Chapter 21

Miroku's voice was alert but calm. "Slow down, Kohaku. What kind of problem?"

Kohaku sucked in a shaky breath. "Someone's threatening Kagome. I was shutting down the surveillance script, and—I heard it. Someone's with her right now. They know about the report. They said she and her 'boyfriend' would regret this!"

There was silence on the other end, just for a second, and then—

"Where is she?" Miroku's tone was sharp, businesslike.

"The hospital." Kohaku was already moving, shoving his laptop into his backpack. "Miroku, this guy sounded serious."

"I'm on it." Miroku's voice was all steel. "Stay put, keep your ears open, and send me the recording."

But Kohaku was already running for the door. There was no way he was going to sit this one out.

Miroku wasted no time; he called Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru stood with his arms crossed, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the boy in front of him.

Kohaku, all of thirteen years old, shifted under his sharp gaze. The kid wasn't particularly intimidated—just wary, like a stray cat trying to gauge whether he should bolt or stay put.

Miroku, standing between them with his ever-present grin, clapped a hand on Kohaku's shoulder. "Sesshoumaru, meet Kohaku. Kohaku, this is my dear cousin, the one you so expertly inconvenienced."

Sesshoumaru's expression remained unreadable. "Inconvenienced?"

Miroku had the audacity to look amused. "Ah, well… you were stuck in an elevator for quite some time. A bonding moment, if you will."

Sesshoumaru's gaze flickered back to Kohaku. "You were the one responsible."

The boy hesitated, then, with a surprising amount of composure, nodded. "Yeah."

Sesshoumaru's jaw tightened. "You hacked into Taisho Corp's system."

Kohaku nodded again. "Yep."

"To trap Kagome and me in an elevator."

"…Also yes."

There was a long silence. Kohaku, to his credit, didn't squirm—though he did glance toward Miroku, who was clearly enjoying the moment far too much.

Sesshoumaru exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And why, exactly, did you think this was a good idea?"

Kohaku shrugged. "Miroku said you needed help."

Sesshoumaru turned his glare to Miroku, who merely grinned and raised his hands in surrender. "All in the name of fate, dear cousin."

Sesshoumaru ignored him, focusing on the hacker in front of him. "You are thirteen."

"Yes."

"You should not be capable of such things."

Kohaku grinned for the first time. "And yet."

Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to sigh. Miroku had to be involved. No normal teenager decided to hack into a multi-billion-dollar company's security system just for matchmaking purposes.

"You do realize this is a criminal offense?" Sesshoumaru said coolly.

Kohaku blinked. "…Oh."

Miroku coughed into his fist. "Now, now, let's not get too caught up in the details, Sesshoumaru. No real harm was done."

Sesshoumaru shot him a withering look. "Our security system has to be entirely restructured."

"Yes, but think of the romantic potential—"

"If you say another word, I will have you removed from my office."

Kohaku, to his credit, looked only mildly concerned. "…So I'm not getting arrested, right?"

Sesshoumaru exhaled. "No. But if you ever interfere in my personal matters, I will personally ensure you regret it."

Kohaku grinned. "Duly noted."

Miroku clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I knew you two would get along."

Sesshoumaru stared at him, wondering for the hundredth time why he still tolerated his cousin.

Miroku was frantically patting down his pockets, checking under the cushions of Sesshoumaru's office couch, and even rummaging through a potted plant for reasons unknown.

"Where are the car keys?" Miroku muttered, flipping through a stack of documents on Sesshoumaru's desk. "I swear I had them a second ago—"

Miroku pouted dramatically, flopping onto the couch like a man who had just lost everything. "All this extra work, and Sango wouldn't even let me know who it is either. Damn them for being so ethical. Sneaking around, trying to track down a guy they could just tell us about—it's ridiculous! And Kagome's phone? Completely hopeless. Not a single clue. Just equations, medical notes, and study reminders. I swear, it's like she's allergic to casual conversation. No 'he's cute' messages, no suspicious heart emojis, nothing. It's a nerd's paradise! And don't even get me started on past phone calls—no way to check those. We're stranded in the dark."

Sesshoumaru exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man questioning all his life choices. "Remind me again why we're related?"

Miroku shot him a wink. "Trust me, we are. Somewhere deep down, you've got charm too."

Sesshoumaru leveled him with a cold glare. "You do realize breaking into someone's phone is also a criminal offense, right? She might not text about her love life, but she should be able to text in peace."

Kohaku, who had been scrolling through his own phone the entire time, barely looked up. "Kagome doesn't have a love life."

Miroku froze. "What?"

Kohaku shrugged. "Yeah. She's married to her books. You'd have better luck finding romance in her anatomy flashcards."

Miroku turned to Sesshoumaru with a wide grin, clapping him on the shoulder. "Well, well. Looks like you two are meant to be. No love life and an intense obsession with work? A match made in academic heaven."

Sesshoumaru gave him a withering look.

But Kohaku wasn't done yet. He tilted his head, watching Sesshoumaru with a calculating expression. "So… do you love Kagome?"

Miroku froze mid-reach for the keys that he had finally found, eyes widening in delight. He immediately abandoned his search and turned to Sesshoumaru like a shark scenting blood.

Sesshoumaru, on the other hand, simply stared at Kohaku. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Kohaku swung his legs slightly, utterly unfazed by the deadly look being leveled at him. "Do. You. Love. Her?"

Miroku gasped dramatically. "An excellent question, young Kohaku! Sesshoumaru, do share."

Kohaku shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unreadable. "It's like two in the morning, man. Who else is gonna rush to the hospital at this hour unless it's an emergency? No sane guy would drop everything for a girl... well, unless he's got feelings for her. Let's be real, it's pretty obvious. And hey," he added with a smirk, "you're lucky my parents are out of town. Otherwise, I wouldn't even be allowed out of the house right now."

Sesshoumaru's glare darkened. "You are both insufferable."

Miroku draped himself over the couch with a smirk. "Deny nothing, confirm everything."

Sesshoumaru exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw them both out the window.

Kohaku grinned. "So that's a yes."

Sesshoumaru's eye twitched. "That was not a yes."

Miroku leaned in. "But it wasn't a no."

Sesshoumaru stood abruptly, adjusting his cuffs with a slow, deliberate motion. "Both of you. Out."

Miroku sighed, dramatically grabbing his keys from Kohaku. "He's deflecting."

Kohaku nodded sagely. "Big time."

Sesshoumaru exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to throw something at them.

As the two troublemakers made their way to the door, Kohaku shot one last glance over his shoulder. "You should tell her, you know."

Sesshoumaru didn't answer, but for the first time he didn't dismiss it either.

All three males were packed into Sesshoumaru's car, the air thick with tension. The engine growled as he sped through the city streets, headlights cutting through the night.

"You think we'll find him in time?" Kohaku murmured, fingers flying over his laptop keyboard as he combed through data, searching for any digital trace of the unknown male voice.

Miroku and Sesshoumaru exchanged a glance.

"Maybe," Miroku admitted, his tone grim.

Sesshoumaru kept his gaze locked on the road, but his voice was sharp. "How did you even get that recording?"

Kohaku hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… funny story, actually."

Sesshoumaru's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Explain."

Kohaku swallowed hard. "Well… remember how I can hack into her phone?"

Sesshoumaru's glare flicked to him in the rearview mirror, and Kohaku immediately regretted bringing it up. The weight of that look felt like a death sentence.

"I may have left a small… bug in her phone when I was hacking…" he admitted, voice trailing off.

Sesshoumaru's golden eyes darkened dangerously.

Miroku exhaled. "Kohaku, you're insane."

"In my defense," Kohaku said quickly, "I was trying to remove it, I'm not a full-fledged hacker! But then this happened, and—look, it worked out, didn't it?"

Sesshoumaru said nothing, but the pressure in the car increased tenfold. Kohaku wasn't sure whether to feel proud of his ingenuity or terrified for his life.

Miroku shifted gears. "What's Kagome doing now? Is she still at the hospital?"

"I haven't set up a full tracking system yet," Kohaku admitted, "but we have access to her audio feed… and even video."

Sesshoumaru glared at him, before he could lecture Kohaku, Miroku interjected. "Then let's listen."

Kohaku pressed a button on his laptop, and Kagome's voice filled the car's interior.

"Her liver is compromised, and this dosage won't be effective. Also, has she had an updated X-ray?"

A hesitant voice responded, "No, her last imaging was three months ago. The attending physician didn't think it was necessary to order another."

Kagome's tone sharpened. "Three months is outdated for a patient with progressive hepatic insufficiency. You need a new set of liver function tests—AST, ALT, and bilirubin levels at the very least. If her albumin is dropping and INR is elevated, she could be heading toward decompensated liver failure. Is she showing any signs of ascites or encephalopathy?"

There was a pause. Then, "She's had mild contusion and occasional tremors."

The other doctor hesitated. "Dr. Higurashi, I know you're still in residency, but—she refused further intervention—"

Kagome cut in smoothly, "That doesn't matter. I took an oath. Whether I'm a resident or a full-fledged doctor, my duty is to the patient. If she's in a compromised mental state, she's not legally capable of making this decision." Her voice sharpened. "Listen carefully—if her MELD score is high enough, she should be evaluated for a liver transplant immediately. Start monitoring her lactate levels, and if she begins to decompensate, I want an arterial blood gas drawn stat. Right now, she's still in stage one encephalopathy, but if we don't intervene, she's going to spiral fast. Do not wait for her to crash before acting."

Miroku whistled low, clearly impressed. "She's incredible. After being threatened like that, she's still able to stay so focused."

Sesshoumaru didn't respond, but the tautness in his shoulders, the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel, said more than words ever could. He was both proud of Kagome—and furious. Furious not only because of Miroku's and Kohaku's reckless actions but because of the idiot who had the audacity to threaten her, both over the phone and in person.

The air inside the car was thick with his simmering frustration, but Sesshoumaru's expression remained unreadable as he finally broke the silence. "She won't accept my help," he said, his voice low, but the sharpness of it cut through the air. "We will have to do this another way."

Kohaku nodded.

"Wait," Kohaku muttered, still scrolling. "There's more."

A new voice crackled through the speakers.

"Dr. Higurashi, what's with that bandage on your forehead?"

Kagome sighed audibly, exhaustion heavy in her voice. "I'm fine. Just a minor accident."

The voice seemed hesitant, "What happened?"

"I got stuck in an elevator…" Kagome's voice trailed off, clearly reliving the trauma. "Then I hit my head against the wall and fainted. But that's not even the strangest part."

A brief pause. "What was the strangest part?"

Kagome's voice went dry, almost sarcastic. "The music."

"The… music?"

"Yeah," Kagome deadpanned. "The entire time, someone thought it would be hilarious to play an instrumental piano version of 'My Heart Will Go On,' on repeat."

There was silence, then the other voice cracked up. "No way."

"I swear," Kagome continued, "I am never getting on another elevator in my life. If I ever find out whose idea that was, I will trap them in an elevator with the damn song on loop until they beg for mercy."

The other voice couldn't contain the laughter anymore, cracking up uncontrollably.

Kohaku immediately switched off the audio and exchanged a worried glance with Miroku, their nerves visibly frayed. Sesshoumaru, however, kept his cool, his eyes locked on the road, but his expression was dangerous.

"Who thought of it first?" Sesshoumaru asked, his tone colder than the Arctic.

Kohaku's throat went dry. Why, oh why, did I do that? "I mean, I was just trying to… uh… set the ambience," he stammered, immediately regretting every decision that had led to this moment.

"And what better way to set the perfect mood than to be trapped in an elevator with your sweetheart?" Miroku added with a teasing grin, not helping Kohaku's case in the slightest.

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening so much that Kohaku swore the car might start shaking. "Don't," Sesshoumaru growled, his voice low and dangerous. "If you ever put a bug in Kagome's phone again… or meddle in my matters again… I'll make sure you both end up in more than just a trapped elevator."

Kohaku instantly stiffened, his palms sweating. "Yes, sir," he squeaked, now fully regretting his entire existence.

Sesshoumaru's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, his expression turning more serious. "And don't forget," he added, his voice colder than ever, "Kagome got hurt because of you two. We will deal with this, before that fool puts her in further danger."

Miroku and Kohaku fell silent at the weight of his words.

Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. Of all the absurdities life had thrown at him, he certainly hadn't anticipated teaming up with Miroku and a 13-year-old kid to break laws in the dead of night. He shot a piercing glare at the two, his composure still intact but his frustration evident. With a deep, steadying breath, he exhaled slowly, preparing to deal with the madness unfolding around him.

The hospital lobby was bright and sterile, the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Sesshoumaru walked in with Miroku and Kohaku, his presence immediately commanding attention. He was tall, composed, and his sharp golden eyes swept over the reception desk with an air of silent authority. The receptionist hesitated under his gaze, instinctively wary.

Miroku, however, was anything but silent. He stormed past Sesshoumaru with the air of a man on a mission. "This is an outrage!" he bellowed, slamming his hands on the counter. "My great-aunt Tsubaki was admitted here just yesterday, and now you're telling me she's been transferred without notice?"

The receptionist blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Sir, I—"

"I demand answers!" Miroku continued, his voice rising. "I have called, I have emailed, I have sent letters! No one tells me a thing! How can a hospital just lose a patient? Where is your manager? I will not be ignored!"

The waiting patients and staff began whispering, heads turning to watch the scene unfold. The security guards at the entrance shifted uncertainly, their attention drawn to the commotion.

Kohaku, meanwhile, had slipped past unnoticed, his fingers already working on the small tablet hidden beneath his jacket. He had anticipated a quick job—find the files, extract the data, and get out—but the security protocols were tighter than expected. He cursed under his breath, his fingers flying faster over the screen.

Sesshoumaru simply stood beside Miroku, unmoving. He didn't need to say a word. His presence alone was enough to unsettle the staff. When one of the security guards hesitated before approaching, Sesshoumaru turned his gaze on him—a slow, calculating stare that made the man rethink his choices. The guard swallowed hard and took a step back.

"Sir," the receptionist tried again, clearly flustered, "I-I can call someone to help you, but—"

"Oh, now you want to help me?" Miroku threw up his hands. "Unbelievable! Next thing you'll tell me is that you don't even know who admitted her!" He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples dramatically. "I am a man of patience, but even I have my limits!"

The receptionist, in full panic mode, quickly turned to her computer, desperate to pull up anything that would get the loud, dramatic man out of her face.

Kohaku smirked. Perfect. With their attention elsewhere, he broke through the final firewall and extracted the files. The damning evidence they needed was now in his hands.

He slipped back just as Miroku slammed his hands on the desk once more. "This is incompetence at its finest! I swear, if I don't get answers, I will call every news station in Tokyo and—"

Sesshoumaru placed a single hand on his shoulder. "Enough."

Miroku stilled, then sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Fine. But know that I am deeply disappointed."

With that, they turned and walked out, the eyes of the entire lobby following them.

The second they were out of sight, Kohaku grinned. "Got it."

Sesshoumaru nodded. "Then let's move. We're done here."

The three males walked out of the hospital, their footsteps echoing in the parking lot, but the tension in the air hadn't dissipated. Once they were safely inside the car, with the door shutting behind them, Sesshoumaru finally spoke, his voice quiet yet charged with authority.

"You understand, Miroku," Sesshoumaru said, his gaze focused on the road ahead, "that what we've done today... could have serious consequences."

Miroku, who had been practically vibrating with frustration, leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Come on, Sesshoumaru, it was necessary. We needed that information, and no one was giving us a straight answer. Also if that guy is willing to threaten Kagome in the middle of the night-well..." He paused, his tone softening. "I know it's not ideal, but sometimes you have to break a few rules to get results."

Kohaku, still clutching the tablet, tilted his head back against the seat, his grin wide. "It worked, didn't it? The files are ours."

Sesshoumaru's golden eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever. "Yes, it worked. But that does not change the fact that we have crossed a line, one that my mother, in particular, will not look upon kindly."

Both Miroku stilled at the mention of his aunt. The weight of Sesshoumaru's words sank in as they recalled her sharp intellect and unwavering commitment to the law. The woman was a lawyer with years of experience in the field, and breaking the law was not something she would take lightly—especially when it came to her own family.

"You're right," Miroku said, rubbing his temples. "She is going to be furious. If she even finds out..." Miroku sank lower in his seat, his shoulders slumping as he let out a long, dramatic sigh. "This is a mess. A complete mess."

"More than a mess," Kohaku added, his usual confidence slipping as a rare uncertainty flickered across his face. "This whole situation is even crazier than I imagined. Honestly, I can't believe Sango kept all of this from me!"

The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of their actions pressing down on them like a physical force. Kohaku's earlier grin had faded into a furrowed brow, and Miroku stared ahead, lost in thought, his mind racing with the potential fallout.

"Well, at least we've got what we needed," Kohaku muttered, though his voice lacked the usual sharpness. "But Sesshoumaru's right. We're walking on thin ice now."

Sesshoumaru's gaze remained steely, his mind already shifting gears, calculating the next steps. "Thin ice, indeed," he agreed, his voice low and composed. "And if we fall through, rest assured, I will be the first to ensure that the consequences are dealt with swiftly and without mercy. But for now... we focus on what comes next."

He turned his attention to the road ahead, the world outside a blur as his mind processed the layers of this situation—every potential outcome, every decision that had to be made.

Kagome stood still, her expression unreadable as the board member's words settled over her like a heavy weight.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Higurashi," he said, though his tone carried no real remorse. "Effective immediately, you are to go home. You are under investigation."

Sango stiffened beside her, eyes narrowing. Kagome, however, remained calm. She already knew. They both did.

Hojo.

Kagome inhaled slowly, smoothing the front of her coat as if unaffected. "I see." Her voice was steady, controlled. "And may I ask what, exactly, I am being investigated for?"

The board member adjusted his glasses, avoiding her gaze. "You will be informed in due time. Until then, you are not to step foot in this hospital."

Kagome blinked, "I understand," she said evenly. "Then may I ask how this affects my upcoming exams?"

The board member hesitated. "You will be informed in due time."

"That's not an answer," Kagome countered, her voice polite but firm. "My exams determine my career. If I am being investigated, does that mean I am also barred from taking them?"

The board member adjusted his glasses, still avoiding her gaze. "That decision has yet to be made."

Sango took a sharp step forward. "Oh, give me a break," she snapped. Her voice dripped with fury.

The board member didn't react, his expression a carefully practiced mask.

Kagome placed a hand on Sango's arm—gentle, but firm. "It's fine," she said softly. "Let's go."

Sango turned to her, disbelief flashing in her eyes. "Kagome—"

But Kagome was already walking away, her posture graceful, unshaken.

She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

Kagome pressed her back against the bench, inhaling deeply as she tried to steady herself. Her head ached, but that wasn't the real problem. She knew she couldn't ignore it any longer, soon her parents would be asking questions and she would have to face the music.

She didn't want to worry them, but she knew she had to at least relay what would be happening.

She clenched her fists, willing herself to stay calm. There was only one person she trusted to handle this properly.

Her father.

Gathering her resolve, she pulled out her phone and dialed. The line barely rang before Naraku answered.

"Kagome," his deep voice greeted her, smooth yet sharp, as if he had been expecting her call.

"Father," she said, swallowing down her nerves. "I need to talk to you about something. It's important."

A pause. Then his voice came, measured and unreadable. "What is it?"

She hesitated for only a moment

Before she could speak, Naraku exhaled sharply. "Not now."

Kagome blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I am handling something. We will talk about this later."

"But—" she started, frustration creeping into her voice "...What about Myoga?" she asked instead, hoping their trusted advisor could step in.

"Myoga is preoccupied. I will deal with this."

Her stomach twisted. Naraku was rarely this curt with her. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

A rare pause. Then, in a voice that was calm, yet chillingly final, he answered, "Something has happened with our shipment freights. I need to go."

Kagome straightened, gripping the phone tighter. "What?"

"We will talk tomorrow," Naraku said, the conversation already slipping from his grasp. "Get some rest, Kagome."

Her mouth opened to argue, but the line clicked dead.

She exhaled slowly, lowering her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly, not just from exhaustion, but from unease. If something was serious enough to pull her father away so abruptly, then it had to be big.

And that meant Hojo would have to wait.

Kagome sighed, slipping her phone back into her pocket as she stared at the concrete. The weight of the conversation lingered, but more than that, the unease in her father's voice stuck with her.

Her father never wavered. He was the kind of man who could stand in the middle of a storm and remain untouched. But something had rattled him tonight.

She closed her eyes, letting exhaustion pull her into memory.

She had been young when she first realized the world didn't see her father the way she did. To her, he was strength, intelligence, and unwavering certainty. To others, he was a man chasing foolish ideals.

She remembered the dinner parties, the whispered voices of executives, the condescending smirks from men in expensive suits. They had mocked him, dismissed him, called him reckless for wanting to produce high-quality medication that was accessible to everyone, not just the elite.

"A failed businessman with delusions of grandeur," she had once overheard someone sneer.

She had been old enough to understand but too young to hide her hurt. When she had tugged on his sleeve that night, whispering, "Why do they say those things?" Naraku had only chuckled, the sound low and unbothered.

"Because they fear what they do not understand," he had told her, resting a hand on her head. "And because they lack the vision to see beyond their own greed."

She hadn't understood it fully then, but she had clung to his words.

As she grew older, she saw firsthand how he bore the weight of those taunts, how he let them wash over him without flinching. He never explained himself, never justified his dreams to those too small-minded to grasp them. Instead, he worked—relentlessly—until the same people who had mocked him were now scrambling to invest in his company.

But through it all, he had shielded her.

He never let the world's cruelty reach her. He ensured that the burden was his to carry alone. She had always been his pride, his beloved daughter, and no one was allowed to touch her—not with their words, their doubts, or their scorn.

And now, as she stood here, exhausted and overwhelmed, she realized how much of him lived in her.

Naraku never let others dictate his path. And neither would she.

Tomorrow, she would face him. She would tell him everything about Hojo. And no matter what had happened to the company, she knew one thing for certain—she would also endure, the same way her father did.

Inuyasha took his place among his teammates. Inukimi stood at the sidelines, a place she rarely found herself—away from her polished, composed self, her eyes wide with something she hadn't expected to feel: excitement.

For years, she had watched her youngest son grow, but never like this. Today was the first time she was truly seeing him in his element, playing soccer with the intensity and passion that only he could bring. The sound of the ball hitting the grass, the rhythm of the players moving in sync—it was all new, and for a moment, she was a mother, not a lawyer.

Her heart swelled as Inuyasha sprinted across the field, his body fluid and agile, his eyes locked on the game. There was a fire in him today, a spark she hadn't seen before. Watching him in this moment—fighting for the ball, taking shots, pushing himself—was something entirely different.

She could hear the cheers of the other mothers around her, their voices enthusiastic and proud as their sons' made plays. It was an energy she hadn't expected but found herself drawn into. The other mothers waved pompoms, shouted their kids' names, and celebrated every small victory. Inukimi watched them for a second, feeling a surge of warmth, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to let go.

Without thinking, she raised her hands, cupping her mouth, and yelled, "Go, Inuyasha!" Her voice was louder than she'd anticipated, and for a brief moment, it startled her. But the joy on her son's face as he looked over at her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn't help herself. As the game picked up in intensity, Inukimi joined in with the others, clapping and cheering for her son, who was now fully immersed in the game. She wasn't just the composed, dignified woman she always projected; she was his mother, filled with pride and joy.

Inuyasha caught her eye again, his face lighting up as he ran toward the goal. His confidence was soaring, and it was clear that her support—though quiet and reserved in its way—was exactly what he needed to drive him forward.

Inukimi's usual gracefulness and poise were nowhere to be found. She was caught up in the whirlwind of the game, smiling, clapping, and even, much to her surprise, giving a loud cheer when Inuyasha made a particularly impressive pass.

"Good job!" she called, her voice clear and strong, breaking through the roar of the crowd. "Keep it up, Inuyasha!"

The moment, though small, was profoundly significant. The realization that she could share in her son's passion—feel the joy and excitement with him—struck Inukimi deeply. For so long, she had been the observer, the planner, her attempts to connect with him often veiled in formality, leaving their relationship awkward and distant. But today, something shifted. For the first time, she wasn't just watching from the sidelines. She was fully present, her heart in sync with his, reveling in the joy of the game and in the unspoken bond they were finally beginning to build.

As the final whistle blew and the game ended with Inuyasha's team victorious, Inukimi couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. She watched as her son ran toward her, breathless and exhilarated, his expression a mixture of pride and disbelief.

Inukimi's eyes sparkled with approval. "You did wonderfully."

The two of them shared a rare, unspoken moment of celebration, and as they walked off the field together, Inukimi's thoughts turned to the future.

"You know, Inuyasha," she began, her voice steady as always, "I will help you sign up for advanced training."

Inuyasha's smile widened. "You really think I could make it?"

"Of course." Inukimi's voice left no room for doubt.

And then, almost hesitantly, Inuyasha wrapped his arms around his mother, holding her tightly in a way he hadn't before. Inukimi, for the first time, returned the embrace, her own arms enveloping him, the closeness they'd always lacked finally beginning to take root.

As the cameras from the sidelines clicked away, capturing the moment, neither Inuyasha nor Inukimi were aware they were being recorded. But it didn't matter. They were in their own world, sharing a quiet victory that would be remembered for far longer than any footage could capture.

Kanna and Shippo found themselves under a tree, backpacks strewn around them. The playground had cleared out, and the sounds of the school day had faded into a quiet calm. Kanna sat cross-legged, her book open in front of her, while Shippo was struggling through a math problem.

"Ugh, fractions," Shippo groaned, squinting at the numbers. "Why do these have to be so confusing?"

Kanna didn't respond immediately. Instead, she leaned over, quietly scanning his workbook. She turned the page, her small finger tracing over the fractions as she pointed to the numbers. Without a word, she made a simple motion for Shippo to follow her example.

Shippo blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Top part, over bottom part," Kanna said, her voice low but clear.

Shippo stared at her for a moment, the simplicity of her statement making him pause. "Wait… that's it?"

Kanna nodded, her gaze fixed on the page.

Shippo hesitated for a moment, then decided to try it. As he followed her suggestion, the problem became clear. "Oh. Oh, I get it now! Seriously, Kanna, how do you make everything look so easy?"

Kanna shrugged, "Sesshoumaru taught me math."

"Him?!," Shippo said, fuming. "Why does it have to be him?!"

Kanna didn't acknowledge his comment directly, but the corner of her mouth twitched up ever so slightly.

"Thanks for the help," Shippo continued sighing, deciding to change the subject. "I'm definitely going to need more study sessions like this."

Without looking up from her book, Kanna handed him a small cookie from her bag. "Study better. You're not finished yet."

Shippo accepted the snack with a grin. "I'm definitely going to owe you for this, huh?"

Kanna's eyes glimmered, "Yes."

As Shippo took a bite of the cookie, he glanced at her again, impressed. "These cookies are the best."

Kanna nodded, "Does Rin like cookies, too?"

Shippo blinked, his pencil stopping mid-sentence. "Uh, yeah, I think she does. Why?"

Kanna tilted her head slightly, considering the question. "What other snacks?"

Shippo furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment. "Well, she likes fruit, I guess. And maybe some of those rice crackers. She's kind of picky, though." He shrugged, unsure if that was enough of an answer.

Kanna nodded, already processing the information in her quiet way. "I'll get cookies, then. Fruit, too."

Shippo smiled. "That sounds like a good plan. You really think about these things, huh?"

Kanna replied with a small smile.

And if you have made it Chapter 21, thank you for sticking it out! We will have some romance on the way, plenty of funny moments and of course-we will get to unravel the villain of this story.

Until then stay tuned!

-Toast32