Kagome didn't bother turning on the overhead lights as they sat at the kitchen table and instead flicked on the Tiffany lamp sitting by the window that had been in her family for years. The colored, patterned glass was cozy, casting a subdued glow better suited for quiet conversation and catching up. It was just enough to see comfortably without leaving either of them feeling exposed, and on a whim, she grabbed the small mosaic hurricane lamp sitting beside it.
The candle lighter made a quick snap as she depressed the trigger to light the wick, and she chanced a glance at him. "Is it weird if I say I'm glad you're here?"
Sesshoumaru set a bowl in front of her and pulled out her chair as she sat the lamp in the center of the table. "No more than finding myself glad of your company."
"Thank you," she said, letting him seat her. A faint heat rose in her cheeks, and she found herself grateful for the soft lighting and warm amber and red hues emanating from the hurricane holder. She couldn't remember a time when any man had helped her into her chair—not even on a date.
He would have good manners.
She waited for him to sit and then stole a quick drink of her wine before picking up her chopsticks. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how did your tail end up in an auction house?"
"That is a mystery even to me." Like her, Sesshoumaru sipped more wine before turning his attention to his dinner. "It was separated from me in 1945 after the bomb was dropped."
Kagome's chopsticks clattered onto the table, her eyes widening. "You're one of the hibakusha?"
"I am," he said quietly. Picking up his wine again, he looked almost angry as he took a drink from it. "Hiroshima. I became separated from mokomoko when I had to flee the city."
Tears burned behind her eyes, and she quickly took a bite, taking her time to chew until she had once again had control of her emotions. "Mokomoko…isn't that what Rin called it?"
A fond smile warmed his features. "It is."
Smiling back weakly, she felt her resolve to not be emotional slip away. "Were you"—her voice stuck in her throat—"were you hurt?"
The sudden raw look in his eyes cut her to her core, and she watched the muscle in his jaw tighten as he looked back at her.
"Yes."
She felt sick.
Across from her, Sesshoumaru reached up and undid the two top buttons of his shirt. "Radiation poisoning. I fled to the forests, but it was too late." He pulled aside the material to expose his upper right side.
Kagome's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, gods."
This time the tears didn't stop. Below his clavicle, right underneath the long, magenta marking parallel to the bone, a shining scar the size of a dinner plate wrapped from his chest to his shoulder.
He carefully rebuttoned his shirt. "Centuries of battles." His eyes didn't leave hers. "With the exception of regaining my arm, this was the first to scar me."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she didn't trust herself to speak. This was Sesshoumaru—steadfast and dauntless Sesshoumaru. Even a decade later she remembered the force of his power and how terrifying it could be. And he hadn't escaped uninjured.
She shook her head. "I can't imagine."
A bitter sound escaped his throat as he reached for his wine. "Do not try to." His eyes met hers again. "You do not want to."
"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say.
"It is past."
They didn't say anything for a while after that. They both sat buried in their wine glasses, him trying to regather his thoughts while Kagome resisted the urge to throw all etiquette aside and launch herself over the table to hug him—previous lack of friendship be damned.
She didn't pick up her utensils to eat again until he did.
"What did you do after the well returned you to this time?" He took a small, neat bite, seeming to test his appetite after the difficult turn in conversation.
Kagome swallowed a bite and then dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, stalling. "Cried." She watched as Sesshoumaru stopped eating to listen, the dark amber of his eyes flickering in the candlelight. "Crawled into bed and refused to get out until Mama dragged the blanket off of me."
"You were young."
The edges of her napkin frayed between fidgeting fingers as she nodded. "I was young." She glanced up then, trying not to smile. "Still am—especially in present company."
To her surprise and pleasure, his lips twitched as he picked up his wine again. "Very funny."
She gave in and grinned. "I thought so."
He watched her over the rim of his glass, narrowing his eyes a bit, but she could see the upturned corner of his mouth.
Feeling a bit lighter, Kagome dug back into her food. "Anyway, life pretty much became boring. I finished school. Went to college—"she swallowed and used her chopsticks to point to their surroundings—"and then failed at moving on."
"You work here at the shrine?"
"For the last three years." She held out the bottle in silent offer, which he accepted. "Right after graduating I tried to hold down a job in my field, but it turns out I couldn't bear to be far from here. I moved back."
She thanked him when he refilled her glass.
"What did you get your degree in?"
"Architecture." Her look grew wistful. "I wanted to bring out more traditional aesthetics in neighborhood design. It feels anymore like we're losing too much to modernist values." She paused then, fighting the bashfulness that rose at the admission. Not once had she shared that with anyone.
He wasn't looking at her. "Why do you think you chose that?"
"I miss the village," she answered honestly. "The look, the smell. The sense of community." Her fingers tapped at her glass. "It seemed worthwhile to bring pieces of that back." She laughed then, the sound more nervous than she'd have liked, and wiped her eyes. She missed her old job more than she had thought. "Sounds silly saying it out loud."
"Not at all." Sesshoumaru was mimicking her own movement now, his claws tapping against the clear crystal in his hand. The resonating sound it produced was pleasant.
"What about you?"
The small smirk came back. "Currently?"
Her own lips began to stretch wide, and the thought that this was all unpredictably comfortable flashed through her mind. "Currently."
"I am an architect." He raised his wine to his lips, ignoring her flabbergasted look. "And you are right. The past is too easily lost to modern design."
He took a sip, arching a brow as he did.
Kagome just stared. "You're not joking?"
"Why would I jest about my occupation?"
With a shake of her head, she braced her elbows on the table and leaned in. "So, I run off with your tail, you don't kill me for it, and now you're telling me we have something in common?"
"It would seem that way."
She stared at him a moment longer and then sat back, giving him a wry look. "Sesshoumaru, five hundred years ago, you could have been a lot more fun."
His deep baritone echoed when he chuckled as he sipped, and she watched his shoulders relax.
He needed this too.
Finishing the last few bites of her food, Kagome let herself sink more comfortably down into her seat. "Observation?"
"What is that?" The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as he pushed his chair back, settling back to stretch his long legs out in front of him. The wine glass never left his hand.
Kagome didn't respond at first, taking him in instead. He was a paradox—a remnant of the past wrapped in the cloak of the present. The modern attire did nothing to disguise the exotic features of his heritage. As a matter of fact, it probably made his otherness stand out more. But as he casually sat across from her, sipping wine just as she did, she realized he had adapted over time.
Perhaps better than she had.
"You've changed," she finally said. Motioning to his bowl, she stacked it in hers when he nodded in confirmation of her silent question and then stood to take the dishes to the sink.
Sesshoumaru stood as well and followed her. He braced his hip against the counter and held her wine glass out to her after she set their bowls and utensils to soak. "Is that so unexpected?"
"I don't know." Kagome accepted her glass and took a long sip, eying him curiously. "I think right now I'm still reeling a bit from the unexpected. Yesterday, you all were…" She trailed off, the gut punch that was heartache suddenly stealing her breath. Her hand started to shake, and she set her glass back down, swallowing back the knot that formed in her throat.
Sesshoumaru seemed to understand where her thoughts had turned and stepped closer, his tall form looming over her in the low light. When she wouldn't look at him, one knuckled reach out and tipped up her chin. "We were what, Miko?"
"Dead." She choked on the word as she said it, tears once again welling up as she looked at him. His eyes searched hers as hers did his, and though his were dry, she saw the same anguish she felt deep in the golden depths.
"I think," he said, releasing her chin, "that you had some questions you wanted answers to."
Kagome felt herself nod, but inside she was screaming. No, I don't want to know anymore. I don't.
"I…" Her hesitation tasted bitter on her tongue.
"Closure is a necessary step toward healing, Kagome." His voice was quiet, the experience that only grief brought evident in its tone, and his look hardened. "Do not run from it."
"I want to run from it," she whispered. Everything was suddenly too raw and open, and the visceral reaction she felt to a conversation that hadn't even yet taken place threatened to bowl her over. "I don't want it to be—"
"Real?"
She paled, licking her lips. "Yeah."
"It is already real, Miko." His face softened a bit. "You just have not yet defined for yourself what that is."
A nervous hand reached up and dash through her ponytail, the other pressing to her mouth as she struggled for control. Sesshoumaru was right, and it wasn't going to get better if she avoided what she wanted and didn't want to know.
Pulling at the hem of her shirt, she took a deep breath and then disappeared into the fridge. When she stood, he cocked his head, eyes narrowing in amusement.
Kagome glowered a bit. "I'm not having this conversation without cake." She wrenched the cutlery drawer open harder than necessary and grabbed two forks, half of a strawberry and vanilla cake balanced precariously in her other hand. "Don't judge."
Sesshoumaru smirked and grabbed their half-empty bottle of Riesling. "Outside."
oOoOoOo
"Why are we here?"
The well house was dark except for the light of the full moon streaming through the open doors. The silvery beams fell on the lifeless time portal, illuminating the ancient wood in the blackness, and Kagome felt the tell-tale signs of despair thickening in her throat.
"Because you must say goodbye." Sesshoumaru took her wrist and let her brace against his, helping her ease down to the steps while she balanced the cake in her hands. "And this is the only place you can."
He sat next to her.
"Goodbye?" Kagome placed the cake between them, watching as he propped his elbows on his knees.
He raked his claws through his hair, a heavy air about him as the platinum strands fell over his shoulders, hanging like a curtain as he leaned forward. Then, he turned his head, looking at her before letting his eyes drift to the well and back. "They are here."
A wave of heat washed over here, spreading up her neck and over her face. "What?"
Sesshoumaru's head tilted toward the well, but he watched her face carefully and said nothing else.
Kagome couldn't breathe. For a moment, she simply stared back at him, a distressed, aching shock on her face as she digested what he said. When his gaze didn't waver, the truth of what he had said drilling into her through his refusal to look away, she raised shaky hands to her temples, massaging lightly to fend off the sudden headache that bloomed. It took everything in her to keep the unbidden tears confined behind her eyelids.
"Miko, are you alright?"
Her voice quaked. "Tell me what happened, please."
"Nothing tragic. In the end, they all had found peace and lived good lives."
He sounded reassuring—gentler than normal. If he was struggling, he kept it under tight control. She, on the other hand, gave up trying to maintain any semblance of having it together and picked up a fork.
"Sango and Miroku?" Kagome asked, shoveling a frosting-laden bite in and not caring about her manners. She ignored the amused look he sent her way.
"The monk and the slayer married. Had children—five." Sesshoumaru took up the other fork and gouged a small bite out of the cake, snagging a strawberry with it. "They and their family remained in the village as its protectors until they day they both passed." The fork disappeared behind his lips, and he chewed for a moment, his eyes on the well. "The older miko…Kaede…she passed peacefully in her sleep three years after you disappeared."
Kagome's eyes burned, and she hid her sob behind another mouthful of the confection, chasing it with a swig of the wine straight from the bottle.
"She is buried on the south side of the well. The monk and the slayer are on the east."
Her tears fell freely now, and she didn't bother to hide them. She didn't bother to hide anything. Like a mad woman she dug into the cake, taking too large bites while his were small and neat.
I don't care. He has enough manners for the both of us right now.
Their silverware clanked together, and she looked up and managed a wan smile—a smile which turned to shocked disbelief when he stole the cake right off her fork.
"Hey!"
He chuckled around the pilfered bite and then lazily licked the metal tines clean. "You were becoming too serious."
Grumbling she stabbed at the cake and shoved it in her mouth, not bothering to finish chewing before she spoke. "You're one to talk. And it's not exactly a light conversation."
"No, but you do not need to lose yourself to grief." He gave her a meaningful look. "They lived happily, Miko."
Kagome looked away, tears blurring her vision again. "Maybe, but I wasn't there for them." A small sniffle escaped, and she hid her mouth in her hand before turning back to face him.
Sesshoumaru put his fork down and stretched his legs out before leaning back to brace on his arms. "None of you were given the opportunity to say goodbye. It grieved them then as much as it grieves you now. But you were always held close in their memories."
"I wish they had known how much they stay in mine."
"They never doubted that you would remember them," he said quietly.
She didn't know how to process that and dragged her knees up to her chest, laying her chin atop them as she hugged them close. "I hope not." Turning her cheek to glimpse him, she sighed as the scent of her worn denim blended with woods from her past. "I think I know why you seem so different now."
"Oh?" Not looking at her, he picked up his utensil again and dug into the cake. "And what is it you have discovered, Miko?"
There was a slight challenge in his voice so reminiscent of before that Kagome almost laughed, but it was simply that: a challenge. And underneath of it she could sense his own curiosity.
She smiled sadly. "You're not angry anymore."
Sesshoumaru paused mid-bite, shoulders tensing. Minutes ticked by like they were hours, and she waited, her own nervous tension escalating with each passing moment, while he said nothing. Her breath came more shallowly, the darkness of the well house suddenly more daunting. More overwhelming.
She swallowed. "Sesshoumaru?"
The fork slid from his mouth, and he carefully licked his lips clean, still not looking at her. "You are not incorrect." His shoulders relaxed, and he dug out another strawberry, brows knit as he dealt with whatever it was going through his mind. "I was angry."
He didn't say anything else, and Kagome didn't push it, turning her attention once again to the dessert. There was only about an eighth of the cake left, and she suddenly dreaded the moment its distraction was gone. She picked up the wine and took another drink.
"Who's buried on the west side?"
Something unrecognizable passed over his face, and he reached over and plucked the bottle from her hands, sipping from it just as she had with his eyes fixed on the well. "Rin. Her husband with her."
"Oh." The image of the happy child who was never far from his side filtered into her mind's eye. She remembered a sweet, fearless girl—one the great daiyoukai would do anything for. "I'm sorry."
Sesshoumaru took another drink and gave a quick shake of his head. "She was happy. Loved." He handed the bottle back to her.
"Who did she marry?" she asked, taking a drink again.
"Jinenji."
Kagome spit her wine, managing to turn her head just in time to avoid him and the cake. Tears sprung to her eyes from the exertion and she swiped her hand over her mouth, trying not to choke. "What?"
His smile was wry as he watched her. "Your reaction and mine were not so dissimilar." His eyes softened as he looked back to Rin's resting place. "It was the only time we ever truly fought."
Her own lips twitched. "Looks like she won."
He scoffed, but there was a smile on his face. "She played dirty."
Laughing, Kagome followed his line of sight and smiled just a bit bigger. Good for you, Rin.
They just sat then. The cake and wine went untouched, and for a while no more words passed between them. It was just dark and silent, but the silence was companionable and the darkness not so oppressive with company, even in the presence of ghosts.
She had just begun to think about how peaceful it all was when, without warning, Sesshoumaru stood and extended a hand to her.
"Come."
The peaceful feeling left quickly as it came, cold dread seizing her spine. "I'm not ready."
His eyes didn't leave hers. "You are."
"I'm not." But even as she said it, she was reaching up. Her hand slipped into his, and she stared at the sight of her smaller one against the larger span of his. The claw-tipped fingers that had once sought to end her were no less imposing than she remembered, but the fear they previously inspired in her was gone.
"I—" Her voice shook.
His hand wrapped around hers, and there was strength and warmth. "You are not alone."
Then, before Kagome realized what was happening, Sesshoumaru pulled her up, hooked his arm around her, and leapt into the well.
A/N: I hope this finds everyone safe and well. Reviews/ comments are appreciated. 3
