Those nightmares plagued her dreams too often; blissful rest eluded her. Gwen hated that it impaired her sleep so badly that she just couldn't close her eyes again and drift away. So she wandered the corridors, small feet silent on polished wooden floors that probably cost more than her father's house. Tōga was still recovering, sleeping like the dead, and she didn't want to alarm him. Slipping away, she had passed a yukata and was now wandering the Shiro towards the most beautiful sound of the world.

A piano.

Somewhere further away, a grand piano sung – of much better quality than the one left at the station - under expert fingers, and she was determined to find out who played with such skill. Chopin wasn't her favourite composer, but she'd be damned if he wasn't one hell of a good one. To hear the Nocturnes interpreted so beautifully hurried her progression; no matter how often she played the piano, this was out of her reach.

Eventually, the sound led her to a large traditional room with a sleek black grand piano. The light was very dim, so muted that she could barely see the details of the paintings that throned upon the wall. And there, long fingers caressing the notes, sat an ethereal being with a long mane of silver hair that swayed past his waist. She recognised him at once; the alpha male of the Taishō pack, Sesshōmaru. Very few shared his hair colour, and such poise.

She would die for his grand piano, its sound was exquisite. But more than anything, it was the skill of the player that gave the music its soul. Completely otherworldly. For the first time, she felt like a peasant trying to emulate royalty with her pop music. It stung. Like bitch.

The thought caused her to pause; here dwelt a master in the domain closest to her heart. Is that how Tōga felt after being nearly beaten to death, he that usually topped every self-defence class, and was renowned for his fighting skills in the army ? Did he feel as out of her depth as she did, watching Sesshomaru's incredible rendition of Chopin's larghetto ?

She didn't want to intrude, but her heart sung with the piano. Thus, Gwen took a few steps into the room and settled by the wall, quiet as a mouse as the second Nocturne rolled by. The vibrations of the piano tore through her defences, peace slowly seeping in her veins as Sesshōmaru executed the slow dance of this beautiful piece.

He knew she was here without a doubt; superior senses would have sold her at once. Perhaps, even, he'd heard her footsteps from afar. But he didn't interrupt his playing, and Gwen closed her eyes, her heart rate eventually settling to a proper pace thanks to the soothing dance of slender fingers over her favourite instrument.

"Nightmares ?"

His fingers still danced upon the notes, and Gwen wondered how he knew. But given he'd acknowledged her presence, she stepped forward and joined the piano side.

"Hai."

For a long moment, he said nothing as he glided through the piece. Sesshōmaru was a silent man, who used words sparsely and, quite to everyone'd dismay, a little too bluntly for the standard Japanese politeness. But Gwen didn't mind the silence, especially when she was treated to such a high-quality private concert. She wondered, for a moment, if her own quiet attitude rubbed him the wrong way; his wife was said to have been very chatty.

Given Towa's bubbly disposition, she had no doubts that Rin, the child of her vision, was quite a force to be reckoned with. How such a taciturn man had handled that… ? Perhaps that she filled the void for the two of them ?

Eventually, the daiyōkai stopped playing and turned his disturbing amber eyes to her, his irises rounder than usual to accommodate the low light.

"They will ease, in time."

There was certainty in his voice, the confidence of someone who knew. It took Gwen a moment to realise he was speaking about the nightmares. She shuddered at the memory of Tōga dying in her arms as she lay, powerless to save him. Golden eyes narrowed as he stood, towering over her easily.

"Chichi-ue said the piano is your instrument. Show me."

His low baritone vibrated just as much as the piano, an otherworldly sound that seemed to command air and earth beneath him. As the imperious aura went through her body, Gwen started to understand why Tōga was so utterly magnetic to someone like her. Someone so sensitive to vibrations that music was her whole world. Yōkai were supernatural beings after all.

The young woman nodded; she should feel entirely inadequate after Sesshōmaru's performance. She didn't know many classics, and wasn't a stickler for timing. Music, to her, was about expressing emotions and not performed for the sheer satisfaction of performing a difficult piece. He would probably think her inadequate; who cared, she already was in his eyes, if only because she was a ningen of twenty-six years.

Mortal. Inexperienced. A child.

So she sat, and decided that her mood would choose in her stead. Nerves dissolving, her fingers started dancing a familiar tune; one she'd played for Tōga before he kissed her senseless. One she only used in specific circumstances. And it didn't matter that the daiyōkai stared so intensely that he could have drilled holes in her head. The music shielded her from anything else that her own heart in this moment.

So she played.

It wasn't a difficult piece, its timing slow. Nothing noticeable but how the notes blended into each other, creating a deep string of melancholy that resonated in the deepest parts of her soul. The quality of the piano sublimed it; she had never heard that piece so beautifully aired.

A strange miracle happened, then. The still figure that loomed over the piano slowly mellowed, his spine still straight, his posture unaffected, but his heart thawing slowly. He knew young people, today, strayed from the classics to perform heresies on the noble instrument that was a piano. He had snubbed them for long enough, claiming music was an art, not a discombobulated set of notes. Who could claim two centuries of training after all ? He, Sesshōmaru, could play almost any piece that had ever been written in the world.

Yet, this slow dance of emotions touched him. And he wondered how many more this little woman knew that could reach his heart so. Albeit Gwen's fingers were the ones playing, he felt that the piano was vibrating at the rhythm of her heart. And so, intrigued, the great daiyōkai circled the instrument and settled by her side.

She went on, not oblivious of his presence, but too lost in her music to react to his demanding presence. Trust or foolishness ? He knew of only one human being who had approached him so candidly in the past…

The dance went on, at its own rhythm, a flurry of caresses that told him she respected the instrument for what it was; a king in the history of music. The master of all composers. When eventually, she released the last note, Gwen turned to him without an ounce of nervousness.

"Do you sleep, Sesshomaru-sama ?"

Any other he would have rebuked, but he could only sense genuine curiosity in her question. She wanted to know about him, not to brag, neither to gain knowledge against him nor for personal gain. Her question aimed at learning who he was, as a person; to create a bridge of understanding. It was little wonder she'd pierced his father's secret. Her fingers lingered on the notes, right hand sketching a piece he knew well; one born from a Japanese composer.

"I do, occasionally, but need very little."

The young woman nodded, hand dancing, now, to produce the higher part of the Rivers Flows in You. As if she couldn't help it. Sesshōmaru lifted his clawed fingers and, catching the rhythm easily, endeavoured to play the grave notes with his right hand.

The young woman stumbled upon a note, sending him a shocked look. He almost smirked at her surprise – playing with his right hand what should have been done with the left showed his superior mastery – but elicited to give her a mental shove with a glare. She couldn't possibly know that, for at least a year, he'd only had one hand to begin with. Gwen returned to her playing; he offered her the support she needed, right-handed, to perform the beautiful piece written by Yiruma.

How the two of them managed to be so much in sync without any prior training, he wondered, was unheard of. Proud as he was of his skill, Sesshōmaru still knew that they should have messed up, once in a while, to make transitions smooth. The fact was that the piece flew out of their conjoined hands with such ease that it unsettled him.

Was it because of her sight ? Was she attuned to him, or he to her ? Where they both so enthralled by the music that it just existed on its own ? The truth was that it didn't matter; the beauty of the piece entranced his heart enough to overlook that he was sitting beside a ningen.

His father's little human was breathing hard when the piece ended, and he didn't remove his fingers from the piano when she turned to face him, grey eyes unsettled. For a moment, he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Eventually, her head bowed in respect.

"I apologise for the pain I caused you."

Sesshōmaru stiffened; he knew what she was referring to. He'd been an idiot to lash out for it; Rin would have had his head.

"You are not its cause," he responded. "Only a reminder."

Gwen nodded, accepting the silent apology for what it was.

"Your yōki is so strong," she confessed. "It seems to trigger my gift much more than anyone I ever met. I will learn to curb it."

The beast preened in the confines of its civilised cage, but this wasn't flattery. Just a fact. It also meant, strangely, that his strength would be his doom; the wall that kept his emotions from others was but a glass pane to her. A see-through barrier. He had yet to consider how much he loathed the idea of exposure, balancing it with the curiosity of prodding a seer's mind.

"I'll try my best to stay away from your memories," she went on, trying to coax a reaction out of him. The little ningen wasn't disappointed.

"See that you do," he ordered stiffly as he stood. Then he left the room with long strides. But still, she played; another piece of Yiruma followed him all the way to his rooms.