Gold eyes watched the young woman lay on her side, her chest moving ever so slightly as she breathed. Her delicate form illuminated by the faint moonlight and the dying embers of the fire. Her long dark hair splayed out behind her, wild and free as she occasionally made soft noises while she slept. Ones that were keeping his attention on her.
He wondered if she was dreaming of him now, as her claims earlier had been truthful. He found himself entranced by the subtle nuances of her expression, wondering what secrets her subconscious harbored. He hadn't smelt any deceit on her. No, he only smelt arousal and shyness from her.
A low growl rumbled deep within Sesshomaru's chest, a primal sound born of frustration and desire. He had not anticipated such a visceral reaction to her presence, nor the potent allure that emanated from her very essence. Her scent, a heady mixture of arousal and innocence, stirred something primal within him, igniting a fire that smoldered beneath his composed exterior.
As if sensing his turmoil, the young woman stirred in her sleep, her movements graceful and effortless as she turned towards him, her lips parting in a pretty noise–a mew of pleasure. It was a sight that stirred a primal hunger within him, a hunger he had scarcely dared acknowledge in the past.
He had not anticipated her response earlier, nor the undeniable pull she exerted over him. She was an enigma, a puzzle he was loath to solve yet unable to resist. And as she lay before him, vulnerable yet undeniably alluring, Sesshomaru found himself teetering on the precipice of a desire he had only begun to scarcely understand.
The encounter with the young girl had been wholly unexpected, a deviation from the monotony of his solitary existence. When she first crossed his path, trailing him into the otherworldly realm where his Father's remains rested, Sesshomaru couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity mingled with disdain. She seemed, at first glance, an inconsequential human, foolishly wielding his Father's sword with a reckless abandon that bordered on absurdity.
Yet, despite her initial bravado, there was a stubborn resilience about her, a defiance that intrigued him. Unlike any other human or demon he had encountered, she met his gaze with unwavering resolve, devoid of the customary scent of fear that typically accompanied such encounters. It was this audaciousness that spared her life during their first encounter, her survival against his initial assault a testament to her tenacity.
In the days that followed, as their paths continued to intersect, Sesshomaru begrudgingly came to acknowledge her bravery, her willingness to sacrifice herself for the sake of his wayward brother. Though he would never admit it aloud, her unwavering loyalty to Inuyasha sparked a begrudging respect within him, a begrudging respect that tempered his initial disdain.
Yet, despite her undeniable courage, there were aspects of her demeanor that grated against his sensibilities. Her brashness, her uncouth mannerisms, her attire that left little to the imagination—all of it seemed to clash with his refined sensibilities. He could have easily dismissed her as nothing more than a common harlot, yet her innocence, her untouched purity, belied such assumptions, a contradiction that both intrigued and confounded him.
Sesshomaru had not intended to seek her out, to be drawn inexorably by the scent of her fear and desperation. It was a scent that mingled with something altogether more infuriating—loathing. What could have transpired to provoke such a reaction from his Miko, to compel her to unwittingly beckon him with her reiki, that sacred energy he had come to recognize as uniquely hers?
Tracking the unsettling scent to its source, Sesshomaru found himself standing outside a modest hut, its timbers weathered and worn by time. Inside, the air was thick with tension, laced with the acrid stench of fear and the unmistakable tang of aggression.
Pushing the hanging screen with an effortless grace, Sesshomaru's eyes fell upon a harrowing scene. There she lay, his Miko, her once vibrant aura dimmed by the oppressive weight of her assailant's malice. Weak and defenseless, she struggled against the iron grip of her captor, a pitiful human driven by base desires and depravity.
Rage ignited within Sesshomaru's chest, a searing inferno that threatened to consume him whole. How dare this insignificant mortal lay hands upon the Miko, to defile her purity with his tainted intentions? The urge to unleash his wrath upon the wretched creature, to tear him limb from limb, surged through him like a tempestuous wave, yet he tempered his fury with a steely resolve.
With a swift motion, Sesshomaru closed the distance between them, his presence commanding the small human's attention. The human's eyes widened in disbelief and terror as he beheld the imposing figure that now stood before him, a primal instinct urging him to flee.
Yet, before he could act, Sesshomaru's hand closed around the man's throat with a vice-like grip, wrenching him away from his Miko with a forceful yank. He threw him out of the hut and onto the ground, where he gasped from air on all fours. He wasn't done there though.
He needed to pay for daring to touch her with his filthy hands.
"Who are you?!"
"I should ask you the same thing."
The man turned and gaped at him, "you don't even know who I am and you tried to kill me?"
"I don't need a reason to kill you," he blinked.
It was pitiful how this lowly human tried to fight against him with his weak poisons. Unsheathing his blade, he killed the pitiful human with a single attack, watching as the jewel shard flung from his skeleton that fell to the ground.
"L–lord Sesshomaru…" Her voice, barely a whisper, trembled with pain and exhaustion as she struggled to form the words. "Antidote….backpack…"
Sesshomaru's gaze softened briefly at the sight of her weakened state, a flicker of concern betraying the impassive mask he typically wore. With a silent nod of acknowledgment, he understood what she was trying to tell him.
In a display of raw power, Sesshomaru unleashed a devastating wave of energy, obliterating the structure with a single, effortless gesture. As the debris settled, he approached the fallen forms of the other humans and the cat demon that had accompanied his Miko on her journey.
They lay sprawled upon the ground, their bodies limp and inert, the lingering effects of the poison evident in their pallid faces. Without hesitation, Sesshomaru administered the antidote per her orders.
But his focus remained on the young Miko, her frail form cradled gently in his arms. With each labored breath she took, her strength waned, her life force ebbing away like a flickering flame on the verge of extinguishment.
"Save your strength, Miko," he commanded softly, his voice a rare note of tenderness amidst the chaos that surrounded them. Gathering her delicate form against his chest, he felt the weight of her body pressing against him, her heartbeat growing fainter with each passing moment.
But his focus remained steadfast on the young Miko, her fragile form cradled tenderly in his arms. With each shallow breath she drew, her vitality waned, her life force slipping away like sand through his fingers.
With a deft motion, he tore open her shirt, baring the pale expanse of her skin to his scrutinizing gaze. Without hesitation, he lowered his head, his lips brushing against her neck in a gesture of intimacy born of necessity. With a gentle press of his fangs, he pierced her flesh, drawing forth the tainted blood that threatened to rob her of her very essence.
As he drank deeply, he felt the poison coursing through her veins, a malevolent force that sought to claim her as its own. Yet, with each swallow, he felt the toxins dissipate.
For moments that stretched into eternity, they remained locked in their intimate embrace, bound together by the fragile thread of her existence. And as the last traces of poison faded from her bloodstream, he withdrew, his lips stained crimson.
His acute senses alerted him to the imminent arrival of his brother, Inuyasha. With a resigned sigh, Sesshomaru glanced down at the unconscious form of the young Miko, her features peaceful in repose. Knowing that she would be safe for the time being, he swiftly covered her with clothing he retrieved from her bag.
With a last lingering look, he turned and left as he knew that Naraku must be in the area after having seen that boy, Kohaku.
He had questioned why he had saved the young woman and her companions. Then had stopped as he remembered just how many times she had saved and taken care of his young ward when he was away.
Thus, as Sesshomaru found himself inexplicably drawn to her, he couldn't help but question the motives behind his actions. Why did he spare her life? Why did he continue to seek out his brother, knowing she would inevitably be by his side? The answers had eluded him then, buried beneath layers of pride and prejudice, yet he couldn't deny the undeniable pull she exerted over him, a pull that defied logic and reason.
He convinced himself that it was her having saved Rin on numerous occasions that stopped him from killing her. That her sheer kindness and compassion for his ward is what drove him to tolerate her existence. Yet, he had found himself holding her in a rather high regard when she had sacrificed herself to allow Rin to escape and stayed behind so they wouldn't follow his young ward.
His gaze cut towards his own sword.
The familiar surge of demonic energy, unmistakably resonant with his late Father's sword, ignited a flurry of emotions within Sesshomaru. With a sense of urgency, he swiftly made his way towards the Bone Eater's Well near Edo, where the powerful aura beckoned him alongside the unmistakable presence of his brother.
Arriving at the scene, he was met with a scene of chaos and destruction, evidence of Inuyasha's reckless rampage in his pursuit of power. A surge of conflicting emotions surged within Sesshomaru—satisfaction mingled with simmering anger at the thought of his brother laying claim to yet another of their Father's prized swords.
The confrontation with his possessed brother was inevitable, their clash a testament to the tangled web of destiny that bound them together. Yet, amidst the chaos, a darker threat loomed—a sinister plot orchestrated by Takemaru, the human responsible for their Father's demise, now wielded by the malevolent influence of Sō'unga.
The Miko had once more saved Rin and Jaken from being killed, this time by his possessed brother as she had screamed the word, "sit" and once more put her life on the life to save them.
Later on, he had found out that she had been captured along with Rin by an ogre demon, under the command of Takemaru, the human man who killed his Father who had been possessed by his Father's third sword, Sō'unga.
When saving both of his ward and the Miko, he had allowed his gaze to linger on both girls before they left the room. Takemaru taunted him throughout their fight that he had grown soft like his Father, risking his life to save two mortal females.
It wasn't until much later that he remembered his last moments with his Father on that beach, hours before his death. His Father,, heavily wounded and bleeding, had asked him, "Do you have someone to protect?" his father had asked, his gaze heavy with unspoken emotion.
In that moment, Sesshomaru's thoughts had turned instinctively to Rin and Jaken, his faithful companions who had stood by his side through countless trials and tribulations. But as he stubbornly clung to the notion of duty and obligation, another image had intruded upon his mind—the image of the Miko, her fierce determination and unwavering loyalty a testament to the bonds they shared.
And though he had refused to acknowledge it at the time, deep down, Sesshomaru knew the truth. He did have someone to protect—multiple someones, in fact—and he would stop at nothing to ensure their safety, even if it meant risking his own life in the process.
Crouching beside the Miko, Sesshomaru's movements were gentle, almost hesitant, as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch was barely a whisper against her skin, yet she responded instinctively, leaning into his hand with a small, unconscious gesture.
For a fleeting moment, a rare expression flickered across Sesshomaru's stoic features—a flicker of something akin to tenderness, tempered by the weight of his responsibilities. Gazing down at the Miko, he found himself captivated by the delicate curve of her features, the softness of her breath as it ghosted against his fingertips.
He struggled to watch her earlier, as she tenderly tended to the otter pup, her every move focused on easing its distress. This nurturing instinct, so familiar from her interactions with the fox kit and his ward, fueled his fantasies of her. He couldn't help but envision a future where she would shower their own pups with the same love and care. Her maternal prowess stirred a longing within him, painting vivid images of a family united by her unwavering affection and devotion.
He'd wait though.
He understood the delicate balance of their relationship, knowing that true intimacy could only be forged through mutual understanding and shared experiences. Something he knew was required if he were to court and then mate her. He needed her to feel for him just as he did for her, to acknowledge the depth of their connection with open mind and heart and unspoken words.
However, recent conversations—both with him and with the demon slayer in the hot springs—had left him with a glimmer of hope. It seemed that she was beginning to recognize the subtle shifts in their dynamic.
With a deliberate motion, Sesshomaru pulled away from the Miko, albeit begrudgingly. Despite the reluctance tugging at his heart, he turned away, steeling himself against the pull of emotions.
As he vanished into the depths of the forest, his departure was punctuated by the return of his brother. Without preamble, Sesshomaru issued a terse command, his voice betraying none of the turmoil that churned within him.
"You will keep watch," he stated, the words clipped and devoid of sentiment.
Inuyasha's response was equally curt, a solemn nod acknowledging the weight of their shared responsibilities. "Keh," he grunted. "In the morning, I'll be setting off to visit Myoga and Totosai."
"Father's grave."
"I had a dream about him," he turned away. "It's as if though he was asking for me to come visit."
"You want to go."
"Kagome will be able to sense the shard once we get there. After that, he'll be going after Kohaku and Kouga for their jewel shards. Then come after Kagome for hers, and the jewel will be complete."
"I will be leaving as well tomorrow to tend to my lands."
"How long will you be gone for?"
"No more than two days." Sesshomaru smirked, "why? Do you care for your older brother's well-being?"
"Keh! Like hell!" Inuyasha crossed his arms, stomping on his foot.
But Sesshomaru couldn't resist one final admonition, a warning tinged with the harsh reality of their existence. "It would be advantageous for you to forget the dead one and look towards other females," he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of detachment.
Inuyasha's gaze wavered, torn between the memories of the past and the uncertainties of the future. "It won't be over until Naraku is dead and the jewel is complete," he replied, his voice tinged with a sense of solemn determination. "I owe it to Kikyo to avenge her death and allow her to rest peacefully."
Sesshomaru nodded in silent acknowledgment, the understanding between them unspoken yet palpable. They were creatures bound by duty, responsibility, and the weight of their shared legacy—a burden they bore with stoic resolve, even as it chafed against the confines of their pride.
But to admit such vulnerabilities aloud, especially to his brother, was a notion Sesshomaru refused to entertain. And so, with a subtle shift of his gaze and a silent nod of agreement, he reaffirmed their unspoken pact—their shared commitment to the path they had chosen, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.
For in the silent language of their shared existence, there was a strength that transcended words—a strength born of resilience, determination, and their own relationship.