Disclaimer- I do not own Inuyasha, that honor belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
I've focused more on Sesshoumaru/Kagura in this chapter than I have with the Kohaku/Rin.
Flashbacks and thoughts are italicized.
Chapter Four- Her Scar"They're having a dinner party for us," Sesshoumaru stated as the two of them walked towards the front doorway of his father's mansion. "For our anniversary."
"Yeah, so?" Kagura said with a bored tone.
He didn't answer as he raised his hand to ring the doorbell. The door flew open immediately, revealing Sesshoumaru's father, who beamed at them.
"Hello!" He greeted cheerfully, stepping back and allowing them in. "The guests of honor are here!" He called throughout the house.
Sesshoumaru released an imperceptible sigh, but followed his father to the dining room. They were greeted by cheers from various family friends—the Higurashi family, the Fujii family, Totousai, Myouga, that kitsune, and Rin.
Rin ran around the table towards them, throwing her arms around his waist. "Congratulations Sesshoumaru-sama!" she grinned up at him before turning to embrace Kagura. "And you too, Kagura!"
They were ushered to the two seats next to the head of the table, which was Inutaisho's; Sesshoumaru sat to his right while Kagura sat to his father's left.
All of the guests sat down after them, with Izayoi taking the seat at the end of the table. Further down from Sesshoumaru sat Rin, sandwiched between his sister-in-law's brother and some other young man he did not know. He decided to question his father's seating arrangements later when nobody was around.
"Now, Izayoi made us a wonderful dinner," Inutaisho stated as he sat down and Izayoi stood up, coming to the head of the table to serve them their food. There was hardly any conversation as all of them dug in to their dinner, enjoying it too much to talk. When Izayoi served the desert, Sesshoumaru took it unto himself to observe some of the guests.
There was that Higurashi woman, talking to his stepmother; Inuyasha and his mate, whom was trying to straighten his shirt collar but his brother was being difficult; that perverted monk and his wife; Totousai, who was trying to yell something across the table to Inuyasha; that old man who might have been a Higurashi, and his grandson, whom was staring at Rin, half-heartedly listening to what the kitsune was trying to tell him.
Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes. He would have to watch out for that one.
His golden gaze slid to the left, past Rin who was smiling and listening to the kitsune also, to the young man that sat to her right. Who was that?
The man did not seem to be paying attention to any person around him. Instead, he was gazing at Kagura, his expression carefully schooled. But there was something flickering in his eyes.
Sesshoumaru slid his glance across from him, observing his wife. She was listening to the conversation between his father and Totousai, whom sat on her other side; but occasionally her red-eyed gaze flickered to the man. Her eyes finally caught his when she felt his stare. She shook her head slightly, mouthing, "I'll explain later," and turned her attention back to the conversation around her.
"Kagura-sama, may I ask something?" came Myouga's voice from somewhere near Sesshoumaru's right elbow. "I have tasted nearly everybody's blood at this table but yours. May I see if it is as tasty as—" Sesshoumaru fisted his hand, slamming it down on the table and effectively cutting the flea-demon's sentence off.
Everybody's head snapped up at the noise, their attention drawn to Sesshoumaru. His father chuckled.
"Now, now, son, it is impolite to squash a guest."
Everybody went back to his or her own conversations, smiling.
Sesshoumaru's eyebrow twitched as Kagura hid a growing smirk behind her hand.
"Kohaku-san, is something wrong?" a voice laced with some concern inquired to his left. He snapped his eyes to Rin, whom was staring at him with wide, brown eyes.
"No," he answered tersely, his gaze shifting automatically back to Kagura.
"Have you enjoyed the food?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her. He sighed, shifting in his seat so he faced her more than he did the red-eyed demon. She was only trying to make him feel more comfortable by trying to keep a conversation with him, even if she didn't know him.
"Yes, it was good," he answered, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
There was silence for a moment, and Kohaku almost sighed in relief until she leaned in and whispered, "Why do you keep staring at Kagura?"
He turned his face to look at hers. "What?"
She stared at him intently, not smiling. "You've been looking at her the entire time you were here. Why?"
He sighed, staring at his plate. Kohaku decided that Rin could know the truth—or at least, he wouldn't lie to her.
"I think," he was saying slowly, in a low tone, "that I know her from somewhere. I'm just trying to remember where."
She leaned back and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I guess that would make sense. Although you should make it more subtle, I think Sesshoumaru-sama's getting suspicious of you."
Kohaku almost smiled, but he didn't. "Yes, I guess I'll stop."
He wondered if Kagura remembered.
"Well, that was nice of them," Kagura stretched and yawned, leaving her shirt on the floor before she discarded her black skirt. She sat on the bed, removing her shoes and then tossing them across the room.
"That does not go well with the decorum," Sesshoumaru stated, eyeing her discarded clothes in distaste. "They would go well much better in the hamper."
"Oh, shut up," Kagura yawned, pulling the covers of the bed back and settling herself in. "So where are you taking me tomorrow night?" she asked as she snuggled into her pillow.
"That is not of your concern," Sesshoumaru said, getting undressed more carefully than she had; he sat on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly taking it off and setting it neatly folded besides him as he bent down to remove his shoes.
"It was obvious why your father set the dinner for tonight instead of tomorrow," Kagura's voice was muffled by the pillow, "he didn't want to interfere with any plans you might have had."
"My father's thinking is wishful," he said, taking the folded clothes and carrying them to the hamper. He walked back to the bed and settled in, not bothering to put on his pajamas. "He is still pushing my brother and I for grandchildren."
"Still?" Kagura said tiredly. Sesshoumaru did not answer her as he settled himself into his soft pillows.
Sesshoumaru knew from the first time he met that woman that someday he would want to kill her. His premonitions were proven correct when he watched her sneer at him, his hands itching to wrap themselves around her neck.
"Rin, go to the car," he said in monotone. Rin looked between Kagura and Sesshoumaru with wide eyes, something knowing in their depths. Sesshoumaru was too irritated to interpret it at the moment.
"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama!" Rin said cheerfully, skipping past him and out the door, in to the parking lot.
Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed as Kagura smirked up at him, her arms crossed against her chest.
"Well what do you want, Sesshoumaru-sama," she mocked.
Clenching his fists together at his sides, he opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he wanted—to kill her, but the words came out entirely different from what he intended.
"Friday night, seven o'clock, wear something formal."
Her face went slack with shock, and it was a good thing that he was so good at schooling his expression because he knew he'd have looked the same otherwise—he had even shocked himself; where had that come from? But it was worth seeing the look on her face as soon as his sentence formed. Smugly, he realized that he was at least one up on her.
He allowed a grin on his face, and he knew it looked more scary than inviting, and almost smirked when he saw that her arms became unfolded at her chest and were now hanging limp at her sides.
"Be ready on time, Kagura," he said, his face now back to being expressionless. "I like to be punctual."
He shifted on the bed, turning on his side facing her. He noticed that she had left her hair up with the sticks still in them. He grew irritated, knowing that she would be complaining loudly in the morning because her hair was tangled in them. He contemplated taking them out, but decided to leave them to teach her a lesson. He would just ignore her in the morning.
He picked her up at her home on Friday, at exactly seven o'clock in the evening. She answered the door irritably and the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "I'm not ready."He was very close to killing her; again. Didn't he inform her that he liked being on time.
He observed her, noticing that she had her hair and makeup done, her shoes were on, and her dress was on. How could she not be ready?
"What is holding you up?" he asked in a bored tone, inviting himself further inside the house and closing the door behind him.
"Nothing," she muttered, looking to the side. Her hands were behind her back, and she seemed to be struggling with something, although she was hiding it very well.
"Turn around," he demanded, seeing what the problem was.
Her eyes flashed and she snarled at him, "Excuse me?"
Growing even more irritated with the woman, he grabbed her arm and turned her, so that her back was facing him. She shouted at him, struggling slightly, but he held her in place, his strength far outweighing hers. He was right in his assumption; she was having problems with the zipper on her dress.
Then he noticed something. The skin on her back was of a darker color than the rest of the skin on her body. It was marred, the tissue looking much more delicate and weak compared to the rest. Her back was heavily scarred.
He noticed how her heart was beating more frantically, her breath coming in shorter intervals, even though she was doing an admirable job hiding it. She was clenching her fists tightly at her sides, her arms stiff.
Wordlessly, he zippered the back of the dress and said expressionlessly, "Come. We're late."
He turned, and didn't see the small, grateful smile that formed on her red lips.
It was Sunday night, and Kagura sat at her vanity, applying makeup. Sesshoumaru was right to predict that she would be angry about her hair. It had taken her an hour of trying to untangle it before she was forced to ask him for his assistance.
It had taken even him a while to untangle them, since her hair was very wavy rather than straight like his. He had suggested, only half-seriously, that he use his claws to just cut them out. She had snarled at him and told him that if he did, she would castrate him and he would never get a chance to produce those grandchildren his father so desperately desired.
Wisely, he had kept silent. He knew a serious threat when he heard one; he had made plenty of them before to know the difference.
She sat now in front of the mirror, spreading the red eye shadow over her lids, humming slightly to herself. She wore a long black skirt, with slits going up the sides. The spider-shaped scar on her back was exposed to him, partially covered by the wavy black hair that she had tied in to a high ponytail instead of her usual hairstyle.
He was straightening the navy blue tie at his neck when she turned to him, holding a shirt in each hand.
"Red or black?" she asked.
He didn't look up or even glance at the shirts, but answered, "Red."
"Hmph," she grunted, but tossed the black shirt to the side as she pulled the red shirt over her head.
"So what was it about that brat at the dinner last night?" Sesshoumaru asked stoically, pulling out a pair of black socks from his dresser.
"Oh that? That's Kohaku," Kagura said, as if that answered everything.
He pulled on a sock, and when she didn't elaborate any further he said, "And?"
"He's Sango's younger brother. Rin invited him."
She rolled her lipstick out of the tube before applying it carefully to her lips.
"And you know this because?" Sesshoumaru grabbed his shoes next to the bed and set them on his feet, tying the laces neatly.
"He used to be institutionalized at the asylum while I worked there," Kagura answered nonchalantly, smacking her lips together. "He was released only two years ago."
"And why was he there in the first place?" He walked into the closet, taking the dinner jacket from its hangar.
She stood in the doorway, staring at him dispassionately. "My, my, you've been bitten by the curious bug, haven't you?"
"Just answer me, wench."
She shrugged one shoulder, saying casually, "He killed his father, uncle, and cousin when he was eleven."
Sesshoumaru paused in buttoning up the jacket, looking up at her. "And my father had him seated next to Rin?"
She scowled at him. "Leave it alone. He didn't remember what he had done until he was released the first time, and then they had to put him back. It's a terrible thing, but don't you mention it."
Sesshoumaru grunted, pushing past her and shutting the lights off to the bedroom. "We need to drop Rin off at my brother's before we go. We'll be waiting in the car."
Sesshoumaru had made reservations at a Western restaurant at 7:30 that night. A valet had taken his vehicle, probably parking it somewhere far from the restaurant. He took Kagura's hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. He knew that this restaurant required proper etiquette.
They were led by the maitre de to a more secluded section of the restaurant, where only the extremely rich can afford. There were only four other couples/families there to eat. When the waiter came to take their order, he noticed Kagura did not hold back on the extravagance of the meal, and it annoyed him slightly, knowing she was taking advantage. She ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, the lobster.
"I want this cooked rare," Sesshoumaru said, refusing to give the menu to the waiter until he had it written down thoroughly, "I do not know what the concept of rare means to chefs, but to me it means that it is extremely pink in the middle and that when I cut it, the juice is still red. Do you understand?"
The waiter gulped, fear written all over his youthful face as he nodded vigorously, taking the menus and then scuttling away.
They enjoyed their dinner; when they were finished only Kagura ordered a desert, despite the fact that she was full.
Suddenly, he felt something warm and soft rub up against his leg under his pants. He didn't move, only his eyes flickering up to stare at the woman across from him. She didn't even seem to notice what she was doing.
"What?" she said, spooning some crème brulèe into her mouth.
He grunted, and flagged the waiter to receive the bill. When it came, he was faintly annoyed at the price but paid it anyway without any complaint. Kagura ate the most, anyway.
The foot was still trailing up his leg. Not that he didn't like it, but he wouldn't admit that to her in his or her lifetime. Ever.
He barely had time to remove his shoes, socks, and jacket before she had shoved him forcefully onto the bed. He was only faintly surprised, although he didn't let it show on his face as he let her attempt to unbutton his shirt. After releasing a frustrated growl, she simply ripped the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room. He scowled, annoyed.
"You are going to be sewing those buttons back on," he told her as she tugged on his loose tie, trying to remove it. "And you'll choke me if you continue to do that."
"Shut up," she growled. He sighed, stopping himself from rolling his eyes and grabbed the hem of her shirt, calmly pulling it up over her head. "Why do you wear a shirt under a shirt?" she howled in frustration, hitting him in the chest.
He sat up, pulling the undershirt over his head, removed the tie and then unclasped her bra. She was a little over eager, but then, he realized, they hadn't been intimate in quite awhile.
'When was the last time we—oh. Well that was a long time ago.'
And an anniversary for a marriage was as good as any excuse to go at it…it actually was a very good excuse.
They both did have six months of pent up frustration to spend, anyway.
It was the first time they had ever made love to each other, and she was lying sprawled on his chest, her ebony hair cascading in waves over her back, hiding the ugly flesh underneath.
Her cheek rested on his bare chest, and she pulled back slightly to look at his face. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake as he opened them slightly. She shifted her gaze to his left arm. The flesh on most of it was darker than where it was at the shoulder, and it seemed weaker than his right.
"What happened to your arm?" she asked softly.
He gave his arm a dispassionate stare. "My brother cut it off."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "How did that happen?"
"It was an accident. I'll tell you the full story later. It was cut off seven years ago, but it's still in the process of healing fully." His expression was stoic.
She laid her cheek back on his chest, deciding that it was more comfortable there. "I don't remember how I got the scar on my back."
He didn't say anything, but she continued.
"In the hospital, they told me that I got the scar from the fire that killed my family," she told him quietly. "I have no memory of the fire."
He remained quiet.
She continued, "But the thing is, I know I was told where my scar came from, but I don't remember them telling me. I don't remember being in a hospital either, but I have a memory of being there."
"That's exactly how I remember my whole life as. I have memories, but I don't remember them happening. I'm pretty fucked up."
He gave no reply.
"Bastard," she growled, looking up, "You better not be asleep, not after telling you all—oh," she cut herself off.
He hadn't been sleeping; his golden eyes had been focused intently on her. He seemed to be thinking hard about something.
Uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny, she rolled off him, settling on her side with her back facing him. Desperately, she tried to fall asleep. The bed shifted behind her, and she felt a warm hand splay itself against the large scar. She could not quite hold back a small gasp of surprise at the touch.
"I find it odd," he said quietly, his hand moving up her back until the tips of his clawed fingers reached the nape of her neck, "that it is shaped like that of a spider."
She held her breath, but all he did next was move his hand back down her back and around her waist, pulling her against him.
He stared at her scar even now, after four years of marriage. It still intrigued yet bothered him. There had to be something more about the fire that had caused it.
He reached out, moving his hand up against it, shifting her long hair out of the way. Kagura stirred slightly, but she remained asleep.
He sighed, but put his arm across her waist, and pulled her to his chest. Slowly, he drifted off in to a light sleep.
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