The Five-Pointed Star, prelude
By: Amber Michelle
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I am, in fact, planning and thinking about the next leg of the story, but I had to cancel my Netflix account, and watching the anime was the fuel I needed to write fic. Also, there's a bit more planning to be done. Sorry it's so short.
Written for Ebony Silks theme #84: favor.
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Kagome returned to the Sengoku era a little after noon. Her boots kept catching on the drooping bottoms of the hakama tied above her ankles while she climbed to the top, making her slip on the vines; her backpack was lighter, but boxes of medicine and food made it puff out, an awkward shape that scraped the opposite wall. Sesshomaru was waiting at the edge of the clearing as he'd promised when she reached the top and flung her leg over the side, and she went so far as to open her mouth - you could have helped, idiot - before she realized, really realized, who she was talking to.
Right.
Inu Yasha, she reflected when the demon lord turned and started walking without a greeting, would have helped her. Then he would have complained-- and complained.
They walked five hours before they reached a hollow in the steep hillside, surrounded by pines and junipers. He left her there to set up camp - a small fire, her blanket rolled out - and returned when stars pierced the lavender sky above the treetops. The air was chill, pine and the tang of burning wood in her nose. She watched him sit two paces to the left, the fire shining bronze on his silver hair and coloring his fur orange, watched his hand disappear into his white sleeve. The cherry blossom embroidery looked blood red in the flickering illumination.
"My mother," Sesshomaru said, the sudden sound making her stomach drop, "sent this to aid us in the coming battle."
He withdrew his hand, and Kagome drew back slightly when he extended a silver knife, handle first. It was wrapped in silk, or maybe white leather. Kanji lined up on the flat of the blade at center. The demon lord watched her unblinking, hand unmoving, until she took it, expression still even when she jumped at the jolt to her nerves and the tingle over her hand when her fingers closed around the hilt. A five-pointed star was etched into the silver butt of the handle, dark, black.
Magic? But Kagome didn't know any magic. She looked at the inscription and wondered if it was a spell. The kanji didn't make any sense. "How?"
"She did not say." When she lifted her eyes, his face was turned away and limned by firelight.
Of course not. Kagome was a priestess, and she should know these things, right? She resisted the urge to sigh and lowered the blade, rested it on her thigh. The point gleamed like a star. "Okay then."
His mother didn't have to help them. In fact, she'd been surprisingly generous. Should Kagome ask why? Should she accept another favor and move forward? Did she have a choice?
"Thank you," she said, fingertips to the blade, tingling.
"Two more days," he said, inclining his head.
Only two? Kagome bit her lip and nodded.
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