It had been almost a week since the gala, and the silence from my mother was uncharacteristic. I had expected at least a thinly veiled letter dripping with passive-aggressive commentary or a direct, cutting phone call to assess the "situation." Yet, there was nothing—no word, no inquiry, no reaction. The absence of her meddling should have put me at ease, but instead, it unsettled me. My mother was not one to sit idly by when a potential threat to her plans emerged, no matter how minor. If she was quiet, it was because she was waiting, watching, and calculating her next move.
The gala had been my first deliberate step to introduce Kagome into the world I inhabited, the world my mother scrutinized with an unrelenting grip. It had been strategic—an opportunity to plant the idea of a relationship without saying it outright. A seed, meant to grow into a narrative that would reach her ears naturally through the grapevine of high society. But perhaps I had miscalculated. The event, while grand and filled with the who's who of the elite, might not have had enough traction to spark the desired rumor mill.
Or perhaps the whispers had already begun, but they had yet to reach me.
Sitting in my study, I leaned back in the leather chair, my gaze fixed on the darkened skyline of the city beyond the window. The gala replayed in my mind, each moment carefully analyzed. Kagome had done well—better than I had anticipated. She had carried herself with quiet dignity, a stark contrast to the boisterous personalities that usually graced such events. Her sincerity, while refreshing to me, might have been too subdued to create the buzz necessary to turn heads.
Still, I couldn't help but acknowledge that her authenticity had been a breath of fresh air. She had handled the probing questions from society's elite with poise, her responses a perfect blend of vague politeness and genuine curiosity. The subtle humor she injected into her interactions had charmed a few, though others had clearly dismissed her as unremarkable. It was a calculated risk to bring someone like her into that world—someone unpolished by their standards but grounded in a way that most could never hope to be.
Perhaps that was the problem. Kagome wasn't playing the game the way they expected. She wasn't a socialite angling for favor or status, nor was she fawning over their wealth and power. She was simply herself. In a room full of pretenders, her honesty might have been too much of an anomaly to be taken seriously.
The silence from my mother, however, lingered at the forefront of my thoughts. This wasn't like her. She was a woman who thrived on control, on shaping the narrative before anyone else could. If she wasn't reacting, it meant she was either withholding her thoughts until she had all the information or preparing a more calculated response. Neither scenario was particularly appealing.
I drummed my fingers on the desk, considering the possibilities. The gala had been a test run, an introduction to see how Kagome would handle herself in my world. She had passed in my eyes, though the lack of immediate fallout suggested that the debut hadn't been as impactful as I'd hoped. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The slower the build, the more controlled the fallout. This quiet gave me time—time to prepare Kagome for future events, time to strategize our next move, and, perhaps most importantly, time to anticipate my mother's inevitable response.
The thought of Kagome brought a rare flicker of amusement to my otherwise serious mood. Her performance at the gala had been admirable, but her reaction to the aftermath had been equally entertaining. She had been relieved when the evening ended, practically collapsing into the car as soon as we left. Her candid remarks about the "sharks in designer dresses" and her muttered complaints about the discomfort of high heels had almost made me smirk—almost. Despite her complaints, she hadn't faltered once during the evening, a fact that hadn't escaped my notice.
And yet, I wondered how she was faring now. She had returned to her everyday life after the gala, likely trying to reconcile the absurdity of that world with her own. The contrast between our lives couldn't be starker. While I navigated the intricacies of power and influence, she dealt with the far more grounded realities of managing her shifts at Yura's and bartending, all while balancing her finances and whatever else. It was a dynamic that intrigued me, though I would never admit as much aloud.
My mind wandered further, past the gala, to the moments after, when we'd gone to Bokuseno's. Her sprained ankle flashed through my memory—the way she'd stubbornly downplayed the injury yet winced when she thought I wasn't paying attention. I had escorted her all the way to her front door that night, not because I had to, but because it felt... necessary. Her living situation, however, had been a revelation of its own. That dilapidated apartment complex she called home was a stark reminder of the disparity between our worlds. The cracked pavement, flickering hallway lights, and peeling paint were far from suitable for someone like her—someone tied to me, even temporarily. It was something I would have to address sooner rather than later, though I had yet to decide how to approach it without offending her fiercely independent nature. This was a business venture after all, and as such, I still needed her cooperation in all this.
Even now, days later, I found myself wondering how she fared. Had her ankle healed? Was she resting properly? The thought lingered, persistent enough that my hand instinctively moved toward my phone on the desk. I unlocked the screen and hovered over her contact, debating whether to send her a quick message. Something simple, perhaps, just to check in.
But my thumb hesitated over the keyboard. Was I being too eager? Too hasty? The logical side of me argued that it was unnecessary; she was capable, and if she needed anything, she would likely reach out. And yet, a small voice in the back of my mind—it sounded suspiciously like Kagome—chided me for overthinking something as simple as a text.
I locked the phone and set it back on the desk with a quiet sigh. It wouldn't do to appear overly attentive. Besides, I reminded myself, she was the one who had promised to plan our next outing. The idea still intrigued me. I had seen her humor and spontaneity firsthand, and while I suspected her suggestion of a tropical getaway had been in jest, I couldn't help but wonder what she would actually propose. Whatever it was, it would no doubt be unexpected.
The silence of the study was broken by the sudden buzz of my phone vibrating against the desk. My eyes drifted toward the screen, and the name "Miroku" glared back at me. With a measured sigh, I picked it up right before it went to voicemail, already bracing myself for whatever nonsense he had to offer this time.
"Miroku," I greeted curtly, holding the phone to my ear.
"Sesshomaru!" Miroku's voice was as cheerful and relaxed as ever. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to answer your phone. How's my favorite client this evening? Busy planning another grand date with your lovely lady, perhaps?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose, irritation threatening to seep into my tone. "I assume this call has a purpose?"
"Of course, of course," he said, clearly enjoying dragging this out longer than necessary. "But before we get into that, tell me—how was the rest of the evening with Kagome? Did you two sneak away for a romantic stroll under the moonlight? Maybe some late-night confessions of love?"
"I don't recall inviting you to pry into my personal affairs," I replied coolly, refusing to humor his antics. "The evening concluded uneventfully."
Miroku let out a scoff. "Typical. Always keeping the good parts to yourself. One of these days, Sesshomaru, you'll have to share a little more. For now, though, I'll take your non-answer as confirmation that it went well enough."
"I am not here to entertain your assumptions. Get to the point, Miroku," I said, my patience wearing thin.
He cleared his throat, his tone shifting slightly to something more serious. "Fine, fine. Here's the thing: I've been keeping an eye on the tabloids, as you requested. It seems your 'mystery date' from the gala has already become a topic of interest. A few papers have printed photos of the two of you, speculating about her identity. Most of it is harmless—'Who is the stunning woman on Sesshomaru Taisho's arm?'—that sort of fluff. But there's something else."
I straightened in my chair, my senses sharpening. "Go on."
Miroku hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. "I've heard from some of my contacts that Magatsuhi has been asking around about Kagome. Apparently, he's very interested in her."
The mention of Magatsuhi sent a ripple of suspicion through me. My grip on the phone tightened, though I kept my voice steady. "Why would Magatsuhi concern himself with her? He has no reason to be interested."
"That's exactly what I thought," Miroku agreed. "It's odd, to say the least. He's been discreet—only asking a select few questions to people he knows won't snitch easily. But it's clear he's trying to dig up something."
I mulled over the information, the pieces clicking into place slowly. Magatsuhi wasn't one to waste time on trivialities. If he was asking about Kagome, it wasn't idle curiosity. It was calculated. He could be searching for a weakness—either in her or in me—to exploit.
"Keep an eye on him," I instructed, my tone brooking no argument. "And discreetly check if any of his men are trailing Kagome. If they are, I want to know immediately."
"Understood," Miroku replied, his usual jovial tone replaced by one of seriousness. "Do you think he's targeting her to get to you?"
"It is a strong possibility," I admitted. "Magatsuhi is opportunistic. If he believes Kagome is a way to uncover something he can use against me, he won't hesitate."
There was a brief pause before Miroku spoke again. "You're being careful, right? If Magatsuhi's poking around, it could mean more than just idle curiosity. You've always played things close to the chest, but maybe it's time to be a bit more… transparent with Kagome. If she's in his sights, she should know."
I exhaled slowly, not ready to entertain that line of reasoning just yet. "I will handle it. For now, just gather what you can and keep this between us."
"You've got it," Miroku said, his tone lightening just a touch. "And Sesshomaru, try not to overthink this. You've got the upper hand, as always."
I ended the call without responding, my mind already racing through possible scenarios. Magatsuhi's sudden interest in Kagome was unsettling. The gala had been a controlled environment, and while she'd made an impression, there had been nothing overtly significant to draw his attention—or so I thought.
Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at my phone again, the urge to text Kagome resurfacing. For a moment, I debated telling her, warning her of the potential danger. But no—there was no need to alarm her prematurely. For now, I would watch from the shadows, ensuring that she remained untouched by the schemes of men like Magatsuhi.
Still, the thought of her being dragged into this tangled web of power plays and rivalries left an uneasy feeling in my chest—one I was determined to neutralize before it became a problem.
The quietness in the study was broken only by the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The calm was deceptive, a temporary reprieve before the inevitable storm. I don't know how long I sat there in contemplative silence. The phone sat on my desk, taunting me. For the third time that evening, I reached for it, my hesitation a rare indulgence. I had already considered and dismissed the notion twice before, but now it seemed necessary, especially given Magatsuhi's unexpected involvement. If this arrangement with Kagome was to succeed, the next steps required action. More public appearances, more exposure—more convincing evidence for my mother and the circles we operated in, as well as a warning signal for Magatsuhi to not meddle in my affairs.
With a sigh, I unlocked my phone and opened the messaging app. Kagome's name was easy to find; I hadn't had many reasons to text her before now. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I began typing, ensuring the message was concise but clear.
Sesshomaru: Kagome, I trust your ankle has healed. I wanted to follow up on the date you mentioned planning. Have you decided where our next outing will take place?
I read it over once, twice. Satisfied, I pressed send and set the phone down, leaning back in my chair. It wasn't in my nature to wait for anyone, but Kagome had a way of defying expectations. The fact that I was reaching out at all was evidence of that.
The phone buzzed almost immediately, and I glanced at the screen.
Kagome: Oh wow, you're actually following up on that? I figured you'd forgotten, Mr. Busy Businessman. Guess I underestimated you.
Her response was exactly what I'd expected—casual, teasing, entirely unlike the people I usually dealt with, save for Miroku. Despite myself, I typed a reply.
Sesshomaru: I do not forget commitments, Kagome. If you require assistance with the planning, I can arrange something.
Her response came faster than I anticipated.
Kagome: Wow, you're really serious about this, huh? Don't worry, I've got it covered. It might not be up to your super high standards, but it'll be fun. Trust me.
Trust me. The words lingered. Trust was not something I extended lightly, and yet with her, the concept didn't seem as foreign. Against my better judgment, I decided to let her take the reins. Whatever she came up with would likely be unconventional, but that was part of what intrigued me.
Sesshomaru: I will reserve judgment until then. Inform me of the details when you are ready.
This time, her response took longer. The three little dots on the screen blinked, disappeared, then reappeared. When her reply finally came through, I could practically hear her exasperation.
Kagome: You're no fun, you know that? Fine, I'll let you know soon. And by soon, I mean after I figure out how to make this date not break the bank. These ideas are expensive!
I frowned slightly at her comment. Cost was clearly a concern for her, though it was a concept I rarely had to consider. It wasn't a matter of arrogance; it was simply a fact of my existence.
Sesshomaru: Do not concern yourself with the cost. Plan as you wish—I will handle the expenses.
The dots appeared almost instantly, then disappeared again. When her reply came through, it was as direct as I'd expected.
Kagome: Of course you'd say that. Fine, but don't complain if it's something totally ridiculous. You said I could plan, after all.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, though I quickly suppressed it.
Sesshomaru: I am a man of my word, Kagome. Do your worst.
I set the phone down, my thoughts still lingering on the conversation. Whatever Kagome had in mind, it would likely defy convention. But that didn't bother me. If anything, the unpredictability of it all was refreshing.
With a sigh, I turned my chair toward the window, the city sprawling out before me. My mother was silent, Magatsuhi was scheming, and Kagome was... planning a date. It was a strange juxtaposition, the weight of power plays and rivalries on one side and the lighthearted promise of her creativity on the other.
...
words: 2,676
A/N:hello friends. i haven't quite died yet. I've just been...very very pregnant and about to evict a tiny little human either in 2 hours, 2 days, or a week from now...basically my due date is fast approaching. Not to mention pregnancy brain fog is 10000% real. But anyway, i haven't forgotten this story so here's a quick, transitional update.