Chapter 2 – Drawn First Blood
The summoned meeting was turning out to be a complete and utter waste of time. It was nothing more than a show of face to satisfy the delicate lattice of truce, and not for the bored inu's satisfaction, either. The tortuous missive had practically begged for his attendance. And for what? To settle a petty trade dispute at the fault of the South?
Inwardly, he groused, the temptation to simply slice off their heads a welcomed treat. He should have denied them mercy for their pitfalls and demanded their surrender. Yet for propriety's sake, he was now sitting through a lengthy proposal at the Southern Capitol, words echoing monotonously in the meeting chamber, lingering meaninglessly like a foul stench.
"…as you see, joint control on the Takamatsu ports would be optimal for our mutual benefits," concluded the elaborate oration of the Southern Lord. With the way the rough, thick furs stood like pins along his husky frame, anyone could conclude that the bear was a more than a touch anxious. His gestures had been overly exemplified, and the easy avoidance of eye contact to one very unimpressed lord was an easy giveaway.
"The East concurs with Lord Tadeka's solution…" The panther demon was casting a yellow-eyed glance towards the silent inuyoukai as he spoke. "...should it also be acceptable to Lord Sesshomaru."
Their attempt to sway his decision was terribly transparent, and the Lord of the East was especially keen. Such were the tactics of the cat. There had been suspicions of ulterior backing, and now he had confirmations that the East was in dalliance with the South for this specific trade route. And for this proposal to work, it would need the approval of the West lest it break any long-standing treaties and incite a war, like it almost did just days prior.
Yet, this was taking up too much time. Lord Sesshomaru absolutely did not have to be present for what could have been easily accomplished in a letter. And so, as payback for having to sit through such tedious discussions, he purposefully drawn out silences of thoughtful consideration before finally giving an answer.
"The West accepts," he intoned with formality, "On one condition."
The bear was raptly heeding, hanging with trepidation upon each and every word, feeling the weight of Sesshomaru's heavy gaze.
"The West will collect a twenty percent tariff on all trades through this passage. No exceptions."
Upon hearing the judgement, relief emanated off of Lord Tadeka instantly, shoulders relaxing as though a great burden had been lifted. He had been fearfully expecting the Western Lord to fully reject the proposal. Negotiations with such an overbearing, powerful being had always been taxing on his rattled nerves. He was evermore thankful that majority of past negotiations had been conducted during his sire's reign, and thus had avoided the responsibility of going toe to toe with the House of the West until only recently. Those dogs were always chillingly brutal in court dealings.
"Agreed, Lord Sesshomaru. The South accepts your condition," Lord Tedeka replied gratuitously with a slight bow; low enough to express reverence, but not too low to shun his station. He was still the head of a Cardinal Royal House, after all.
The panther grinned delightfully. Though the deal was between the West and the South, derivative benefits will flow to the East without capital buy-in. Though they would still have to pitch in towards the tax, it was still a lesser price to pay than establishing a new trade route through the aforementioned ports.
"Splendid!" leered the feline eagerly, "Let us quickly sign to officiate the new treaty."
Several servants appeared with bowls of heated wax, ink pots and quills. After a final read-over, three parchments of the new agreement were sealed and sanctified with each of their House's insignia.
After the signing ceremony, the low tables that all had been seated at were quickly cleared away as saké was then brought out for a celebratory drink. The concoction was finely formulated and extremely potent to have any effect for youkai enjoyment. And for such an occasion, their host had procured one of the more expensive options, its aroma sharp and pervasive.
"One more thing to complete our transaction…" Lord Tadeka began after the first round had been toasted and downed. As they waited – unexcitedly – for the announcement, the bear snapped pawed fingers for two of his guards. They disappeared and reappeared moments later bringing out a small structure, wheeling it to stop closest to the Lord of the West.
Arching a brow, Sesshomaru hoped it was not more bottles of wine. His own cup had barely been touched, not one to indulge in anything that would dull his senses, especially when away on business.
He scoffed at the tradition. For propriety's sake.
Eyeing the structure, it appeared to be a square, wooden cart. No larger than five feet wide on all sides, it sat upon a set of wooden wheels. The entire thing was covered in a sheet of forest green and dark gold tapestry, hiding its mysterious content from view.
Lord Tadeka beamed at the Western Lord's intrigue. A masking spell had been purposely leveraged to keep this a surprise, considering the sensitivity of the canine's refined senses. He continued the prelude, boasted by a stream of liquid confidence.
"Lord Sesshomaru, as our gracious and honoured guest, the South offers a parting gift. Please accept this token of appreciation for our new partnership." With a swift tug of the sheets, the contents of the cart were revealed for all to see.
Golden eyes almost bled red as claws immediately flexed beneath trailing sleeves. It had been a long time since he had to put effort into controlling his monosyllabic tone, straining as teeth ground tightly to prevent an erupting snarl.
"What is the meaning of this?" he queried evenly, eyes not leaving the revealed gift.
Lord Takeda allowed his General to take the floor to proudly present his find, completely misinterpreting the terse reaction for withheld anticipation.
"My Lord, this is a fine specimen, one of a kind!" the General began with honoured excitement, walking around the unveiled cage of gilded, metal bars. "You see, at first it seems mortal. But watch!"
With a flick of a wrist, the hidden dagger that had been in the General's hand sliced cleanly the skin on the creature's exposed arm, eliciting a drowsy groan. "It does not bleed, yet still lives. A durable, mess-free pet for your – "
The words died in his throat when a single, suffocating wave of youki unleashed into the room, filling all corners, snapping all attention to the source where a silent, unmoving lord sat.
A solitary, pernicious glare to the General had him frozen to the spot, still completely ignorant of his slight. It was taking a great deal of control to not impale said General and strangle him with his innards to choke out a slow, agonizing death.
"L-Lord Sesshomaru, please accept our humble apology if this gift offends you!" Lord Tadeka was practically quivering in panic once discerning the Daiyoukai was, in fact, not pleased. The blast of overpowering aura of such oppressive potency was an unmistakeable sign of immense ire. No one would dare to be on the receiving end of such attention.
Quickly motioning for the guards, he yelled a hurried order. "Get this out of our sights, now!"
"No."
The two guards, along with the General and Lord Tadeka, paused all movements at the guttural command, cautiously alert. The panther lord, on the other hand, was less apprehensive, finding the reaction oh so fascinating.
Sesshomaru narrowed his gaze around the room, not oblivious to the watchfulness of that sly feline. Irked at letting his aura slip so unexpectedly, he carefully willed his claws to relax, glad for the covering of his long sleeves to have kept the reaction unseen. These fools did not need to know of his connection to the so-called gift. Once again donning an air of cool indifference, he unfolded from his seat.
"This One accepts your bestowment," Sesshomaru began, tone not revealing any indication of interest or displeasure as he stepped towards the exit. Stopping with a turn of his torso, he indicated to the cage, adding, "Have your guards prepare this for my departure. Other matters of importance require my immediate attention." Turning, he abruptly left.
Not wanting to test the Daiyoukai's patience further nor question his sudden leave, the bear ushered his guards to make preparations as the room cleared out. The cage was hastily wheel to the main gates and fitted to the reins of a waiting demonic steed.
Shortly after, Lord Tadeka was in the open courtyard as Sesshomaru appeared by the gates. Once again, he was attempting to apologize for any perceived slight and worrying for future alliances with such a powerful house. However, such grovelling fell on deaf ears as Sesshomaru barely acknowledged the sentiment. Gathering youki beneath his feet without further preamble, he began his ascent, the complimentary flying stallion following closely behind.
Once far enough away from the Southern Capitol and any prying witnesses, Sesshomaru found a secluded section of the forest to land. It was still at least a two days' journey back to the Western fortress. He did not feel the need to wait that long to check on the welfare of the possession in his charge. It was not far from the truth the reason for his sudden departure.
Approaching the structure, he freed the demon horse as it quickly took off, presumably back to the South now that its task was deemed complete. The door of the metal structure was ripped off its hinges with little effort, and Sesshomaru paused at the sight before him.
Two years had passed. This was not how he would have envisioned their paths crossing once again.
Reaching in, he brushed away raven strands from an ivory face. Sooty lashes blinked in languid successions, unfocused and hazed. She had been clearly drugged, though not fully unconscious.
With the same care once held with his ward, he mindfully lifted the malleable woman from the entrapment and settled down against the trunk of a nearby magnolia. Positioning her within his arms, he could sense her fighting the paralysis. Heavy eyes struggled to open, mouth opening and closing as though trying to speak. She was likely not aware of what had happened, nor whom she was in the presence of now.
"Miko, you are safe."
"Sessh…maru" She was struggling to wake fully, and though still incoherent, at least she recognized him. For some reason, that simple acknowledgement eased a part of his mind that had been unknowingly unrested.
"Yes," she heard vaguely, surprised at the softness of his answering tone, "Now rest."
Relaxing across his lap upon the familiarity, the side of her cheek lolled against a solid, armour-plated chest, finding comfort in the nearby plushness of a velvety pelt. Absently, he brought the long, white fluff around her lithe frame, securing it closer to the skin exposed by the indecently short yukata. It was the same green and gold as the sheeted covering; the colours of the Southern Lord.
A scowl pulled at his tapered mouth then, lips pressing into a thinning line. The thought of that pitiful bear redressing the miko was stirring a foreign temper.
He pulled back at the sudden unfamiliar reaction, silently questioning why he would be so riled. He was aware of the fury that had been steadily brewing since first landing sight upon her at that gaudy estate, lying helplessly like a stunned deer begging for rescue. Some level of vexation had been expected, but he was clueless as to why it had flamed into a boil that challenged temperamental control.
Looking to her ageless features, he considered the woman now resting undisturbed upon his person, realizing that no other had been allowed such a privilege. Non aside from the child that had been under his care many years ago. But unlike his ward, this woman here – his dead brother's former companion – was not his responsibility. Yet he still held her close.
Silver brows furrowed in contemplation. Why the miko?
They had once been allies, and though they had not remained in contact, one could admit that she was still considered an affiliate.
But she was not pack.
She was not his to protect.
Yet still, she was strong, always displaying ardent loyalty to those deserving of her trust. Unconditionally.
Even after all that had been endured, she had still persisted. Survived.
And through all these years, here she was, crossing his path again. Re-emergence.
Something about this strange, peculiar miko had admittedly drawn him to her. Ever since his eyes had first landed upon the brazen girl within his father's tomb, she had not been able to escape his notice upon meeting.
It must have been pure coincidence.
Internally sighing, Sesshomaru forced any encroaching inference to the back of his mind. It was something he refused to dwell on, finding it purposeless. He had simply saved her because of their protracted association, nothing more.
While readjusting his pelt, motions paused when his hand accidentally brushed against bareness of her thigh. It was only then did he comprehend just how cold she actually was. Bringing fingers to her cheeks, he lightly felt the same cold skin. This frigidity was not due to the lack of proper attire.
There was just no warmth coming from her. At all.
The Miko feels like death.
But even cold, even though she held no warmth, her body was still enduring. Repairing – as he watched, enraptured – the cuts on her skin, slowly stitching itself shut, not so different from his own demonic healing. She was not alive, yet she was.
"How…find me…" she murmured, each fanning breath ruffling the gossamer fur near her dainty nose.
He studied her face, finding lash-tipped lids lazily closing against the heavy chains of sleep. "I was at the Southern Capitol settling a trade dispute. You were presented as a parting gift, most likely in attempt to win my favour." The last part was said with a bite of displeasure.
"Mhmm…..so…politics?" she drawled, and already he could feel her drifting into a proper slumber.
"Hn," The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. "Politics."
-X-
"And once they figured out I was different, that's when they decided I was more useful as a rare find than a bland meal." Kagome paused, tapping a finger along her chin before shrugging indifferently to the thought of being eaten. "I guess it was just dumb luck that I was your gift as opposed to someone else's."
Sesshomaru had been listening attentively as the miko recounted events leading up to and after her capture. Questions had been probed to understand why it was her they had chosen, but it seemed to have been a fluke that she'd ended up in such a predicament. Situations of ill circumstance flocked to her like crows on a carcass. And this was no different.
To his mollification, it had not been purposeful plotting by the other lords as initially suspected. Not that it would have mattered – slaughter would have come to all those involved in any attempt at usurpation. But then the South, or the East, would have likely destabilized, and he had no interest in dealing with additional governing duties amidst the ensuing chaos of war. It was one of the reasons he had left in a cordial standing, deciding to gather facts from the miko before taking actions. And if it had been subterfuge, he would rather they foolishly believed him ignorant of their plots. That would have made it easier to uncover the depths of their divisiveness before launching a strike. Either way, such had not been the case, so he dismissed the notion as another thought presented.
"They were youkai. Were there reasons you did not use your powers against them?"
"I would if I still had them." Taking another sip of the warm tea clasped in her hands, she continued. "My reiki was mostly gone after the wish. I can still feel a bit of it when I really concentrate, but it's barely there. It's like a dried up well." Honestly, the irony was not lost on her.
That revelation surprised him. If her spiritual powers were gone, how had she survived this long by herself, in a land roaming with youkai? It was obvious now that she could not be killed, but that did not mean she was immune to other methods for subjugation.
Such as being kidnapped and drugged.
In a way, she was still very human.
An imperceptible scowl iced his lower jaw just then, though no one would have noticed such subtle change.
"You are without protection," she heard him say, and could have sworn there was a hint of accusation in that drying tone.
"On the bright side, I have a different kind of super power," she said cheekily, peeking up from her cup through dark lashes.
He did not seem amused. Stubborn dogs. Instead, he stood from the low table, barking a firm command while turning to leave. "Come."
Not wanting to be left behind and getting lost in the many corridors of the Western Citadel, she quickly followed, abandoning the unfinished oolong. "Where are we going?"
"You need to be skilled with a weapon," was the curt reply. His strides were much longer, already many paces ahead as they started down the stretching halls.
Kagome had awoken that morning in an unfamiliar room. At first, she had thought it to be one of the dwellings in a passing village. But it was only after sitting up and feeling the soft, silk-covered mattress, did the events of the previous days came rolling back. It had not taken much effort to guess whose residence she had woken up in, by way of the elegantly decorated interior and the richness of the sheets beneath her fingertips. The warm, honey-coloured eyes that flashed through a muggy memory had also been a dead giveaway. It was then undoubtedly confirmed when a servant had come knocking, letting her know of their lord's request for her presence. After being guided down multiple twists and turns of the grand interior, past intricately decorated shojis of gold and blue and red, she had been led to the Western Lord's private study where they had met for tea. After sitting for what seemed like hours of questioning like a suspect on trial, the retelling of her capture finally culminated to this very moment where she was falling steps behind.
Shaking off the mental recap, her pace quickened. "I am though. I know how to use a sword."
At this, he did turn to meet her eyes, though his were narrowed in doubt and the pace did not slow. "Yes, I have seen how you flounder with that thing."
She huffed, more out of a need for rebuttal than actual ire. "So what, you're going to teach me then?"
"We shall see if you are able to learn."
"How…encouraging," she answered with arms crossed, though her legs kept moving to not lag behind.
"You do not need encouragement. You need discipline." His gaze was upfront again, and all she saw was the back of his head and the sway of his grey, dressed-down silks.
As they made their way through the main building, Kagome inwardly sighed in a shadow of contentment. It felt nice, the convivial banter. It had been odd to her at first, but she later realized the stoic demon actually had a sense of humour. Well, to others it may seem like nothing more than sharp-tongued insults. But in the few encounters they've shared, she had enjoyed – no matter how fleetingly – the way his words and logic lured her into debating with him. In some roundabout back-and-forth argument that really wasn't an argument at all. It was all so very different from the yelling matches sparred with a late dog-eared hanyou. And it was nothing like the simple pleasantries of polite-but-strained small-talk with passing acquaintances and village folks.
She sighed wistfully, knowing that this brief bit of contentment would never last. It would always evaporate mere seconds or minutes later, leaving her dull and empty once again as bleakness filled the void. And no matter how often she would chase it, it would always leave her like a cheating spouse.
Always.
"Keep up, Miko."
Kagome's attention snapped up front, registering the fact that she had drifted off in introspection again. They were outside now, having exited the main compound and turning down a walkway toward another building not too far off. A few more yards and they were entering in what appeared to be a very, very spacious dojo.
Kagome's eyes went wide, drinking in the sight like a thirsty child.
The floors were lined with beige tatami mats, filling the entire expanse from side to side. Mounted along the northern wall were rows upon rows of weaponry, all neatly displayed. The majority of the collection was comprised of various swords of all sizes – some even the length of her height – while the rest were a mix of short-range options. She had often wondered how someone like Sesshomaru trained, if ever, or if such trainings merely consisted of killing whatever got in his way. But seeing the dojo in the flesh was mildly shocking. It was so familiar – so alike to how humans would train in a similar setting, with similar weapons. But then again, was it really that surprising? It was common knowledge in her time that certain martial arts stemmed from the samurais, but perhaps its origination went far beyond written history. Perhaps, it was an art form humans had learned from youkai, like Prometheus stealing the flame from Zeus.
"Select a suitable weapon," he ordered after leading them to face the armoury.
"Any weapon?" Her voice came out an octave higher than usual, clearly in awe of everything around.
He almost wanted to roll his eyes at seeing her sight linger on the shurikens. "Something practical," he stated flatly.
Nodding absently, her eyes trailed along the vast arrangement toward the selection of shorter, more wieldable blades. Carefully touching the few closest, her hand finally stopped upon a mid-sized katana. Picking it up gently from its resting place, she held it up to the light for inspection, smiling as she looked up to let Sesshomaru know she was ready.
He seemed to agree with her choice, and motioned for her to follow to the center of the room after removing their shoes by the edge of the flooring. She did not see him pick a sword of his own, but then noticed the familiar white-sheathed blade by his side. Obviously, he'd already have the best pick of all. What point was there in training with an inferior weapon?
When they came to a stop, he turned to face her. She stood a few paces away, arms hanging limply by her sides, the plain katana loosely gripped in one hand. Her pale face was upturned towards him, eyes the colour of frosty slate staring with a speck of determination. It was so reminiscent of days gone by, of earlier years when a fiercer version of that determination would barrel down enemies opposing the miko before him. But this was not the same. This was but a sliver of the emotions she once worn on odd, slim-fitted sleeves. He had alluded to her that such sentiments were of no benefit; that he prided on his own unwavering masking of such. Yet now, seeing those faded, lustreless orbs stare back, he finally understood an inkling of what had been lost.
She blinked then, winking away the echo of a shared past as he noticed her watching expectantly, as though waiting for his next instruction.
Slowly, Sesshomaru withdrew Bakusaiga without imbuing any of his demonic energy, leaving it seemingly powerless like any old blade. "Demonstrate what you know. Attack."
Kagome faltered, looking confused at his fairly relaxed but readied stance. "What?"
He frowned impatiently. "To determine where improvement is required, you will display your current skill level."
"Yeah but," she started hesitantly, "I don't want to hurt you." Attacking those trying to do harm was one thing, but she was never comfortable with attacking her friends or people she cared about.
At this, he fixed her with a stony glare, one that clearly conveyed 'You cannot hurt this Sesshomaru even if you tried, human.'
She blew fallen bangs from her eyes in mild annoyance at the obvious implication, before a blank expression befell her face. "Fine."
Kagome had learned a few things from the two decades of traipsing across Japan. Not completely useless, a skill had been picked up here or there, including how to wield a sword, albeit not expertly. Though, she had to admit that she never did try as hard as she should have, considering the unable-to-die thing. What would have even been the point? Seventy percent effort had been good enough. The other thirty percent had not been needed to avoid injuries as, well, she had none. And there were other ways to spend her time than constant training.
But now, she was about to spar with a master swordsman. And not just any swordsman – The Killing Perfection himself.
This was not going to end well.
Legs spreading shoulder-width apart, she positioned in her usual stance, thankful for the airy hakama that had been left out for her to change into. The clingy yukata she had awoken in was surely not appropriate, let alone comfortable. It was a good thing Sesshomaru had spare clothes for her to wear. Glancing down to the more decent attire, she briefly wondered if he had the outfits planned in advanced, knowing they would end up here at the dojo. Either way, a thread of gratitude bloomed at his consideration, foresight or not.
"Attack," he instructed, sounding a tad more impatient than before.
Obeying his command, Kagome launched ahead, the unfamiliar sword an easy grip in her dominant hand. She aimed and swung with an overhand cut, muscles bunching beneath outstretched arms.
But he parried effortlessly in feather-light steps, his long, silver mane swishing by in a flutter to caress her cheeks as they both turned.
Spinning on the balls of her bare feet, she spotted his changed positioned, yet looking as though he had not moved at all. Targeting a spot for the next move, she jutted forth, her strike once again meeting thin air as it sliced through ghosts.
She was not landing any hits. Not even close.
The miko encroached while the demon dodged, never making an offensive move as he allowed her to circle him. Sesshomaru was evading, uncharacteristically slow, yet still proficiently out of reach. She noticed he was not as fast as she had usually seen him, and knew he was toning down speed to match her own. But despite the withholding of his obvious superior abilities, over and over again, her attacks had yet to land.
"Miko, these attempts are pitiful," he suddenly mocked, causing her to still as they locked eyes from opposite ends. She was panting, but no sweat slicked her pallid skin. "Attack with effort. Do not hold back."
He could tell she was not giving her full force by how she was pulling back at each strike, diminishing any forward momentum. It was obvious to his trained senses. If she had truly thought he could be injured in this sparring, she was foolish for entertaining such notions. So a bit of goading was needed, and he knew it had worked the instant her posture hardened, her next strike swinging closer than all previous attempts, only missing by inches.
"Alright," she smiled with subtle glee at the improvement, pivoting in recovery before preparing to charge once more, "You're asking for it."
She attacked again, but this time with renewed vigour, brows knotting in concentration. And this time, Sesshomaru lifted his sword to meet her blade, steel clanging upon steel for the first time that day.
The sound only spurred her on, excitement budding at the feel of finally hitting something other than the shadow of his dodges. It seemed like this was what he had been waiting for, and she could see something flash across his façade that it truly was.
Pushing off, she swung her wrist in a practiced twirl, bringing down the blade in a natural arc as bare feet danced in rapid movements. Sleeves and hair flitted as they evaded each other's offense, repositioning and ducking as their defense.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she saw an opening, and her arm thrusted forward.
"Gotcha," Kagome preened, victorious eyes staring challengingly into his. The edge of a blade upon his throat gleamed in the orange rays of the afternoon sun like a blinding beacon, its reflection a warm streak across the miko's upper cheeks. "Still think I flounder?"
Sesshomaru smirked, golden eyes darting downwards, unfazed by the barely-there sting at his neck. "Think again, Miko."
Triumph draining, Kagome looked down to see his blade pointed directly at the center of her chest, the metal tip dipping into the folds of her clothing.
But she wasn't going to let him win. This was not over.
Grin stretching mischievously, her gaze slid back towards his arrogance. She was sure to watch every changing detail as swirling honey irises widened when she suddenly pushed forward with a soft, withheld grunt.
She was sure to relish in the darkening of gold to amber as the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones met both their ears.
She memorized the feel of his breath fluttering across her face, their distance having shortened upon her single step.
And she would never forget the rare flash of surprise as he stared with disbelief at where Bakusaiga was now pressed flushed against the valley of her chest, impaled fully to the hilt.
"Just because I'm a human pincushion, doesn't mean you win."
His eyes shot back up to meet her pride, a very distinct, metallic scent reaching his nose as he felt a trickle of liquid trailing down his neck, dipping beneath a pristine collar.
"Checkmate."
-X-
Sakura blooms fell in the gentle spring breeze, littering the little grassland with a blush pink blanket. Petals drifted into the adjacent pond, long defrosted from the passing winter and flourishing with various koi and carp. Marble benches and pebbled walkways added the finishing touches to the beautiful tableau. However, that's not what had snagged the attention of two very ponderous, golden eyes.
A demon lord sat casually against a wooden pillar of his chamber's veranda, looking out into the undisturbed garden. Clawed fingers ran languidly through lengthy strands of snowy white as an audible sigh escaped. He was undoubtedly perplexed. Flummoxed at his recently unexplainable and uncharacteristic behaviour.
Gazing beyond the lone sakura tree, attention trained on the guestroom across the glade, focus pinned on its single, infuriating occupant. The miko was currently napping, having tired out from their morning spar. Yet even out of sight, she had still invaded his mind for the umpteenth time since they had arrived at his estate two days ago.
Snippets of their past encounters replayed when mind was idle, such as now when there was nothing else needing his immediate attention. He had delayed delving into his own behaviour around the woman, but all that avoidance was now resurfacing, forcing assessment into the reasons behind inexplicable actions and reactions.
Sesshomaru knew his view of the miko had change drastically since first meeting her. She had been a brash, untrained, uncouth, untalented, unworthy, and annoying blip in his life. She had been tethered to a pack of misfits, hopelessly reliant on those around for basic survival, and always in his way when it came to familial matters.
But over time, she had become less untrained and admittedly more talented. She was just as uncouth, but perhaps more reserved, and still just as annoying. Yet she had displayed a rare strength and even rarer loyalty. He had long ago deemed her worthy of his respect.
But when had he deemed her also worthy of his protection?
This, he was having trouble figuring out.
He supposed that being allies had initiated that sentiment. But it had stemmed past their wayward truce. Years beyond, even. The miko had been conveniently out of sight and out of mind, and he had the penchant to believe that they would never meet again after achieving their shared goal. And that had been his stable assumption, up until finding her again on that sunset afternoon. He had foolishly thought his passing curiosity of the woman had, well, passed.
Apparently not.
She was supposed to be a meaningless impression. Like wondering if it would rain next week, or if winter would come early this season. Regardless, the miko was not something that he had believed would occupy his mind often, or at all.
And he certainly had not expected to have felt the urge to come to her aid and rescue.
But he had.
And now he was, unsuccessfully, trying to understand why.
The breeze shifted, bringing in cooler air that tasted damp. A storm was soon to come. He could already feel the charge of the atmosphere. It was reminiscent of another charge he had felt, from that first morning in which he had tested the miko's skills.
She had said that her spiritual powers were mostly gone, but when she pushed against his Bakugsaiga, he had felt the dormant magic spiking along the blade like titters of static. It had been subtle, but it was there. And it had sparked a tinge of exhilaration within him, bestowing colours to a muted world. It had been a very, very long time since he had last felt her powers. If Sesshomaru was being honest with himself, he would dare say that the feeling of such raw purity was quite missed. After all these years, not another being had been witnessed to harbour as much spiritual power as the miko once had.
And her swordsmanship had definitely improved, as demonstrated by the drawing of his blood. A claw traced the spot where the cut had been upon the juncture of his throat, long since healed. He had been impressed by her boldness, and the duplicitous tactic employed to gain leverage for a win. Not many had been able to make the Daiyoukai bleed and live to tell the tale.
But then again, it was not like he could actually kill her anyway.
-X-
A/N: Not the end yet, more chapters to come!
Shuriken = ninja stars / throwing stars