A/N: Holy Mother this week sucked ass. I hope everyone else's was better than mine, because I wouldn't wish the week I had on anyone, no matter how badly they pissed me off. And next week promises to be just as crappy: tests galore and I've caught a cold. Oh happy me. But enough of my bitching, let's do something constructive, shall we?
First: I'd like to thank Megan Consoer and Odious Feline for their kind words; I didn't notice the reviews until I logged in the other day, since I haven't checked my email in forever, and they cheered me up lots. I give you both hugs and perhaps cookies. I'm kinda broke right now, so…yeah—moving on.
Second: This is my longest chapter to date—twenty-three pages. I just couldn't seem to shut up. : ). But I think you guys'll enjoy it anyway. Also, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. I don't know why exactly—perhaps it's because I actually like the way it turned out. Or maybe I just like depressing myself. (shrugs)
Third: (Related to Number Two...sort of) I feel I must warn you all: the end of this chapter takes a sort of depressing dip. Nothing bad (I think, anyway, but what do I know), but there ain't any frolicking pixie children, either…disregard that "frolicking pixie children" thing, I have no idea where in the hell that came from. Perhaps I should start sleeping more than four hours a night. Anyway, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I wish….
Words To Know:
ofudas: charms with kanji written on one side
aneue: a very respectful way of saying older sister
otouto: little brother
konichiwa: hello
bangohan: dinner; literally, "evening rice/meal"
sensei: teacher, master; in this story, mostly means teacher
hirugohan: lunch; literally, "noon rice/meal"
bokken: wooden practice sword
kata: patterns of movements in kenjutsu
onii-san: older brother
Chapter Eight: Shattered
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Help me now,
Or hold me down,
I feel my world is tumblin'—
Spiral down.
"Rain City"/ Turin Brakes
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"My parents were great taijiya. Well, Okaa-san was. Otou-san specialized in exorcisms. As a child, I was most intrigued by his ofudas," Mamoru said to Kagome, smiling quietly in a manner reminiscent of the man he'd lived his life emulating. Well, everything but the proclivity for perversion anyway.
Mamoru had taken Kagome to his elder sister's hut, with whom he had taken up residence after her husband's death several years before. The older woman was wrinkled and slightly bent, had just turned fifty-nine, but was full of the same thirst for life that had driven Miroku.
Same feeling, different purpose.
Miroku had feared not being able to live to see tomorrow. He'd compensated for that—or had attempted to, anyway—by trying to cram everything into today. His first born, Mika, on the other hand, lived life as if each day were her last because her father had told her, at a very young age, that life was an uncertain business, and what was here today might not be here tomorrow, and so it was her duty to enjoy everything around her while it was still there. She had never forgotten that lesson, and it infused everything she did with a zest for living, an enthusiasm, completely at odds with the sadness and misery of the times she lived in.
Kagome found the two of them soothing. Mamoru grinned wryly when he called her "Aneue," obviously eyeing the thick shocks of white running through her black hair. He had inherited his father's sense of humor, evidently.
Mika mostly ignored him and called him a pest when he deviled her overly, but she sent him fond smiles and gave his head gentle, almost absentminded pats when she walked by him. Mamoru grinned at Kagome when his elder sister patted his head for the fourth time since they had arrived at the older woman's hut.
"She thinks I'm her pet," he informed Kagome.
"And a poor one, at that," Mika haughtily returned. "You're more troublesome than Kirara ever was."
Kagome looked up at Mika.
"Whatever happened to Kirara?" she asked.
Mika smiled sadly.
"Okaa-san's fire neko was faithful to a fault. After Okaa-san died, Kirara moped around for a time, kept Otou-san company. I think having Kirara with him, at his side, comforted him."
"They should have died together," Kagome said to no one in particular. The siblings watched her, though, startled by the announcement. "That was cruel of Fate, for one to have to live without the other."
"Hai," Mamoru said quietly after a moment, eyes on the wood floor. Mika nodded, then shook herself.
"In any case, after Otou-san died, Kirara went out to Okaa-san's grave and laid down next to it. She refused to move from there. She died there several days later. We laid her next to Okaa-san. It was fitting. She served us all so devotedly. The least we could do was lay her next to the master she had loved so well for so long."
Kagome nodded, then sighed.
"I should have been here," she murmured.
"Er, Miko-sama," Mamoru said, exchanging a curiously uncomfortable look with his sister, "who, exactly, are you?"
Kagome stared at him, a little thrown off by the question.
"I…." She gaped like a fish for a moment, then shut her mouth. "Why ask now?"
"You were very distraught before," Mika said kindly, taking hold of her brother's shoulder and slowly lowering herself down by his side. He reached up and grabbed hold of her arm, steadying her. Kagome watched them, and suddenly thought of herself and Souta. She wanted to have that with her brother when they got to be elderly, that warm rapport and affection. "We thought it would be best to let you grieve a while before we asked you any questions."
Kagome looked at Mamoru and Mika. They were watching her expectantly. There was nothing in their expressions but kindness and concern. For a stranger.
"Did your parents ever talk about a hanyou?" she asked.
"Inuyasha," they immediately said in unison with a fond grin.
She stared at them in surprise.
"We knew him very well," Mika said with a laugh, "he often came to visit Otou-san and Okaa-san. He was quite rude and crass."
Mamoru smiled, eyes twinkling. "And he had a horrible mouth—taught me my first curse word: fuck. Nearly gave Okaa-san a fit when she heard me."
Mika laughed. Kagome smiled, even though their memories of Inuyasha made her ache. She had been able to ignore the pain so long as she didn't think about the half-demon too much or for too long. Little bits and pieces of their days together, like Goshinki breaking Tessaiga, were harmless, not at all special. She could function as long as her mind stayed away from anything of real substance, anything personal.
She didn't say anything to them, though. Despite the agony she was in, she was starved for news of what Inuyasha had done and who he'd been around after she had left him.
"And what an appetite! He could eat, he could," Mika said with a sigh. She smiled ruefully. "It hit us very hard when he died. Kaede-baa-chan, the miko of Edo, sent us word. We visit him, when we can. Okaa-san and Otou-san were deeply saddened by his death." She froze suddenly, then looked at Kagome, brow crinkled. Then she abruptly leapt to her feet. Kagome was impressed with her agility, considering her advanced age, even as she was startled by the rapid change in demeanor.
"You!" Mika shouted, pointing at Kagome.
Mamoru struggled to his feet, alarmed. "Aneue," he said, taking her by the arm and gently shaking her, "what's the matter with you?"
"Otouto, it's her!" Mika shouted at him. "Her! The time-traveling miko that Okaa-san and Otou-san told us about! Kagome-sama!"
Kagome's mouth fell open.
"They told you about me?" she asked, mesmerized without quite knowing why. She felt something warm settle into her chest, near her cold, broken heart. The something wasn't enough to stir it back to life, but it made her feel better. They hadn't forgotten her, they hadn't abandoned her, after she'd left them.
Mamoru turned and stared at her in shock.
"You…are her?" he asked.
"My name is Kagome, yes," Kagome said. "I was the one who freed Inuyasha from the miko Kikyou's seal. I fought against Naraku with him, and your parents. And Shippou-chan," she added, realizing she hadn't thought to ask Toutousai about the young fox.
"Great Buddha above," Mamoru murmured, putting a hand to his forehead. "You came through the well?"
Kagome nodded.
"But why now?" Mika asked.
"I don't know," Kagome admitted. "I've been trying to get back since the day the well sucked me back into my own time. But it closed up and wouldn't let me through." She stopped and swallowed, her voice on the edge of cracking. It hurt to remember her desperation to get back to her friends, her failure. Especially now, with all she had learned.
"Until now?" Mika prompted.
Kagome nodded. "I can't figure why, though."
Mika looked puzzled too, until she seemed to remember something and sent her brother a speculative look.
"Otouto? You said she arrived with Sesshoumaru-sama?" she asked.
"Hai," Mamoru replied, "he was trailing along behind her." He smiled without humor. "He did not seem at all pleased."
"No, he wouldn't be," Mika murmured to herself.
Kagome watched them, puzzled. "You know Sesshoumaru?" she asked.
The siblings looked back at her, seemingly surprised. It took her a moment to realize it was probably because she hadn't used an honorific when referring to him, a curiously familiar practice concerning the demon lord, to be sure. She shrugged mentally; she'd never used one before, and the arrogant beast hadn't given her any reason to start now.
"Hai," Mika said after a moment. "We've had dealings with him in the past. He has not been in our village for many many years. I was a girl of ten or nine, the last time he was here."
"I'm guessing, by the look on your face, that he made quite an impression," Kagome said dryly.
"Indeed," Mamoru said, voice quiet, "and I was only six."
"What did he do, destroy the village?" Kagome asked.
"Not quite," Mika returned. She glanced at Mamoru. "Have you spoken to Sesshoumaru-sama yet, Otouto?"
Mamoru shook his head and rose, the rings on his shakujou chiming merrily.
"I wished to get the miko—rather, Kagome-sama—in a calmer state of mind before speaking with Sesshoumaru-sama." He smiled at Kagome, but there was no real humor in it. "As I have done just that, I'll go now."
Mika nodded, and she and Kagome watched the monk leave the hut. The rings were still chiming with Mamoru's every move, and Kagome thought that the sound was far too cheerful for the suddenly oppressive tone of the day. She looked at Mika, who had moved to the hut's only window and was watching her brother's progress.
"Maybe I should go with him and make sure Sesshoumaru doesn't kill him," Kagome said, rising.
"No," Mika said quietly, not looking at her. "My brother will be all right. He's spoken with Sesshoumaru-sama several times before this. The youkai lord has contacted Otouto every now and again over the years…but only Otouto."
"Why? Contact your brother, I mean?" Kagome asked.
"Family business," Mika murmured. She turned away from the window and watched Kagome. Whatever she was going to ask never got asked, however, since a young woman holding a chubby baby suddenly burst through the doorway.
"Obasan, Kin told me about the miko—" The young woman caught sight of Kagome and smiled brightly. "I knew it," she said happily, then walked forward and bowed.
"Konichiwa, Miko-sama," she said. She straightened. "I'm Mai. My husband caught you and the youkai." She jiggled the chubby baby, who gurgled and cooed. "And this is Yasuo, my son."
Mika sighed and reached out and gave Mai's hair a gentle tug.
"Impetuous child," she said, though she didn't sound as though she thought the trait unfavorable.
Kagome found herself smiling.
"Konichiwa, Mai-chan. My name is Kagome." she said with a bow. She straightened and raised an amused eyebrow. "And your husband didn't catch us—I just convinced that really cranky youkai I was with not to kill him."
Mika unsuccessfully smothered a laugh at Kagome's reference to Sesshoumaru. Mai looked cheerfully confused, and Kagome's smile widened.
The three women sat down at the fire pit once more. Mika took baby Yasuo from his mother and told Mai who Kagome was. Kagome listened quietly, astounded that Sango and Miroku had told their children so much of the story of what had happened sixty years ago. Mika knew everything: from Kikyou's nailing Inuyasha to Goshinboku and placing him under enchantment, right down to the last battle with Naraku. Her old friends hadn't sanitized the story in the least, either; she cringed with every swipe of the enemy's sword that Mika recounted.
Mai sat, jaw on the floor, listening to every word. Every now and again, the young woman's eyes would go to Kagome and she would endure the girl's awed gaze uncomfortably. After a time of fidgeting, Kagome grabbed Yasuo, deciding that the baby would at least keep her occupied.
When Mika had concluded her tale, Mai looked at Kagome, who at that particular moment was making faces at Yasuo. The baby clapped his hands eagerly, drool dripping down his chin.
"Kagome-sama?" Mai asked.
Kagome uncrossed her eyes and looked at the girl. "Hai?"
"Is it true?"
"Every single word," Kagome affirmed, then stuck her tongue out at Yasuo, who shrieked with delight and tried to reach out and grab her face.
Kagome moved safely out of the child's grasp.
"Incredible," Mai breathed. Then, her expression changed, and she watched Kagome, eyes speculative. Kagome saw the look.
"What?" she asked, slightly wary; what was with the look?
"You're traveling with a youkai…hai?"
Kagome nodded.
"Why?" Mai asked.
"How do you mean?" Kagome asked.
"Well…are you in love with him? Is that why you're with him?"
Kagome's breath left her lungs, and her heart stopped. She felt her face pale, and her grip on Yasuo softened. It gave the child an opportunity to reach out and grab the black hair he'd been eyeing, and he gave the locks a hard yank as he squealed. The jerk brought Kagome out of her horrified state, and she yelped and grabbed her head in reflex, letting go of the baby, who fell back. Mika scrambled forward and caught the boy before his head made contact with the floor.
"Ow…." Kagome moaned miserably, holding her head.
"I guess I should have warned you about that," Mika said dryly, bouncing the baby on her knee.
"You think?" Kagome muttered, rubbing her aching scalp. She checked her hand and was relieved to find there was no blood.
Mai didn't look at all impressed:
"Kagome-sama? You didn't answer my question. Are you the youkai's lover?"
"NO!" Kagome bellowed, her horror returning. She actually shivered in distaste at the idea of sleeping with Sesshoumaru, even though she knew the chances were slim that such an occurrence would take place. "No, I am NOT that horrible man's…that, and I have no desire to be, EVER, PERIOD, THE END!"
The girl, the elderly woman and the baby were staring at her, eyes wide and surprised by the outburst.
"That's good news," came a cold voice from the doorway, and Kagome hunched her shoulders and felt her cheeks burn in humiliation.
"Please kill me now!" she wailed, hiding her face in her hands.
"Oh my," Mika said with a wide smile at the young miko's expense.
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Sundown found them making their way up to Toutousai's forge.
Kagome was still mortified that Sesshoumaru had heard her response to Mai's horrible question. She'd have assumed that he would have been relieved that she was so opposed to an intimate relationship with him. Instead, he'd seemed almost insulted that she should find him so undesirable. She guessed it was a male pride thing. She wasn't sure if that explanation made the whole experience less weird or not. For her part, she was still extremely freaked out that someone had assumed she was Sesshoumaru's… right. That.
She grimaced. She couldn't even say it in her mind. It was too wrong, too weird, too…gross. She stuck out her tongue and shivered. Very, very gross.
"Stop doing that."
She froze at hearing his voice. She swallowed after a tense second.
"Stop doing what?"
He sent her one of those frigid looks over his shoulder. She cringed.
"THAT."
"Sorry," she muttered.
He rolled his eyes and faced forward again. Kagome sighed inwardly.
They had collected the shinai, at least; Mamoru had been more than happy to lend them to her, once he stopped laughing at her outburst and Sesshoumaru's expression. Kagome guessed that some day she would remember the look on his face—the weirdest mix of outraged relief—and find it amusing. Hilarious, even. That day, unfortunately, would not come for some time. Of that, she was entirely certain.
They didn't talk to each other the rest of the way up the mountain, and by the time they reached the top, Kagome was so sore and hungry that she didn't feel like talking anyway. Toutousai met them when they crested the last rise. He was seated on a big flat rock just outside his cave, his hammer over his shoulder. Upon seeing them, he smiled.
"Ah, I was wondering when you two were going to be getting back," he said. His grin widened when he turned his attention to Kagome. "Did you enjoy your visit?"
"How did you know we found them?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Taijiya cannot ignore Sesshoumaru's youki. It is too powerful."
There was no arguing that.
"I have bangohan waiting for you inside, Kagome," Toutousai said with an almost paternal grin.
"Thank the gods!" she said fervently, bowing quickly to Toutousai and running into the cave. "Doumo arigatou Ojii-san!"
"Enjoy it child." the old demon returned, then eyed Sesshoumaru. "I forgot about the arrangement you had with the taijiya, Sesshoumaru."
Sesshoumaru set the shinai against the mountainside and glared at the swordsmith, who cringed.
"I'm sure," he said dryly, cracking his knuckles.
"Now now—that was fifty years ago! Surely you don't expect me to remember every single dealing you've had with various groups over such a long period of time!" Toutousai said nervously. He edged off the side of the rock he was seated on, mentally calculating how much time he had to make it into the cave. If worst came to worst, he'd just sic Kagome on the younger demon. That might result in the complete ruination of his forge, but at least he'd be alive to rebuild and repair and live another day.
"No?" Sesshoumaru asked, slowly advancing. "You seem to have a very vivid memory for most everything, Toutousai-sama. I find it curious indeed that you should be so remiss with regards to the arrangement between the taijiya and myself…unless, of course, your intent was to irritate me. In which case you have succeeded most skillfully, might I add."
Toutousai's eyes darted to the cave. He wouldn't make it if he didn't belch, and he was sure that if he did now, he'd burn Sesshoumaru somewhere. Ordinarily, he wasn't overly concerned by that possibility, but the demon's mood had been darker and more volatile than usual, and Toutousai didn't need to be disemboweled at this particular point in his admittedly long life. Especially not by someone who had been waiting for an excuse to do just that for the last half-century. Give or take.
"Look here puppy," Toutousai said, pretending a bravery he did not feel, "if you wish for the miko to have a katana, you'll let me live long enough to craft it."
Sesshoumaru smiled—and Toutousai had never been so afraid of him in his life.
"But you forget, you crazy old bastard: I have a katana that can revive the dead. In which case, I could spend the entire night killing and reviving you…and you would still be able to craft the miko's weapon in the morning."
Toutousai smiled.
"Tenseiga is inside," he pointed out.
Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow. "Who said I needed to have the katana at my side when I killed you for the first time?"
The smile on Toutousai's face faded. The one on Sesshoumaru's grew decidedly more feral.
"Shit," Toutousai said a second before he belched.
Sesshoumaru dove out of the way, and Toutousai ran into the cave.
"Come back here you asshole!" Sesshoumaru bellowed, stalking into the cave after him.
"I need to get a rosary for you," Kagome said from the table. She was sitting, very unconcerned, at Toutousai's table, pouring herself a cup of tea.
The comment threw him off.
"What?" he snapped.
"You don't have to yell, I can hear you just fine," she said calmly, not bothering to look up. "I said I need to get a rosary for you."
"For what purpose would this Sesshoumaru need a rosary?" he sneered.
"Youkai need a good, hard sit now and then," she replied blandly.
He went still for a minute, then bristled with rage.
"WHAT!"
She looked up at him, set down her chopsticks, and stood to face him. Then she hauled back and decked him.
"You bastard—you KNEW they were there the whole time and you let me waste my time looking in the wrong damn village!" she shouted.
He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her off the ground. She grabbed his wrist with a glowing hand. He squeezed; she drew out her ki. They stood like that for a long time in silence, until Sesshoumaru's wrist started smoking and Kagome started seeing black spots dancing before her eyes.
"I'll let go if you will," she offered, hiding the dizziness she felt from lack of oxygen.
"I'm disinclined," he said through gritted teeth.
"How long did it take for your arm to regenerate?"
"Thirty years."
"I guess you feel like waiting another thirty to grow a new one?"
He dropped her, then stepped over her as she lay on the floor, gasping for breath and coughing.
"Toutousai, you miserable shit—where are you?" he roared.
Kagome sat up, rubbing her neck.
"Yup—definitely need to get a rosary for him," she muttered to herself.
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They settled into a rhythm. Sort of.
Sesshoumaru awakened her every single morning by entering Toutousai's chamber and very rudely ripping the sheets off her. He'd then reach down, grab her by the haori and shake her until she opened her eyes and tried to purify him.
After breakfast, Toutousai went to work on her sword and armor, which Sesshoumaru had also insisted on. Kagome had argued with him until he'd grabbed her and shaken her so hard her teeth had nearly rattled out of her head. It had been an unpleasant experience, to say the least.
As for Sesshoumaru and Kagome, they began working with the shinai. That too, unfortunately, proved an unpleasant experience. It also proved to be a mercifully short one.
"As a rule, shinai are not usually used to teach kenjutsu," Sesshoumaru said, dumping the bamboo "swords" in the middle of a quiet, grassy plain not far from Toutousai's mountain. "However, as you have never had any practice with a sword of any kind, it is best to introduce kenjutsu to you in this manner."
Kagome dropped her bag and bow and quiver on the grass. Toutousai had warned her that Sesshoumaru would likely prove an exacting sensei, and he had provided her with a lunch, in the event that the demon lord would not allow her to return to the cave for hirugohan.
"Why aren't the shinai used?" she asked, eyeing the weapons in question.
"Because they are inadequate. They do not preserve the cutting technique that is the root of what kenjutsu is."
"So why bother?"
He sighed, and she knew he was irritated. She was getting much better at irritating him, though it probably wasn't something to celebrate.
"Because there is less chance of injury with shinai."
Kagome frowned, then shrugged. "Whatever," she said.
Sesshoumaru snorted. "Whatever indeed," he muttered under his breath, then leaned over and picked up the shinai. He tossed one at Kagome, who fumblingly caught it by the middle.
"How in the hell—" she began.
"Grab the handle stupid woman, unless you wish to use the shinai as a club."
She glared at him but did as he told her.
That lasted all of five seconds.
Kagome never really remembered how it happened, but the next thing she knew, she had whacked Sesshoumaru over the shoulder with her shinai with enough force to break the bamboo, and tear his kimono. His response was swift and immediate: he whacked her right back, sending her flying three feet and breaking his shinai. It degenerated from there, and they whacked each other with the rapidly shortening shinai until they were left with the handles.
She tossed hers over her shoulder, panting. Her ribs were aching, and she could feel blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She sniffed and wiped the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it over chin. She cracked her knuckles.
"Well?" she taunted.
Sesshoumaru smirked at her; he was standing in mid-crouch across from her, his stance not all that different from hers. He cracked the knuckles of both hands simultaneously, the popping bones sounding loud in the deadly quiet of the plain.
"Aren't we brave," he said, with a smile that would have frozen anyone else's blood in their veins. His fangs gleamed in the mid-morning sun.
"And why should I be afraid of a mangy dog?" she threw back.
"You will regret your foolishness, Miko."
They ran at each other, Sesshoumaru with his claws at the ready and Kagome gathering her ki. They crashed into each other, but he didn't use his poison and she didn't use her ki. They just started pounding each other. It wasn't the most noble fight Sesshoumaru had ever engaged in, particularly since they were rolling around in the dirt, but he was beyond caring at this point. The woman was entirely too disrespectful, and while he had never advocated violence against the fairer sex, he was sure that in this instance, an exception could be made.
He was appalled to find that he had taken her too lightly. She was far wilier than he'd first thought, and she had managed to get out from under him and wrap an arm around his neck. She didn't have nearly enough strength to choke him, but it was the fact that she'd been able to do it at all that pissed him off. He reached around, grabbed her by the obi and yanked. She let out a screech. He figured out why when his hand came back with her obi…minus the rest of her.
"Damn it!" she yelled, whacking him on the shoulder with her fist. "What the hell did you do that for!"
It wasn't his intent, but there was no way he was going to admit that. He sent her a sidelong look.
"To get you to stop, of course," he returned, sounding bored.
"Well I've stopped, so give it back now," she said.
"Get off me."
"No."
He raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
She snorted. "I highly doubt that you'd ever beg for anything," she muttered. She reached around him and tried to snatch the obi from his hand. He simply transferred it to his other hand.
"Get off of me and you may have the obi back."
She ground her teeth together. "I'd prefer if you just gave it to me right now."
"I have absolutely no interest in what you'd prefer."
She slammed her head down against his shoulder and moaned.
"PLEASE give it back?" she whined from his shoulder.
"If you make me repeat myself one more time, Miko, you WILL be desperately unhappy," he dryly informed her.
"I'm ALREADY desperately unhappy, thank you very much!" she snapped, lifting her head. She grabbed his hair and yanked. "Just give me the stupid obi already!"
He sighed, grabbed her and tried to throw her off him. She just clung tighter to him and squealed. He cringed at the sound and stopped to glare at her. She glared back.
"Get off!" he snapped.
"NO!" she bellowed.
"Why in the seven hells not!" he bellowed back.
"Because my fucking hakama's too big to tie tight and the obi is the only thing keeping it up!" she returned, pulling on his hair. "Now give it BACK!"
"I should strangle you with it," he said in disgust, throwing it at her.
She let go of him and fell onto the ground on her backside with an "Oof!" He glanced over his shoulder and saw her gathering her too big clothes in one hand, and awkwardly tying the obi around her waist with the other. She noticed him watching her and kicked him.
"Don't watch!"
He snorted and turned to face forward. "As if I was that hard up," he muttered.
She kicked him again, and he reached around, grabbed her ankle and yanked. She crashed into his back; he never so much as flinched.
"Try it again," he invited, "and see what happens."
"You're such a jerk."
He shrugged, folding his hands into his sleeves; he couldn't have cared less of her opinion of him.
He reviewed her first lesson and frowned. It had been, hands down, a complete disaster. Not only had nothing been accomplished, they had destroyed their equipment. And then, of course, there was his behavior.
He had behaved completely beneath his station. It was undignified. It was unseemly. It was that, or kill her. And he'd really prefer not to kill her. It was simpler to deal with a miko who was already familiar with and not adverse to dealing with youkai on terms other than purification. Or it had been. Until he had actually taken this particular miko with him. Why was it that strategies were always easier in theory than actual execution?
He closed his eyes and settled himself. It was difficult. Her ki was powerful, almost as powerful as his youki. And whenever they were anywhere near each other, he had to fight his youki down. It was a natural reaction, the need to fight for dominance. He supposed that his irrational reaction to the miko was a manifestation of the power struggle between his youki and her ki.
But brawling in the dirt with a human woman? This had to stop here. Today. Now. Or someone was going to have to die.
"Miko," he said, opening his eyes and staring ahead.
"What?" she asked sullenly; the rasp of cloth on cloth told him she was still fixing her clothing.
"It occurs to me that all this childish fighting is wasteful."
She paused.
"That we are accomplishing nothing, and I am no nearer my goal than I was a fortnight ago."
"So…?" she prompted.
"I propose a truce of sorts. I will not kill you if you will stop…." He groped for the right words.
"Annoying you?" she offered.
"I suppose that about sums it up," he said.
"But we already agreed to that."
"That was in specific reference to your infernal talking. I'm suggesting a more all-around agreement."
She sighed. "I hate you."
"I know."
She sighed again.
They sat in silence for a long time, and then he heard her crawl around from behind him and seat herself next to him. She set her chin in the palm of one hand and shut her eyes. Sesshoumaru ignored her and watched the grass, and silence reigned once more.
"You know," she said after several blissful moments had passed, "if we could just control our tempers, we'd probably avoid this kind of stuff more often." She frowned. "I haven't acted so childishly since…ever, actually." She turned her head to look at him. "And I can't even imagine you ever acting like this. In fact, it's really weird."
"You inspire a particularly violent response," he returned, not looking at her.
She frowned again. "But you could control it…right?"
"In theory," he said. "Actually doing so is another matter altogether. It is difficult to control the urge to do you harm, Miko."
She watched him.
"Are you a threat to me?" she asked finally.
"At this particular moment, no."
"And tomorrow?"
He didn't reply. Kagome didn't like the thoughts running through her mind.
"How is this going to work?" she whispered.
Again, he made no reply, mainly because he didn't know. He wasn't about to admit his ignorance, however—the hell he would, in front of the miko of all people.
"Has it always been this way?" she asked. "I mean, before…in the past…when I was with…." She trailed off.
"No," he replied. "I was never focused on you in particular, and so you were of no concern."
"Gee, doumo," she muttered under her breath. "I don't get it—why now?"
"You have formidable power, Miko. With it, comes a ki of corresponding stature. And because you have no control over it—"
"Bullshit, I have control over it!" she said. "I put up a barrier yesterday!"
He finally looked over at her. "And would it have kept me from leaving?"
She watched him quietly. "You knew it was unstable?" she asked finally.
"It was obvious that the energy lacked focus. It was an instinctive reaction, nothing more. Leftovers from the dead miko, I suppose. It kept the taijiya out, but it wouldn't have been able to keep me in had I decided to leave."
"So why didn't you?"
"I would have gotten singed in the process. It is a sensation I find exceptionally annoying. Besides, I wished to see what you could do."
"Not much, it would seem," she said, laying back in the grass and staring up at the sky. "This sucks," she said morosely.
He was inclined to agree, despite the fact that he wasn't entirely sure what she meant; mostly, he based his agreement on the tenor of her voice.
They sat in silence, each lost in thought.
"We need to stop fighting," Kagome said a long while later.
"We've established that." he returned sarcastically.
She sighed and sat up. "You see? That's what I'm talking about. We have to stop baiting each other. That's what starts the fighting. We'll never accomplish anything if we're constantly at each others' throats."
"It's not that simple, you realize," he said after a pause.
"Yeah, I know—you're REALLY annoying."
He glared at her. She held up her hands. "I wasn't trying to start anything, honest."
He went back to staring at the trees. Kagome watched him.
"We're just going to have to control our less than mature impulses," she said. "I mean, we're adults. This shouldn't be so difficult."
He snorted.
"Besides…we can always take it out on each other when we practice my kenjutsu."
THAT gave him pause.
"I believe we have an accord, Miko."
Kagome smiled.
"I'm glad to hear it Youkai. Shall we shake on that?"
"'Shake'?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at her suspiciously.
"Shake hands, I mean," she qualified. "To—" She pursed her lips and watched him. "You know what? Never mind."
She was very proud of her restraint…and wondered how long it would take before she snapped and went for his throat again.
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
Once they had agreed to try maturity, it was decided that a trip to the taijiya was in order. So, Kagome gathered the handles of the shinai and she and Sesshoumaru set out for the village in silence. They never spoke to each other once, simply walked side by side until the village watchman saw them and yelled of their approach to the head man.
"Will you be doing the honors or will I?" she asked, glancing up at him.
He looked down at her. She pursed her lips and watched him for a moment, then sighed.
"O-o-okay: me it is."
Mamoru met them at the village gate, his shakujou in tow. He smiled when he saw her.
"Ah, Kagome-sama, konichiwa," he greeted, bowing to her, since she had stepped ahead of Sesshoumaru. Mamoru turned to Sesshoumaru and bowed low. "Konichiwa, Sesshoumaru-sama. It is an honor to have you visit us again this day. Please, come."
They followed Mamoru into the village. Mai waved to her; Kagome waved back, grinning. The younger woman reminded her of herself.
"Please, come and share hirugohan with myself and my sister," Mamoru invited.
"Oh, we'd like to but this visit isn't exactly what you'd call social, Mamoru-sama," Kagome said, untying the carrying cloth she'd borrowed from Toutousai to carry her lunch in from around her shoulders and digging through it for the shinai handles. She quickly found them, of course, pulled them out and held them up, smiling nervously.
The monk stared at the handles in surprise, then reached out and took one from her and examined it. Then he stared at her.
"This is a shinai handle," he stated.
"Hai, it is," she dutifully replied.
"This is MY shinai handle."
"Hai." Her smile grew wider and more nervous.
Mamoru reached out and took the other handle from her, leaning his shakujou against his chest. He looked from one to the other, obviously struck speechless. At long last, he looked up at her.
"There was…that is, there were some…difficulties," Kagome began slowly, "and the, uh, shinai…." She clenched her hands together and took in a deep breath. "Right, let's start over—"
Mamoru looked down at the shinai handles, then took a closer look at Kagome and Sesshoumaru. The miko was smudged and disheveled, and the youkai lord was looking slightly unkempt. The monk caught sight of a tear in Sesshoumaru's kimono and realized exactly what had happened. He smiled suddenly, throwing Kagome off. She frowned at him in confusion, hands still clenched before her.
"Mamoru-sama?"
Mamoru looked down at her, now trying to desperately hold in the laughter that was almost choking him in its rush to be let out.
"I take it the lesson was short?" he asked.
"Uh…." Kagome looked over at Sesshoumaru, who was ignoring everyone and staring at something on the horizon. Right: she was on her own. "You could…say that." she returned, rubbing the back of her head and smiling abashedly.
Mamoru laughed until tears ran down his cheeks.
They began practicing with bokken borrowed from Toutousai the next day.
Kagome found she enjoyed the practice, despite the fact that it was ridiculously easy to be injured or even killed with the wooden sword. Sesshoumaru mentioned that duels could be and were fought with bokken in addition to live swords, and many of them had ended in death. But instead of giving her pause, the comment interested her intensely. She'd asked him how. His lips had twitched faintly.
"Perhaps once you've had enough practice."
She took that to mean he was going to show her, perhaps even duel with her. And she found herself looking forward to it.
Sesshoumaru didn't start her off on anything particularly deadly. Her first day with the bokken was all about proper hand position on the handle. It was something basic and easy, and Kagome didn't feel quite so inadequate. The demon lord was no cheerleader, and not prone to encouragement, but she still felt like he'd patted her on the head when he said,
"You have a natural affinity for sword handling."
Which was ironic, given that he was a dog.
The second day of practice, he made her repeat the hand positioning over and over and over again, grasping the bokken by the "blade" and holding the handle out to her. He also instructed her to loosen her grip, rapping her over the knuckles with the handle when she screwed up, and he wasn't the least bit gentle. It took six raps to get her to focus on what she was doing. Once it had been established that she knew how she was supposed to be holding a sword, he had her practice slicing the bokken through the air, so that she got a feel for what he called "cutting."
"I feel like I'm chopping wood," she said.
"Do it," he returned, hands folded over his chest.
"I HAVE to look like a baka!" she protested.
His gaze dropped several degrees. "You ARE a baka—now do it."
She briefly thought of clubbing him over the head with the bokken, but decided against it. They had an agreement, after all. Besides, she'd probably never get within five feet of him, he moved too fast.
She did as she was told. He watched her for several moments.
"Stop," he said.
"Gladly," she muttered, glad no one else was around to see her acting so foolishly.
He walked over to her and looked her over, eye as critical as it was clinical, then grabbed her bokken and tested its weight in his hand. He frowned.
"What?" she asked.
He didn't reply. He simply handed the instrument back to her.
"It can't be helped," he said, more to himself than to her. Then he eyed her. "Your movements are appallingly sloppy, woman."
She stared at him. "Look pal," she said after watching him in disbelief, "you just asked me to swing this stupid thing through the air like a moron—you didn't give me any instructions or anything, you just told me to 'get a feel for cutting,' whatever the hell that meant—"
"It meant exactly that: to become acquainted with the feel of the bokken cutting through the air," he interrupted. "A real sword, a proper sword, will feel similar but not exactly the same. It would be slightly heavier, but the idea remains the same."
Her mouth formed an "O" as she realized what he was talking about.
"So, this thing is supposed to help me learn katas," she said, and he nodded. She nodded too. "But that means I have to be taught katas first."
He shut his eyes. Kagome's lips twitched; he was supremely annoyed with her, and she wasn't even trying. She wondered when it had become a game.
He showed her how she was supposed to be moving, and she mimicked him as best she could, but by the end of the day, her wrists were aching. When she complained about it to him—not that she thought he was listening for a second to her whining—he told her she should wrap her wrists. She was surprised by the advice, and wondered why he had bothered. It occurred to her he might have tried being helpful to see if it would shut her up, so she decided she would reward his cunning with more complaining.
Toutousai looked up from his work table at their entrance. Sesshoumaru set the bokken against the wall; Kagome plopped down at the table and rubbed her wrists.
"Well?" Toutousai asked. He looked at the bokken. "I see my equipment is still intact, so I'm going to assume it was a productive afternoon."
"That's very optimistic of you," Sesshoumaru muttered, settling down against the wall opposite Kagome. Kagome sent him a killing look that he ignored; Toutousai coughed, hiding a laugh. He noticed she was rubbing her wrists and shook his head.
"I thought you might have trouble wielding the bokken," he commented.
Kagome glanced up and shrugged.
"He said I should wrap my wrists," she said, gesturing to Sesshoumaru, who had shut his eyes, and thus shut out the world.
"Sound advice."
Kagome smiled, and nearly made a snide comment. Luckily, she caught herself before she opened her mouth and avoided what would most assuredly have been a nasty scene.
Toutousai fed her, and once the dishes had been cleared—Kagome had taken to washing them, still feeling guilty that she had taken the old man's bed—Toutousai called Kagome over to him.
"What do you need Ojii-san?" she asked, coming to stand before him.
"I ask only that you stand still for a few moments," the old demon said.
She sent him a puzzled look. Toutousai grabbed her by the wrists and lifted her arms up, telling her to hold them straight out, parallel to the ground. Her frown deepened, but she did as she was told. Next, the old man squatted down and poked her hip.
"This where your leg joins the rest of you?" he asked, jabbing sharply.
"OW!" She jumped away from him. "That hurt, damn it!"
"I told you to stand still!" Toutousai said in exasperation.
"Yeah, well, I didn't think you were going to give me the jab from hell!"
Toutousai sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Get back over here," he ordered irritably.
She eyed him suspiciously as she inched closer to Sesshoumaru's side. Toutousai had noticed that she tended to move closer to the demon lord when she perceived some kind of danger to her person was imminent. It was an odd reaction for a woman who professed her undying loathing, to all unfortunate enough to be within ear shot, of the man she was currently attempting to hide behind.
"Are you going to poke me again?" she asked, gaze narrow.
"I have no need," Toutousai replied, "as I have already ascertained the location of your hip. Now get back over here and hold still."
"You're asking the impossible, you know," Sesshoumaru murmured, eyes closed and head back against the wall.
Kagome shut her eyes and appeared to be talking to herself. After several seconds, she opened her eyes and plastered a smile on her face.
"Of course, Ojii-san."
She walked back over to him, the picture of dignity and decorum, and stood stock still before him while he measured her arms and legs. Toutousai happened to glance at Sesshoumaru and saw a ghost of a smile playing over the younger demon's mouth, and was astonished by the realization that Sesshoumaru had insulted Kagome into cooperation. He was so pleased and grateful that he decided to stop withholding the completed armor, which he had lied about after Sesshoumaru had whacked him over the head—and delivered a headache that hadn't abated until late the next day—for Toutousai belching at him.
"Your yoroi, Sesshoumaru," he said, holding out the armor and bowing low before the demon lord once he had finished taking Kagome's measurements.
Sesshoumaru opened one eye, then the other and leaned forward and took the armor. He looked it over, inspecting it carefully, then tried it on.
"Satisfactory," he pronounced at last, then took off the armor and set it down next to his pelt.
Toutousai bowed once more, then set his sight on Kagome once again. And once again, she hunched her shoulders and edged over to Sesshoumaru's side.
"What?" she asked warily.
Sesshoumaru opened an eye and found Kagome slowly backing away from Toutousai. It was such an odd reaction that he opened the other eye. There was something different about her retreat, as if she…. He frowned when he realized that her entire body was tense, poised as if to run. Now why in the world would she want to run? He looked over at Toutousai. Nothing unusual there: the crazy old bastard looked the same, nothing particularly threatening about him, aside from his stench.
Kagome made it to Sesshoumaru's side and seemed to relax a fraction. Sesshoumaru wondered at that, but wasn't given time to properly go over the miko's bizarre reaction:
"Now Kagome," Toutousai began in a reasonable voice, "I won't hurt you at all. I just need to put the last few touches on your katana, that's all."
Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow.
"Weren't you just starting on it this morning?" he pointed out, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her drop down next to him with a sigh of relief.
"Hai, but Kagome must first disable the handle before I can do anything else." Toutousai smiled.
"Huh?" she asked brilliantly from beside Sesshoumaru; he was in a similar frame of mind, though there was no power in this world that could have made him admit it. Perhaps not even in the next.
"I already began forging your blade—and, as a matter of fact, I knew exactly what I was going to do the second I remembered that miko's katana. I'm a swordsmith, after all," Toutousai sniffed importantly.
"That's not what I was confused about, Ojii-san," she returned. "Why do I have to disable the handle?"
Toutousai stared at her as if the answer should have been obvious.
"It'll purify me, that's why! What kind of question is that, anyway!"
Kagome looked at Sesshoumaru, who simply shrugged; he had no experience with miko weaponry aside from the traditional bow and arrow. She looked back to Toutousai.
"I don't get it—how have you been able to work with it—" she began.
"I haven't!" Toutousai returned. "It's been sitting back here for centuries gathering dust and annoying me!"
Kagome raised an eyebrow in excellent mimic of what Sesshoumaru had done only seconds before, but said nothing.
Toutousai rubbed his forehead, irritated.
"Just get over here," he grumbled.
"I'll purify you if you do anything I don't like," she warned, getting up and walking to the old demon's side.
Sesshoumaru knew for a fact that she was lying her head off. She was fond of the old man, though why was entirely beyond him. Only the fact that Toutousai still proved useful every now and again stayed Sesshoumaru's hand. Otherwise, he'd have slaughtered the swordsmith without a single regret.
When Toutousai brought out the old sword handle, Sesshoumaru's youki responded much as it had before: it gathered all around him, as if to protect his person. The handle's holy ki made his youki nervous in a way that Kagome's ki couldn't, and he knew it was because the miko's ki could only do him harm if she was able to gather and concentrate it in her hands. The handle's ki, on the other hand…that was something else altogether—all it needed was a miko to wield it.
This was a weapon, an instrument of death. There was an ominous edge to its energy that made him tense and wary. He stood and despite the fact that his youkai blood demanded that he remove either the threat or himself, he walked toward where Kagome and Toutousai sat.
"What am I supposed to do?" she was asking in exasperation.
"Disable the damn thing!" Toutousai snapped back; wave upon wave of nervousness was flowing off the old demon. Sesshoumaru couldn't blame him. The swordsmith was uncomfortably close to a holy weapon that was searching for a new master. The weapon had awakened from its slumber, lulled into "consciousness" by the proximity of a miko…the miko currently sitting before it.
"The ki is stronger," Sesshoumaru commented.
Kagome glanced up at him, surprised. "It is?" she asked.
He nodded. "It has awakened."
"'Awakened'? It's an inanimate object," she protested.
"Your ki has brought it out of dormancy," he said. "It wasn't fully quiescent—that's the only reason we were able to feel it when the old shit brought it out. It's been lying in wait, searching for a new master. It would appear that it has decided that you will do nicely."
She stared at him, stunned.
"What are you talking about?" she murmured. "The KATANA—or what's left of it—has DECIDED to take me as its master?"
"Yes—now disable it," Toutousai demanded. He had leapt to his feet and was backing away from the handle.
Kagome turned stunned eyes to the swordsmith. But before she could ask him what was wrong, the handle began glowing. Kagome watched it, then slowly began rising and backing away from the table it was sitting on. The handle suddenly began to vibrate violently.
"Don't back away," Sesshoumaru quietly told her. He hadn't moved away, but Kagome had felt the dangerous spike in his youki. His discomfort was plain in the waves of energy rolling off him, but his face was as placid as water on a still day.
"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered, then flinched when the handle began vibrating even more violently than before. It was no longer softly glowing in shades of pink; the handle's aura had lightened to yellow, and Kagome was getting worried… because that was the color she glowed when Sesshoumaru's youki and her ki clashed.
"Pick it up," he replied, and she sent him a horrified look.
The handle glowed white and the thing actually shot up into the air and went straight for Sesshoumaru, as his youki was the most overpowering of the two demons currently in the cave.
Kagome's eyes widened and she immediately placed herself in front of the demon lord. The handle abruptly clattered to the floor at her feet, and its aura colored itself in shades of purple—not quite threatening, but not exactly welcoming either. Like a barrier.
"It's waiting for you to pick it up, Miko," Sesshoumaru said, and she jumped and looked around at him. He was watching her, and whatever he was thinking, it wasn't showing up on his face. She watched him uncertainly for several seconds, then sighed and, biting her lip, reached down slowly. Her hand hovered over the handle, and she wondered at her strange reluctance. It wasn't like the thing was going to hurt her. It had been a miko's weapon, and its ki was pure. Still…it had scared her that even broken and useless, the handle had tried to purify Sesshoumaru. She could just barely control her own ki—how was she going to control a handle with a mind of its own?
She steeled herself, and curled her fingers around the handle. It burst into white light again and Kagome felt a stinging sensation shoot up her arm. She felt pain lance through her bones and with a gasp she let the handle go and clutched her arm to her body. She fell backwards and landed hard on her backside, at Sesshoumaru's feet. In front of her, the handle glowed one more time and then its ki faded and then there was nothing but a broken handle and a sliver of rusty steel.
"Ow," Kagome managed through gritted teeth.
Toutousai came to her side and held out his hand. She shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. The swordsmith looked up at the demon lord, watched him for several moments, then leaned over and picked up the now deactivated handle.
Sesshoumaru knelt down by the miko and reached out and grabbed the wrist of the hand she held so tightly against her body. She flinched and resisted, but he squeezed and her body jerked in pain. Her ki began gathering.
"Control your ki, Miko," he said, then turned her hand over and looked at the palm.
It was an angry red, almost as if the skin had been blistered off, but her skin was completely intact. It looked like a burn, but there was no smell. He checked the rest of her arm, up to her elbow. Nothing. Most curious.
"What was that?" she asked him when she had managed to both control her ki and her voice. It had been a difficult battle; he'd been acutely aware of the fluctuations of her ki as it had demanded a corresponding reply in his youki. Once again, he questioned the advisability of allying himself with his mortal enemy, particularly when she was ripe with so much potentially deadly power. And to think, he was going to assist her in tapping into that power—surely, this travesty was the work of the gods.
"That was your ki meeting the residual ki of the katana," Toutousai answered.
Sesshoumaru and Kagome stared at the old demon in shock.
"Residual?" Kagome asked, voice shaking. "RESIDUAL? Are you out of your fucking mind? There was nothing RESIDUAL about that!"
Toutousai was watching her, obviously surprised. Which only served to upset Kagome even more.
"I hate this place!" she yelled. "I've had nothing but bad luck since I got here! First Chuckles over here and his claws of doom, then the miko from hell, then the fever from hell, then another attack by Chuckles and now this piece of shit katana!"
Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and the tenuous hold on her ki was slipping. Sesshoumaru had the good sense to release her and back away. "And everyone I gave a damn about is gone! I hate this place! I hate it I hate it I HATE IT!"
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Kagome was horrified at her own behavior, and that portion of her mind was begging her to stop. But she had held in too much, hadn't allowed herself to really mourn over Sango and Miroku, hadn't finished grieving over Inuyasha. It weighed heavily on her. She was physically and spiritually exhausted, and there seemed to be no end in sight. She had traveled as far as she could bear, and she was no nearer the conclusion than she'd been when she'd arrived. What else could the gods have in store for her? What else would she be made to endure?
Sesshoumaru watched the miko's breakdown in silence. He had felt a difference in her, had known that she had tried to shoulder her personal burdens and continue on. He also knew that what she was attempting to carry was far too heavy for her feeble frame. It was a wonder she had survived its weight this long.
Her ki was troubled and in turmoil. He felt it echoed in her soul. It was a deep wound she had sustained, far deeper than he had suspected. After all, Inuyasha had been a hanyou, only half youkai—completely worthless, in the end. There was no reason the miko should receive the news of his passing with so much pain. It had pained him very little. Mostly, it had disappointed and irritated him. Such a pointless, stupid death. Embarrassing, even. To have survived Naraku, and the greater power of his elder, full youkai brother…only to die at the hands of an old, dried-up well? It was pathetic.
And yet. There she was, heart bleeding as if mortally wounded. Pain, grief and guilt rolled off of her, waves upon waves. Her emotions were so raw they were upsetting him. He was not equipped to handle this kind of thing. And while he was loathe to admit it, there was one person nearby who was: Mamoru, the monk at the taijiya village.
Sesshoumaru steeled himself, then walked to where Kagome lay curled up in a ball on the ground, crying. He was going to regret this later; right how, he just wanted her to stop.
The demon lord leaned down, grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up off the ground. She grabbed hold of him, fists curling into his kimono, as if afraid of being dragged down into the abyss of her own inner disarray. She muffled the sounds of her pain against him. Sesshoumaru ignored her. At this moment, having his person abused in such a manner was less important than getting the miko to the monk. Once Mamoru had settled her, he could worry about the affront.
He turned and walked out of the cave. Toutousai watched him leave, watched him take to the sky. And the old swordsmith sighed and set his tools down. The air in his forge had never been so heavy.
"Grief's a funny thing," he murmured, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Amazing that one feeling can do so much damage."
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
Sesshoumaru touched down in the center of the village, then sniffed the air and, upon catching the monk's scent, turned and followed it to the hut he had entered just yesterday. He had not expected to return so soon. In fact, he had not expected to see this village again for some time; the last time he'd been here, Inuyasha had died…and Rin had joined him.
He scowled bitterly. It had been years since he had attached a name to the woman he had raised and then married off. To her own kind—the hell he would deliver her into the hands of a youkai and allow her to spawn a whole new generation of hanyous. Inuyasha had laughed cynically at him upon hearing that:
"You'll never change, will you?" he'd asked.
"I have no desire to," Sesshoumaru had returned, eyebrow raised.
Inuyasha chuckled darkly under his breath and shook his head. "No, I guess you're happy being an asshole, Onii-san."
He looked down at the woman he held, cursed her silently. It was her fault. She reminded him of that little girl. Rin had been soft too, and achingly, horribly human, in the end. Sesshoumaru looked down at Kagome again. Damnedable woman—she made him remember things best lost to time.
He walked to the monk's hut, didn't bother announcing himself. He simply ducked through the portal, shouldering the reed flap out of his way. He found the monk seated at the fire pit, watching him. His face was set in grim lines. Upon seeing the miko, his features hardened. Sesshoumaru watched him, unimpressed.
"Sesshoumaru-sama," the monk said. "It's rather late for a visit, wouldn't you agree?"
Sesshoumaru didn't answer. Kagome's hands clenched involuntarily and she buried her face against him. He stiffened, irritated by the contact, by her emotions and the smell of her tears. She had managed to wreak complete havoc with his youki and composure, had managed to upset his inner youkai in a way it had never been upset before. He disliked her sudden ability to so completely affect him. And it all came down to pain. It was a basic feeling, a feeling his inner youkai could grasp, a feeling his inner beast could relate to, and hers went too deeply to ignore.
"Repair her," he said quietly.
The monk flinched, his face slackening into surprise. "'Repair her'?" he parroted. "Repair what?"
"She mourns for the hanyou. For your parents."
Mamoru's face went blank. His eyes went to the miko in Sesshoumaru's arms. A vague shadow of sad sympathy swept through them before they went blank again.
"I cannot repair Kagome-sama, Sesshoumaru-sama. No more than you can. She must heal herself." Mamoru quietly said.
"Then give her the means, monk. She is useless to me otherwise."
The monk's face hardened.
"Even after all this time, you can find no compassion in you for the suffering of others?" he demanded. "Even with all you've endured—"
Sesshoumaru's warning growl stopped him.
"Do not speak of things you do not know," he ground out lowly, voice rough and dangerous.
The two glared at each other in silence. Then Mamoru rose.
"Come, follow me," he said, walking past the demon lord, outside.
After a pause, Sesshoumaru followed.
He felt the eyes of the taijiya on him, watching him. He ignored them. Kagome had quieted, but she was still crying. He could smell the salt-water, feel the hitching breaths that spoke of it. Her ki was still in an uproar, too. She moved in his arms, reaching up to take hold of his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck. His lips thinned; the sooner the monk took charge of her, the better. He didn't know how long he would be able to endure this indignity.
They left the taijiya village and walked into the surrounding forest. It was dark and the monk had not brought a lamp or torch, but he seemed to know the way. They reached a break in the trees, and Sesshoumaru caught a faint whiff of incense. There was a little shrine house here—he clearly saw the low building and the gently sloping roof.
"We built it for our parents," Mamoru said quietly, stopping. He glanced over his shoulder at Sesshoumaru. "I believe this might do her some good."
Sesshoumaru tried to set the miko down. Her arms tightened their hold on him. Frowning, he tried again to get her the hell off him. And again she refused to be set down, this time wrapping her legs around his hips and squeezing. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and made the monk's eyebrows inch up, speculative.
"Woman, let go of me this instant or I will do it for you," Sesshoumaru ordered furiously from behind gritted teeth.
"Don't leave me alone," she begged from the crook of his neck, her words muffled and voice thick. He heard her perfectly, however. And the request gave him pause. What was this fear she seemed to have of being alone? And why had she decided that he should be the one to keep her company?
"You will not be alone," he replied, tugging at her arms. She tightened her grip yet again and he sighed wearily. If he didn't need her power so very very much….
"I don't want to be alone," she said. "Please stay."
"Hell," Sesshoumaru muttered bad-temperedly. He sighed again, quietly, to himself. What have I done to deserve this?
"You will not be alone, Miko," he said quietly, forcing himself to keep his temper in check. "If you will let go of my person, this Sesshoumaru will stay."
Again, he was reminded, forcibly, of Rin. Growing up, it had sometimes been necessary to bargain with the girl to gain her cooperation. He ruthlessly dismissed the memories trying to claim him, and cleared his mind of everything save getting the miko off of him.
"Promise?" she asked, voice sad and broken. It struck a chord in him, against his will. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why was he being punished in this life? Wasn't retribution exacted in the next world?
"Hai," he growled.
Nothing for several minutes, and then her legs unwound from his hips and her arms loosened their grip. She slid down the front of him; Sesshoumaru took hold of her arms and helped her down the rest of the way. She didn't move away from him immediately. Instead, she stood before him, head bowed. Every now and again, a shudder would wrack that fragile human body, and her hands would clench into his kimono.
He removed her clammy hands from his clothing, then let his arms drop to his sides and watched her. She finally raised her head and looked up at him.
She looked as destroyed as the day he'd found her. He tilted his head to one side as he watched her. She looked like a stranger; if he'd been deprived of his sense of smell, he never would have been able to tell it was the same irritating chit that had traveled with Inuyasha. Her eyes were wet, and the tears she'd shed shone brightly on her cheeks in the faint moonlight. The more intense emotions were leaving her, being replaced with sorrow and regret. It made him sad without knowing why.
She turned and found Mamoru, who stepped forward and took her hand. She gripped it tightly, as if afraid of losing him. As if he was the only thing grounding her and she was desperate not to lose her anchor. It was the same way she'd been holding onto him, frantic, frightened.
Sesshoumaru sighed and closed his eyes. This was far more than he'd bargained for. He knew nothing of healing, only of destroying. It was his lot in life—his own name announced it to all who heard it. It was in his nature, in his personality, to annihilate. And now, he was supposed to mend what had been sundered? Imagine: in order to destroy, he, Sesshoumaru, must first heal.
How very strange Fate could be.
