"Say it again."
Kagome's command cut through the small copse of his clearing with all the force of a seasoned general who expected complete obedience. Bokusenō resisted the urge to frown, her desperation testing centuries of wooden patience. Several years in a war camp, and centuries as a princess in everything but title, would make any girl more demanding than most, he told himself.
"You are a child lost in time." His words, quietly reverent, filled the space between them. Not even a breeze dared to slip through his branches to interrupt and stir his leaves.
Curled up in his roots, Kagome closed her eyes as the deep-summer heat stuck her clothes to her skin with sweat—or clammy fear. She couldn't tell anymore. Tucking her fingers into damp palms, she used the bite of her own nails into her skin to ground herself as his truth buzzed in her ears. "Not that part," she said hoarsely, shoulders tensing as she leaned towards him.
The old tree demon sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his roots. "Fuiasu-sama and the great General demanded certain truths be kept from you. They believed it a kindness, given your youth and the burden such knowledge would bring. You should not blame—"
It only took one glare, fierce as the arrogant youkai who had raised her, to make him falter before he sighed and repeated what she wanted to hear. "A child lost in time is a soul who is sent back to correct the choices of the past. Your very purpose is to give your life to change the future." His ancient face, lined by centuries of past seasons, grew heavier with sorrow as he continued. "You will be forced to make a choice, and if you make the wrong one, you will be sent back again and again and again, until you choose correctly."
Again and again and again. The words reverberated inside of her like a bell, aching and lonely. Her stomach twisted violently, forcing bile to the back of her tongue. She clutched her knees tighter and buried her face against them once more. The entirety of her long life spilled out in front of her, reliving the same choices, the same losses, where nothing she did made a difference because it all ended the same way anyway. A lamb raised for the slaughter, that's what she was.
"And if I make the right choice?" Her voice wavered, fragile as cracked glass, her heart shuddering under the weight of it all.
Bokusenō's sad, ancient eyes bore into her. "Then you will have served your purpose," he said softly. "You will cease to exist."
Her breathing hitched and she snapped her head up to face him."How do you know?"
Another gentle breeze wisped through his leaves, dancing between them as she buried her face in her knees. He watched her and, not for the first time, wished a different future for her. "Because you were never meant to exist in this time, child. If you succeed in what the Fates have laid out for you, then the changes you make will echo so far forward into the future that even I cannot guess what might await you."
Kagome could not bear to look at him any longer. She closed her eyes as his words settled over her like a blanket, thick and suffocating in the heat of summer. The rustle of his leaves sounded like a sigh as he waited patiently. "I didn't ask for any of this," she said softly, scrubbing at her cheek as a few tears slipped free without permission.
Even with her words muffled by her hakama, he could hear her clearly. No birds or cicadas sang for him today, as if in recognition of the sorrow rolling off her in waves. "Those who Fate chooses rarely do." He shifted again, ancient branches creaking as he settled more comfortably in the deep soil holding him. "Fate is rarely kind, but never without purpose. You were chosen for a reason, do not doubt it."
"Purpose?" She finally lifted her head again, her eyes damp with the wrath of a burning sun. "What purpose is worth a life? Worth—" she choked off and scrubbed at her cheeks again as more tears slipped free. "Why me?"
"Even I cannot answer that, child."
Groaning, she leaned her head back against his roots and stared up at the canopy of his leaves, her mind just as tangled as the branches bearing them. More tears slipped down her cheeks and she swiped at them angrily. "I'm so tired, Bokusenō."
He reached out with a branch and draped his leaves over her shoulder, the only comfort he could offer. "Do not give up hope, Kagome. The Fates do not ask for such feats lightly. Perhaps in trying to make the right choice you will find a future waiting for you."
For a long time after that, they sat in the silence of his copse. The birds started up their song again, and then the cicadas and another breeze danced through the clearing. She told herself even the hope of a future was worth fighting for, even if the truth sank deep into her bones and settled like rot. "I guess you can't tell me what the choice is?" she asked after a while, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of birds and bugs.
Her words, full of the exhaustion weighing her down, as deep and heavy as the roots keeping him immobile, trembled in the space between them. "No, child. I know only the path you have already walked—and the vague direction you must go towards it."
"Will it at least save lives?"
"If you choose correctly, you will save the lives of people you love in this life and the ones you loved before."
Her breath shuddered, tears falling freely now to soak into the folds of her haori. It will only cost me everything.
o.O.o
When his charge stepped out of that mystical, warded clearing protected by the ancient tree she visited, Horuto straightened from his place leaning against a nearby tree. She walked towards him, shoulders slumped, cheeks ravaged by tears, fingers worrying at the hems of her sleeves. He had not seen her like this since the conversation with the little lordling. "Had I known the tree would plant you in his clearing the whole day, I might have insisted on joining you," he said lightly, gauging her reaction with narrowed eyes.
She only lifted one shoulder and stepped past him, tracking the setting sun with tired eyes. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long."
"Kagome-sama." He reached out and took her arm, carefully turning her towards him. "What happened?"
She swallowed thickly and finally lifted her eyes to meet his. "He told me the truth—about why I'm here, about my purpose, about…about what's expected of me."
He didn't like it. She hadn't even told him everything and already distaste coiled up bitter on the back of his tongue. "Tell me, Kagome-sama."
Kagome pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest as if that might stop her heart from falling to pieces again. "He said I'm here to fix the future—or die trying. And if I succeed…" She shook her head, the words catching in her throat before she forced them out. "If I succeed, I disappear. Like I was never here at all."
Horuto held his silence for a moment, processing. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of a calm before a storm. "That is unacceptable."
Her gaze snapped to his, her eyes wide and wet with tears. "What?"
"That is unacceptable," he repeated. "A fate that erases you from existence is no fate at all. We will fight it. We will forge a new one for you, Kagome-sama."
Fight fate? She swallowed and dropped her eyes back to the forest floor surrounding them. "You can't just charge in with your sword swinging and make fate change."
He crouched in front of her so she couldn't avoid his gaze. "When have you ever known me to act so recklessly?" His voice softened, but the conviction in his words rooted her. "I am your guard, Kagome-sama. Beyond a duty to serve and protect you, I would be remiss if I did not also ensure you lived your life to the fullest—and that means fighting for all you are worth for a future where you are happy."
For the first time in forever, warmth stirred in her chest. A flicker of hope. "You make it sound so easy," she mumbled, twisting her fingers together.
He caught her hands, gently stilling them in his. "It will not be easy—but you will not face it alone."
That dim spark of hope glowing brighter, she loosed a slow breath. "Right."
Giving her a moment, he brushed his thumbs over the backs of her knuckles and when her shoulders slumped again—this time in relief—he let go of her and stood. "Shall we return to the camp now, Kagome-sama?"
Kagome nodded once, lighter than she had felt in far too long, and followed him deeper into the forest.
Fires had died down to embers and most soldiers, other than those patrolling, had disappeared into their tents by the time Kagome and Horuto returned to camp later that night. The quiet of the sleeping camp was one of Kagome's favorite times of day, when only the cracking of burned-out logs and the hum of snoring soldiers interrupted the silence of the night. Even the devastating news she'd received today couldn't take that away from her.
As they approached her tent, Horuto placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her and nodded silently at the half-open flap—a warning that someone unexpected occupied it. Whoever it was must not have posed a threat, or he wouldn't have taken a step back and let her go on alone. Waving a silent goodnight to her guard, she went inside.
Finding Sesshoumaru standing in front of the small irori in the center of the tent did not surprise her—but it brought home the bone-deep exhaustion dragging her down by the throat. "I don't have the energy to fight with you today," she murmured, sitting and unlacing her boots. "So tell me what you want and then leave."
o.O.o
Sesshoumaru did not appreciate playing messenger to his father. He also did not appreciate having to wait in her tent for her to return—hours later than she was supposed to. His father, however, seemed determined to throw them together in some misguided notion that they might reconcile if they spent enough time together. He didn't know that Sesshoumaru had no wish to reconcile with her.
Still, as early afternoon shifted into evening and evening bled into night, he could not shake the worry coiling in his cut like a viper waiting to strike. She should have been back by now. Usually, her visits to Bokusenō lasted only an hour or two, and even with travel time to and from, she should have been back much earlier in the afternoon.
He had just determined that she would not return for the night, and debated hunting her down when he felt her reiki stir at the edge of his senses—entwined with his cousin's yōki like a shield. He clenched his jaw and ignored the irritation simmering in his veins. Waiting by the irori, arms crossed, he glared into the dying flames.
The tent flap rustled, and she stepped into the stifling warmth. He did not turn immediately, but her quiet command—soft and frayed—had his teeth grinding. He turned only a half-step to level her with a glare over his shoulder, but the ragged exhaustion slumping her shoulders wiped the anger out of him in one fell swoop.
She looked…older.
The vibrant girl he remembered—the one who wielded hope like a blade and wore kindness like armor—was gone. Where had her warmth gone? Her trust? That ever-present glow of defiance and faith?
Now she sat slumped, head hanging low, boots discarded, hands clasped in front of her, elbows on her knees, as if the weight of the world bore down on her.
Sesshoumaru frowned, the brittle edges of his annoyance softening out into something dangerously close to concern. Hadn't he ripped out every root of emotion when it came to her? And yet that wretched unease simmered inside of him and forced him a step closer as he dropped his arms to his sides. "You are late," he said, his tone sharper than he'd intended.
"I know." She didn't even look at him.
Her lack of reaction gnawed at him, forcing him another step closer. "You are never late."
Finally, she looked up at him and he froze—but she only glanced past him to the crackling logs and coals.
Tears had carved raw tracks down her cheeks. Her eyes—bloodshot, weary—cut him more deeply than any blade ever had. Panic clawed at his chest, a feeling he thought he'd buried alongside her trust.
"Bokusenō had a lot to say this time," she said and dropped her gaze to the fire-dying embers.
He waited for her to continue, hands fisted at his sides, but she did not. The silence stretched taut between them, thin and brittle, broken only by the faint crackle of the logs in the fire, or the distant steps of the passing patrols. When it became clear she would say no more, his chest tightened with an emotion he wasn't willing to name—or acknowledge. "What did he tell you?"
She dropped her head again and pressed her face against her palms. "I'm tired. I don't want to talk about it."
The defeat in her voice set his teeth on edge. This was not the girl who had faced death with fire in her eyes. Not the girl who had saved him, blade at her back, with reckless determination. He took another step forward, unease growing into something more urgent. "Kagome—"
Her head snapped up, eyes meeting his with startling intensity. Dark brown, almost black in the dim firelight, her gaze burned with exhaustion and weary defiance "I'm tired," she bit out. "If that's all, Sesshoumaru-sama…"
The title hit him like a blow. He stepped back, shock rippling across his face before he could mask it. She had never addressed him like that—not even in the worst of their fights—not with this cool, formal distance one might use for a stranger. His title was a wall now, deliberate and impenetrable—one he'd built brick by bloody brick. "Kagome-
She must have seen the shock, because she stood, smiling faintly. There was no warmth in it, only cool detachment. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Her words were a blade, slicing into the hollow space between them. "Well, it turns out I have more important things to worry about than dreams of love and friendship, Sesshoumaru-sama. So, if there's nothing else you have to say, I'd like you to leave."
Her tone was regal, her posture unyielding—a queen dismissing her subject.
The quiet, cutting finality in her words destroyed the precarious last threads of his self-control. They had never spoken of love, directly or indirectly, but her words now revealed what had always lingered between them. He swallowed thickly, his tongue leaden in his mouth, and when she moved to step past him he grabbed her by the arm. "Wait."
Her eyes dropped down to his hand on her bicep for a moment before flicking back up to his. "You can't have it both ways, Sesshoumaru-sama. You made your choice. Now I'm making mine. Let go of me before you break whatever is left between us."
Her reiki stirred, a warning. He released her arm instantly, his hand falling back to his side in a fist. She had never threatened to burn him before, never used her powers against him in this way, as if he were a threat to be warned off. She stepped back, putting deliberate distance between them as a thin barrier of reiki fell around her—a clear warning that she would protect herself, that he presented a threat to her.
For the first time since that day in his tent, when he'd first put his hands on her, shame curdled in his belly, bitter and heavy. What had he done? Pride and instinct warred within him, a demand for an answer and a plea to forgive him—both smothered before either could slip out. Forcing a steady breath, he said evenly, "Midoriko, your new teacher, has arrived. Your training will begin at dawn."
She nodded once, her gaze still locked on his. The barrier between them remained.
Recognizing the dismissal, he gritted his teeth. The distance between them had grown into an uncrossable chasm—just as he'd wanted. Just as he'd told himself he wanted. He lingered for a moment longer, searching for something else to say, some way to mend what he had broken, but nothing came. Even if he'd been able to put aside his pride, her resolve left no room for more words.
He turned on his heel and strode out of the tent. As the warm, mid-summer breeze brushed against his cheeks, the weight of her words hung heavy over him, sinking into the cracks of the armor he'd built so carefully around his heart.
You can't have it both ways, Sesshoumaru-sama.
A quiet, biting truth—one he couldn't ignore and couldn't face. He clenched his jaw and let his gaze drift towards the horizon, where the first light of dawn would break soon. Her words, sharp and unrelenting, only pointed out the truth He had made his choices. Now he would pay for them.
Word Count - 2978
a/n - okay so weekly chapters didn't happen, but I'm working on it. While this won't be the last chapter with tension between these two, it's finally a step in the right direction as Sesshoumaru realizes what he's done. Despite Kagome and Horuto's interaction and relationship, this is still a Sess/Kag fic. So look forward to tension between the two of them as Kagome comes to realize what it looks like when someone expresses themselves in a healthy way.