Kagome is twenty six years old when she can stop pretending to be human for her brother's sake. Sōta passes his university exams and she exhales the breath she's been holding in for years when he chooses to move into his dorm instead of commuting there.
It's not that she doesn't love him or can't live with him but much simpler. Innate. There are people who like to be alone and people who can't stand to be alone. Perception of time is also subjective. Kagome doesn't feel like she needs to have contact to maintain or reaffirm connection with her brother. Sōta can disappear for years and she'll still feel the same about him when he returns. But the world humans live in revolves around people who need the confirmation through constant and meaningless contact and that honestly exhausts her. Her brother may not be as exhausting as others but he is…human. More human than she's ever been when it comes to such matters.
Kagome can't be bothered to keep making excuses for why it feels that way for her or be accused that she doesn't care when she says the truth. Some people just function differently than others and that's it. Just the idea of spending the whole day with someone or talking for more than a few hours per day is enough to make her want to jump off a cliff. Whoever that person is and no matter how much she loves them.
And when her life isn't going well, she needs to be alone more than ever. She doesn't want to talk about it or have her brother try to cheer her up like she does for him. Kagome just needs to get her act together by herself – but that will happen when she feels she's ready for it to happen and nothing her brother can do will help her.
It's that simple – but it never stops Sōta from trying…and she hates it. Kagome just hates it when her brother meddles in her business then takes it personally when she tells him to stay out of her life. It only ends with Sōta getting pissed off randomly and with no good reason. It only ends with her realizing that her brother is no different than other humans in those moments.
Kagome doesn't understand why humans feel the need to fill up their quota of good deeds by trying to fix other people's lives for them when their life is probably not that much better either. She doesn't even try to meddle in theirs, so they should just do the same. Then again, when she says this, she's a heartless bitch. It's this mentality that pisses her off the most. Kagome will lend a shoulder to lean on if her brother needs her – because she does love him, she does care about him – but she won't go out of her way to volunteer if Sōta doesn't want her to. If he comes to her with a problem, she'll become involved as much as she can, but that's it.
People should deal with their own issues or they will never make it in this world. And she has coddled her brother too much due to their circumstances. It is this lesson she wants Sōta to learn – and so when he moves out…Kagome breathes. She can finally stop trying to be human.
Time moves motionlessly, soundlessly. Smoke lingers, hazes the air. He feels too much – too much of her. And even that is not enough. Thighs splitting over his hips, then closing, grinding, pressure, friction. Need written on open face, open lips. Eyes hard and filled with knowledge and seeing nothing beyond what now lives. She is burning over him, pulsing heat in the space and silence between, makes him burn and pulse with her. It is so easy to sink his teeth and claws in the red-hot-flesh of the fire and lose himself in that now. He can grow cold later. He will grow cold later.
Like then.
That then is cold and pain and drags him out of the fire, howling, raging, lost inside the mist that shrouds it. A four-legged berserker searching for something that is no longer there, calling the name of a girl who has no voice to answer.
Now will become then – and once has been enough.
He still feels too much. His mistake, his weakness. Sesshōmaru has provoked the streak of rashness, haunting undertones, and belligerence that is her now. The fault lies with him and he is the one who must undo what has been done.
He moves precipitately, one up-slant of eyes and neck, one slick glide of lips and breath.
"Maybe you do." Cold – his voice, his words, his skin. Pain. "But I know more than that."
She shivers, lips tinged blue, glaciated. Or maybe they are still that fire-lust red and he mistakes them for her eyes. It will not be the first mistake he has made today. She is rising then. Sesshōmaru watches as she lifts herself up, settling low on his waist and palms flat against his abdomen, peering down at him through curls of inky strands. She is fury and tight skin and seeing beyond what now lives, nails digging deep, contraction of muscles and thighs.
"She was human, wasn't she?" Nothing but the shiver of her lips and wet-dark-blue. "The woman you loved – and lost."
Is he that transparent? Probably. Then why is she the only one who can see him? See then?
He wants to laugh, and he does, but his throat is too raw for laughter. Is that even laughter?
"Yes…no."
A gasp full of breath and shock, nails digging deeper, thighs gripping tighter – but what does she expect?
"She was human…but she never became a woman."
She leaves then. Maybe because she knows what that sound is.
Sesshōmaru drowns his laughter in alcohol – but the taste of her now remains in the last sip at the bottom of the glass no matter how many times he empties it.
Rin…once is enough, isn't it?
Her heart beats against her ribcage in a bruising tempo as if to remind her that it is still there…and that it hurts to live. Kagome barely makes it inside before her knees give out and she is slumping to the floor, the impact bone-rattling and another reminder. She knows Sesshōmaru is still outside, and he will be there for a while, quietly, burning away the cold, no more pain howling in that laughter.
Why must everything between them be so goddamn hard?
Kagome has pressed enough, perhaps too far. It isn't in her nature to press because she hates being pressed – and right now…she's pressing both of them. She can't keep pressing without something breaking and tonight she's heard the crack – chest cracked open and sultry flesh turning inside out, heart and lungs exposed to the puncture of jagged bone, swelling as blood clots with each vein inflation. It is a roaring hemorrhage, a sound she never wants to hear again.
Her hands feel clammy and the rapid consumption of unprocessable air conjures a phantasmagoria of sensations and things unseen – blood webbing her fingers, marbling her skin as it coagulates slowly, palms full of weight that throbs with living matter. She holds it delicately and wonders whose heart is cut out and writhing in the nest of her hands.
She doesn't know…because all hearts look the same on the outside – and if she wants to see what this heart is made of inside without breaking something…then she needs to stop pressing and peel the layers off one by one until the core is naked and warm and thrums for her touch.
Nothing between them is ever easy. She doesn't have enough time to give, and it grows shorter the longer he doesn't take what is his, what lies soft and whole in his hands. Perhaps it will die there…never being touched.
Sunrays filter through the glass pane, frost of light, morning greys and the smell of coffee. Kagome turns her face away, a cigarette wisping smoke at the corner of her mouth. It's too early for Inuyasha to wake, too late for her to sleep. Bitter scents and the gloom of sleeplessness suffuse the quiet. She brings the coffee cup to her mouth and takes a slow sip. Black, sugarless, no cream. Not the way she likes her coffee but she can't be bothered with flavoring additions right now. She isn't even in the right mind to think.
Minutes pass. Kagome closes her eyes and rubs her lids. Her coffee has grown lukewarm, half-watery, half-bitter, by the time Sesshōmaru comes into the kitchen. Out of habit, she makes another pot, refilling Sesshōmaru's cup before hers, then she sits down across from him. And Sesshōmaru lights a cigarette.
Seconds pass. There is nothing but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and spirals of smoke. And tension. A sigh disrupts the quiet – Kagome is the one to initiate conversation, slashing through the vibes, though her tone borders on detachment…with a touch of weariness.
"I've been wanting to ask for a while now…" She pauses until she's garnered his attention.
Sesshōmaru is watching her over the rim of his cup with that natural raptness in his eyes. But there is something unfamiliar…and familiar –
Gold. His eyes are light and dark, visceral color, mirror-flame. He's burnt out, she realizes. Maybe he isn't even aware that his concealment is slipping. Or maybe he is and just doesn't care. It makes no difference. She likes that lick of gold, that slice of black in it, the feral origins bleeding through his porcelain mask.
A smile flits across her face. It's a losing battle – and she needs some damn sugar in her coffee. Kagome shakes her head, fixes herself another cup, exactly as she likes it, then sits back down.
"There are more of your kind, right?" He nods once. "Then why haven't you brought anyone to meet Inuyasha?" She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, gaze piercing. "He can't be around humans 'til he grows up, but he should be among his kind."
A brow arches, and he finally speaks. "You'd be comfortable having other yōkai in your home or here?"
His voice has regressed to something gravelly, arousing. Kagome can tell that it is merely another effect of overworking, enhanced by last night's overdrinking, but it still wrings one will-less moan out of her throat.
"Yes." More moan than pronunciation of yes and more mindless yes than answer. Kagome sighs, steers thought where it should be. "Why wouldn't I be comf–"
Oh. Her eyes bore into his for a split second, but it isn't his eyes that give the reason behind his question. That quirk of his lips, sordid amusement with a twist of pity, tells her everything. He's taken that yes the way it is meant to be taken – and he still can't take it. Kagome grits her teeth but doesn't press. She's done pressing.
"Izayoi-san wasn't." It's a statement that implies another. I'm not her.
Sesshōmaru grunts something inaudible as he takes a drag of his cigarette then takes a moment.
"There's a kit in my pack around his age. I'll bring him next time." Kagome stares at him, confounded, intrigued. Pleased. It appears he's waiting for her to nod, so she does, and he continues. "And some adults in the clan who'd like to meet Inuyasha. I can give them your phone number, and you can arrange meetings when it's convenient for you." Before she can nod again, Sesshōmaru's eyes cut her sharply. "I'd like to be present for those, though."
It is not a request. Gold-eyed order, dominance, strikingly inhuman.
Kagome nods stiffly. "Okay, thanks." But when she revisits his words, something piques her curiosity. Her neck slants, and she frowns. "A kit? That's a…fox child, right?"
It is he who nods this time. Sesshōmaru fathoms the silent question without her having to ask.
"All clans are mixed. We don't form clans based on yōkai species but rather on territory. Anyone within my territory belongs to my clan, though not all are pack."
From what he says, it is evident he's the clan leader, but that's not what interests her. She has guessed more or less that he's a prominent figure in both worlds.
"How many clans are there?"
"In Japan, four." He exhales a puff of smoke, though it sounds more like a sigh. "I keep track of clans in other countries, but there are too many to count. Yōkai have spread all over the world after Japan ended its self-isolation."
Her mien softens. Her respect grows. No wonder he's fatigued if he has to deal with both human and yōkai matters. Kagome wants to learn more now – about him, his responsibilities, the way he lives, the way he rules.
"How is a clan different from a pack?"
There isn't the merest twitch of lips, the merest blink of eyes, but something manifests on his face, betrays his surprise, his skepticism. He wants to know why she asks when she's never asked before, why she's taken an interest that is broader, more generalized. It amuses her – because it is as forthright as it is canny. She wants to know all that makes him what he is. Because she wants him. He must be so used to wiles that the concept of their inexistence must be foreign to him.
Kagome chuckles softly, and his gaze narrows. Perhaps the soft sound has shapeshifted into a wile merely because it can be nothing else in his perception. It's not bad actually, rather flattering. She likes that he thinks her kind of shrewd when she is just being shamelessly genuine.
Sesshōmaru appraises her, half-lidded, intently. What he finds must be enough to guarantee his divulgence. "Clan mates owe allegiance, and I'm responsible for them, but pack mates have deeper bonds. You're either born in a pack or accepted in one, and the latter rarely happens."
Kagome hums, contemplating these discoveries, rubbing her chin between two fingers. Yōkai aren't much different than humans. Supposedly. Based on her limited knowledge and basic understanding of the terms from what she's learned so far. Pack seems to enclose the meaning of family more or less. But if that is so…where does she fall in all this? She isn't pack as far as she knows – Sesshōmaru hasn't made any declaration of acceptance that would indicate this – and she can't be clan since she isn't yōkai. Does she even hold any place in his world? Does she want to? It feels very…intimate – the way he has spoken that word. Pack. It feels like…another word. So much more than family. Mine.
Heat licks her skin, sets every nerve in her body on fire, and she shivers. Kagome clears her throat, speaks above the hot coals. "So packs usually consist of same species yōkai?"
A dip of his chin. Sesshōmaru stays quiet, tasting the silence, the fire that burns beneath flushed skin.
"How is it that there's a kit in yours then?" Her voice pours out of her throat husky and how she says yours is a coil of fire, a selfish want indulged.
"His father was a close friend of mine. Kiyoshi mated a kitsune of another clan, and that caused a rift between him and his pack. When he died, she didn't want to return to her clan, and Kiyoshi's pack accepted the kit but not her." He stares at her in the descent of silence and something tameless, animal-sensation, something that is pure instinct. "Yōkai need to belong to a pack."
Yours…yes. She burns – but it slowly turns into another kind of fire, less heat, less sizzling. Warmth. Respect. "So you took care of his family." A smile curves her lips. "I'd like to meet her, if she doesn't mind humans?"
His head tilts and his laughter is a deep rumble that stokes the dying embers. "Hanae is very fond of humans."
Kagome sips her coffee. It has grown cold again and cools the hot flesh of her throat. "Why didn't she want to return to her clan? I assume she had a pack there?"
"You'll have to ask her yourself." A careless shrug of his shoulders. "It didn't matter to me."
Ah. She understands what pack is, what he is, a little bit more then. I take care of what is mine is all she hears. For someone like her…it is an anathema. She doesn't want to be taken care of, and right now, that is the only thing he can give her.
Kagome laughs. It slithers inside her ears saccharine and bitter, medicine of an unrequited want. Her gaze lifts, connects with his, the blue matted, sapped, the color of that unwanted medicine.
"I'd also like for Inuyasha to meet your mother since he'll be living under her roof in the future. It'll be better in the long run if he grows accustomed to her."
There's a miniscule pause, weighed down by reluctance, or maybe because he doesn't like the taste of that hue in her eyes either.
"I'll discuss this matter with her."
"If she agrees –"
"You want to be there – I know."
A/N: This is the last of the pre-written chapters. Updates will resume at a much slower pace now. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, alerts, favorites. :)