Chapter 11: Little by Little

The fluorescent lights hummed softly as Kagome approached the nurse's station. Nearby, Sango sat with Shippo, who was busy scribbling in his notebook, his legs swinging idly beneath the chair.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Sango," Kagome said with a grateful smile, setting her bag down on the counter.

Sango stood and stretched, a friendly grin on her face. "No problem at all. He's been great, though he's been counting down the minutes until you were done."

"Can we go now?" Shippo piped up, hopping off the chair. "I'm starving!"

Before Kagome could answer, Hojo appeared, his tone instantly grating. "Kagome! Finally finished for the day? Must be nice to clock out whenever you want and not have to worry about bills."

Kagome kept her tone measured, unwilling to rise to his bait. "It's been a long day, Hojo. I'm just looking forward to heading home."

Hojo leaned against the counter, his smile more smirk than warmth. "Yeah, I bet. Must be nice being one of the rich and carefree."

Sango's expression hardened, her friendly demeanor vanishing. Shippo frowned deeply, stepping closer to his sister. "Hey! Don't talk to my sister like that!"

Hojo dismissed Shippo entirely, his attention still fixed on Kagome. "I'm just saying."

"That's enough," Sango cut in, her voice cold and firm. Her glare was sharp enough to pierce.

Hojo hesitated, his smirk faltering under Sango's withering gaze. He shrugged nonchalantly, though the movement lacked its usual confidence. "Touchy crowd tonight. Fine, whatever. Have a nice night."

As he walked away, Shippo clenched his fists, glaring after him. "I really don't like that guy!"

Kagome sighed, placing a calming hand on Shippo's head. "It's okay, Shippo. Some people just don't know how to act."

Sango crossed her arms, her expression still thunderous. "You're too nice, Kagome. He's jealous and rude, plain and simple."

Shippo nodded vigorously. "Next time, I'll tell him to leave you alone!"

Kagome couldn't help but smile at her little brother's fierce protectiveness. She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Thanks, Shippo. But it looks like someone already beat you to it today."

Sango's curiosity sparked. "Wait—who?"

Kagome's smile grew a little softer, a touch of warmth entering her tone. "The same man from the café. The same one from the park. Sesshoumaru Taisho."

Sango's jaw dropped in disbelief. "No way, Kagome!"

As they stepped into the cool embrace of the evening air, Kagome's thoughts drifted. Sesshoumaru Taisho had an uncanny way with words—sharp and straight forward, with a charm that was almost endearing. A soft laugh escaped her, its sound echoing lightly across the quiet parking lot.

Sango and Shippo exchanged curious glances before looking at Kagome. "What's so funny?" Sango asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Kagome shook her head, her smile lingering. "Oh, nothing," she said, though the warmth in her expression hinted otherwise.

Naraku sat alone in his home office, the warm glow of a desk lamp illuminating the room. The rich scent of aged wood filled the air, the mahogany desk before him scattered with notes and crumpled drafts of his speech. A sleek laptop stood open, its blank screen taunting him.

As the CEO of Higurashi Pharmaceuticals, the upcoming charity gala was more than just an event. It was an opportunity to showcase the company's commitment to advancing healthcare access and solidify its standing among Japan's most influential. But tonight, the right words seemed frustratingly out of reach.

Naraku leaned back in his leather chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. A soft knock on the door broke his concentration.

"Come in," he called, his voice even.

Kagura entered, her presence commanding even in her casual attire. She glanced at the mess on his desk, arching a brow. "Still struggling with the speech?"

He sighed, gesturing to the papers. "I need it to be perfect. This gala is more than a networking event. It's a statement—about our family, our company, and our vision. I can't afford to get it wrong."

Kagura approached, placing a hand on the back of his chair. "Naraku, you've built an empire with your words and actions. Stop overthinking. Speak about what matters—why you started Higurashi Pharmaceuticals in the first place."

He turned his chair slightly, meeting her eyes. "Healthcare access. Innovation. Ensuring that life-saving treatments aren't a luxury but a right." He paused, his gaze softening. "It's not just about the business. It's about creating a legacy—something for Kagome and Shippo to be proud of."

Kagura smirked, leaning against the desk. "Exactly. Let them see that side of you. Not just the calculated businessman but the man who believes in what he's building."

Naraku's lips curved into a faint smile. "You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is," Kagura replied, picking up a crumpled draft and tossing it into the trash. "And don't forget to highlight the company's contributions to global health. The patents, the charity partnerships—that's what they'll care about."

Naraku nodded, a new wave of clarity settling over him. "You're right. I've been trying too hard to craft something grand when the truth is enough."

"Exactly," Kagura said with a knowing look. "Now finish up. We still need to finalize our outfits, and I'm not letting you embarrass me with some last-minute tux."

Naraku chuckled, his mood lightened. "I wouldn't dream of it."

As Kagura left, Naraku turned back to his laptop, his fingers moving with purpose. This time, the speech came together seamlessly, every word resonating with his passion and vision. The gala would be a night to remember—he would make sure of it.

The Taisho household hummed with quiet activity as morning sunlight streamed through the large windows. Inukimi stood by the kitchen island, sipping her tea and keeping an eye on Kanna, who sat at the table, delicately finishing her breakfast. Her small hands cradled a bowl of miso soup, her pale hair neatly braided for the day ahead.

"Are you ready for school, Kanna?" Inukimi asked gently.

Kanna nodded, her expression as serene as ever. "Yes, Mama."

Sesshoumaru entered the room, impeccably dressed, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored shirt. He cast a glance at Kanna. "I'll drive her today."

Inukimi raised a brow, a slight smile curving her lips. "How rare of you to have the time."

Sesshoumaru ignored the comment, extending a hand to Kanna. She slid off her chair gracefully and took it, her small backpack bouncing slightly as they made their way to the car.

As they settled in, Kanna broke the silence, her soft voice thoughtful. "Sesshoumaru, how do you talk to people?"

Sesshoumaru's hand paused mid-motion as he started the car. He turned his golden eyes toward her, clearly unprepared for such a question. "What do you mean?"

Kanna tilted her head, her calm demeanor unwavering. "I want to speak more to others. How do you do it?"

Sesshoumaru, ever composed, frowned faintly. "You speak when necessary. Anything more is often a waste of time."

Kanna considered this, then asked, "What do I say to make people listen?"

Sesshoumaru's lips thinned. "State your point clearly. Be concise."

Kanna nodded solemnly, but her next question caught him off guard. "If someone ignores me, should I glare at them like you do?"

Sesshoumaru blinked, caught between offense and amusement. "I do not glare. I express disapproval."

Kanna's brows knit together in a rare show of puzzlement. "Is that why people look scared? Will they listen better if I do that?"

Sesshoumaru's usually unshakable calm cracked as he fought back a sigh. "No, Kanna. People listen to me because I am decisive and command respect, not because they fear me."

Kanna nodded thoughtfully, as if filing the information away. Then, with the faintest hint of mischief in her serene tone, she asked, "So... if I want people to listen, should I wear a suit like you?"

Sesshoumaru glanced at her, his stoic façade nearly crumbling into a rare laugh. "That might help. Though, perhaps we start with confidence before tailoring."

Kanna sat back in her seat, satisfied. "Confidence. I'll practice glaring confidently."

Sesshoumaru sighed, his hand gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. "Let's start with smiling, Kanna."

Kanna tilted her head, her pale eyes fixed on him with quiet curiosity. "But I've never seen you smile before."

Sesshoumaru glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable.

"And when you do…" Kanna continued, her tone as blunt as ever, "it looks awkward."

Sesshoumaru's jaw twitched, his composure slipping just enough to betray a flicker of irritation. "Perhaps I should teach you restraint instead."

Kanna blinked, unbothered. "Would that help people listen better?"

Sesshoumaru sighed again, his usual calm laced with the faintest hint of defeat. "It might. Let's just get you to school."

Shippo, ever the energetic and determined little brother, had decided it was his mission to protect Kagome from "crazy people" after that encounter with Hojo. He sat in his room, his favorite plush toys scattered around, deep in thought about how he could help.

And then an idea struck him like a lightning bolt: a security system.

Shippo raced around the house, gathering string, tape, and bells from the craft drawer. His plan was simple but genius (at least to him)—he'd set up a trap by the front door.

"Kagome," he said as she walked by, "I'm working on something to keep the bad people away. Don't come near the door until I say it's safe!"

Curious but busy, Kagome smiled and nodded. "Okay, Shippo. Be careful."

An hour later, Kagome was leaving for her study session when she accidentally triggered the trap. Bells jingled loudly, and a string tugged on a stuffed fox that tumbled down from above, hitting her shoulder.

"Shippo!" Kagome called, amused.

He dashed over, beaming. "See? It works! If that was a crazy person, they'd get caught!"

Kagome couldn't help but laugh, kneeling to hug him. "Thank you, Shippo, but I think we'll keep this for home emergencies, okay?"

Shippo pouted but nodded. "Fine. I'll think of something better!"

Kagura sat gracefully on the plush sofa in the living room, her sharp eyes watching as Shippo zoomed through the house, a toy airplane in his hands. With the upcoming charity gala just days away, she decided it was time to give her youngest his special task.

"Shippo," Kagura called in her usual elegant tone, her voice carrying a hint of authority.

Shippo skidded to a halt, turning to face her. "Yes, Mom?"

Kagura motioned for him to come closer. Once he did, she gave him a small, knowing smile. "I have an important responsibility for you at the gala."

Shippo's eyes widened with excitement. "Really? What is it? Am I gonna be security? Or—"

"You," Kagura interrupted gently but firmly, "will be in charge of the candy stand."

His face lit up, even more excited now. "Candy stand?! Really? I get to be the boss of it?"

Kagura nodded. "Yes, but it's an important role. You'll need to make sure all the children and guests are happy. That means being polite, keeping the candy organized, and making sure no one takes too much."

Shippo puffed out his chest, his eyes sparkling with determination. "Don't worry, Mom! I'll make it the best candy stand ever!"

Kagura leaned down and cupped his cheek affectionately. "I know you will. But remember, this is a formal event. You'll need to look your best and act responsibly. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes!" Shippo nodded vigorously. "I'll wear my suit and everything!"

"Good," Kagura said, standing up. "We'll set up the candy stand early so you can practice. Now, go on and tell your sister the big news."

Shippo dashed off, shouting, "Kagome! I'm gonna be in charge of the candy stand!"

Kagura watched him go with a soft smile, feeling a mix of amusement and pride. Giving Shippo a role at the gala wasn't just to keep him busy—it was her way of showing him he was an important part of their family, even at high-profile events.

Kagome sat in the hospital's break room, taking a rare moment to relax between her rounds. She had just finished checking over her patients and was looking over a few notes when she heard a familiar voice—Hojo's, unmistakable even in the distant hallway. He was speaking to a nurse in a hurried tone, his words filled with concern.

"Make sure the patient in room 208 is checked again, please," Hojo said, his voice tight. "I have some work to do."

Kagome's brow furrowed as she overheard the conversation. Hojo's attention to detail had never been his strongest quality, and hearing him express doubt about the prescription didn't sit well with her, especially not after what she had previously witnessed.

Concerned, she stood and walked toward the room Hojo had mentioned. As she pushed the door open gently, and inside was a woman, pale and weak, lying in the bed. Her eyes were dull, and she looked uncomfortable, almost as if she was experiencing an adverse reaction to something.

The woman blinked as Kagome stepped inside. "Oh… you're not Dr. Watanabe."

Kagome gave a warm smile, approaching the bed. "No, I'm Dr. Higurashi, a fellow resident doctor here. How are you feeling?"

The woman hesitated. "I… I don't feel well. I've been dizzy since taking the medication he gave me. It's like I can't focus, and everything is spinning."

Kagome's heart sank. She immediately started asking the patient about the prescription, her mind working quickly. She noted the medication name, dosage, and time of administration.

After a brief check, Kagome quickly realized that the prescription was not only wrong but had been prescribed at a dangerously high dosage for someone with the woman's condition.

"Don't worry," Kagome said softly but firmly, her voice full of confidence. "I'm going to fix this. I'll make sure the nurses switch out this medication right away, and I'll personally adjust your treatment plan."

The woman's eyes flickered with relief. "Thank you. I was starting to get scared."

"You're in good hands," Kagome reassured her, offering a gentle smile before leaving the room. She strode purposefully to the nurse's station, her tone calm but authoritative as she instructed the staff to stop the incorrect medication and administer the correct one without delay.

Once in the hallway, Kagome paused, gripping her clipboard tightly. Her breath hitched as she fought to contain the surge of frustration boiling inside her.

Her knuckles turned white as she clenched the clipboard, fury simmering beneath her composed exterior. I won't let this slide. People's lives are at stake, and I'll make sure the truth comes out.

Inuyasha crept quietly through the front door, hoping to make it upstairs without his parents noticing. He'd had a long day—soccer practice had run late, and the tournament sign-ups had taken longer than expected. He didn't want to deal with his father's disapproval tonight.

But just as he was about to sneak up the stairs, Toga's voice boomed from the living room. "Inuyasha, where have you been?"

Inuyasha froze, guilt prickling at the back of his neck. He could feel his heart race as he slowly turned to face his parents. Toga was sitting with his usual stern expression, while Inukimi was calm as always, watching him closely.

"Soccer practice," Inuyasha muttered quickly, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "It ran late." He shifted his weight uncomfortably, praying they wouldn't ask more questions.

Toga raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Practice? You've been out this late for just practice?" His voice was laced with skepticism, but the real weight of his words came when he added;"do you have any idea what happened today? Miroku was rushed to the hospital. We've been trying to call you for hours!"

Inuyasha's eyes widened, confusion flickering across his face. "What?" he stammered, his throat tightening. "Miroku?! In the hospital? I… I didn't know."

Toga shook his head, exasperation evident. "You didn't answer a single call. This isn't just about responsibility, Inuyasha. It's about being there for family. We are lucky that it was an allergic reaction and that he got to the hospital in time"

Inukimi's voice was softer but no less firm as she added, "You should have checked your phone, Inuyasha. You would've known something was wrong."

Feeling his father's disappointment and his mother's gentle admonition, Inuyasha swallowed hard. He glanced down at his phone in his pocket, suddenly regretting every ignored vibration.

"I didn't know," he murmured again, his voice softer, weighed down by regret. He swallowed hard, his gaze falling to the floor. "I'm sorry."

The room grew quiet for a moment until the sound of measured footsteps echoed in the hall. Inuyasha looked up just as Sesshoumaru stepped into the room, his expression calm but unreadable.

"Miroku was in the hospital because of his own idiocy," Sesshoumaru said evenly, his gaze flicking to Toga before settling briefly on Inuyasha. "Inuyasha is not at fault."

Inuyasha blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected defense. "Wait, you're actually taking my side?"

Sesshoumaru's lips curved ever so slightly, a ghost of a smirk. "Don't misunderstand. I'm simply stating facts."

Inuyasha huffed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well, thanks… I guess."

Sesshoumaru nodded once before turning to leave, his voice trailing back as he exited the room. "Try answering your phone next time. It spares us all the drama."

Despite the tension lingering in the room, Inuyasha couldn't help but feel a small flicker of relief.

Sesshoumaru sat at his desk, his office bathed in the soft glow of the early morning sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His workspace was immaculate, every document neatly stacked, every pen in its place. But his focus today was unusually scattered.

His fingers tapped lightly on the polished surface of his desk, his mind wandering back to the encounter with Kagome the day before. Despite the mountain of work waiting for him, her image lingered at the forefront of his thoughts—her composed demeanor, her unwavering grace in the face of Hojo's condescension.

He leaned back in his chair, golden eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her. Kagome had handled the situation with a kind of elegance that was rare to witness. She hadn't lashed out, hadn't let her emotions betray her. Instead, she had maintained a calm exterior, like armor shielding her from Hojo's petty remarks.

And yet, Sesshoumaru had seen through it. Beneath her composure, there had been a flicker of hurt, so brief that anyone else might have missed it. But not him. He had recognized it because it mirrored something he understood all too well—the quiet effort it took to mask vulnerability, to stand tall even when faced with insult.

He frowned slightly, annoyed—not at Kagome, but at the memory of Hojo's smug tone and jealous jabs. The man's behavior had been irritatingly juvenile, and the way he had tried to belittle Kagome had stirred something unexpected in Sesshoumaru.

Protectiveness.

The thought made him pause, his fingers stilling on the desk. He didn't involve himself in others' affairs, much less their emotions. And yet, in that moment, he had spoken on her behalf without hesitation, shutting Hojo down with a cutting remark.

Sesshoumaru exhaled quietly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. There was something about Kagome that drew him in—a strength that wasn't loud or overt, but steady and unyielding. She didn't let others see her falter, but she also didn't let their words diminish her.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he remembered how Kagome had glanced at him afterward, her eyes wide with astonishment and—dare he think it—admiration. It had been brief, but it had lingered with him, an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection they had shared in that moment.

He picked up a pen, twirling it between his fingers as he stared out the window. He didn't dwell on people, didn't let them occupy his thoughts this way. But Kagome wasn't just anyone.

Sesshoumaru turned his attention back to the documents before him, his expression neutral once more. Yet as he began to work, a single thought persisted, unshakable in its clarity:

She was remarkable.