He hadn't believed her, of course. There was no way a being such as himself would succumb to something as human as memory loss.

But the doctor had no reason to lie, eventually handing over his neurological report as proof. There weren't any details on the initial incident, but brain scans had revealed severe trauma to his memory receptors, though none of it had been from physical damage.

Dr. Sekimen had told him that his body would've regenerated too quickly if that had been the case, but his injury was linked to his depleted youki.

And the miko.

Sesshoumaru wasn't sure how she was involved, just that she was, and every glance she snuck at him grated on his nerves. If she understood him as well as she claimed, why had she not left him alone? He wanted to grab the scarf around her neck and throttle her until she gave him the answers he sought.

True to her word, though, he was soon transferred to a private room, his money and prestige going far enough to keep him separated from other patients, but not enough to get him home.

"I told you," the miko said, exasperated. "They need to keep an eye on you. Until you get a clean bill of health, you're staying here."

His eyes narrowed. "Jaken will—"

"—do nothing to help you," she said, tone firm. "He's under strict orders to keep things running at the office until you return, but you don't get to return until you're better." Youki stirred, his bonds having been removed, and she shot him a glare, eyes blazing. "I will put the sutras back on you if you try anything."

"You would not dare."

"Wouldn't I?" She crossed her arms, looking no less intimidating in a hoodie and sweats than the business suit she'd been in yesterday. "You couldn't beat me on your best days. Right now, you're not even close."

Nails dug into his palms as he tried to contain his anger. "Do not speak as if you have battled This One in a fair fight, miko. I would wipe the floor with your entrails."

"Hey! Watch you're fucking mouth when you talk to her." Inuyasha stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee in each hand.

The miko smothered a cough, the fit continuing until she grabbed one of the cups and took a long sip. "He can bark all he wants. We all know who would come out on top."

"Well, yeah," Inuyasha smirked. "It's how I was able to upgrade my bike. Your brother took a sucker's bet."

"And I still haven't forgiven you for going through with it," she said, coughing again before tapping the tips of their cups together. "Thanks for picking this up."

Silver ears twitched as he continued to smirk. "Come on, K'gome. You know you liked rubbing it in Souta's face after the fact. And his." He pointed across the room, and Sesshoumaru bristled.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your unwanted company, half-breed?" he sneered, leaning back against his pillows. The bed he'd been given was larger but still uncomfortable, Sesshouamru having yet to have found an angle that would allow him to sleep properly.

His brother's eyes widened in shock before he let out a string of muffled curses. "Hell, you weren't kidding. He even sounds the same."

Why did everyone seem to be in on her secret but him?

"You may be able to keep me here, miko, but I would appreciate it if you did not allow visitors. Especially estranged ones." He'd gotten used to her flinching, had perhaps started pushing her buttons on purpose every time she managed to win an argument, but when she didn't even acknowledge his words, Sesshoumaru felt his chest tighten.

Instead, she poked his brother in the cheek and said, "Tag, you're it," before walking out the door. He was half tempted to go after her just out of spite, but Inuyasha let out a sigh and shut the door, then dragged a chair up to his bedside.

"Ya know, sometimes I think of the cranky old bastard you used to be, and it feels like a dream."

Sesshoumaru refused to meet his gaze. "I will not be lectured by—"

"Oh, you're gonna be lectured. A lot. Just be lucky that K'gome told me to tone it down, or I'd be shoving Tessaiga up your ass for your comments earlier."

The blanket covering his legs bunched between his claws. "She is the one who—"

"She ain't done shit except put you with your shit ever since you got here."

Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes. "I hardly think a few days is enough to warrant her constant harassment."

"A few days? Try almost two weeks, ya ungrateful bastard."

His head snapped around, taking in his brother's agitated state and crossed arms. He looked as petulant and smug as the miko, and Sesshoumaru scoffed. "It is not possible."

Inuyasha looked him over, then leaned forward in his chair, having turned it around so he could lean over the backrest. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched. He'd been asked that question countless times since he'd regained consciousness; doctors, nurses, specialists, even the miko had voiced it more than once, but his answer remained the same: he didn't know.

His brother seemed to pick up on his turmoil, and he placed his coffee on the side table. "Let's go for something different, then. When's the last time you remember seeing me?"

"1935." His answer was immediate, and Sesshoumaru latched onto the memory like a lifeline. "You insisted we leave Japan."

"Well, that's something, I suppose. Even though it's wrong."

"Are you going to deny that you did not destroy half my abode to convince me to uproot everything I'd built on the whim of some human?" Sesshoumaru had formed a solid foundation for his company at that point, which had just begun to take off, when Inuyasha had shown up on his doorstep, spouting delusions of war and how something terrible was coming.

"That 'human' is—" Inuyasha groaned, running his hand through his hair. "This would be so much simpler if I could just tell you everything. But the docs think it's better if you remember things on your own." He grabbed his coffee again. "And you can't say I wasn't right."

Sesshoumaru pursed his lips. As right as he'd been, it had still taken several decades to rebuild his connections, all of which had been spent without speaking to his brother. "When would you claim to have seen me last?"

"When I dropped you off at the airport to visit the runt—" Inuyasha replied easily.

"Airports did not exist back then."

"—23 days ago."

15 years.

He was missing 15 years of his memory.

Once Inuyasha had started talking, it had taken much to shut him up again, slowly revealing that the miko had found them both shortly after graduating high school, the part-time jobs she'd been working allowing her to travel the country in search of her comrades.

And somewhere, in the midst of their reunion, the brothers had reconciled, leaving Sesshoumaru to wonder just how much truth there had been to the miko's words.

She had always been a compassionate creature, often overexerting herself while caring for others, and he found this time to be no exception. She claimed to return home to shower and eat, but she was in his room every time he opened his eyes, his body clamouring for sleep he didn't normally need in the wake of his still floundering youki.

Somehow, he didn't find her presence comforting.

"Were you aware of my identity when I was brought here?" he asked, purposefully interrupting her book.

"Yes," she replied without looking up, flipping a page. "Why?"

"Our connection is not close enough for you to have come running so quickly."

"Keep telling yourself that."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you saying there is no chance that you were simply given a description of my person, and that is what made you react so vehemently?"

The miko frowned before slowly turning her head. "You think I mistook you for Inuyasha?" She slammed her book closed. "And what? Just hung around out of guilt?"

"It would not be the first time," he accused. Her retort was interrupted once again by a coughing fit, the miko smothering her face into her scarf. A pulse of power tickled his senses, but it was carefully controlled, much like her demeanour, and Sesshoumaru was tempted to lash out again just to get a reaction.

The fire of her past self remained, but it was as if she refused to allow the flames to reach a certain height, the embers burning brightly though starved of oxygen.

"I'll forgive you since so much of your memory is missing," she said eventually, having to clear her throat several times before speaking.

"It is less than two decades," he sniffed. "I am not missing much."

"Aren't you?" There was an edge to her voice he didn't recognize, one that rippled against the edges of his soul, and he kept his gaze away from her until it settled.

"Fifteen years is nothing compared to how long I have existed on this plane," he said, though he wasn't as confident as before.

"All it takes is a moment," she countered.

"And you claim to be significant enough in This One's life that it warrants your continued presence at my bedside?"

She adjusted her scarf then got to her feet, blue eyes hard and challenging. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"It is when you were no more than a speck before."

The miko tucked her book under her arm, giving his bed a wide berth before stopping at his feet. "Maybe so. But that was before. Maybe you took a longer look this time."

Sesshoumaru bristled. He didn't like what she was insinuating. Or that she always stared at him with a closed expression. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was something akin to pity, and he would have none of it—especially when she refused to be honest as she once was.

He lunged at her, intent on making his displeasure known. "You cease this game of—" The scent of fear hit his nostrils a moment before his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Don't—" She tried to pull back, but even in his weakened state, his speed was unmatched, managing to grab her before she could twist away. Sparks exploded between them as electricity shot up his arm, his fingers turning black.

"Let go!" Her tone was panicked, her eyes even more so as she struggled against his hold. Pain the likes of Sesshoumaru had never felt had him acquiescing, alarms going off on the machines next to his bed. The miko stumbled back, holding her arm though it remained unscathed.

Completely unscathed.

Sesshoumaru snarled, reaching for her again. "What have you done to me?"

She shook her head. "Nothing! It was a mistake! It shouldn't have—"

"You are the cause of me being here," he hissed, vision blurring as he flexed his charred fingers. The pain was burning from the inside out, twisting around his hand and neck.

It was suffocating.

She raised her hand as if to step toward him, but her feet didn't move. "Sesshoumaru—"

The familiarity of his name had him recoiling, teeth bared. "Do you deny that it is guilt that has you entering this room every day?" he asked, the heart monitor beeping loudly.

The miko bit her lip. "No. But it's not what you think."

"What I think, miko, is that a world where you and I are anything more than acquaintances exists only in your mind, and you use these visits to create a narrative where you are the heroine in your own story." He would've looked down his nose at her had he been standing at full height. "You paled in comparison to your predecessor, in both power and prestige, clutching her coattails so tightly that you believe your existence made a difference when it was nothing but blind luck. And I will not be part of your delusions any longer."

Tears swam in her eyes as she staggered backwards, gripping her scarf as she tried to form words. Sesshoumaru stood by his words. He would not be made a fool of by some pathetic human's dreams of a fairy tale ending.

Several nurses rushed into the room, followed quickly by Dr. Sekimen, who had the audacity to inspect the miko first.

"I'm fine," she whispered, brushing off the doctor's concern. "He's the one who needs you. You'll probably need the sutras again to keep him sedated."

"But you're just as—"

The miko shook her head, sneaking a quick glance at him through the barrage of medical staff. "I'm alright. Just startled. At least you have an update now." The coughing started again as she moved towards the door, gripping the wood to steady herself.

"Do not return, miko. You are not welcome here," Sesshoumaru sneered.

The scent of salt filtered back through the air, mingled with the fragrance of jasmine, though no blooms were to be seen. "Do as you please."