He'd known they were coming.
Or he'd expected it, at least.
As Kagome looked around her room, she had to bite her lip to keep her mouth from dropping open.
The furniture was a mix between east and west; there was a raised bed instead of a futon, the dark wood matching a chest that closely resembled a tansu. She traced her fingers over the intricate handles and locks.
"They are crafted from demon bone," Sesshoumaru said from the doorway.
"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Did you make it yourself?"
"Indeed. My—" His weight shifted, eyes moving to the balcony across the room. "My mother taught me."