Having been caught staring, the miko turned away, her cheeks turning a strangely enticing shade of pink.

Sesshoumaru followed her to a butcher's stall, his nose wrinkling at the scents of meats at various ages of decomposition.

The miko didn't linger, her hands not even touching the surface of the stall as she frowned in revulsion.

He didn't cut her off—didn't even fall in step beside her—he simply placed the iris in her basket and bowed his head as he passed.

"I apologize if my presence has caused you any unease." Not waiting for an answer, he headed towards the surrounding forest, intent on hunting before returning to the camp.