"Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Dance me to the end of love"


She dreamt of an ocean.

It was black--so black that she wasn't sure where the water ended and the night sky began. All she knew was that she was swimming. The water was cold; she couldn't feel it, but she knew that it was icy. She was drowning.

She wasn't scared, though. Not knowing in which direction she drifted, she let the weight of the water press her down. She was falling slowly, her limbs flapping weakly. She sensed that she would soon touch upon ground. Below her feet was a dark void that seemed to stretch forever, but she knew that there was sand far below, so she let herself sink.

She thought that once she got to the bottom, she'd find her house. It would be on it's hill under the water, with a path surrounded by leafy trees, swaying in ocean currents. The wetness would drain away and the world will be cleansed. It was like Noah's Ark, only she hadn't built a ship.

Something light appeared in the black. White threads wove around her, brushing against her numb skin. But they weren't threads--they were hairs, spiraling around her body like a dry blanket. A face materialized before her: Sesshomaru. He opened his mouth, but it wasn't his tone that flowed out of his cold lips. "Fate's mistake will be erased." Kaede's voice said.

She sensed that the water had something to do with the words winding around her, but she wasn't sure. Sesshomaru grabbed her wrist and started pulling her away from the sea floor. He carried her upwards, towards the sky that had suddenly sprouted a hundred tiny stars. Sesshomaru burst through the surface and floated up like an angel. Kagome followed him, rising out of water.


Sunlight met her eyes. A wave of confusion flooded her; she was in the lake, following Sesshomaru. Why, then, was she warm and dry? She focused her gaze and blinked a few times. 'It was a dream,' she thought as her mind cleared. She felt off-balance, waking up on the couch. With a small groan she pushed herself away from the abyss of sleep and sat cross-legged on the pillows. The room was filled with dawn's red light. She felt displaced; she was never in the living room so early, and it seemed like a different place entirely.

"What did you dream of?" Sesshomaru was perched on the small couch. She wondered if he'd moved at all during he night.

Kaede's premonition echoed in her head. "I don't remember most of it." Her voice was throaty and uneven; the fog of sleep had yet to totally clear. "I was swimming in an ocean. You were there, but you had Kaede's voice. She said her last words, and then I woke up."

The demon inclined his head; the morning light brushed rosy hues over his skin, the colours intensifying to a sharp crimson when his face fell into a patch of deep light. "What were her last words?"

Kagome shrugged languidly, wishing that she could sink back into slumber and avoid responsibility. "I think she was ill." Kagome didn't want to recall the old miko's death again out loud, let alone five minutes after waking up. The truth was that Kagome wasn't entirely sure about Kaede's state of mind. Her mind flickered to the jewel shard, tucked away in a desk drawer.

Sesshomaru didn't relent. "What were her last words?"

"You will unite them. Fate's mistake will be erased."

"Well," he said flatly. "That's cryptic."

Kagome shrugged. "Do you believe in fate?" In the back of her mind she noted that it was far, far too early to be discussing this.

Sesshomaru stood, his blue robes shifting to a deep purple in the sunbeams. "I'm not sure. Lately, events have led me to question my beliefs." He turned to walk away, but stilled with his back to Kagome, his hair swaying back and forth. "Perhaps even fate can have 'what ifs'." Without waiting for a response he strolled into the kitchen.

She frowned; why would he stay with her all night, then suddenly leave?

Sesshomaru seemed to anticipate her line of thought. "I am preparing you a meal." She heard the fridge door crack open. "Dress and groom yourself. We will be visiting the library again today." His smooth footsteps paced across the room. She heard and egg crack.

Remembering his experience with the rabbit, Kagome smiled to herself. "Are you sure you'll be okay in there?"

"Go bathe and defecate," was his response.

A blush stained Kagome's cheeks as she giggled, half-embarrassed and not sure whether or not he was serious. She stood up and looked out the window. The city glowed before her in the rising sun. She watched the clouds bulge and ripple, gliding over the streets. Happiness rose in her chest. The morning was truly beautiful.


"Why is it that raw meat disgusts you, yet hot chicken embryos do not?"

Kagome froze, a forkful of fluffy egg hovering near her mouth. Sesshomaru's breakfast had turned out well. Okay, so the eggs were a little burnt, and the orange juice was lukewarm, but on the whole it was preferable to an apple. She had been enjoying her meal; that was, until the taiyoukai had to go and say something completely unappetizing.

He was watching her, oblivious to the rudeness of his words. Silence swelled as he waited for a response.

The fork clattered against her plate. Eggs quivered, abandoned on the cold platter. For a second, she felt sorry for them. Sesshomaru was looking at her analytically. She scowled at him. "Never use the words 'chicken embryo' when someone's eating. Clear?"

"Is that not what they are?"

She shook her head. He was truly hopeless sometimes. She scraped her dishes, then rinsed them hurriedly with water. She wanted to leave before her family awoke; she felt like being alone. Well, she was with Sesshomaru, but he was so quiet that he didn't really count. Unless you were eating. "Are you ready to leave?" She asked enthusiastically.

"Yes."

"Alright!" She scuffled to the foyer and wormed into a heavy winter jacket. She opened the door; a blast of cool air slammed into her face. "Are you sure you don't want a coat?" She asked.

He pushed ahead of her, marching through the snow barefoot in a thin silk kimono. "I am fine."

Puffing and waddling over to him, Kagome envied his grace. She felt a hundred pounds heavier as she shuffled in her coat. There was less snow than the day before; half of it had disintegrated into gay mush, lining the sidewalks. Her breath rose into the crisp morning air. The sky was a pale blue, and the sun was a small white ball, rising over the clouds.

She turned her eyes over to the demon coasting ahead of her, still wearing Naraku's robes. His human outfit would have torn to shreds when he transformed in battle. Afterwards, he must have stolen the kimono from Naraku's corpse. Kagome fought down a shiver when she remembered touching the slinky material. "Can we get you some more clothes today?"

"I will not protest."

"Good." They walked into the city.


An hour and a half later they were in the nonfiction section. Sesshomaru was pouring over book after book. A small mountain of encyclopedias and historical accounts grew at his side. He frowned at a page, closed the volume, and with a tired sigh placed another before him. "I assume none of my records survived into this era."

"Probably not." Kagome slouched over the tabletop next to him. When they first arrived at the library she'd attacked books with vigour; twenty minutes later she was anxious and bored. She groaned, stretching her arms across the table, her cheek flat on the wood. Her feet bounced impatiently against the carpet.

Sesshomaru continued flipping page after page. He was wearing a loose sweatshirt and jeans that ended four inches above his ankles. She'd given up forcing style upon him and let him pick out his own clothes. He'd simply plucked the nearest articles off of a shelf, saying that the fabrics felt comfortable.

The demon stilled; the sound of pages turning was notably absent.

"You find something?" She sat up straight and inched her chair beside his. She could only see rows and rows of numbers printed on the paper. His hands were trembling. "What is it?"

"The demons are dead."

She leaned into him, sticking her head closer to the pages. They smelt of old wood. "How do you know?"

"Deforestation rates climbed. There were suddenly more boys born than girls in the population, which dropped. Six years later, the ratio of males to females started evening out. Crop production was at an all time high and life expectancy rose significantly." He took in a deep breath. "There was a war."

Kagome frowned skeptically. "I've never heard of a war at that time, and I've spent days researching this. Are you absolutely sure?"

"The signs are all there." He laid the book down, his eyes never straying from the numbers.

She picked up the thick, hardcover volume and turned to the cover. The title was 'Japanese Statistics: 1500-1750'. "Why do less trees mean a war? Couldn't humans just be advancing--building new homes and such?"

"Youkai live in the forest."

"So? You think a war that wiped out all the demons?"

"Precisely."

She knit her eyebrows together, crossing her arms and leaning back to survey him. "I think we should research this more. Maybe there was a small battle I missed…"

Sesshomaru nodded, opening a fresh book. "This was no small battle."


Five hours later, they had found two first-hand accounts of the war and a brief mention of it in a thick book.

The first account was a letter, reprinted in a series about everyday life in feudal Japan. It read, "Etsuo has not yet returned. I fear the battle will drag on forever. In the meantime, they've burnt our crops and ransacked out supplies. Luckily I've managed to shelter winter's food from the raids." There was no date, but it was estimated it to have been written in the early sixteen-hundreds.

The second was peice of evidence was of a diary entry, buried in a novel about growing up through the ages. "… Moma said that I can fight one I'm fifteen, but we're losing men fast--I may have to start training in a month."

The third read: "Although evidence is limited, it indicates that warfare took place near present-day Tokyo. Only a minority of historians believe that the war in the early sixteen hundreds lasted over a year; it is widely regarded as a series of inconsequential battles among the lower classes."

Kagome looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap. She rubbed her fingers over her knuckles and bit her lip. "I can't believe I missed that."

Sesshomaru didn't respond. They were still seated at the table, surrounded by bare shelves. The demons had skimmed through every history book the library had. He was staring through the window, lit up blindingly by a late afternoon sun.

Kagome's stomach rumbled. Sesshomaru stood up, regal even in a baggy gray shirt. "We'll get some food for you."

She scrambled up with a groan. Her joints felt rusted in place. Looking at Sesshomaru's stoic features, she felt the need to reach across his barrier of emptiness and touch him. 'Where are all the demons?' Pity swelled in her heart, and she wondered if he would have been better wandering around the earth, not knowing what had happened.

But you have to know what something is before you can accept it, and perhaps sorting through heartache was better than wandering in limbo. She wriggled her hand into his, standing so close to him that his sweatshirt touched her stomach. "I'm sorry about the war, Sesshomaru. Maybe it didn't wipe out the demons." Her last sentence seemed tacked-on and cheap to her ears, so she stated again: "I'm sorry."

Sesshomaru, in his loneliness, latched on to Kagome. He watched her eyes sadden in sympathy and thought that, even though the demons had died, Kagome was still here. He bent down and stared her in the eye. She was his anchor, pulling him out of a barren sky into a sea of life. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body close to his; he could hear her heart racing in her chest. His clawed hands rubbed up and down her back in smooth, steady motions. "Thank you," he murmured.

He never wanted to let her go.


"Inuyasha's dead."

Forks froze in their paths, suspended in the tense air before half-open mouths.

"Kikyo dragged him to hell. Maybe he's still alive, technically."

Her mother responded first, flying out of her chair to embrace Kagome. "I'm sorry," she said. Her daughter returned the embrace with heavy arms.

Souta wasn't crying; he sat and stared down at his dinner, his eyes dull. Inuyasha, his hero, was dead. Another crack fractured his children's world, still bright with colours and wonder. It would shatter soon.

Her grandfather frowned, and didn't know what to say.

Sesshomaru had his hand on her knee, resting lightly on her jeans underneath the table. He looked away, as if to afford her time to break the news to her family. He gave her a light squeeze every once and a while in silent support.

Sympathy switched to awkwardness after her mother fell back into her seat and the family started picking at their uneaten food. A question burned in the air: 'How can we help?'

Kagome didn't think anyone could really do anything to ease the hurt; she'd simply have to wade through. "I'm okay," she said convincingly. Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes. "And it's really for the best, you know?"

"I'm so sorry's" rang around the kitchen. Kagome itched, suddenly, with the urge to leave the room and sit by herself. She hadn't expected that she'd feel so detached while telling her family; only a small thread of sadness pulled down on her stomach. She didn't even cry.


It was midnight.

The clock ticked throughout the silent house, the air heavy with a serious sadness. Kagome and Sesshomaru sat on the large couch, side-by side facing the black air beyond the window. She stared ahead, with a stiff spine and empty eyes. "I miss him," she said.

Sesshomaru held her hand, caressing her palm with his fingers. The predictable back-and-forth motions against her skin were executed without thought. He disliked seeing her upset. "I missed him entirely," he replied with a wry smile.

Kagome let forth a peal of laughter, slouching towards Sesshomaru's body. Guilt slammed into her a second afterwards; she should be mourning, not laughing. She straightened her back and continued looking past the curtains.

"Happiness isn't wrong." Sesshomaru examined her profile, wishing that she'd turn and face him. "Inuyasha would have wanted you to laugh."

Her lip trembled; for a second he thought she would chuckle at his words. Instead, she fell against him, her back touching the cushions and her head in his lap. She looked up at his face with wide, watery eyes, and gave him a half-smile. Then she started crying.

He sat stiffly, while she hid her face in the folds of his sweatshirt and bawled. She edged up; a few seconds later her knees were folded underneath her and her torso was next to his. He could feel tears and saliva dampen his shirt. She cried and cried, until her harsh sobs broke into irregular gasps. Eventually she was half-sitting in his lap, her face turned to the wall with tears still slithering down her puffy cheeks. She felt drained; all she wanted to do was fall down and sleep forever.

Sesshomaru held her hand. "That," he said, "Is not unusual. You are mourning." He'd seen enough death in his life to recognize all of the families' bizarre reactions.

"I'm sorry," she whispered meekly. She sniffled and hiccupped a few times. Little gasps still escaped when she breathed, and her whole body felt heavy and weak at the same time. Her eyes stung, so she closed them and leaned her head against Sesshomaru's chest.

"There is no need for apologies," he replied, but she was already fast asleep.

He noticed, then, that his hand was holding hers.


A/N--Hey! Did well on my math test. It's my happy-news-of-the-week. A few things:

1. This story isn't over!

2. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'the willful suspension of disbelief'? Basically, I'm aware that the whole war-near-Tokyo thing isn't true.

and the quote above is from a song, 'Dance me to the end of Love', by Leonard Cohen.

As always, comments/compliments are welcome.