InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Reflected Past ❯ Strange Feelings ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Chapter 5 - Strange Feelings




With repetitive motion, the wide-headed hammer struck the blade, chipping off sparking particles of metal from the sword itself, which glowed a fierce, fiery orange. Toutousai's leathery hand passed quickly over the seething hot metal, unfeeling, skin more than accustomed to such high temperatures. His fingers could still feel the weakness in the blade, even with the sizeable crack having been sealed, and so he continued his work, taking a moment to lift his eyes to the lurking demon lord, who was rummaging about Toutousai's home with open curiosity.

"That doesn't belong to you, my lord," he chided mildly when Inutaisho's hand wrapped around the hilt of another dormant weapon, one that was capped by a lethal-looking serrated blade.

Inutaisho placed it back where he found it and turned to regard the ancient swordmaker, diplomatic smile coming to his face. "Are you afraid of its owner?" he inquired politely.

"No, but if one of you was afraid of the other I wouldn't have to repair your weapons so often," Toutousai respectfully admonished, flipping the weapon in his hand to feel the other side. "Not to say that you are in the wrong, of course. Your brother is the devil."

"I am surprised you always agree to repair them for him," Inutaisho murmured absently in response.

"You ordered me to," Toutousai reminded him, again lifting his eyes from his work. "I simply do as you ask."

"I am his big brother first, and his enemy second, Toutousai. Priorities are important," Inutaisho gallantly explained, appearing faintly humorous for a moment before his expression faded into something less amused. "There are times when I think Sesshoumaru is heading in the same direction. That boy's heart is clenched tight. He still believes that strength comes from tyranny. I can't seem to show him differently. He does not see that I spend much of my time toppling despotic, self-important leaders that feel very similarly to him. Strength rules and weakness obeys, in my son's mind."

Toutousai heard the ring of disappointment in the western lord's voice as his fingers worked to flatten the repaired segment of the sword. "What about that human girl? I know you had hoped her influence---"

"Ah, well there is Midoriko," Inutaisho acknowledged, appearing to brighten a little at that as he walked over to peer down at Toutousai's work. "His feelings toward her have changed, although I do wonder if he is beginning to like her a little too much. He seeks her out on his own now, for his own purposes. No order from me."

"You are worried about a demon boy becoming infatuated with a human girl? You've set quite the example...sir," Toutousai added quickly, dunking the repaired weapon into a vat of cool water, withdrawing it once more, then setting to the task of sharpening it. He noticed that the words set his youkai guest to pacing about the place again.

"I am older, Toutousai, and certainly more experienced," Inutaisho argued. "I set my own boundaries because of that, and I don't suffer from the same hot-headed god complex that Sesshoumaru succumbs to so often."

"Is that so?" Toutousai questioned indulgently, appearing humored as he looked up into his old friend's face, but he appeared to drop that and switched to another line of conversation, "Well, you know, he's not such a child anymore."

"He's less of an adult than he thinks he is," Inutaisho muttered darkly. "And if he is grown, and this is as far as he can go, then I have failed. I'd prefer not to consider that. I think that his heart is basically good. There are times when he does things that are surprisingly kind. And there are times when he does things I find absolutely appalling. I fear that he might be reining in his behavior because he knows I am watching, but I will not always be here to watch him." He paused then, went silent, absorbed in his thoughts...and then blinked as Toutousai's earlier comment came back to him, the one which he had chosen not to expound upon. "You think I have a god complex...?"

"It depends who's worshipping," Toutousai answered wryly. He quickly rubbed the blade down with a cloth until it gleamed with shining perfection, appearing new once more. Then, extending it in wrinkled old hands, Toutousai offered it back to its owner. "Your weapon, my lord. Try to go more than a few weeks before you snap it again."



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As she had expected, Shijin had not been pleased to discover that Midoriko had been followed home by a demon cat of unknown origin. Upon first laying eyes on her, he had forbade the animal from entering the house despite the rainstorm outside, which had ignited a rather heated argument between himself and his sister. He quickly found himself overruled by Midoriko's innate stubbornness, and so the result was that, not only was the cat allowed to come in, it slept at Midoriko's feet in its housecat form and quickly became her ever-present companion.

The double-tailed cat was an extremely intelligent youkai as well for, though she did not speak, she understood every word that was said around her, which was quickly made obvious by the menacing growls that were heard every time Shijin muttered about exterminating her. Weeks upon weeks of a cold standoff between himself and his home's new occupant eventually dissolved to the point where Shijin found himself offering her bits of his dinner along with her own, a reward for her efforts during demonic conflicts. He was the first to call her Kirara.

The villagers took to Kirara's presence far more easily than did Shijin, a trust that came from Midoriko's unswerving confidence in the cat. Kirara made an extra effort to win over the children by playing with them and carrying them for short trips into the air on her back. Happy, squealing children were enough to put the adults at ease, particularly when Kirara showed an instinct to protect her new village and its inhabitants. Ironically, the exterminators felt better about leaving to aid another town with a youkai left behind to defend their families from a potential retaliatory assault.

Midoriko learned to be especially grateful for Kirara's presence when Shijin married a girl named Lia and moved into the village to help care for his ailing mother-in-law. Midoriko had experienced coaxing and cajoling from both her brother and his new wife, each working to convince her to leave the lonely shack on the outskirts and live with them until she married as well, move into the comforting enclosure of the village itself. She refused repeatedly, for more reasons than she would name aloud, and finally pacified the two by agreeing to visit almost daily.

Fall descended, and with it came a rampant increase in demon attacks throughout the region. Shijin and a dozen of the exterminators were contracted by a town several days north of the village to rid them of a particularly strong and vindictive youkai, who had taken to stealing the young village girls, leaving nothing of them behind except their shredded skins. With her brother gone for at least a week, Midoriko had made an extra effort to help Lia, whose mother was still doing very poorly and needed plenty of care. It was something that Midoriko was happy to do, as she had formed a quick friendship with the young woman. Lia was very sweet and unassuming, and most importantly, was able to handle the constant stress that came from having a husband with so dangerous a job. Midoriko had her own misgivings about this trip the exterminators had taken north, but they had been confident, had asked her to stay behind and protect the others.

She had acquiesced to their wishes, but Midoriko was unable to shake the feeling of unease that crowded the back of her mind. So distracted was she on her way home from a visit to her sister-in-law, that Midoriko was startled by the sudden, low growl that began rumbling from Kirara. The cat's black ears perked straight up and the fur along her back bristled. At first Midoriko took it as a warning of coming danger, became tensed and more alert, but her companion went silent and kept up its pace beside her until they reached the house. Frowning over Kirara's strange behavior, Midoriko entered to find Sesshoumaru standing in the middle of the room, staring at her accusingly, as though she had been wasting his time.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him in greeting, still finding it difficult to read his expressions, even after two years of knowing him. Or trying to know him, she corrected. Kirara pattered in after her, pausing to sniff haughtily at Sesshoumaru before settling in a corner to glare fiercely at him. He ignored her entirely, as though she was not sharing space with him, and instead focused in on Midoriko's questioning face as she moved to place her belongings on the floor behind the door.

"Why would it be?" he inquired.

"Well," Midoriko began, smiling vaguely as she waved her hands to encapsulate the room. "I don't normally come home to find you standing in the middle of my house."

Sesshoumaru did not respond, instead watching her as she started to ignite a fire in the pit; brilliant orange-gold sparks attacked the wood, licking hungrily until there was a healthy blaze glowing. It lit the room to a warm honey brown, casting their shadows against the planked walls. Outside, night was coming on quickly and it was promising to be a cold one. Autumn was not putting up much of a fight, quickly being pushed aside by what looked to be an oncoming early winter, the wind outside picking up to a low moan.

"His scent is gone," Sesshoumaru finally commented, watching as she seated herself next to the fire, shrugging out of the worn coat.

She looked up in surprise. "Shijin? Yes, he was married recently to a girl from the village. They live there now...though, at the moment he's off helping another town. He should be back by tomorrow or the day after." She began to poke absent-mindedly at the fire with a bent twig, seized by a sudden morose mood. She was ecstatic for her brother and Lia, but there was still a childish part of her that wished things could have remained as they were for a while longer. It was difficult adjusting to a change that so completely altered the way her life had been for the past four years.

"He left you here?" Sesshoumaru asked in a tone suggesting that she had just confirmed every bad thought he had ever had about her brother.

"No...he did not just leave me here," she replied, craning her head so that she could see his face. "And will you please sit down? I'm going to break my neck staring up at you."

After a moment's hesitation, Sesshoumaru seated himself on the wood floor a few feet away from her. Midoriko was amused at the air of royal dignity he radiated he did so, decided that he could be wallowing in mud and still somehow manage to make it look sophisticated. "Is that why you came?" she asked him curiously, as he studiously settled that intimidating stare on the fire. "Because you thought something had happened to Shijin?"

"Even I am unable to pick up your brother's scent all the way from my home," he replied dismissively, not answering her question.

His eyes reflected the flickering flames, a burning amber, and Midoriko watched, mesmerized. The dim light made him look much younger, almost boyish, and she decided that he was beautiful. A strange word to describe one who was clearly born and bred to be an alpha male, exuding the masculine qualities that belied those perfect features; strength, arrogance, dominance. She could imagine that this man probably had a string of youkai women fixated on his every word and movement, like stalked prey, and the thought amused her so much that she felt a smile begin to tug at her lips.

Sesshoumaru must have felt her stare because he turned to look at her and she immediately dropped her eyes, embarrassed to be caught watching him so intently.

"He wanted me to move with him," she finally made an effort to continue the conversation, casting her attention toward the wall that held his shadow. It was somehow easier to converse with him when she wasn't having to watch him so directly.

"Why didn't you?"

Midoriko exhaled a breath, mulling over some of the many reasons that had made her want to stay in this place instead of joining her new family within the confines of the village. The excuse she had given to Shijin was that she was happy living in the home their parents had built together. Knowing her well, he had promptly accused her of staying there because of Sesshoumaru, which she had hotly denied. But now, part of her admitted that his accusation had held truth. She had been concerned that perhaps Sesshoumaru would feel less comfortable coming into the village to see her and, thus, visit less often. She knew it was stupid of her to think such a thing. If Sesshoumaru had a desire to speak with her, he'd have no problem barging into the village to haul her out for a chat. Still....

She could not give him that reason, so she provided the other she had thought of, the one that seemed more logical. "It's better for me to remain on the outskirts," she said steadily. "Any demons that are drawn specifically to me will come here, instead of rushing in to directly attack the village." There, yes, a very solid excuse.

Sesshoumaru frowned, still appearing unforgiving. "Whatever the reason, your brother has shirked his responsibilities."

Midoriko shook her head, the movement disrupting the shadow on the far wall as she tried to defend her brother. "No, he hasn't. I'm not a child anymore, Sesshoumaru. I turned seventeen last month."

"Seventeen?" he scoffed disdainfully. "You are an infant."

"By demon standards," she agreed, "but by human standards I should be marrying soon, too." Knowing this was so, Midoriko had been forced to look around her at the other men in the village, several of which would make acceptably suitable husbands, but somehow, the prospect of wedding one of them was less than exciting. She had found reasons to pick each of them apart in turn. She had grown up with most of them, viewed them with a sisterly affection or, in turn, knew they were dreadful human beings and was determined to steer clear of anything except a passing familiarity.

"Will you?" came the low question, and he watched as her eyes swerved back toward him.

She was taken aback by his bluntly stated inquiry, blinked at it, as though trying to decide how best to answer. She supposed that if she ever wanted children and a family of her own, she would have to settle in and marry one of the village boys. The idea felt confining, more so as she looked at her seated companion. Would he continue to come see her if she married? Midoriko doubted it. But that begged another question: why was he here now? If he had not noticed Shijin was missing until he had already begun to approach the village, then why had he come? It couldn't be the concern that his father's enemies were possibly targeting her; things had been far too quiet for the past several months for that to have played into his decision.

Suddenly realizing that she had not replied to his question, Midoriko tried to give an answer. "Eventually, perhaps, but there's no one....there's no one available to me at the moment that I would want to spend my life with," she admitted. Yes. Good, that was honest.

This was particularly so, since the only one who prompted wistful thoughts of anything domestic was distinctly unavailable to her. Imaginings of evenings spent with a certain pointed-eared demon and their half dozen hanyou offspring had broken into her thoughts fairly regularly ever since her brother had married. It was ridiculous to even allow her mind to wander down that road, but it did so of its own accord, taunting her with things that would never, ever happen. Midoriko shrugged it away as a harmless crush. How could a girl be around someone like Sesshoumaru and not be taken with him? Well, that is if they managed to make it past the insults...the rudeness....the open disdain...

"You never told me why you came," she prompted him again. If he was forcing her to answer uncomfortable questions, then she was bound and determined to make him reciprocate.

"Does it matter?" he demanded.

"No."

"Am I bothering you?"

"No, of course not," she answered quickly, because she was certainly glad to have him there.

"Then don't ask pointless questions," he ordered imperiously, settling the matter. Sesshoumaru diverted his eyes from her face and focused them on the far wall. He could not answer specifically because he did not know precisely why he had decided to come...or why he had waited for her return. He realized it was quite unlike him not to have a purpose to support his actions. He did not need to have her under his nose to keep track of whether everything around her was peaceful, but his desire to ensure that it was surprised him. Damned human girl, getting under his skin like that. Why should he care? She was going to die soon. That was a fact. Whether it was tomorrow or at a more naturally advanced age, it mattered not. It would still be soon.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she reached over to pat Kirara's paws affectionately, trying to settle the beast, which was still tempermental from his presence. Already he could see the signs of rapid human aging; she had changed much over the past two years, no longer the short, skinny little girl who had so arrogantly plucked his prey right out of his claws, but a young woman who could be considered beautiful even by demon standards. Yet...that was not why he often felt himself drawn to see her. There was something inherently good about her, a soft glow that spoke of a pure spirit. This girl loved. Devotedly. Fiercely. It both emanated from her and surrounded her to the point where it was almost visible to the naked eye. He knew without question that she would die to defend her brother, her village, even the damned, worthless housecat. People that loved others so thoroughly and selflessly never lasted long in this world, and it fascinated him, because he did not have that same thing in him, whatever it was.

It also disconcerted him, he realized, watching the girl tenderly stroke the demon cat's fur. It was important to him that she remain as she was, alive, breathing, and sound at the end of each day. He disliked change, and she was normalcy, even as strange as she was. She wore her feelings out in the open for everyone to see, and the foolish girl had no idea that her face betrayed her emotions so easily. Her blatant affection for him was as obvious as glaring sunlight and he had never been on the receiving end of such in his entire life. It both drew and repelled him at the same time, for he had to remind himself that she was and always would be a human.

He had surprised himself by his interest in her future plans. It would be in the girl's best interest to marry and to do so soon. Residing on the outskirts of a village with a youkai cat would be a lonely, pathetic existence. Even knowing this, he could not deny the small twinge of jealousy he encountered at the idea of her turning those feelings of affection in the direction of a human man. She was different from them, would be bored by them.

Frustrated, he put those thoughts away, realizing that he was treading uncomfortably close to the path his father was following. But Inutaisho had already done what he considered to be his duty; he had mated a proper demon woman who had born a full-blood youkai that would eventually take Inutaisho's place and defend the west. Sesshoumaru's sense of honor and family pride demanded that he do the same, and he did not resent that. It was the proper, natural way of things. It was only a shame that his father seemed unable to understand that, Sesshoumaru's existence aside, it was still improper and humiliating for him to carry on with human women as he so often did. But as he watched Midoriko, his father's cryptic words about the difference between human and youkai came back, crept into his thoughts unbidden.

"Sesshoumaru...one burns brightly for an instant and then is gone, a flash of warmth, and then darkness. The other is eternal perfection, strong and beautiful, a fire that burns slowly, craving fuel to feed it yet purposefully starving itself."

Sesshoumaru blinked out of that memory as Midoriko turned away from Kirara and smiled at him, oblivious to the thoughts circling in his mind. "Ashrem came for another visit last week. He seems to like it here," she said conversationally.

"He comes often, does he?" Sesshoumaru asked distantly.

"Fairly often. I think he's lonely. He lives alone, you know; ever since the priest that raised him died."

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. "Perhaps his intention is to make a more permanent move to this place."

"Hmm?" she questioned, then understood, eyeing the young demon carefully. Is he jealous...? "He's not interested in me, if that's what you're thinking. The villagers like him and appreciate what he's done for us. Who wouldn't like to be around that?"

Sesshoumaru mentally conceded that point, as it was part of the reason he was sitting beside her. It was pleasant to be held in such high regard, to arrive at a place where people were glad to see you.

"He's never even hinted that he might see me in a romantic light," Midoriko added.

"You are naive," Sesshoumaru dismissed her assurances.

"You're paranoid," she countered, frowning in obvious confusion. "What's this about? I would think you'd be glad if I did marry Ashrem. He is your father's friend, is he not?"

"Not precisely. My father was on friendly terms with Ashrem's guardian, the old priest." He looked pointedly at Midoriko then, and voiced the suspicions he had already relayed to his father. "There is something about Ashrem that bothers me."

Midoriko recalled her own feelings of mistrust when she had first met the man, feeling cold as Sesshoumaru mentioned his lack of faith in Ashrem's motives. Yet Ashrem had never done anything to her or the villagers that could be considered less than kind. He had refused any form of payment for the horse-drawn cart he had brought them many months back, which had been piled with various plants, seeds, and containers of strange herbs and powders. He had patiently explained their uses, doses, and how to grow them properly, and had had no other interaction with the village beyond his occasional visits to check on the outcome of his efforts.

Before she could explain that to Sesshoumaru, he tilted his head toward the ceiling as if listening for something, a deep frown etched into his brow. "Someone is approaching this house...very quickly."

That sense of foreboding that had trailed after her for most of the day returned, and Midoriko quickly rose and slipped on her sandals. She walked outside, immediately chilled by the crisp wind that whipped around her, peering into the darkness with only the aid of blinding white moonlight. A chirp at her feet let her know that Kirara had followed her and she, too, was hearing what Sesshoumaru had picked up on, something that was beyond Midoriko's own ears. But her heart was beginning to pound, and her stomach turned sickly. It was late and dark and cold...no one would come to her this late to bring good news...

Sesshoumaru walked outside behind her, his senses picking up the scent of a human whose emotions were quite clearly...riled, anxious. He glanced at Midoriko's apprehensive profile, feeling certain that she was not going to enjoy this unanticipated visit. He turned to stare out into the darkness once more as the steady clipping of horse hooves soon became quite audible even by human standards, and she was quick to identify the man that came hurtling out of the black wall of night astride a chocolate-brown mare.

"Taro!" Midoriko called, thin arms folded over her chilled body, stepping back as the middle-aged man pulled up on the beast's reins abruptly, halting it, the hooves pounding restlessly into the grass, as though it resented being stopped from its invigorating run. "Is something wrong?"

"The exterminators have returned, Midoriko," he said breathlessly, his face red from exertion and the cold, and Sesshoumaru watched as his eyes passed warily to him before returning to the girl, expression falling into something pained and sympathetic.

Sesshoumaru knew what the man was going to say even before he heard the words. The scent of death was being carried on the wind from the direction of the village, and he felt a sudden urge to pull Midoriko away from the man before it was said. Such an abrupt change, everything completely altered for her, and again his father's description of quick-burning flashes being extinguished came to mind. This is what you admire in them, Father? That ability to gratefully live each day despite these events...

"Shijin was killed," Taro stammered, horrified eyes locked onto her face. "Forgive me. It grieves me to tell you, but he was lost..."

"What?" Midoriko asked, shaking her head slightly as though certain her ears were functioning improperly. Her mind went utterly blank except for a steady thumping that filled her ears, drowning out the howling wind, and for a moment she thought it sounded as though everything was screaming.

"He died, Midoriko."

She swallowed against the lump that had wedged itself in her throat, feeling as though she was about to choke. The man’s words chanted themselves over and over as she tried to process what had just been said to her. Taro rambled on, hands flailing expressively, as though she needed a description of events. A mixture of confusion and horror overwhelmed her as she recalled that she had last seen Shijin just a week earlier, strong, happy, and healthy. He didn't belong among the dead; the thought of his body being stuffed into a hole in the ground to deteriorate made her feel violently ill. And that was when some desperate hope seized her, as she remembered her looming friend...and that healing sword...

Midoriko turned painfully dry eyes to Sesshoumaru, who was watching her with a pensive expression. "Tenseiga," she said shakily, the word coming out as something between a request and a demand. He did not argue with her as she expected he might; simply nodded tersely and left, a blur of white that was consumed by the darkness.




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Sesshoumaru had always been insulted by his father's insistence on leaving Tenseiga behind with him whenever the youkai lord went to resolve an issue elsewhere in his dominion. In Sesshoumaru's mind it left the impression that Inutaisho thought him less than capable of taking care of himself, so it had been a subtle rebellion to accept the sword but refuse to wear it. The blade had a mind of its own. Sesshoumaru had witnessed this when, during a battle a few decades earlier, he had been abruptly pulled away from the fight, the sword calling on its strange magical properties to transport him far out of reach just as his opponent's blade had swept in, slicing into the skin of his throat, beginning the process of decapitating him. There had been that instantaneous flash of light and Sesshoumaru had materialized elsewhere. Almost immediately he had tossed the sword away and raced back to the fight, furious and humiliated. He had won.

Now, though, hurtling back into the exterminators' village with the sword in hand, Sesshoumaru was feeling far more charitable toward the weapon and its abilities. Never before had he revived the dead with it, but he had witnessed Inutaisho do so on several occasions. Even to a hardened demon, it was miraculous to watch breath and color return to a corpse, restoring the life as though death had never occurred. Sesshoumaru was certain that he could force it to work.

It was easy to locate the house in which the body was being kept, both by the smell it was giving off and the trail of Midoriko's scent. He pushed his way none-too-gently through the small assemblage of people outside the front door, barely registering the muttering that immediately ensued over the arrival of a youkai. He rudely slammed the door in their faces and turned to find Kirara looming in her larger form. Pointing at the door with an obvious intent for her to ensure that bystanders were kept out, he ducked down a low-ceilinged hallway that led to the bedrooms, his sensitive nose nearly overwhelmed by the scent of decay that grew as he approached the second doorway.

Midoriko was standing just inside the room, back pressed against the wall, hands clutched together. She was sickly-pale, hollow, dark eyes locked on her brother's remains, which had been laid out on the bed, a dim light casting a ghastly glow across the room. Registering his arrival, she turned that vacant stare on him, utterly devoid of the cheerful playfulness that he had come to expect. Sesshoumaru was again grateful for the sword in his hand, knowing that all of this could be corrected with a simple swing. It was an empowering feeling, to have such control over the destination of a soul.

A wispy, dark-haired girl was sobbing quietly next to the body, one hand clutching at the bedding. Midoriko moved stiffly forward to pull her out of the way as Sesshoumaru extended Tenseiga over Shijin's corpse. The man was barely recognizable from both the state of the body and the wounds that had been inflicted; whatever had gotten a hold of him had been rather angry and unrelenting. It would be a difficult image for Midoriko to forget and he found that something in him felt sorry for her.

Sesshoumaru waited for the soul-bearers to be revealed, the tiny creatures that came to take the souls of the dead away to the afterlife. Moments passed, stretched, became unchanging. Nothing happened. He blinked in surprise, but then a thought occurred to him and he felt the stirrings of dismay. The exterminators had been away when this happened, though how far he did not know.

"How long has he been dead?" he asked quietly.

"Three days. The town is...three days away," Midoriko whispered in a voice that was nearly unrecognizable, laden with uncertain grief.

Sesshoumaru nodded and lowered Tenseiga, replacing it in its sheath. Midoriko watched him warily, eyes becoming dark and accusing. "What are you doing?"

"He can't be saved. His soul is gone."

"What?" she asked harshly, stepping away from where she had been standing with the other nameless human woman. He eyed her dispassionately as she moved to stand in front of him, an eerie, desperate look in her eyes, and he decided that her mind preferred to believe that he was unwilling more than incapable, so he tried to explain again.

"The soul-bearers have already retrieved his soul. There's nothing there to return to the body. It's too late."

"No," she responded forcefully, her face darkening from crushing sadness to a flashing anger, brown eyes lit with a resentful fury. She pointed once more toward her brother's body, finger shaking as she issued the demand. "Revive him. You can do it. Try it again."

"It's not going to work," he argued, but the girl's hand reached out and grasped Tenseiga's hilt, pulling it from the sheath with a swift movement, the blade appearing dull in the low illumination. He allowed her to take it, said nothing as she stood, clutching it like her savior. Then, recklessly, she flipped the weapon, grasping the blade end as she extended the hilt toward him. It cut into her hand, a wound that almost instantly healed itself, renewing the skin. "Please," she spoke the brittle word.

He accepted the offered sword, something in him responding to that plea. He extended it once more, resentfully eyeing the uncooperative corpse as he waited for Tenseiga to awaken. There was nothing, as he knew there would not be, but he still felt angry that the one time he actually wished to use it, it was proving to be useless. Hadn't that been how he had always referred to it? A useless sword? It remained cold in his hand, as dead as the man lying on the bed. He slashed at the empty air over the body, just as he had witnessed his father do, but, as expected, nothing happened.

A rush of movement prompted him to turn and watch as Midoriko left the room. Silently, he resheathed that wretched sword and abandoned the room to Shijin's widow, pacing in Midoriko's wake until he found her near the front door, Kirara gazing mournfully up at her as the girl's fingers lightly reached out to scratch the cat's left ear. She looked stiff and cold, as though on the verge of being provoked into a shatter by so much as a wayward word. He supposed that he was the last thing that should be near her at a time like this. His heart was not overly given to sympathy and compassion, and he found himself facing the situation with a blank mind, uncertain if he should say something or not, stay or leave. That heavy silence stretched on for an eternity before she finally turned to face him, eyes eerily bright.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked in a choked voice. "Why can't it pull the soul out from wherever it is?"

"Because his soul has already moved on. Tenseiga's abilities are not limitless," he explained calmly.

"I should have gone with him," she said then, regretfully shaking her head, haunted by a decision she could not take back. "If Kirara had come with me, we would have been able to get you and bring you back in time..."

"It's pointless to think in those terms. Don't dwell on such things." Her posture loosened then, stiffness melting away, and he watched as her eyes pooled with tears. Certainly, he was the worst to have around in such a situation, and so he fumbled for something suitable to say. Sesshoumaru had experienced very little personal loss. His mother had died when he had been very young, a child, too young to really know the full impact of her death. "I am sorry," he finally told her honestly.

It was true that he had an intense dislike for humans, but this was something he wished he could repair; not for the villagers, or the crying widow, or even Shijin, who Sesshoumaru had always regarded as an inconsequential waste of air and space. They could all cease to exist and he would feel nothing, but this girl, he thought, watching the heart-broken Midoriko, was someone whose loss he would one day regret. It was for her that he had wanted to bring Shijin back to the living.

"Thank you," she finally said in a shuddering voice, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "For trying to save him. I know you don't even like him."

Sesshoumaru was once more stricken with the lack of an instinctual reply. The entire scene was surreal to him, standing inside the house of a dead human, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of the man’s fellow villagers, feeling dismayed by the tears of a human girl. His life had certainly become encumbered by an odd gray area. He knew better; this was unnatural, but he liked her despite what she was, probably because she liked him despite what he was. It was confounding, and became only more so when the girl moved toward him, wrapped her arms around him, encircling his chest in a clingy embrace. He was surprised by the absence of a desire to pull away, something that would have been an instantaneous reaction not so long ago. His own hands lifted uncertainly, rested awkwardly on her shoulders, and he supposed, inept as he was in times such as these, he had done all he could.