The heavy wood creaks as he pushes it wide enough to slip inside.
Darkness greets him. There's not a bulb burning in the tiny house, not a curtain open to let in the moonlight. It's dismal, dull, and thick with grief, clean and unlived in as if life had just stopped.
His hands tighten into fists, and Sesshoumaru looks away.
"You disappeared."
Her voice cuts through the stillness, and he turns. "Kagome—"
"No." Standing before him, her blue eyes blaze even as she hugs herself. "You promised you wouldn't, but"—her voice cracks and she clears her throat—"you did."
