parts did you like?"

"I liked the children." He opened the front door. "Their views were refreshing. Your society is entirely too complicated."

Kagome paused in front of the entranceway. "Why are we here? I thought you wanted to go to the library."

Sesshomaru scratched the half-eaten apple in her hand with one sharp claw. "So that you could eat a fulfilling meal."

"Oh." She shrugged and kicked off her shoes. "Thanks."

He would have retorted with an I-don't-want-my-guide-to-starve speech, but she was already loudly flipping cupboard doors open and shut. He frowned at the noise and followed her, intent on making sure she eat regularly. A flicker of importance warmed him as he entered the kitchen.


Sesshomaru was agitated and restless. He was standing behind Kagome, arms crossed, as she pulled another art book off of a shelf. The library didn't seem to be busy on weekends; the section was nearly deserted.

"Do you like impressionism?" She yanked out another book and plopped in on top of a growing pile.

"I do not know 'impressionism."

Kagome forced a smile to surface. "Well, here's your chance to learn about it!" She straightened out the books on the table before glaring at Sesshomaru expectantly. "Aren't you going to take a look?" She pulled out a chair. It scraped lightly against the carpeted floor; Sesshomaru frowned at the sound. Kagome pursed her lips together and forced herself to act calmly. The Taiyoukai had been in a foul mood ever since they'd left for the library. Add that to her mysterious, ever-present stomach-ache, and Kagome wasn't having the best afternoon.

Sesshomaru uncrossed his arms and cocked his head lightly to the side. "What is that?"

Kagome collapsed on a soft chair. "What?" She peered at him, frowning in exasperation.

He pressed his hand against the soft material of his shirt, a few centimeters below his belly-button. "An unpleasant feeling." He drew his eyebrows together and prodded his stomach. "It has not left." Curling up his shirt, he inspected the expanse of smooth, pale skin. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary with his flesh; it was, as everything about him seemed to be, perfect.

"I've had that since this morning." Kagome tried to look into his eyes; not at the abdominal muscles lying beneath his fingertips. She crossed her legs and faced him, resting an elbow on the cold tabletop. "You've never had a stomach ache?"

Sesshomaru lowered his shirt elegantly, and then seated himself across from Kagome. He pushed aside hardcover books obscuring his view of the human. "I have not eaten recently, nor have I undergone strenuous activity. I am neither poisoned nor injured."

"When I was younger, I used to get them all the time. Sometimes I'd wake up in pain and I'd know that something bad would happen that day." Kagome looked down at her hands. "Kaede used to say that it was a sign of my Miko powers. She'd say that all people can sense catastrophe; I just happen to be more sensitive to it than others. I hope nothing awful will happen today—the last time I felt this anxious was when I got pulled into the well."

Sesshomaru reached for an art book. "But I am not a Miko."

"No, you're not." She shrugged self-consciously. "Perhaps I'm getting carried away with things. You probably just have a bug."

He opened it up to a random page. "I do not own insects." He rotated the book onto its side, peering at the colourful lines splattered onto the pages. "And this is not art."

"When people say 'you have a bug' it mean's you're sick. You do have parasites, though, all in your intestines." He shot her a disgusted look. "Or maybe it's a human thing. Anyway, just forget it." She squinted at the book. "And that is art. It's by a famous painter named Pollock."

He flipped over the page and frowned again. "That is just colours. I could paint like this, if given the proper equipment."

Kagome sifted through the sloppy columns of books until she found a more conventional painting style. "Aha!" She yanked out the book. As a result, four hardcovers wobbled on the table's edge before crashing noisily into the floor. A white blur flew past her feet; a seconds later the books were stacked neatly on the floor. Sesshomaru had returned calmly to his seat, not a hair ruffled by his sudden movement. Kagome smiled in thanks; he ignored it, choosing instead to steal the book out of her hands.

He flipped straight to the middle of the book. "This is art." He sat still, absorbed in the page.

"It's a famous painting: "Starry Night."

The demon thought of all the nights he sat alone, enveloped in the dark. "And the artist saw the sky like this?"

"How else would he paint it? Actually he was pretty crazy. He cut his ear off! Imagine that. He was in a hospital…" She trailed off when she realized he'd tuned out.

Sesshomaru flipped over the page. The next painting was of a wheat field, the rows jagged in the wind's pull. Above the field, a dark sky held a few birds. The entire picture was warped and twisted; the wheat and sky were distorted into odd angles and unnatural curves. A wave of anxiety swept over the Taiyoukai as he looked over the painting. Something seemed… off again, as if things didn't quite match up the way they should have. The nervous feeling worsened in his stomach. He shut the book with a 'snap'.

"What's wrong?"

He swallowed; a lump had suddenly formed in his throat. He was silent.

"What? Do you feel sick?"

Panic rippled through him; he felt suddenly caged in, trapped in a twisted world. "No." He could smell the earth dying…

"What can I do?" She was standing over him, a hand on his stiff shoulder.

He closed his eyes. "Something is wrong with your era."

"What do you mean?"

His anxious haze cleared a bit. He blinked and straightened his back. "Don't you feel it? The wrongness? It's in the air, Kagome."

She pressed her palm against his forehead: no fever. Worried about the Taiyoukai, she tried to smile reassuringly. "Nothing's wrong."

He twisted his head; his clear eyes bored into hers. His gaze unnerved her—it was calm and collected. How could he be so normal and saying such crazy things? "Your abdomen hurts." He stated.

She nodded. "Yes, it does."

"Then you can sense it. Something is wrong."

The dull ache wavered with his words. She used her Miko powers on the air itself, testing it. A nervous shock ran through her system: something was off. Suddenly nothing seemed right: the walls were too metallic, the desk was too chemical, and the air was stale and cold. "I see what you mean." 'Why have I never noticed this before?'

Sesshomaru seemed to have recovered from his sudden onset of fear. He stood up, straight and tall, and peered out across rows of books. "The earth is dying." His sturdy voice was emotionless.

Kagome stood close to him; she felt safe in his presence, protected from the evils of the modern era. "Yeah. We're killing it, I guess. I've read the articles."

"There are so many beautiful parts. Art, books, music." He saw, in his mind, the paintings scattered and rotting on a dead planet. He felt the urge to covet all the world's beauty and save it from destruction. But then, what good is art when there's no one to look at it?

"It's best not to think about it." She shoved that nagging, anxious feeling away from her train of thought. "Just enjoy what you have." She forgot that Sesshomaru would undoubtedly stay long enough to see humans poison the rivers and air, until they could no longer sustain themselves.

They stood side by side in the library, surrounded by the hum of a heating system and the turning of pages. They felt the earth's last cry before being swallowed by human waste. Kagome opened her mouth to speak, but froze before a word could escape.

Jewel shards. It was an unmistakable sensation: a warm, tingly pull on their minds. Her stomach twisted into a nervous knot. "Do you feel it?" She asked.

"Yes." The library continued turning pages.

The feeling increased until it beat steadily in her, the rhythm of magic. "Why is it so strong?" She breathed.

"Perhaps, the shards are all in one place."

In a split second Kagome's nervous feeling made sense. Without a word Sesshomaru lifted Kagome and dashed out of the building. The final battle had begun.


A/N--Thanks for your support. I appreciate feedback of any sort.