InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing with Scissors ❯ Airport Reunion, Art, and Scarlet Exposed ( Chapter 23 )

Rin decided, though her experience with them was limited to this one, first visit, that airports were the best places in the world. It went beyond her current excitement, waiting for her uncle's delayed flight to land, and her eagerness to see him again. The mixture of emotions that bounced around—heartfelt goodbyes, tearful reunions, anger and annoyance of travelers stuck in the security line—were a constant, busy reminder that the world, even the part of it confined to this sprawling, loud building, was alive and she had a place in it. The fact that nearly everyone in the vicinity looked down on her with approval of obvious sweetness and smiled to the person next to him or her, commenting softly about `what a precious child' only made the airport in which she and Kagome found themselves waiting all the more enjoyable.

 

She went over to her aunt, who was still sitting on the floor, still entranced by the huge, clear plastic box containing the confiscated items of uninformed or overly optimistic flyers. She tapped Kagome on the shoulder.

 

“Hey babe,” she said. “Can you believe someone tried to bring a crow bar on a plane?” Kagome, unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of seized possessions for a half an hour, grabbed Rin and pulled her into her lap. At first, examining the contents provided a distraction from her nervousness about Sesshoumaru's return, but she was quickly drawn to the sheer variety and absurdity of the objects. There were, what she assumed to be, the usual suspects—lighters, bottles of alcohol, pocket knives. But it was the truly surprising finds—nunchucks, bottle rockets, snow globes, a meat cleaver, several baseball bats—that fascinated her. Then the objects took on a life of their own and she imagined all the stories attached…the heavy smoker unable to light up after a flight, the souvenir bottle of wine that couldn't be drank, the heirloom Swiss Army knife, lost forever.

 

“You're boring, Kagome. Why do you keep looking at this stuff?”

 

“Not boring, honey. Look at all of it! There's a chemistry set, for heaven's sake.” Kagome looked at Rin, who was visibly unimpressed, and determined that childhood patience could only be expected to stretch so far. They had arrived at the airport an hour before, only to discover a last-minute delay of Sesshoumaru's flight, and Rin had entertained herself well, watching planes take-off and land and flirting with strangers in her innocent, child-like way, but she needed more interaction now. “Let's play a game,” Kagome said. “I spy with my little eye…something red.”

 

That's better, Rin thought. She scanned the items. “The scissors with the red handles?”

 

Kagome made a face. “That was an easy one. Your turn.”

 

“I spy with my little eye…um…something yellow.”

 

They went back and forth, choosing the mostly brightly colored and easily spotted objects, until they were left with only anonymous-looking knives and toiletry bottles larger than the target three ounces.

 

“Kagome, how much longer do we have to wait?”

 

She craned her neck to look at the Arrivals board. “Oh look! His flight just got here!”

 

As they scrambled to their feet and hurried to the stern orange line beyond which non-ticketed persons were not allowed to pass, Kagome, now deprived of her distraction, suddenly was awash with anxiety again. Sesshoumaru had been out of the country for two and a half weeks, and during that time he had emailed her only twice and the few times he responded to her messages, it was with a one or two sentence reply. Kagome tried to tell herself it was because he was busy, that the friendship and connection they had was not her imagination, that he wasn't the cold person she had known that spring. But self-doubt, an enemy she usually could ignore, gnawed at her.

 

Rin, who had been so good for so long, was bubbling with barely contained exuberance. Kagome explained taxiing and deboarding, reassuring her that Sesshoumaru probably rode first class and would be one of the first let off the plane. Those few minutes were intolerable to Rin, so when she saw him, his height and unusual coloring making him impossible to miss in a crowd, she hopped down from the chair on which she stood and, before Kagome could stop her, ran toward him, orange line and security detail, be damned.

 

Sesshoumaru saw the diminutive, dark-haired girl charging toward him and managed to set down his laptop case in time to scoop her up as she jumped.

 

Rin twined her arms around her uncle's neck possessively; he was back, and, though she understood he was a busy person, she had no intentions of letting him go.

 

Sesshoumaru stood still and simply focused on the girl in his arms, her face, soft and warm, buried in his neck; her familiar tininess and energy were a needed remedy, comfort after non-stop business meetings and a mind-numbing series of flights. “How's my girl?”

 

Rin tightened her grip briefly, then drew back to look at him. Once satisfied that he hadn't changed, she said, “Good.”

 

“Shouldn't you be in school right now?”

 

“Kagome said I could take today off and come to the airport with her.”

 

“I'm glad,” he said. “I couldn't ask for a better welcoming.” Laptop retrieved, he shifted her weight to one arm and began walking, without setting her down. “I missed you.”

 

Rin squealed. “I missed you so much!” She pushed her face into his neck again. “Did you bring me a present?”

 

“Of course. You'll have to wait at least until baggage claim though.” They strode through the crowd, slowly making their way out of the corridor, then he saw Kagome.

 

The past two plus weeks had been an experiment, an opportunity to discern if his feelings for her were real or if he had merely idealized and romanticized the situation when he spent the weekend at the guest house because of her illness. Thinking his absence would give him the necessary space to test himself, he purposely had little contact with her, and even tried to rekindle his crush on a certain advice columnist by reading Scarlet Letter'd archives online, but he knew he far preferred flesh and blood to his imagination. Now seeing her, standing nervously, chewing on her lower lip, he was convinced not only that his feelings went far beyond friendship and physical attraction; also there was truth to the old cliché about the heart growing fonder.

 

When they finally escaped the crowd, Sesshoumaru wrapped his free arm around Kagome and wordlessly pulled her close, as if apologizing for his figurative distance.

 

She gasped at the sudden, unexpected embrace, but quickly relaxed against him. The strong arm around her shoulders told her everything she needed to know—nothing had changed. Their friendship was real, and she hadn't read him wrong.

 

“You guys are squishing me,” Rin said, happy to be in the middle of a group hug, but judging it had gone on long enough.

 

“Hi,” Kagome said with a warm smile when he finally released her.

 

“Hello, Kagome.”

 

“How was your trip?”

 

“Successful. I shouldn't need to go back until next year.”

 

“Yay!” Rin shouted. “I don't like it when you leave.”

 

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted.

 

Kagome turned and saw an elderly couple nearby.

 

“I was standing with the dear child watching the planes a little while ago,” the woman said, “and I've never seen such a beautiful family. Your daughter is a perfect angel.”

 

Kagome knew Rin was confused about how to answer, whether to correct the assumption or graciously give thanks, so she quickly said, “Thank you! Yes, she is a wonderful child. Have a nice day.”

 

They began walking together toward baggage claim, Sesshoumaru still carrying his niece, who had grown uncharacteristically quiet.

 

“Rin Rin,” Kagome said, “is something wrong?”

 

Rin shrugged her shoulders. “Are you guys my new Mommy and Daddy?” she asked, voice small. That wasn't the first time someone had mistaken her aunt and uncle for her parents, and though she loved it when the three of them were together, she suddenly felt guilty, like she was betraying her real parents by wanting to be with Sesshoumaru and Kagome all the time.

 

The adults exchanged concerned, awkward glances. “No, sweetie,” Kagome said gently. “Kikyou and Inuyasha will always be Mommy and Daddy. And we will always be your aunt and uncle who love very much.”

 

Rin nodded, relieved. Kagome's explanation was simple, but it helped.

 

As they rode the escalators and moving sidewalks, Rin brightened and told Sesshoumaru about events that occurred while he was gone, including a report on Shippou's skill at imitating their new teacher, her sneaking suspicion that her grandfather was letting her win at Crazy Eights, and a play-by-play retelling of the most recent zombie walk. “Kagome dressed me up like Dawn from Pokémon Diamond and Pearl, but as a zombie, with blood and guts all over me. See…” Rin put on her best expression of slack-jawed malevolence, causing Sesshoumaru to be grateful he wasn't drinking anything. “She even took my Piplup plushie and put fake blood on him, so I was Zombie Dawn with Zombie Piplup. But don't worry…she got him clean.”

 

Kagome avoided looking at the man next to her and, especially, the child in his arms. Zombie Piplup was actually hiding under her futon mattress. All her best efforts at purging the fake blood—vinegar, baking soda, peroxide, soap, makeup remover—did nothing, necessitating an emergency trip to several stores that sell Pokémon dolls in order to find a replacement Piplup. Fortunately he was a popular enough character that he was generally kept in stock; Kagome shuddered at the tragedy that was averted, hating to imagine Rin's reaction to a permanent Zombie Piplup.

 

“Kagome,” Sesshoumaru asked, “how have you been?”

 

“Busy,” she sighed. “And about to get worse. That art show was originally to be me and a watercolorist, but I was told yesterday that she's dropping out because of a personal issue, so it's all me. A solo show is a fabulous opportunity, but it also means I've got to do several more big pieces. I've had to totally clear my social calendar—it's work, work, and more work for me. But you'll be happy to know I've been getting at least four hours of sleep a night.”

 

“Hn.” Sesshoumaru didn't think that sounded like an adequate amount. “I hope you didn't have to wait long. Thank you for picking me up, by the way. Much nicer than a driving service.”

 

“Oh, the wait wasn't bad. And it's our pleasure to pick you up. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. I needed a little break, though I've got to get back into the studio as soon as we get back. And your mom let me take her car. I know Mercedes are rich, old people cars, but even it needs to get blown out every once in a while. I doubt your mom's ever taken it past the speed limit.”

 

Sesshoumaru smiled to himself at Kagome's risk taking, somewhat hypocritically perturbed that she drove fast with Rin in the car, but mostly hoping that she would want to extend that spirit of adventure to her sheltered, neglected romantic life.

 

XxXxX

 

Dear Scarlet, I have been reading your column for several months and can no longer stay silent. I've had issues with the way you almost always take the man's side over the female for a long time (I've kept track), but two entries recently have pushed me over the edge. I thought your advice a few weeks ago to Cockblocked offensive (You basically told him to dump his boyfriend because he wasn't getting enough sex). I had a baby three months ago and my marital relations still have not returned to normal. Thank God my husband doesn't read your column! I am just so sad for all the other women out there in my position whose husbands just got a free pass from you to leave or cheat because their sex life is more important than their wives' feelings. Your response to Betrayed (the girl who thought her boyfriend's continuing to masturbate after they started having sex felt too much like he was cheating on her) last week was even worse! You wrote and I quote “As long as your physical needs are being met, Betrayed, you have no cause to feel betrayed. I could see your point if your BF couldn't get it up to have sex with you or if his solo flights involved an expensive phone hooker, but you gave no indication that those were issues. Masturbation, generally, is a private expression of one's sexuality, and you should not feel threatened by it. The frequency, methods, and circumstances are none of your business. You stated that he treats you well and satisfies you in bed. That should be the end of it. He is not cheating on you, and your demands that he end the behavior are unreasonable; all you will succeed in doing is to drive him to jack-off secretly and lie about it. Self-pleasure is natural and healthy—our arms are a certain length for a very good reason. Get over yourself and count your blessings.” I'm sorry Scarlet, but YOU are the one who needs to get over yourself. First of all, have you even thought about all the cultural burdens placed on women and girls to be the ultimate sexual prize? Our culture bombards us with images of the perfect woman and makes us think that if we are perfect, our men will never stray, and if they do, it's our fault. Don't you have any sympathy for Betrayed, who is only part of this culture? You are only perpetuating the problem by encouraging women to accept their boyfriend's bad behavior. You're so anti-woman it's sick. The other thing. Did I understand right? Are you actually saying that God made our arms as long as they are just so we could masturbate? Signed, I Think You're a Bitch

 

“Aw, fuck,” Kagome said. She was sitting at a sewing table, staring at her laptop screen in disgust. Since returning from the airport, she had been able to make sufficient progress in her work schedule so she felt she could knock out her next column before Rin, having dinner with the Taisho's, would be coming back home to go to bed. She looked at the dog, lying by her feet. “A few easy questions on sex positions was all I asked for. Something that didn't require a whole lot of brain cells. Instead I get this…this…bullshit.” Oberon stretched and yawned; he had no opinion. Kagome angrily began to type.

 

Dear Bitch, I stand by my advice in both the examples you mentioned. Congratulations on your recent family addition. However, it's not all about you. To compare your situation, a married woman with a new baby experiencing normal loss of libido, to Cockblocked, a man who had been with his clearly-not-interested-in-sex boyfriend for less than a year, is nonsensical. Only a complete asshole would take my advice to Cockblocked as a free pass to leave or cheat. Anyone that assholish would do it anyway if he wanted to, so in no way am I going to accept blame for any hypothetical wives suddenly finding themselves abandoned. You also took issue with my response to Betrayed. While I agree that our society and media images objectify girls and women, I don't see how my advice to Betrayed is “perpetuating the problem.” If anything, my comments to Betrayed encouraged rejection of the myth of the perfect woman. As far as being “anti-woman” and allegedly favoring the male perspective…unlike you, I don't keep a running tally of Him versus Her, partly because many of the people who write to me are gay, making gender irrelevant, and partly because I'm not an anal retentive douche…so I don't really know how to respond to your charge, other than to say What The Fuck Ever. My definition of Feminist: Someone who believes in gender equality and social justice. Nowhere in that definition does it say women are always right and/or men are always wrong. And sorry, masturbation is not “bad behavior.” As stated above, it is natural and healthy, and Betrayed, instead of getting bent out of shape that her BF wants to yank it, should learn to please herself and invite him to watch. Regarding arm length and location of genitals, whether created or evolved, I refuse to believe it's a coincidence.

 

“Damn column.” She sat back and cracked her knuckles. “Damn deadlines.”

 

“Column? Deadline?”

 

Kagome almost fell off her chair. “Agh!” she screamed, spinning around to see Sesshoumaru and Rin standing in the doorway. “Stop sneaking up on me!” She glared at the useless dog. “Some watch dog you are.”

 

“Shouldn't you be working?”

 

She slammed her laptop shut. “I am. I mean…I will. I was just taking a short break.”

 

Sesshoumaru hated to take advantage of such an easy target, but couldn't help teasing. “You weren't looking at pornography, were you?”

 

Kagome blushed bright and hot. “Uh, yeah. Porn. That's what I was doing.” She was sure he heard her say something about her column and decided it was better to play along.

 

“What's porn?” Rin asked wickedly, picking up on Sesshoumaru's cue to embarrass her aunt.

 

“You already know what porn is, you little scamp. It's your bedtime. Come give me a hug.”

 

Rin rolled her eyes. “Daddy said it's grown-up stuff,” she said with a pout. “But lots of stuff is for grown-ups.”

 

Kagome looked at Sesshoumaru for help, with a strong current of you're-the-one-who-started-this.

 

“Kagome's correct, Rin.”

 

Rin's urge to be naughty was not about to die so quiet a death. “Shippou said porn is when people take off their shirts and kiss with tongues.”

 

“It's your bedtime,” both adults said simultaneously.

 

Rin reluctantly gave up and hugged Kagome good night. “Uncle Sesshoumaru will you still read to me?”

 

“I wouldn't miss it,” he said as they exited, giving Kagome an amused glance over his shoulder.

 

Kagome exhaled with relief and set her computer aside. Feeling the need to calm down, she put on a Van Cliburn CD, then picked up a wall hanging and arranged boxes of beads.

 

When Sesshoumaru came back to her studio and knocked softly on the door, she wasn't quite so surprised, having told herself that he would at least say goodnight, but the way he filled the room, quietly commanding attention, still made her heart race. “Did she go to bed okay?”

 

The question had almost become an alternate way they greeted each other after he put Rin to bed, a question not requiring an answer. “May I see what you're working on?”

 

“Please, come see. I just started sewing beads on, more or less the final touches. I've got several pieces that are at this stage, but this one has the most complex beadwork, and I wanted to get it done first.”

 

Sesshoumaru examined the fabric panel spread out in front of him. Done with a dark background, it was a representation of a kneeling naked woman, head thrown back, clearly in the throes of ecstasy. “The figure and the colors are very sensual,” he observed.

 

“Thanks, but wait `til I'm done.” A wave of her hand indicated boxes of different sized gold beads. “It's Danaë.” She waited, unsure if he would make the connection or would need an explanation.

 

His lips curved in a lop-sided smile. “I see. Her father was told by an oracle that her child would one day kill him, so he imprisoned her, but without taking Zeus' shape-shifting abilities into consideration.”

 

She was impressed; his knowledge of Greco Roman Mythology wasn't deficient. “Yeah. I'll be adding beads to look like a shower of golden rain. It will curl around her limbs and breasts, collecting at her belly and thighs. I'll probably put some in her hair too. Hope it doesn't turn out too X-rated, but I don't really care. I've wanted to do something erotic for a while now.”

 

He wanted to see more. “Do you often draw inspiration from mythology?”

 

“Uh yeah, actually…or I used to.” Kagome looked into his face and searched his eyes. There was a secret, deeply private part of her, a part that time and healing had made less raw and less dangerous, but it was still something that she guarded carefully. Only her closest, must trusted friends had been given access, and she realized she desperately wanted to include him in that circle. She went to the closet and reached up, bringing out a thick portfolio case. “After my suicide attempt, reclaiming my ability to do art was integral to recovery. At the time, I was trying so hard to get past feeling like a victim, but I kept gravitating toward tragic heroines of mythology and folklore as subject matter.” She opened the portfolio and pulled out a stack of wall hangings, each kept separate by a sheet of white muslin. “The first who called to me was Daphne…she had a stalker too. Granted it was the god Apollo, but she still didn't want his attention.”

 

“And her father turned her into a laurel tree so she could escape him,” Sesshoumaru added.

 

Kagome nodded and looked through the pieces, pulling out the object of her search when it was found. The picture, done in multiple layers of fabric, was a colorful tree with long, graceful limbs and a woman's face, beautiful and serene. “So many depictions of Daphne show her mid-transformation, being pursued by Apollo, with an expression of terror. I wanted to focus on her, who she was independent of him, and I imagined that as a tree, she wasn't some tragic figure, robbed of a future of frolicking by a riverbank. She was strong and happy to be safe.”

 

He was touched by the explanation and what was not said aloud. “It's beautiful. There's so much movement in the branches; she seems very much alive.”

 

“Thanks,” she said, blushing. “So I went through the myths and literature that I knew from my childhood fascination with them and from university, finding the tragic female figures and exploring the other aspects of them. The ways they rebelled against their situations, what remained of them, what was beautiful about them…anything other than the fact that they were so fucked by men or gods or fate. Eurydice, Semele, Persephone, Echo, Medea, Jocasta.”

 

One by one, she showed him. Some woven, some pieced together fabric, all were intricately embellished with beads and embroidery, telling stories which she described to him in detail.

 

“I had a lot of trouble with Dido. She succeeded in her suicide,” she said quietly. “And I was so mad at her. Queen of Carthage and she stabs herself and jumps on a pyre because her lover left.” She showed him a representation of a fire raging on a shoreline, but the black smoke pouring out had a softness to it and sorrowful eyes looking down at a small sailing boat. “I worked out a lot of my anger at her…and just let her be sad. She had a right to her sadness. And so I forgave her.”

 

“You forgave both of you?” he asked gently.

 

She nodded, grateful he was so perceptive and understood the personal, vulnerable nature of what she was showing him. “Next I went on to Irish folklore and Arthurian legends. Deirdre and Yseult were the characters that stuck with me more than any…they were such amazing women in their wild, fatal attempts to shape their own destiny.” She took out two more, the first—an ethereal, shrouded female figure mourning over blood-splattered rocks, the second—a collage of scattered images, all surrounded by embroidered honeysuckle. “Then explored Germanic and Icelandic stories. Sieglinde and Brunhilde. Those two I actually sold to a Wagner fanboy. The kind who goes to Bayreuth every year. He paid a shitload of money and assured me they would be well taken care of.” Finished, she began to remake the pile, layering the art with white cloth. “So that is, in a way, a map of my recovery, how I reclaimed myself.”

 

“I assume it worked?” It wasn't really a question, more an invitation for her to continue, should she wish.

 

“It did. I had felt so isolated, so alone, like no one could possibly understand what I had gone through, and these people were my imaginary friends, but they seemed real. And by exploring their stories and giving them life, I made peace with what happened to me and how I reacted.” She shook her head. “I don't think there's anything worse than that feeling of being alone.”

 

He placed his hand next to hers on the table, little fingers touching.

 

“I have to agree. It's paralyzing.”

 

Kagome heard an unfamiliar, almost unguarded tone in his voice and looked at him quizzically, but said nothing; if he wanted to speak further, he would.

 

Sesshoumaru saw her waiting patiently, not judging. He had never shared with anyone the way the events of the past had torn him. “I'm sure you can imagine a ten-year-old boy, sent away, hundreds of miles from his family.” He paused, reflective. “A seriously screwed up family, but my family nonetheless.”

 

She covered his hand with her own. “How did you cope?”

 

He sighed, his mind heavy with memories. “I was sent to boarding school because my mother was depressed, and my father thought one less child would help. So I tried to think about her getting better, and when I'd be able to come home. With time I got used to it.”

 

Kagome knew she didn't get better for a long time and he only was allowed home for holidays. “Poor little you.” She squeezed his hand and, despite her efforts, started crying.

 

“Kagome…”

 

“I'm sorry. Just tired. And the buried emotions that these pieces stir up make me extra weepy.” She sniffed loudly. “I just wish your family had had someone to step in and fix you all.”

 

“She came eventually.” He gathered her close and hoped that she took the same amount of comfort from his presence and nearness as he from hers.

 

She eased into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. “You give me far too much credit, but thank you. Thank you for letting me share. For understanding.”

 

“You're a talented artist, Kagome. And an incredible person.” He tilted her face up and wanted to kiss her, but knew the time wasn't right. “I suppose you need to get back to work.”

 

“I do. And you probably have jet lag from hell,” she said lightly, hoping to cast some brevity on the seriousness that surrounded them.

 

“I won't notice until tomorrow morning when I try to wake up. Kagome, in a few weeks, when your show is done and my work schedule has calmed down, will you have dinner with me?”

 

Kagome didn't want to ask if it would be dinner with or without Rin. She didn't want to think about the possibility that he wanted more than friendship, that she may have to face her fears of taking chances, that she may disappoint him. “I'd love to have dinner with you.” She had become remarkably adept at feigning blindness.

 

“Good night.” He left, but she didn't feel alone; his strength and solidness lingered in the room for a long time and kept her company.

 

XxXxX

 

Sesshoumaru sat at his office desk, wondering at what point reading the daily international stock exchange report had become so boring to him, when his cell rang. It was Kagome.

 

“Hey! I was at a friend's warehouse near here using his power tools to cut some dowel rods for hanging my work, and I was wondering if I could drop off some forgotten forms that you could give to Rin's teacher when you pick her up from school today. I would do it, but I'd rather get home and get back to work, and I thought since you're going there later anyway—”

 

“Kagome,” he said, cutting off her babbling, “it's fine.”

 

“I'm in the lobby of your building. Be right up.”

 

A few minutes later, she appeared, dressed in patched jeans and a T-shirt that said `this is what a feminist looks like.'

 

“Jeez, the looks I got in the elevator, you'd think I was wearing a burlap sack.”

 

Suddenly Sesshoumaru's mind was flooded with words he had read and things he had noticed. References to age and relationship status; mentions of a married sister close in age; unsubtle hints of sexual experience; sarcasm; humor; insight; laptop slammed shut; the word `column' slipping out. Individually they meant nothing, but the Scarlet Letter'd he had read the week before combined with the shirt she was currently wearing was like someone had turned the bright light of Truth on for him. “You're Scarlet.” It was a statement, sure and confident, not an accusation.

 

Kagome froze. “Idon'tknowwhatyou'retalkingabout.”

 

“You are.” A devious, wicked grin slowly formed as his certainty increased. “I don't know why I didn't notice before. You're Scarlet.”

 

Her attempts at nonchalant denial were like a scarlet letter G for Guilty branded on her forehead; it was futile. She numbly sank into a chair. “Okay…okay. But you can't ever tell anyone. Please. Only Sango and my editor know.”

 

His head practically spun with the deliciousness of this new knowledge. “Your secret is safe with me.”

 

She straightened and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Wait a goddam second. You, Sesshoumaru Taisho, mean to tell me, you read my column?”

 

“Religiously,” he answered, locking eyes with her.

 

“I knew you were a pervert.” She flinched, unable to keep up the intensity of their impromptu staring contest. “Well you can't read it anymore. In fact I'd appreciate it if you were to just forget everything you've ever read.”

 

“I'm not going to stop reading anything,” he said, amusement clear in his eyes and his voice.

 

Kagome frowned. He was enjoying this. “You have to. I put really personal stuff in there.” She groaned, remembering with horror the column that was devoted to recounting the popping of her anal cherry, and sank back into the chair. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

 

“I won't tell anyone, Kagome, but why all the secrecy?”

 

“You seriously need to ask?” she said, dumbfounded. “Would you be able to write about details of your sex life without the cover of anonymity? And do you know how many fucking freaks are out there? I mean seriously…like I want to get stalked again.” She shuddered. “Scarlet gets marriage proposals. Mostly I get letters via email, but when I first started a lot of them were sent to a post office box. I had to open them with rubber gloves on.”

 

“Rubber gloves?” he asked.

 

She sighed at his obtuseness. “Once you open your first letter that's coated in dried spunk, it's enough to make you treat them all with caution. Yes, apparently some people think a kinky advice column is ideal masturbation material. And a significant portion of them think it's fun to mail the results in.” She paused and looked at him suspiciously. “Oh! And remember the letter last year from the couple whose role playing included priest getting spanked in a dungeon? Scarlet got actual death threats. I didn't even write the fucking letter…okay I did suggest they play altar boy getting spanked in a dungeon to spice things up…but my point is there are some lunatics out there.”

 

“How exactly did you get started writing it?”

 

“You really want to know?”

 

He nodded, trying not to betray his eagerness.

 

“One night I was drinking where Inuyasha tended bar, and there was this drunk-as-shit guy hitting on me. He was pathetically bad at it, but kinda cute, then I noticed he had a wedding band on. So I started talking to him, and he confessed that he had just found out that his wife had cheated on him three years before. I told him that sleeping with strangers…even hot ones like me,” she laughed, “wouldn't make it hurt any less. Anyway, so the next night he found me, told me he was the editor of The Missing Link, and asked if I would be interested in writing an advice column.”

 

“And Sango? You mentioned that she knows.”

 

“A couple months after I started writing it, I got a letter from a submissive, but it had a really creepy, abusive vibe to it. I needed a professional opinion about how to answer, so I showed it to her.” She giggled. “It's nice to have a person to share the really outrageous, whatthefuck stuff with. The stuff that there's no way in hell I could put in the paper.”

 

“There are letters you get that are unprintable?” he asked, beginning to plot already how he would get her to show them to him.

 

“Yeah,” she nodded, somewhat disturbed by his apparent interest. “Some are obviously fake. They usually involve degradation of women. Some are just boring. Some are questions I've answered a lot before—I can only write about penis size so many times.”

 

“Did your sister and Inuyasha know?”

 

“Of course. No secrets in our house. And I needed them. I'm fine with a little of the old slap and tickle, but they were a great resource for the harder aspects of BDSM.”

 

He rose and walked around his desk to stand near her. “How is it that your friends haven't figured out your secret identity? It seems pretty obvious to me now, and they've known you a lot longer.”

 

“I've learned that people make their minds up pretty quickly and they believe what they want to believe. Jak is the most oblivious one of them all. He's so convinced Scarlet is a gay man, that I think even if he saw me in the physical act of writing it, he wouldn't believe me.”

 

The idea of watching her writing the column made his blood heat up. “Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee? I'll ask Carol to go get us some.” He stood in front of her chair, so she couldn't easily escape.

 

Kagome felt like he was mentally undressing her. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

 

“Like what?” he asked, without a trace of innocence.

 

“Like you're a big bad wolf and I'm a basket of goodies.” Her shirt just came off and was tossed across the room. Heart pounding, she stood and quickly scooted around him. “I like the world how it was twenty minutes ago, when the Sesshoumaru I knew didn't read my column.” And didn't scare the shit out of me, she thought. “I'm going. Home. Bye.” She turned and practically ran out the door.

 

Now that he knew that Kagome, smart and funny and beautiful Kagome, was also the woman who had captivated and intrigued him for years, there was no way in hell he could be expected to take much more, he reasoned. But Sesshoumaru wanted absolutely nothing distracting her; she couldn't have any excuses. Thankfully her show was only eight days away.

 

&&&

 

Thank you for reading! I do not own Inuyasha, Victorinox Swiss Army, or Pokémon. I hope the mythology, folklore, and opera references were not too out there—I tried not to dwell on them.