He is present.
An unfamiliar strangeness settles into their home. It's sudden. Unexpected. It's there in the wood and the walls, in the gardens. She finds it in her bedroom and the hushed whispers that float down corridors too long and too wide to spare privacy. But it's most strongly there in her mate's absence, and his absences are more frequent and last far longer than usual.
"Mother."
She looks up, her anxiety hidden from no one and least of all him.
Sesshoumaru doesn't smile easily anymore—not like he used to. But his eyes are warm, and he holds out a hand, trying to distract her. "Walk with me."
Without a word, she takes it.
He is steadfast, he is resilient, and he is comforting. And he escorts her about the gardens, unrushed at her pace.
"You are worried."
Kimi looks at him, the truth of his observation unconcealed. "I fear I have reason to be worried." She doesn't recognize her own voice as she says it, the quiet, weak tone sticking in her throat as she looks straight ahead.
"There is no reason to be worried until one presents itself."
When she glances at his profile, he's looking ahead too.
Her heart melts at the same time it sinks, the realization that he's as troubled her pulling at her instincts and leaving her wanting to soothe. To hold.
To make better.
But he's not a pup anymore. And as they continue walking, silence stretching between them like a string about to snap, regret bleeds in and clouds out the fear.
She can't save him from this. And try as he might to pretend otherwise, it's hurting him too.
Sighing, she loops her arm through his. "You are strong. Like your father," she finishes quietly.
"You are mistaken."
It wasn't what she expected to hear, and Kimi turns to look up at him, her question on her face. And for the first time that day, her son's hard edges soften.
Sesshoumaru's eyes slide to hers, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I take after my mother."
Pride burns through her, and she manages a smile, even as her eyes prick with tears.
He's not wrong; he is strong like her.
"Come. Let us return."
And as he turns them back, she glimpses his face, taking in the clenched set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes.
Her blood runs cold.
He is strong like her. And should her suspicions be correct, one thing is clear.
Touga's life is in her son's hands.
