And here is chapter fourteen. Thank you all for the fantastic reviews. Like always they warm my heart! This chapter will dive a bit more into Sesshōmaru's psychic and I hope you all like it.

InuYasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.

o.O.o

Chapter Fourteen, Travelling

When she finally found him two days later, dusk had deepened and a thick mist lay behind them among the trees below. It was cold, and the sky was clear, stars out and shining brightly. The moon was riding high in the West and her feet were slightly hurt from the track she had made over the stony hills. Chiharu straightened the straps of her self-made rucksack and carefully peered over her shoulder into the darkness of a deep winding valley. It was a long way down and she shuddered. Shippō was cuddled against her chest, his breathing laboured from nerves. The closer they got the closer to hysterics Shippō got.

She'd known he was close. His scent, tangled with the rich metallic scent of his blood was strong. Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers trough Shippō's sandy hair.

"He's close isn't he?"

She nodded, the pull so strong she had to ground her teeth together. There was a human village nearby and a river cackled gently not even a mile away. Chiharu followed the scent until she noticed Sesshōmaru's silver hair spilling almost gently over the soft fur he always wore over his shoulder. The stoic Daiyōkai seemed to be sleeping. The magenta stripes over his cheekbones and wrists were back to normal and his breathing was even. If she hadn't known him, she would probably have thought she was looking at an angel. His pristine silk clothing was soaked in blood and the intimidating armour was broken. Even looking like that he still had that aura of power radiating from his physique.

Now that she found him she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. The damage that she could see was bad. A large deep gash adorned the left side of his chest, cutting clean through armour and haori. It was so deep his left arm hung uselessly next to him and she realised there must have been nerve damage. Although considering yōkai-healing was rather potent, she didn't think it was permanent.

"He doesn't look so well," Shippō whispered and she nodded again.

Chiharu carefully inched closer, setting Shippō down on the forest floor. "Stay there, Hun."

He nodded and she carefully traced his cheek before taking the last few remaining steps that separated them. The damage to his chest and up his shoulder was even worse than she'd thought. Although the heavy blood flow had stopped, the gashes were still very deep.

"Careful," Shippō whispered, his face was a bit frantic and she smiled at him. She reached for him, her hand carefully peeling the shredded haori back. His demonic energy cackled and it was almost enough to have her stumble back — probably slipping over own feet and landing on her arse. She watched in horrified astonishment as muscle knitted itself together and the veins found each other again, slipping seamlessly into each other before red raw skin started to close the gap. Much of the gash remained, although less deep and far less horrible looking and as she brought her hand back, she felt drained.

She felt her knees wobble and she glanced over her shoulder, slightly panicking. Shippō shook his head, not sure what was happening either. When she looked back her breath hitched. Golden eyes were looking right back at her.

"What did you do?" She asked slowly, hands now firmly fisted into her haori.

He gave her a long look before shifting. Although that one gash looked better, he was still badly hurt and she shot to her feet, knees wobbling. "You shouldn't move, you idiot!"

He shot her an annoyed look still attempting to get up and Shippō gave a whimper, scuttling closer to the large oak tree behind him. The little boy was almost hyperventilating when Sesshōmaru glanced at him but refocused on the task of getting up. She frowned, the idea to use his pain, his hurt, against him, was quickly losing its merit. Part of her, the part highly influenced by the mark on her throat, wanted to help him. The other part wanted to slap him senseless and then begrudgingly help him.

He struggled up to one knee, breathing hard and she used both hands, pushing back against his shoulders until he sat back. She noticed his talons tingeing green but when she made no other move, nor gave of any hint she was about to try something stupid he slumped back against the bark of the tree.

"Shippō-chan?" she started. The little fox-yōkai nodded at the mention of his name. She could practically smell his fear. "Can you get me some water from the river."

"Chiharu-chan?"

"I need water," she explained, "I'm fine, I'll just need the water." She smiled, sitting down on her knees and rummaging through her rucksack until she found a larger bowl and Shippō careful took it from her, still trying to stay as far out of Sesshōmaru's reach as he could.

"What are you doing here, Miko?"

His foolish attempt had reopened several fresh gashes on his shoulder and down his right side and he winced when he leaned back against the tree.

"Helping you," she whispered softly, sitting back on her heels. She listened to the noise of the water, the whisper of the dark trees and Shippō's soft quick footballs. She slowly got up to her feet and kicked at several fallen tree branches until they were assembled in a neat pile and she crouched down again, taking one of the sticks, the one looking the most like a spindle stick and one of the branches still with her feet. Rolling it harshly between her palms, creating friction. She did it as fast as she could until the friction created a little bit of some and the stick started to create a hot ember.

He started to move again and Chiharu sighed.

"A wound won't heal if you keep opening it up." She said out loud, his eyes snapped open, gaze meeting hers dead on and she wrung her hands together. Coming here might not have been one of her wisest ideas either. She lay the necessaries out onto the forest floor, in front of the hissing fire. It needed some more kindling if this was going to work. She stoked the fire with a stick and shifted in her seat.

"What do you want in return?"

"Do you always need a reason to help someone else?" she asked slowly and his narrowed.

"You humans always do." He coldly returned and he gave a meaningful look at her neck. She swallowed. She had every right to want him to help her with that, yet when he put it like that she felt almost ashamed she had even thought it.

Scowling, she combed her hair over her right shoulder, effectively hiding the mark from his eyes. Fingers fiddling with her hair she slowly met his eyes again. "Fine, I'll admit it, I considered it," she admitted and she saw his eyes widen. Pursing her lips together Chiahre kindled the fire until it was crackling merrily.

"This Sesshōmaru isn't cold." He told her and she barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"I'm glad you aren't, but I am." She whispered softly. She didn't have to speak up, he heard her anyway.

Shippō returned, a bowl of water clasped between little paws. "Here's your water, Chiharu-chan."

"Thank you,"

She poured it over in a pan, Kagome had given her and hung it above the fire, waiting until the water warmed enough. Shrugging out of her haori she offered it to the little Kitsune and smiled. "Try to sleep, Sweetie."

He looked at her with wide tired eyes. "I can't do that." He murmured and she folded her large scarf up until it could serve like a tatami. She smiled warmly and wrapped him up in her haori, his eyes were already drooping and placed him gently on the scarf. He was close enough to the fire to stay warm and far enough from it to not get burned. She watched him for a moment, huddled in her haori, face content before turning around. The Daiyōkai was observing her intently and she sighed again. He was very difficult.

"The wounds need to be cleaned. Else it takes longer and you'll have a larger risk to get an infection." She snapped. The night was marred with large clouds, et the cold moon gave just enough light.

"I'm Yōkai, I do not get infections."

"I'm sure, but you're not healing all that fast either."

He glared at her. He had not been healing well until she had neared him. Drained her of an amount of her power. His glare intensified and she felt jittery like she had a thousand ants crawling under her skin.

Munching the Yarrow leaves to a pulp she added it to the water. According to the apothecary at home, it could be used for healing wounds, as well as soothing the skin. It was supposed to act antiseptic as well as stopping the bleeding. She glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, he was eyeing her hands suspiciously but didn't seem alarmed. And why should he, after all, he probably was immune to most poisons and acids. Chiharu dappled a piece of clean linen into the lukewarm water and moved towards the Daiyōkai again.

"You better not be—"

She didn't wait for him to finish that sentence and pressed the cloth against the large gash the side of his chest. He hissed, grabbing her wrist with his good unwounded hand and squeezed. "Miko!"

She winced trying to pull her arm free and glowered at him. "You're hurting me," she whispered. His eyes were cold and she tried to pull her wrist again. "Of course you wouldn't care, but still, let go of me!"

The light of the fire shone into the woods, giving his pale skin a more earthy look. She dropped the cloth caught it with her other hand and pressed it against the wound again. He glared at her and she glared back. His face stoney and her eyes narrowed.

"Stop!" he ordered, his urbane voice tight with anger. By then she had already rubbed the liquid on the other wounds as well and she slowly relented, dropping the cloth back into the bowl filled with water.

"Fine, whatever."

He let go of her hand and she scuttled back. The paleness of his face had lessened, a healthier colour returning. Chiharu felt somewhat tired and slowly back-pedalled towards Shippō's sleeping form. She huddled the small boy close to her chest, she closed her eyes, sighing gratefully for the warmth the fire created.

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

Sesshōmaru watched her, sprawled out on the forest floor in her hakama and in an ill-fitting kosode. The kit snuggled closer to her and she motherly pulled him against her side. The girl acted like his mother. Slim fingers rubbing soothing circles on the boy's arm. The girl was entirely different from anything he'd ever seen.

Sesshōmaru sighed. His left arm was still useless, but her presence was making him feel better. The moment she had neared him, fingertips suddenly pressing against the gash on his left shoulder as she examined it, he'd felt his wound close, knit back together. His arm was still without function, but he did show signs of regeneration. He was definitely not in a good mood.

The girl was a bit of an enigma. It wasn't surprising she would seek him out. She would have been compelled to seek him out, but he was surprised about her character. Both her and her sister, although the other miko, the perpetually half-naked one, was not someone he usually kept an eye out for, they both seemed somewhat selfless.

The Miko whimpered. He supposed she was cold, her face scrunched up as she hugged the little kitsune closer to herself. Sesshōmaru observed them for a moment. The girl acted like his surrogate mother. The human acted as the Yōkai's surrogate mother. The fox kit, Shippō. When he'd observed her, he'd often observed him too. The kit was often naively observant, directing cheeky comments to Sesshōmaru's half-brother. It earned him half of the time a smack on the head.

The girl trembled again.

The only thing missing now was the little girl offering some human meal he was not interested in and he massaged the bridge of his nose with his good hand. As she sighed again, stirring slightly as she started to wake he sighed tiredly. He wasn't really in the mood to have to deal with her again and he steered his mokomoko to cover the girl. She sighed again but at least she remained asleep.

He gritted his teeth in anger. This was what he was reduced to. Spying on a mortal girl, as she slept. He sighed again and stared at the starry sky. The moon shone brightly and sky an inky-black. Ever since the day in the yōkai graveyard, she had become somewhat of a plague. Standing alone, gazing out over his land, while her very essence pressed against the bond. Her senses were still blunt unless he let her know he was there, she had no idea he had been watching her picking herbs with the elderly Miko or huddle around the campfire.

Immune as he'd always believed himself to be, after all, he was not his father, he'd never been ignorant to charms some human women possessed. She was just a girl. Still, she did look lovely, her scent always clean, having a strange habit of bathing, and there was a thrum of power through her blood. All in all there was enough about her that was puzzling.

And she was dying.

He never had any intention to help her. There wasn't much he could do anyway. It had rather surprised him she had held out so long. He was even more surprised that her senses, her sense of smell and her hearing, had strengthened. Never would he have expected that the Miko's reiki would be sensitive to the change brought forward by his youki.

Still, she was dying.

And if she did the interesting little Miko would stop existing. Tenseiga pulsed at his hip, once again compelled him to intervene. He sighed, closing his eyes. The girl was as exhausting as she was good-natured. He found her annoying to a new degree.

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

When morning came the bitter chill slowly lessened. The pitch-black darkness in the East slowly, but steadily, faded to a cold grey, the stars' light distinguishing. Red and orange streaks leapt above the tall trees and the autumn sun rose higher and higher. Chiharu's neck was stiff and, with birds singing and light around them, she slowly got to her feet. She carefully followed the path, eroded from the many feet that had taken this road, to the river. It was a small stream with a wide bend, flowing south. The land was green with wet meads along grassy borders and the water cackled merrily. Chiharu puckered her lips, glanced at the mossy stone set upon turves under the green bank and she kicked off her sandals.
When she awoke she was feeling warm and fuzzy. At first, she thought her sister might have covered in her blankets at home, but then she suddenly remembered she was at Sengoku-jidai. She had opened her eyes slowly, only to discover the soft fur Sesshōmaru normally wore over his shoulder, was wrapped around her. When she sat up it had moved across from her without the Daiyōkai even touching it and she had been unsure what she should do. In the end, she went through her morning ritual and carefully peered at the wounds on Sesshōmaru.

Shippō grinned jumping through the shallow water, his face alive with glee.

"Finally something else than Ramen!"

"I thought you liked Ramen?" Chiharu answered softly, slipping over slick stones and dappled carefully through the water. She blanched as her barefoot sinking in the sandbank and carefully lowered the bowl into the water. The river ran down swiftly into the plain and down the hill in a wide bend. The lands up here were green, large meadows along grassy borders and large willow-trees.

"I do," Shippō admitted as he settled on a lone boulder in the water and glanced at passing fishes, "we always have Ramen. I'm sick of Ramen."

Chiharu nodded slowly, carefully filling the bowl to the rim. She watched in awe as the little fox-kit shot into the water and came up with a large salmon. A brown trout with other fish, startled from the capture of one of their own, swam away.

"If you catch a bit more, I can cook it for you."

Shippō nodded excitedly and with small claws dealt with the fish. She smiled at him before stepping out of the river, slightly tired. Feet damp, she stepped into her sandals and blew a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She slowly but gradually returned to the small clearing. The sun had reached its heights point Sesshōmaru was still leaning against the thick bark of the tree, eyes closed and expression blank. She blew a lock of hair out of her face and sank to the forest-floor, stoking the fire. The leaves she had collected hung limply from the stalks and she chewed on her bottom lip.

For some reason, Chiharu's heart was racing. She could only remember bits of what her grandfather had told her about these herbs. If she did something wrong, perhaps the nature of the properties would be destroyed and she would have to start anew. Would they be destroyed by overheating? Would they work at all when she didn't cook them long enough? She indecisively watched as the water slowly started to warm. She was pretty sure the leaves should be added after the liquid was boiling. When the water bubbled she added the leaves and waited again, counting the seconds in her head. When it is close to five minutes she lifted the kettle and poured the sweet-smelling liquid in a white cup.

The scent seemed about right. It was even the soft green colour it was supposed to be and Chiharu smiled, wondering if she'd actually done it right and the qualities of the leaves had leaked out into the water. Pouring a bit of the potion in another cup she brought it quickly to her mouth, sniffing it slowly. It did smell like the stuff her grandfather would make for her, years back just after the accident. Quickly taking a sip she winced. Aside from it being too hot, burning the roof of her mouth and her tongue, it tasted strongly bitter and unpleasant. Making a face she shuddered. It tasted exactly how she remembered it would. It should do the trick.

"I am not drinking that."

Of course, there was always that. She sighed. "It is good for you. It helps those wounds heal better."

He gave her a stubborn look, looking more than his brother that he would have liked and Chiharu gripped the cup with the infusion in it tightly between her fingers.

"Just drink it. If I can drink it, then how could it be something bad for you?"

"The smell offends me."

'Your existence offends me,' she thought darkly and crossed the clearing. He batted at her, his movements sludgy and inaccurate, yet, some of the liquid still spilt and splashed on the forest-floor and she felt a muscle in her cheek twitch. "Do you have to be difficult?"

"I am not drinking that." He told her again and she stared at him.

"Oh, for God's sake, even my brother, who is nine years old, isn't this difficult." She told him, hoping being compared to her lowly human brother would do the trick. It wasn't true of course. When Sōta had to drink infusions grandfather made he acted as if someone made an attempt on his life. Yet, she wasn't about to tell Sesshōmaru that.

He gave her a cold, tired look and with one well-aimed swipe of his arm, flipped her feet out from under her and she fell harshly on the forest floor. How she managed to keep her cup up and at least some of the contents of it, she had no idea. The sun was bright and the birds chirped while the taller Daiyōkai glared down at her.

She slowly sat up.

He cracked his fingers when she held up the cup again and she realised he was using his left arm again. Her eyes widened slightly. "You're healing fast."

"I am not my brother," he coldly told her.

"Right," She slowly got to her feet, knees suddenly buckling and she fell to the forest floor again. "What? How do you do that?"

He didn't answer. It shouldn't have surprised her. She gruffly returned to the fire, body tired and face pale. She glanced at Sesshōmaru though her peripheral vision. He was looking much better and with growing horror she realised he had drained her from her power. Cheeks flushing in indignation, he had pretty much set her up. Closing her eyes,

Massaging the bridge of her nose she rolled her shoulders as her reiki travelled through her, pink energy travelling through her veins. When she opened her eye again, she felt slightly better. Pressing her lips together in a hard line and started to set out of her cooking devices. Shippō eyed Sesshōmaru warily when he returned, sniffed at the sweet-smelling liquid and pinched his face before offering the fish to her. The Daiyōkai watched her silently as she cooked the fish, cooking rice as well, to complete the dish.

They ate well of the fish, and they sat back huddled around the fire, watching the sparks of the fire ascend towards the sky. Chiharu caught him looking at her. When she caught Inuyasha looking at her, or even Miroku, they always diverted their eyes, yet the Daiyōkai held her gaze. She fidgeted, rubbing her hands together.

He suddenly got to his feet, she hadn't expected that, even with his healing rate, and stalked towards her. Shippō squeaked falling over his own feet as fingers curled into the collar of her haori and hoisted her up again. She gasped, immediately reminded of the day in the yōkai graveyard where he had done the exact same thing and tried to duck out of his arm but even weakened he was faster than she was. She found herself suddenly pressed against a tree, the rough bark of the tree biting into her cheek.

"What—" she gasped, trying to swipe her hand at him the way Inuyasha had taught her and winced when he caught it and twisted it behind her back. Her other wrist was easily captured as well, one large hand holding both of her wrists while the other hand, fully healed and fully functional, wrapped around the soft dark strands tipping her head back.

"Don't!" she gasped, fear almost overwhelming her. "I tried to help you."

"Stop your whining, girl." He snapped, she could practically feel his eyes on her neck glancing at the angry red of the puckered flesh. Shippō snarled, foolishly charging and although Sesshōmaru did let go of her hair for a moment to knock the child out with a flick of his wrist, he had her head tipped back before Shippō even fell to the floor.

"How— You hurt him!" she whimpered renewing her struggles. Her power so drained it didn't aid her in the slightest and his proximity wasn't helping either. Trying to sidestep him, while he had her body so effectively pressed against the tree, didn't work and the tingles running down her arms and legs intensified.

She tilted her head, glancing at his face and shuddered when she noticed a frightening smirk slowly pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps, little human, you have your uses."

He craned her neck, tipping her it back and craning his mark to him. His mouth clamped down over the angry mark and she gasped. All sensations stopped at once and Chiharu sighed. Even though her neck stung when canines pierced her skin, she couldn't help but lean her head willingly back against his shoulder. She felt his youki swirl through her and her senses calmed, finally the prickles, the jittery feeling she felt all the time fell away.

She sighed again, as his tongue swirled over the new wound he'd made and then… he was gone…

To be continued…

A/N: I will not generalise anyone, but in my opinion, some men are absolutely hopeless when they're sick. I know for a fact women can be horrid as well (don't get me wrong), but it sometimes seems to me that men act touch when someone else is feeling under the weather, but when they've got it themselves… Horror. Or at least, that is how my brother acts when he is sick. Absolutely unhelpful when I or my mum are sick, but when he himself caught something nasty — the flu or a sinus infection — he was overbearing, demanding and acted like he was about to die.

Either way, he acts like a child. So this (Sesshōmaru's) display of childishness is largely based on my brother's sickly days.

I tried to make Chiharu as much as a nowadays teenager as I could. I myself have been no help with that. I will admit, although never out loud, I used to play with dolls till I was fifteen years old and only had a crush (strange flutterings in my stomach, my best friend had a field day) on someone for the first time. I was seventeen so obviously, can't say I'm the right person to look to.

Anyway, please comment! I love to know what you all think!

Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi