He's a sweet child.

Kimi wanders through the gardens, the sound of the guzheng being played near one of the flower beds floating over the raucous sound of children playing. She smiles at the sounds of fun and laughter, but it doesn't quite meet her eyes.

Touga has been gone for weeks, dealing with a skirmish in the north, and she misses him. But there's still a household to care for and manage, so she pushes aside her sadness and carries on, trying to not let the sharp edge of worry crowd her thoughts in the silence that has followed in the wake of his absence.

A hand slipping into hers pulls her from her thoughts.

Claws that are still too soft prick at her palm, and she looks down to find the inquisitive eyes of her son looking back up at her.

"Why aren't you playing, Sesshoumaru?" she asks kindly, nodding to the other children. "You love this game."

His eyes follow her for a moment, but then he shakes his head, his hand tightening around hers. "You are sad. I will stay." And he steps forward, tugging her with, and begins to lead her around the garden.

Her mother's heart melts.

He is small and perfect and observant.

Kimi lets him lead her, watching him ignore the games he had been enjoying as he stays by her side, instead taking peace in the same music she cherished from her homeland.

When the piece she had been playing herself the first time she saw Touga begins, her sadness creeps in.

She almost gets lost to it—sucked into the nostalgia of that memory. But her son's hand tightening around hers distracts her, and she looks down at her side. "Sesshoumaru?"

He smiles up at her, too much understanding in his young face. "Father will be home soon."

She smiles back, grateful.