Author's Note: Thank you for your feedback from my last author's note. Things are about to get really fluffy around here ] Also, this chapter includes a few Easter eggs in honor of… well, Easter. Some are silly and some are… you'll see.

Chapter 15

The next few days found the castle settling back into its usual rhythm. Morning training resumed, the children returned to their studies, and Sesshomaru… was bored. The storm and deep winter had slowed official correspondence to a trickle, and while he usually found solace in the quiet, the stillness now gnawed at him. There was no real distraction, no immediate matter to attend to.

He wasn't accustomed to this kind of restlessness. But his growing thoughts about the priestess… well, he wasn't sure what to make of them. He simply knew he needed to act.

But how?

His lack of understanding of human culture left him at a frustrating crossroads. Moving forward without knowing more would mean stumbling in the dark, a position he loathed to be in.

So, after dinner, Sesshomaru had retired to the library, drawn to the scrolls his father had collected over the years. Among them, surely, there would be something—anything—that might help him understand her better, help him decide what to do, or at least give him something to focus on other than the unsettling feeling that had been steadily growing in his chest since her arrival.

He sat at the low table by the window, his gaze focused on the scrolls before him, the quiet crackle of the brazier the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. He could feel her presence before she even entered, his ears picking up each footfall as she walked up to and then paused briefly outside the door. When she did enter, her movements were quiet, as if she was not sure if he would wish to be disturbed.

If only she knew she was the reason he was here in the first place.

She moved through the shelves on light, sock-covered feet, her fingers brushing over the scrolls as though each held a world of answers, seeking knowledge with a patience he rarely saw in others. He did not acknowledge her directly, but her soft mutterings of names caught his attention. "Takeda Shingen… are you in here somewhere?"

The names she spoke stirred a flicker of curiosity within him, and though he did not glance away from the explanations of waka poetry before him, he felt compelled to engage her in conversation. "You will not find him praised in these records," he said, his voice low. "They were written by those who fear him."

Her tone was soft, inquisitive, as she peaked her head out from behind one of the shelves to look at him directly. "You know him?"

His eyes remained fixed on the scroll before him, the knowledge not entirely new but unfamiliar. "I know of him. His ambitions disturbed the balance. He has killed many who did not deserve it."

Her response came quickly, a thoughtfulness in her voice. "History remembers ambition more than kindness."

He allowed himself a moment's pause before raising his eyes to engage her properly. "You believe kindness lasts?"

Her gaze met his, steady and unflinching. "No. That's why it has to be protected."

Sesshomaru felt something stir at the back of his mind. It was not discomfort, but something quieter, more introspective. The softness in her words did not match the sharpness of her thoughts; yet, there was wisdom in them, an understanding of things he had never considered in such terms.

"And what of those who rise through destruction?" he asked, his voice even but with a trace of something deeper. "Those whose cruelty carves paths of conquest? Are they not more effective than kindness?"

She smiled—a gentle, thoughtful expression. "Those paths don't last. Even if they conquer all before them, they leave nothing to hold onto. Power without care is like a castle built on sand—fragile, doomed to collapse."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, like the stillness between the falling of a leaf and its inevitable landing. The ideas she spoke of—kindness, protection, the fleeting nature of power—were not new to him. Yet the way she framed them, as if they were not just principles but the very core of what made life worth living, was different. But she had always had a different way of looking at the world. Perhaps that was what made her so…

His thoughts were interrupted when came to sit at the table across from him, a scroll—one tracking the lineage of the human emperors—laid out before her. She shivered slightly and tucked her hands into the long sleeves of her… top. It was then he realized that he had not had the servants relight the hori-gotatsu. He had not expected anyone else to join him, and it wasn't like the cold bothered him much anyway.

Without a word, he rose from his seat, moving silently across the room to retrieve the quilted sashiko jacket he had taken off earlier. The blue aizome fabric seemed to catch the light of the braziers, the deep color rich like deep ocean waves highlighted by the sun's rays. It was a garment he had worn often, its familiarity comforting, though today its purpose felt oddly more personal than practical. He placed it upon her shoulders, pausing a moment before returning to his previous position.

Her reaction was subtle—she froze for a moment, as though surprised by the gesture. But then she drew the quilted jacket a little tighter around her shoulders and thanked him gently before returning to her perusal of the scroll. He found he was both pleased and disappointed. While he was sure of her sincerity, it was as though she was absorbing its warmth, but not its significance.

He sat, watching her as she tucked her hair behind her ears, the soft rustle of parchment filling the space between them. She was well absorbed in the scroll now, the weight of her silence not uncomfortable but companionable. He found himself studying her more than the words on his own scroll, the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way she so easily slipped into thought without the need for validation.

He had come to understand something about her in these moments—how she was always moving forward, always seeking. She never seemed to stop, never seemed to give in to the weight of the past or the burden of what she could not change. In that, she was a mystery to him, a puzzle he had no desire to solve but only to understand better.

He watched as Kagome eventually stifled a soft yawn, her tiredness apparent in the softening of her posture.

She looked up at him briefly, breaking the silence. "You were right. Kindness doesn't last by itself. But it can make the world worth living in, even for a little while. That's why it's important to fight for it."

Her words were simple, yet they carried a weight that resonated with him in ways he did not expect. He turned his gaze back to the scrolls, hiding the sudden turbulence in his chest behind the calm of his expression.

"But power without kindness endures longer," he responded. "It can shape nations, bend entire regions to its will."

Kagome's smile was quiet but firm, and it made something stir within him. "Endurance isn't the same as success, though. It's the fleeting things that matter. The small moments of light in the darkness." She paused before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Isn't that why we keep fighting?"

Her voice lingered in his ears, her question hanging in the air. He did not answer immediately, his mind moving over her words as though trying to grasp something just out of reach. He knew what she meant—he had always known—but hearing her say it aloud, so earnestly, made him wonder if he had ever truly believed it himself.

Kagome stood to leave then, her movements slow and deliberate; Sesshomaru watched as she carefully rolled the scroll back up and walked over to the shelves once more, gently placing it back where it belonged. She seemed to linger for a moment, as though unsure of what to say, and then gave him a small, soft smile as she pulled the quilted coat a little closer around her once more. "Thank you again."

"Hn." His voice was quieter now, but there was something softer in it. The space they shared no longer felt as empty, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself wishing that it hadn't ended so soon. "There is a chronicle of provincial rebellions two shelves down. It may offer you more names. Perhaps even Oda Nobunaga, if you are interested."

Kagome froze for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So you know about him, too?"

Sesshomaru's gaze was steady. "Anyone as ruthless and power-hungry as he needs to be watched closely."

She nodded slowly, her fingers dancing lightly over the various scrolls until she found for the one Sesshomaru had mentioned.

"Good night, Lord Sesshomaru," she said softly, bowing slightly before she took her leave.

Sesshomaru didn't respond, but his golden eyes followed her as she moved to the door, slid it open, and left the library. When he could no longer see, he listened, until the echo of her steps also disappeared.

A heavy sigh escaped him as his clawed fingertips ran through his hair, frustration rising in his chest. It wasn't just the lack of answers that unsettled him—there was something else, a quiet gnawing sensation that refused to be ignored. He still had yet to make amends for his behavior. Yes, he had addressed the physical damage—had undone the marks he had left—but something deeper remained untouched. A true apology was not just about repairing the harm caused but about confronting the root of the issue.

He glanced down at the scroll he had been studying once more and decided to mull over its contents—and his apology—in his own quarters.

The afternoon sun, bright and clear, reflected off the fresh blanket of snow, making the courtyard sparkle with a blinding brilliance. The air was crisp, the kind of cold that wrapped around the skin and made cheeks flush a rosy pink. Kagome, bundled in layers of warm clothing, stood in the courtyard with Rin and Shippo, their laughter cutting through the serene quiet of the winter day.

Rin was working diligently to roll a snowball as big as herself, her face scrunched in concentration. Her hands, though tiny, were pushing the snow with determined effort, while Shippo, never one to be outdone, was showing off by transforming into a small, lively shovel. He hopped around her, flinging snow with rapid precision, all the while declaring how much more efficient his method was.

"Come on, Shippo! You're supposed to help make snowballs, not fling snow everywhere!" Kagome called, her tone light but teasing as she knelt next to Rin, expertly shaping the base of the snowman they were working on. "This looks sturdy," she said with dramatic flair, tapping the base firmly and nodding. "I think you could make a very tall snowman with this base."

Rin looked at her seriously, her brows furrowed as she tried to mimic Kagome's movements. "You think we can make it as tall as Lord Sesshomaru?"

"Hm… we'll need a bigger base for that," Kagome replied with a wink, glancing toward the tall figure of Sesshomaru standing at the edge of the courtyard.

He had walked out onto the stone courtyard nearly 15 minutes ago but had yet to return to his study. This wasn't unusual though. He sometimes paused mid-work or even eavesdropped while he pretended to work if she and the children were doing something interesting, not that Kagome would admit that she knew this.

Rin suddenly let out a yelp of surprise as what could loosely be described as a snowball landed with a wet smack on her back. Shippo, still in shovel form, scooped up more snow and lobbed it in Kagome's direction. Thus, the snow fight began.

Kagome laughed, trying to stay out of the way of flying snow. She dove behind the wall she had been building to avoid the torrent of snow coming from Shippo. But then, almost unconsciously, she glanced up at Sesshomaru, who was still standing, observing the scene with mild amusement.

An impulsive grin spread across her face. Before she could second-guess herself, she ducked out of sight, scooped up a large handful of snow, packed it into the perfect snowball, and, with a mischievous glint in her eye, sprang from her hiding place.

"C'mon, join us!" she called with a teasing smile, throwing the snowball with all the playful energy she could muster.

Before she could even finish her invitation, a perfect, blisteringly fast snowball came sailing through the air. It slammed into her side with surgical precision, knocking the breath from her.

Kagome gasped, her hands flying to her side. "Hey!" she sputtered, half-laughing and half-indignant. She looked back up at Sesshomaru, who stood where he had been, his expression unchanged except for a mischievous, predatory glint in his eyes.

"You missed," he stated, amusement clear in the simple statement despite the usual lack of intonation.

Kagome wheezed out a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's not fair. You've got demon reflexes!" she said, though a grin tugged at her lips.

"You started it," Sesshomaru replied, his voice as even and controlled as ever.

Rin and Shippo squealed with laughter, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, and within moments, the snowball war erupted in full force. Kagome, now fully caught up in the chaos, scooped another snowball and hurled it at Sesshomaru, but it disintegrated into little more than a spray of powder against the air.

Shippo, still in shovel form, darted around, throwing scoop after scoop wildly with the speed of a whirlwind. What he lacked in precision he more than made up for volume. Kagome was soon forced to retreat from her short wall to a medium-sized tree a little further off. Rin used her snowman base as a shield and attempted to hit both Shippo and Kagome, though she was laughing much too hard to have an effect.

Despite the playful chaos, it quickly became clear who the true strategist was. Sesshomaru had jumped into the fray and made quick work of the hyperactive fox. One well-placed snowball sent Shippo spinning in midair, and another knocked the snowball Kagome was about to throw right from her hands. The last one had been lobbed over Rin's snowman barrier and landed squarely on her head.

Kagome, realizing just how outmatched they were, collapsed backward into a large pile of snow in dramatic defeat. "Okay, okay! I give up!" she called out, laughing and half-buried in the soft, powdery snow.

Rin and Shippo were still laughing, but their giggles were mixed with awe. "Lord Sesshomaru's so good!" Rin exclaimed, eyes wide with admiration as she met the others near Kagome's prone form.

Shippo transformed back into his humanoid form and landed beside her, both of them watching the daiyoukai with a mix of awe and respect.

Sesshomaru gave the children a cursory glance before his eyes fell on the priestess, her cheeks, nose, and lips red from the exertion in the cold hair while her dark hair fell in stark contrast to the powdery snow beneath her. "This is why you train," he explained calmly, catching her gaze before turning back to the children.

Kagome, still sprawled out in the snow, let out a half-exasperated, half-amused laugh. "Yeah, sure," she said, her voice still tinged with a lighthearted tone. "Remind me to add 'snowball combat' to our training schedule."

Sesshomaru didn't acknowledge her further, but his gaze lingered for just a moment longer before he turned and walked away, his steps silent as always. Kagome sat up and watched him go, still chuckling, but there was something in the way her smile lingered as she watched him that felt a little different, a little warmer.

Rin and Shippo, oblivious to Kagome's thoughts, clambered over her and started playfully throwing snow at each other, but Kagome didn't immediately join in. She sat there for a moment longer, her eyes following Sesshomaru's retreating figure, her mind drifting back and forth between the night before and now.

With a contented sigh, Kagome finally stood, brushing the snow from her clothes and turning to the children. "Come on, guys. Let's get dried off and have a snack before we get back to work."

Sesshomaru had been ensconced in his study for hours, the fading light of the day giving way to the starry embrace of night. He had taken only a brief respite for the evening meal, his mind consumed with the scrolls that held all at once too much and not enough explanation.

As he descended the stairs, his sharp senses caught an unexpected sight. Kagome was perched on the engawa rail, back against a pillar, legs stretched out along the handrail itself, mirroring the very first time she had arrived. Her back was to him again, yet, as if sensing his presence, she turned her head, flashing him a warm smile that lit up the dim surroundings.

"Your perception has improved since our last encounter here," he remarked. If Kagome had been a betting woman, she might have sworn he was teasing.

"I almost always know who's behind me," she replied with a playful roll of her eyes, her smile undeterred. "You just got lucky last time."

"Lucky?" Sesshomaru echoed incredulously, arching an eyebrow.

"The stars are so bright and beautiful from this spot. I was... distracted," Kagome said, choosing her words carefully, her gaze drifting back to the sky.

Sesshomaru stood beside her, gazing out over the rolling hills and the shadowy treetops that stretched towards the horizon. He had wondered, when they first came, if placing her and the kit in the family hall had been a good idea. He wondered if the encroachment on his—and Rin's—quarters would be uncomfortable. Now he was slightly uncomfortable for a different reason, although he found he did not mind it. He hummed to himself softly as he looked out upon the view, the sound escaping him before he even realized it.

"What are you thinking about?" Kagome asked, her voice soft and inviting, her gray eyes impossibly clear in the little remaining moonlight of the waning crescent.

"There is a better vantage point..." he replied vaguely.

"Oh?" The soft lilt of her voice betraying her curiosity as she struggled to suppress a grin.

"Hiding your emotions does not suit you, Kagome," he observed, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver racing down her spine. Before she could muster a response, he added, "Follow me."

Kagome blinked in surprise but quickly scrambled off the handrail, sliding her feet into her tennis shoes before jogging to catch up with the demon lord.

Once in the center of the courtyard outside, Sesshomaru paused, turning to face both the stronghold and Kagome, who was still catching her breath. His gaze flickered between her and the mountain above. The braziers around them illuminated the courtyard, but everything beyond the castle's heights was cloaked in darkness.

Despite knowing she would see nothing, Kagome glanced over her shoulder and followed the rocky edifice as far up as it was illuminated by the braziers. Beyond the engawa of the top floor, everything became shadow. A flutter of curiosity ignited within her. Stealing another glance at Sesshomaru, she caught him watching her, his gaze flickering over her features before returning to the shadowy summit, and her cheeks warmed at the realization that she would need to be carried. She rubbed her hands on her jeans, the nervous habit hopefully unrecognizable to Sesshomaru.

"Come here," his voice beckoned, low and soft, cutting through her thoughts. Kagome felt her heart quicken in anticipation as she stepped closer.

Sesshomaru was doing his best to remain composed. The path ahead required precision, and looking down at her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light threatened to shatter his focus.

"May I—" He cleared his throat softly, attempting to regain his poise. He held out his arm, hoping his intentions were clear.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she stepped into his personal space, their bodies mere centimeters apart.

Taking a deep breath—possibly a mistake given her closeness—he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her as securely as he dared. Kagome's arms instinctively found their way around his neck, and with a swift yet gentle motion, he leapt into the night sky.

Kagome had traveled with and on various demons during her time in Feudal Japan, but this was the first time she had leaped into the night sky with Sesshomaru—conscious and fully aware of the moment, that is. The sensation reminded her faintly of the first time she had ridden on Inuyasha's back; however, this was different. As she pressed against Sesshomaru's side, the wind didn't whip at her face. Each jump felt fluid and graceful, almost like dancing through the air.

She realized it was perhaps a blessing that she couldn't see anything. Jumping in complete darkness had always made her stomach twist, despite her complete faith in Inuyasha. Yet now, the only sounds she registered were the steady rhythm of Sesshomaru's heartbeat and the gentle pattern of his breathing, calming her nerves as they soared higher and higher.

When they finally landed—wherever that may be—neither was quick to part. Kagome slowly loosened her grip on his neck, and Sesshomaru released her, yet neither of them stepped away.

"Where are we?" Kagome asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"One of the peaks," he replied, his voice steady. "As a young pup, I often escaped up here to observe the sky."

The image of a young, less graceful Sesshomaru attempting to scale the mountain made Kagome smile. She might have giggled at the thought, but she glanced up, and her breath caught as the stars unfolded like a dream above her.

"Wow..." she breathed.

She turned to step forward, eager to take in the sight, but a gentle hand caught her arm.

"Let me guide you," he said from behind her, his tone firm yet strangely tender.

She nodded. His hand never left her wrist, and the contact sent a warmth through her limbs. Slowly, she shifted her hand to curl into his, and he didn't resist.

They moved along the ridge until Sesshomaru stopped before a flat rock slightly raised from the ground.

"This is the best spot," he murmured. "May I... lift you?"

Kagome gave a small nod, and he raised her with ease, placing her on the stone. She felt the chill of it seeping from beneath her and through the denim, but the closeness between them outweighed the cold.

When she was settled, he stepped away.

"Close your eyes and lay back."

She obeyed.

"Now open them."

A breath caught in her throat as the heavens unfolded in full—a celestial canopy so vivid it silenced every thought.

"Lord Sesshomaru?" she whispered.

"...Yes?"

"Are you going to join me?"

A pause. Then, "That stone is too small for two."

Kagome tested the space with her hand. He was right; it was maybe only as wide as her twin bed back home. But she scooted aside and patted the space beside her, gaze turned skyward, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.

Another pause. Then the soft rustle of silk. He joined her, careful but unhesitating, his arm brushing her side. Some of his hair fell across her arm like a whisper.

"When was the last time you were up here?" she asked, needing something—anything—to fill the charged quiet.

"Too long ago," he said. "I have not sought it out since before my father's death."

Kagome turned her head slightly, startled by the raw honesty in his voice.

"The West Wing belonged to both of them—my father and my mother," he continued. "When he died and she returned to her own castle, I sealed it. Closed the doors. Left it to the elements."

He hesitated. She could feel it—not indecision, but a weight being measured and offered.

"I told myself it was out of practicality. That it was no longer in use. But the truth is... I resented it. Resented what it represented—what he chose, what he left behind. My pride could not bear it."

Kagome said nothing for a moment, letting the confession settle in the space between them.

"You don't have to keep apologizing," she whispered at last, realizing at last what all of this had been about. "Not for the injury. Not for feeling how you feel. It's okay."

"I told you I intended to make amends," he said quietly. "With this, I thought you would understand."

They lay there, beneath the stars, and Kagome reached out to gently lace her fingers through his again.

"I do," she said, smiling softly.

They lay there, side by side, staring at the stars in companionable silence. Time seemed to lose its meaning, the air thick with unspoken words, punctuated only by the whistles and howls of the wind.

But when Kagome began to shiver, Sesshomaru shifted slightly, concern tightening his brow. Her small tremor caught his attention like a flicker in the dark, and it pulled at something in him.

"You're cold," he observed, his voice quiet but firm. He made to sit up and take them back down the mountain.

Kagome's breath hitched slightly, but she lifted a hand, gently placing it on his arm to stop him. Her touch was light, but it stilled him nonetheless.

"Not yet, please," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the layers she wore, her lips were starting to become pale, and he was reminded of that terrible evening less than one moon phase ago. She clearly needed warmth, but he was loathe to deny her the fullness of the apology she deserved.

Sesshomaru hesitated for only a moment, unsure of how far to go, but in the end, practicality overruled. He settled back beside her, trying to mask his internal turmoil. But the distance between them, both physical and emotional, seemed to shrink with every breath she took.

"Come here," he beckoned once more, his voice so soft she barely heard it over the wind.

Kagome blinked, startled by the tenderness in his tone, but did not move. She had never been this… she wasn't sure if intimate was the right word, but it certainly felt like an apt description. However, another, stronger breeze and its accompanying chill up her spine allowed her to overcome any misgivings she might have had. Afterall, there was no way Sesshomaru saw her in that way.

Slowly, she eased closer, her heart fluttering treacherously as his arm slipped around her, drawing her into his side. Mokomoko spilled over her like a silken curtain, a warm barrier against the chill of the night. She instinctively clutched at it, letting the familiar softness soothe her as the cold melted away in the warmth of his presence.

"This is perfect. Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the sincerity in it was undeniable. It seemed that, much like Rin, Sesshomaru had developed a soft spot for her. The thought brought a smile to her face, even if it made her a little sad too. She decided not to dwell on that particular feeling though.

The pair turned their eyes back to the heavens, their gazes fixed on the stars above. The universe stretched endlessly before them, silent and indifferent to the quiet moment they shared. As the warmth from his body seeped into hers, Kagome's breathing grew steady, her eyelids growing heavier with the weight of fatigue.

Sesshomaru's face remained upturned, but his thoughts had turned inward. He watched her with an intensity he couldn't begin to reign in, as if all his years of training and discipline had gone up in smoke now that there were no prying eyes to see his lack of restraint. He found himself enjoying the softness in her expression, the way her body had relaxed against him. He felt the weight of her trust, how she had surrendered to him so easily, even if she hadn't spoken those words aloud.

Her kindness had undone something in him. Her fire, her laughter, her persistence had all chipped away at the walls he had so carefully constructed. But it was her trust—her willingness to lean into him without fear—that left him the most unsettled.

He had always walked alone, by choice and by nature. He had known solitude in a way that few could understand. Yet here she was, nestled against him, her body warm against his own, and something inside him stirred.

She was human, he reminded himself. And he was youkai. The differences between them, vast and irreconcilable, felt impossible to overcome.

And yet, she was here, with him.

He couldn't explain when it had happened exactly or why it had changed, but the instinct to protect her, to keep her safe, was undeniable. However, despite her obvious trust in him and the possible enjoyment of his company, he could not tell if she saw or could even consider him as something more. For all her smiles and laughter, her true emotions were just as hidden as his own had been.

The stars wheeled above them, ancient and unchanging, and the world felt so much smaller from this distance.

Eventually, the chill in the air reminded him that she needed more than his presence—she needed warmth, shelter, proper rest. Carefully, he shifted to sit, mindful not to disturb her sleep. Her body stirred only slightly as he gathered her into his arms, pulling her close against his chest, her head falling gently to his shoulder.

She was light in his hold, but the weight of her presence was something entirely different.

He would return her to the safety and warmth of her chambers. And then, in the stillness of the night, he would ponder all that had happened and perhaps allow himself to imagine what might happen. But for now, he would remain, watchful, waiting.

And willing.