InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Reflected Past ❯ Possessed ( Chapter 7 )

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

Chapter Seven - Possessed


Midoriko seated herself at the long dinner table, smiling as Kirara came to curl up on the floor beside her. Directly across from her, far on the other end, ignoring the heaping plates of food set before them, sat Shijin and her parents, appearing to be deep in some sort of discussion. A faint glow encapsulated them, unearthly, giving them a ghostly palor, and she found her eyes roving, searching out the source of the light. Strangely, her end of the room appeared to be dim, cast into shadow, and the entire place was unfamiliar, cavernous, with rustic-looking brass lamps giving off a smoky light along the paneled walls. The screens that led to the two exits on either side of the room were closed, but shadowed forms appeared to lurk behind them, moving restlessly back and forth, and Midoriko automatically rose to let the visitors in.

As soon as she got to her feet, her father's strong voice rang out, echoing inside the mostly empty room with a command. "Midoriko, don't let them in."

She stopped obediently, one hand stretched out toward the screens, having been prepared to slide them back. Frowning in confusion, she glanced back at her father. "Why not, Father? We can't just leave them standing outside."

"They don't belong in here, dear. Surely we've taught you better than that," her mother reprimanded, but the words were gently spoken and she smiled as she gestured toward the place at the table that Midoriko had vacated. "Please, sit back down. We see so little of you anymore."

Something deep in her mind tried to prompt her with precisely why that was, but she squashed that tiny voice and did as her mother asked of her. However, when she sat down again, her family resumed their low conversation, excluding her entirely. She strained to hear what they were speaking about, but the distance was too great for her to do much more than try to read lips, and a strange, crushing loneliness began to gnaw at her insides. She didn't want this separation...

Midoriko stood again, intending to walk to the other end of the table to join them, but Shijin stopped her with a shake of his head, hand rising to point an accusing finger. "Let the dog out first, Midoriko."

Uncertain as to what he was talking about, she turned to look behind her and found that Kirara had left the room. A large white dog was seated where the cat had been and was gazing placidly at her through feral, reddened eyes; eyes that appeared sullen and dark, glowing with malcontent. "The dog?" she repeated, not understanding where the animal had come from.

"You can't leave him cooped up like that, Midoriko. He's wild. Honestly, I don't know what you were thinking when you brought him home," Shijin scolded her in an amused, indulgent tone.

"Take him outside. You can't tame him," her father warned, and her mother nodded in steadfast agreement.

"But I don't want to," she whispered, conflicted as to what to do. The dog watched her with an expression of challenging curiosity, almost as if wondering what her choice of action would be.

"You can't have it both ways, Midoriko," a silky voice said then, and she glanced to her left to find Ashrem standing beside her, robes billowing around him. His sudden appearance immediately elicited a deep growl from the dog. "Make your decision."

Before she could reply, Midoriko watched as the dog's starkly white fur bristled, standing stiffly on end, lips pulling back in a snarl of rage, fangs snapping viciously as his body extended and grew. Within moments his head was practically touching the tall ceiling, and he poised himself as though to attack. Midoriko stepped back in alarm, caught off guard by the dog's swift movements as he leapt toward her family, one giant clawed paw sweeping back to strike at them.

"You should stop him, Midoriko," Ashrem suggested calmly, a spectator. "I warned you, didn't I?"

Spurred on by those words, Midoriko rushed toward the attacking canine, jumping up onto the glossy wooden table to grab a hold of as much fur as her hands could catch. She pulled back with all of her strength, trying to haul the dog away from her brother and parents, all of whom appeared frozen to their chairs, faces stricken by shock and fear.

The dog gave a rumbling, angry bark, whirling around to clamp down on one of her arms with sharp, deadly fangs, and Midoriko closed her eyes, preparing to feel the limb being ripped from her body...

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"Stop it, Midoriko!"

Her eyes opened instantly at the loud, insistent voice, and she found her vision filled with Sesshoumaru's angry face, a space of mere inches between them. She inhaled a deep, surprised breath at finding him staring back at her with such intensity and in such close proximity, mind reeling in confusion. Wasn't I just at dinner...?

"Snap out of it!" Sesshoumaru growled at her in an annoyed tone. She noticed then that his hand was clasped around her fist, attempting to disentangle her grip from the stranglehold she had on his long hair. Instantly, she released him and he sat back on his heels in the snow, a deep frown marring his features, gold eyes glittering strangely in the moonlight as he watched her.

Feeling addled, she rose to a sitting position, cold, packed snow against her palms, looking around to find herself surrounded by the dark, hovering shadows of trees, limbs hanging low from weighted branches. Why am I here...? She struggled to remember the chain of events that could possibly have led to her being alone in a forest with Sesshoumaru, but all that came to mind were images of her waiting impatiently for Kirara's return. And then strange images began circling round and round in her head, passing so quickly that she could not place or identify them. A feeling of panic lodged in her stomach and her fingernails dug through the frost. They were important…

"Who was it?" Sesshoumaru demanded, his face so cold and dark it looked like it had been carved completely out of stone.

"Who was what?" she asked, staring up at him stupidly, not understanding. "And why am I here?"

"I brought you here. I was returning with you to my home when you started pulling and scratching at me like a rabid animal," he informed her haughtily, tone suggesting that she owed him a massive apology.

She shook her head, as though hoping to loosen the web of confusion over her mind. A cold ache prompted her to glance down at her bare feet. No shoes…? "Why were you bringing me to your home?"

"I wanted you to identify the person that set fire to your home and left you lying in a snowdrift. You were hardly in a fit state to answer those questions when I found you," he said grimly.

"My house was on fire?" she exclaimed, exhibiting an anxious explosion of energy by shoving herself to her feet. "Do the villagers know I'm all right?"

"They'll know when they don't find a body," Sesshoumaru replied steadily, sounding completely unconcerned.

Horrified at the carelessness of that, Midoriko turned to go back to her village, thoughts filled with Lia's face and the worry that would come from the discovery that her house had been destroyed. She attracted enough problems to that town without them having to dig through a gutted shack searching for a body that was not there, fearing that she was no longer alive to stave off those demon reprisals. Though she was intent on rectifying the situation, she only succeeded in venturing forward a few steps before she was grasped by one elbow and hauled backward in a graceless stumble.

"Let go of me! I have to let them know!" she snapped venomously at Sesshoumaru, jerking at her arm, but the demon was obviously in an equally foul mood and tightened his grip on her. "Sesshoumaru! Let go!" Oh, if this is a battle of wills, I'm not going to let this arrogant jerk win... Something within her gleefully urged her to fight back, a dark anger that seized hold of her and made her intensify her attempts to pull away.

Completely unmoved by her struggle with him, Sesshoumaru decided that there was something not right about her. Beyond the anxiety written on her face, there was something else, a viciousness in her that was uncharacteristic and surprising. Her muscles were tensed as though she was preparing for a fight, heart beating so quickly and fiercely that his hearing was easily able to pick up on the manic thrum. She was overtly distressed and angry, quite unlike the calm girl he was accustomed to dealing with. Perhaps the bruising on her face signified a deeper injury than he had expected? It was not for him to understand the physiology of the human body. Weak humans, he silently accused, but could not dismiss the feeling of unease he got as he watched that righteous fury gather in her eyes.

His thoughts nearly allowed her to catch him off guard; she reached up to rake at him with her fingernails, but with the swiftness of a striking serpent, he grabbed the offending hand before it could reach his face, clutching it within his own palm as he pulled her roughly closer. "Quit struggling!" he roared at her, becoming frustrated in his own right. "Baka...your village is that way!" he exclaimed, turning to jerk his head in another direction. "What is wrong with you?!" he demanded, giving her a good shake, as though trying to loosen whatever was causing her to act in such a manner.

Midoriko locked onto those piercing golden eyes that were now boring into hers and, as suddenly as the strange desire to flee had come over her, it left, making her feel like a puppet that had had its strings cut. There was a sudden rise in weakness, and her arms dropped as she made an attempt to seat herself once more on the ground, expression calming. Sensing the fight draining out of her, Sesshoumaru released his hold on her arms, kneeling next to her as she tried to catch her breath. Adrenaline and her frantic pulse combined to form a steady pounding inside of her skull, and still she found she was struggling to regain her bearings. What is wrong with me...?

She gathered enough clarity of thought to be astonished at her own behavior and finally uttered a soft apology to Sesshoumaru, "I am sorry. I don't know what….," she tried to explain but trailed off as her mind shifted, attempting now to calmly consider what he had told her; that he had found her outside her house, lying in the snow, her home burning. The sudden image of that little house sitting in a smoking pile of ashes made her blink back tears. Everything she owned had been in there, things that had belonged to her parents, everything they had worked to provide for their children. There had even been a few things that Shijin had left behind…

The sword! This thought was accompanied by another flurry of panic as her hand flew to the hilt that rested at her side, and she cast another uncertain look at her companion.

"How odd that you would think to arm yourself before fleeing a house fire,” Sesshoumaru commented wryly. He knew with great certainty that Midoriko's attacker had not been a demon. A youkai would not have wasted its time in setting her house on fire and then neglect to kill her, and he was sure that if a youkai had been involved, there would have been a scattering of demon remains about the property. The girl was nothing if not efficient and there was no way she would have allowed her sword to remain sheathed against a demon opponent. But what human could she have offended so much? Enough so that they would do something so spiteful as to leave her alone and without shelter in the middle of winter?

"You remember nothing?" he questioned.

She blinked and shook her head, folding her arms together against the cold. "I was waiting for Kirara....." And then a new fear presented itself to her, as she realized that Kirara was nowhere to be seen.. "She wasn't...?"

"No, she was not there," he quickly interrupted, feeling a surge of dislike for the youkai cat. Where had she been? The outcome of this night would likely have been different if Kirara had been present.

"It...must have been an accident," Midoriko tried to explain the night's events, but a quick glance at Sesshoumaru's expression told her he was not buying that story.

The wind picked up around the seated human girl and the kneeling demon, felling icicles from the tree limbs above their heads, sending them down in a frozen, shiny sprinkle. The snow, too, began to fall once more and Midoriko realized how cold she was, surprised that she had not really noticed before. Large flakes of white swirled in and around them, coating an already saturated ground, and she silently flexed cold-stiffened fingers as her mind continued to hover over the events of this strange night.

Sesshoumaru must have picked up on her discomfort because he suddenly rose gracefully, seeming completely unaffected by the frigid weather. He extended a hand to her, an invitation, and pulled her back to her feet. Midoriko's attention was caught by the perfectly tapered claws, the long fingers, the stripes on his wrists. She found herself not wanting to let go and did not even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed with herself for clinging to his hand, tingling from the warmth that emanated from his pale skin.

"We're not far from my home," he told her in his unerringly certain voice, pulling her along now as he set off through the overgrowth, wending his way between the trees until Midoriko knew she would have had difficulty finding her way back out. He appeared to be certain of his direction, however, and that was good enough for her. She tightened her grip on his hand and trailed after him.


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As dawn began its morning stretch across the snowy lands of the west, Sesshoumaru caught sight of a distant speck in the gray sky, its form slowly gaining shape and color as it flew. He stepped out onto the railed landing, watching with interest as Kirara sped toward his home. So the pet is searching for her mistress, he thought. He had been curious as to why Midoriko's ever-present companion had been absent when he had arrived to find her house in blazes. Another question as yet unanswered, since the girl had promptly collapsed into sleep as soon as she had been provided an appropriately soft surface.

Kirara skidded into a landing on the frosty ground, the flames that flared out from her legs melting the snow around her into a large pool of chilly water. She then leapt up onto the deck beside Sesshoumaru, who immediately moved to block her entrance into the house. The cat settled her usual glower on him, which he returned just as fiercely.

"I suppose you saw what remains of her house? Perhaps next time you'll remember this before you leave her alone."

Kirara growled lowly and moved to slink around him, but he pulled her backward by the scruff of her neck, fingers embedding into soft fur with an unforgiving hold. The cat bared her fangs at him in warning, but his grip did not lessen. His eyes narrowed in cold challenge, voice malicious as he whispered to her, "Don't forget who is master in this home. You are here at my whim and I have not forgotten what it was that brought you here to begin with. So long as you defend her, you are not my enemy. Leave her again and your status changes."

With that warning, he released her and allowed Kirara to follow him inside, leading the massive animal down a long hallway to the center of the house, where the guest rooms were located. Kirara reduced herself to her housecat form, shoving past Sesshoumaru to bound into the room where Midoriko was sleeping. With a fluid movement, she leapt up onto the bed, sniffing anxiously at her friend before settling in beside her. There was some movement then as a slow arm moved to tuck itself around the cat, followed by a groggy, mumbled welcome.

Sesshoumaru left them, pacing again to the back of the house. He required only a fraction of the sleep a human needed, but had dismissed the idea of leaving Midoriko to rest while he continued his preferred routine of wandering. He doubted that any assailant would be brave enough to try to track the girl down at the home of a youkai lord, but one could not always predict stupidity. Clearly whoever it had been was cowardly enough to wait until even the demon cat had left Midoriko's side, seizing that opportunity to attack for whatever reason.

Frowning in thought as he exited the main house, he did not notice that the sun had forced away the deep clouds that had shrouded it for the past several days, beaming weak rays of light down on the snow-covered landscape. His feet glided over the icy surface, barely leaving a footprint to mark his passage, ears attuned to his surroundings.

Being a suspicious being by nature, Sesshoumaru stayed near the house. His expression reflected his easily-summoned cool composure, but he found it difficult to repress the frustration that roiled within him. It spurred him toward a desire for action, but there was no retaliation to be had...at least not for the moment. Retaliation? he wondered for a moment at the word that had come to mind. It had not been he who had been attacked, but he was surprised to realize that that was indeed what he would name it.

With a subtle shake of his head, Sesshoumaru mentally conceded that though he was far more civilized than the slobbering canines that ran rampantly throughout the human villages, he maintained many of their instincts, one being the pack mentality that forged a desire to defend those that fell under his protection. Even Myouga had benefited from this base instinct, for though Sesshoumaru found the flea to be unbearably irritating, he had still protected Myouga from death on several occasions. It was a matter of possession, of dominance, and a demon never allowed an enemy to take or destroy something that belonged to him, even if it was an annoying little flea that Sesshoumaru would have taken great pleasure in flicking off into the deepest chasm he could find.

Inutaisho had pulled Midoriko into their lives and had encouraged close interaction between his son and the human girl. Naturally, Sesshoumaru would come to consider her as part of their "pack". She was his father's ally, and so allowing harm to come to her would reflect badly on Inutaisho, a weakness. This sounded entirely reasonable, he thought to himself, but then his expression darkened. Had that been his father's intent? To try to get Sesshoumaru to develop a fondness for a human that would allow for a dismissal of what Sesshoumaru had always considered Inutaisho's bad behavior?

Strangely enough, Sesshoumaru knew that his father would not be pleased if a relationship with Midoriko progressed beyond that of friendship. Even a youkai lord as liberal as Inutaisho would demand a demon heir to his lands for the simple reason that a hanyou would have too much difficulty in ensuring security…and would make an attractive target for their many enemies. Not that Sesshoumaru would ever succumb to such a humiliation, certainly....

Claws twitching absently at this strange line of thought, Sesshoumaru glared at the trees that loomed ahead of him. He did not love her, nor would he ever. The very idea was abhorrent, he thought, but recognized that the usual rise of righteous agreement did not come to him as swiftly as it had in the past. Whatever direction his feelings took, the fact remained that it was he who controlled his actions and he would never submit to something that would bring embarrassment to himself, his father, and their family.

Still, there was something about Midoriko that had caused her to become important to him over the many months since he had first met her. It was not a realization he was terribly pleased about, but the fact remained. And then there was the question he found himself answering with a surety that made him feel certain that Fate, or whatever force it was that held their existences within its sphere of control, was having a laugh at his expense. Would he have pursued something beyond friendship with her if she had been born a youkai? Most likely. Fate was indeed a strange mistress.

Indications of movement from within the house prompted him to look over his shoulder as Midoriko wandered outside. She had cocooned herself in a heavy blanket and her attempt at making her way down the stairs with the bundle of cloth trailing behind her on the ground was nothing short of comical.

Midoriko slowed her approach, head angling suspiciously at him as she witnessed a faint, humored smile cross his lips. "You're smiling," she accused.

"It has happened before."

"What's so funny?" she asked him, smiling tentatively back. He looks so much nicer when he does that, she thought warmly. Not nearly so fierce.

He gestured toward her feet. "You're not wearing any shoes, baka."

"Oh," she said, glancing downward and looking slightly embarrassed. "It seems that last night I managed to remember my sword, but forgot those..."

"You look ridiculous."

"I have limited options now that the rest of my belongings are a pile of ash," she reminded him, pulling the blanket even tighter around her slender frame in an attempt to project an air of dignity.

"I'll find something for you," he assured her, face morphing back to the usual dispassionate indifference. "Go back inside."

"Is something wrong?" she asked him, ignoring the order. He had appeared to be very deep in thought when she had been watching him from the window, and that was what had motivated her to come outside in the cold when her true desire was to be as close to a fire as she could get. Her interest in him surpassed comfort, it seemed.

His eyes swerved in her direction again, and she recognized his obvious unhappiness. "Not if you can tell me what went on last night," he prompted.

Midoriko's face fell into a frown and she slowly shook her head, dark hair ruffling in the frigid breeze that blew around them. "I think I would have remembered if someone had come to torch my house, Sesshoumaru," she offered reasonably. "The fire must have gotten out of control while I was asleep. It's happened before in the village..."

Sesshoumaru listened to those words, thinking that not even Midoriko seemed to fully believe her own rationale. "Have you seen your face? Your explanation does not suggest how that could have happened." His eyes thoughtfully grazed the marred skin, which had darkened overnight, from cheek to forehead, suggesting impact. He then decided to bring his suspicions into the open. "Do you have human enemies? Or perhaps your brother...?"

"No," she answered quickly, tone rising some as Shijin was brought into the conversation. "None that I know of. Shijin was friendly with everyone in the village, and if I have offended someone, I don't know who or how," she said, shifting her feet slightly. They were starting to ache from the cold. "In any case, I need to go back. There are people who will be very worried," she insisted, watching with surprise as he reacted to that with open challenge.

"You are not going to return to that village until I allow it,” he said in the voice of one who is accustomed to those around him doing precisely as ordered, and immediately the girl's body stiffened rebelliously.

"Don’t tell me where and when I can go," she countered.

"I just did."

"Sesshoumaru, I can't stay here forever. Why is it that I can't...?"

The frustration that had been building up in him since the night before suddenly burst forth and Sesshoumaru found himself speaking angrily, taking her aback as words lashed out in reply. "You can’t return because I have no idea what is going on! Sending you back to the village puts the matter back on the terms of your attacker. As long as you are with me, you are safe, so accept that and be grateful! Don't complicate things any more than they already are by returning to your village before I have a better idea of an identity and a motive."

Midoriko gaped at him, brown eyes wide with surprise at this vehement explosion. "You're overreacting..."

"I never overreact."

"Sesshoumaru..."

"You'll also find that I'm not one who tends to change my mind."

"Then I'm just to stay here indefinitely?" she questioned the stubborn demon, but then, something in her latched onto that idea, a part of her that was more than willing to be forced into close quarters with him for a short amount of time. The idea of getting to know him better was a pleasant one, even as moody as he so often tended to be. But this is all so uneccessary, she sighed internally. And it would be better if it was simply an invitation, not an ultimatum expressed out of frustration.

"Until I am satisfied that the assailant's head is safely staked on a pole, you'll remain here," he answered her question. "Return to the house. You'll be completely worthless if you catch some ridiculous illness from standing outside without proper clothing."

He turned and began walking back toward the house, and she watched him for a moment before hurrying in his wake, early morning sunlight glaring brightly off of the white ground. Eyes fixated on the back of his head, her thoughts began to roam, passing over his motivations, and she smiled then as the old Japanese proverb came to mind. Teasingly, she called out, "You know, it's true what they say about a dog's loyalty..."

This stopped him in his tracks and he whirled, forbidding glare already in place as she grinned widely back at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard the old saying? 'Feed a dog for three days and he will give you three years of loyalty'."

"That does not apply in this case," he replied stiffly, turning to ascend the ancient wooden steps.

"Sesshoumaru," she said fondly, feeling a deep gratitude toward him despite his arrogantly issued orders, "I think I owe you three days' worth of meals."





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Midoriko was finally pacified when Sesshoumaru allowed her to send Kirara back to Lia with a letter explaining that she was safe and staying with a friend for a short while. She had left out many of the details, leaving the events of the night her house had burnt purposefully cryptic. The response had been a rather frantic mixture of relief and exasperation at Midoriko's sudden disappearance, as well as an offer for a place to live. Midoriko wasn't certain she could live in that house, though. Even being inside it for short visits brought back images she wanted to shove to the very bottom of her mind; a ghost lived in that house, and though she was aware that the ghost existed only in her mind, it was just as real as fact.

True to his word as always, Sesshoumaru quickly followed up on his promise to provide her with more suitable clothing, and from a surprising source. He had suddenly appeared in the doorway of her guest bedroom while she was meticulously grooming a blissful Kirara, a new kimono in one hand. It was very pretty, a mixture of pastel colors and made of a far warmer material than the one she had. He also gave her a pair of sandals that were of an older style but looked as though they had never even been worn, appearing slightly uncomfortable at having to touch the items. He extended them toward her as though he expected them to bite, looking ready to evaporate from the room.

"Where did you get these?" she quickly questioned him before he had the chance to leave, unable to silence the curiosity that made her wonder why Sesshoumaru and Inutaisho-sama would keep something so decidedly feminine in their home. She picked up the kimono and held it to her body, realizing that it was certainly of far better quality than anything she had ever owned. She stroked an appreciative hand down one sleeve, admiring it as she imagined any poor village girl would in her position.

"It was packed away in my mother's room,” he distantly replied.

"Your mother?" she echoed, looking up at him in surprise. She had never heard him mention the woman before, though felt foolish for being startled. Sesshoumaru had to have come from somewhere, after all, but this house was empty of her. There had been no sign that a female had even inhabited the place; everything was dark, and spare, and clearly masculine. She wondered if that had been purposeful, if signs of the woman had been removed for the comfort of the two males that had been left behind; or if it was just because so much time had passed, and reflections of her had disappeared naturally.

"Yes, she was much taller than you, but it's the best that can be done for now."

"Are you certain I should wear it?" she questioned uncertainly, fingers trailing once more over the fine material as she tried to imagine the woman it had once belonged to. Part of her wondered what Inutaisho would say about this situation; this human girl ensconced in his home, wearing his deceased wife's clothing. He was quite indulgent, but if it made her feel slightly uncomfortable, she could not imagine how he would view it.

"Would I have brought it to you if it would be offensive?" Sesshoumaru retorted evenly. "My father is overly sentimental, not I." And with that, he had abandoned her to her questions.

There were several visitors for Sesshoumaru in the days following her arrival, and Midoriko found herself quickly gaining insight into his position, the level of respect that was given him, and the responsibilities that had fallen to him now that Inutaisho was away for an unknown amount of time. It was intimidating, really; listening to reports of the various problems that were occurring around them, mostly in the demon world, things that she had not even known about. Conflicts and disputes of all sizes, disgruntled reaches for power, things that Sesshoumaru listened to and reported to his father, whether they were directly affecting the west or not. She supposed that that was because, even though some of these problems were distant, they could easily expand, and it was better to be aware. The conflict with Tora and his tiger youkai was just such an example, something that had started off as a minor series of skirmishes in the southern lands that was now finding itself closer and closer to Inutaisho's domain.

It gave Midoriko a headache just listening to it all, and she got a better understanding as to why Sesshoumaru was so consistently caught in a mode of irritation.

By far the most interesting visit, however, had been that of the being Sesshoumaru had later identified to her as Rouyakan, the guardian of the forest. Midoriko had heard of him before, but had always pictured a more fearsome demon than the one who had practically wilted the moment she had walked outside. As soon as his eyes had locked onto her, his conversation with Sesshoumaru had ended abruptly. The demon had managed to stutter something that included “Midoriko-sama” and, with a speed that belied his vast size, he had bowed to Sesshoumaru and taken his leave, all but fleeing for the cover of the forest.

"What did he say?" she asked Sesshoumaru, wandering outside into the chilly air to stand beside him as they watched Rouyakan's massive body disappear into the trees.

"He apologized for not bringing flowers," Sesshoumaru said with the tone of one speaking of a complete imbecile.

"What?" Midoriko asked, frowning in open bewilderment.

"Not long ago, I advised him that he would be best served by keeping the demons under his control away from your village. He expressed fear of you, so I mocked him by suggesting that he rectify the situation by bringing you flowers. Apparently, he missed the sarcasm. Literal beast,” Sesshoumaru explained.

"He's not terribly ferocious then, is he?" she asked, laughing her amusement.

"About as much so as you," Sesshoumaru agreed, his placid expression morphing into a glare when Midoriko reached out to yank on a strand of his hair.




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The reek of death and destruction was heavy in the air, made even more overpowering when Inutaisho pitched yet another flaming torch onto the pile of bodies. He stepped back then, watching as fire worked to consume the dead, and the smell of burning flesh and hair grew to choking proportions as the funeral pyre expanded to inferno proportions. He supposed it was wrong to glean this much satisfaction from watching the consumption of his enemies, but it was yet another segment of Tora's forces extinguished, and he felt an obscene joy from that.

Normally he would allow his enemies to retrieve their dead, take them home, see to their remains in whatever way their customs dictated, but not this time. Inutaisho had long since lost patience with these invaders.

He moved back into the night, the violent orange glow from behind him lighting his steps as he returned to Furu's encampment. Bare trees formed a natural corridor as his steps tracked their way across the destroyed earth, and his mind slowly emptied, began to relax from the heated battle. With a fluid motion, his hand fell to his sword's hilt, drawing the weapon to inspect the new scar that ran near the tip of the blade. Toutousai will be unhappy, he thought with absent humor. But, really, Toutousai would be uneccessary for this one; it was minor enough that Inutaisho felt certain he could repair it on his own, at least well enough until he returned home. He would need a new sword soon, though. This one was old, and worn with use, and he clung to it only because of sentimentality.

Sentimentality will buy you an early grave if you don't do something about that, he chided himself. He peered upward into the night sky, catching the glow of the crescent moon overhead, and that turned his thoughts back to home, and the boy who was likely in a terrible mood by this point, left behind, forced to watch the house and a human girl. Sesshoumaru would have enjoyed this, he realized, and that was all the more reason for him to be at home. His son's often warped sense of vengeance and retaliation tended to cause Inutaisho to pick and choose the conflicts in which he allowed him to participate. Purposeful extermination of an invading tribe that refused to surrender was messy, vicious, and he wanted Sesshoumaru clear of it.

His head turned expectantly just as that presence materialized, and he found Furu, the south's new lord, eyeing him with wry rebuke. "It's your own fault, dog lord. The person who makes the biggest mess gets to clean up the whole thing. Maybe next time you'll save a few of those bastards for the rest of us."

"Stop whining, Furu. You were plenty busy. I think you were just keeping track of how many I got to so that you could stay under and avoid getting your hands dirty with what was left behind. Besides, someone had to do it. We couldn't very well leave them to rot."

"Please, cling to that martyrdom," Furu invited. "I'm the one that's eaten dinner and avoided smelling like tiger corpses. You smell terrible, by the way." Furu's eyes traveled to Inutaisho's resheathed sword. "Looks like you're in for a long night, anyway. You'll need to fix that before tomorrow, or scrounge up something new. And you should know that your flea friend showed up with another letter from your foul-tempered pup."

Inutaisho's head rose at that, and his thoughts drifted from the immediacy of his sword's looming repair. "Foul-tempered? Is it an angry letter?"

"I don't know. I didn't read it," Furu admitted as they reached the fringes of the encampment. All signs of frost had been wiped from the ground from all the activity, leaving cold, muddy earth behind. It did not make the best environment for comfort, more from the fact that everyone seemed perpetually dirty, feet consistently coated in a layer of dark brown muck. Youkai of various species and types were lingering sporadically, polishing weapons, speaking, bragging, complaining, consuming whatever food had been caught that evening.

As Inutaisho moved toward one of the few erected tents, intent on tracking down Myouga and that letter, he heard a loud smacking sound followed by a bellowed complaint, and glanced toward the largest fire pit to find one of Furu's people angrily smearing Myouga off of him. Immediately Inutaisho changed his course of direction and headed toward the fire's warmth, Furu trailing in his wake.

"My lord!" Myouga's wizened voice exclaimed, clearly relieved, and Inutaisho lifted a mud-streaked forearm in time to watch as the tiny flea demon bit into the skin. He exhaled an indulgent sigh as he seated himself across from the hungrily blazing embers, angling to draw his weapon once more, shoving the blade deep into the flames so that it could heat to something more malleable. His patience finally reached an end, and he plucked Myouga off of him, ending the flea's unapologetic feast.

"Where is the letter, Myouga?"

No sooner had the words left his lips when a flattened piece of paper was placed into his hands, seal broken, and his eyes traveled up to find the pale, ghostly face of the eastern lord smiling with that ever-present calm. "Stop reading my mail, Isamu," he complained, eyebrows arching into disapproval as he unfolded the letter and scanned it quickly. It was short and to the point, as all such correspondence with Sesshoumaru tended to be, but as he read, he found himself just as suspicious of the events surrounding Midoriko as his son appeared to be. He finished the letter, vaguely amused by the formality of the signature, before he folded it once more and gazed thoughtfully into the fire. Something strange was going on, and it frustrated him that he simply could not see enough of the pieces in order to put it all together.

His eyes lifted then to find Isamu still staring at him. "I cannot escape the feeling that Tora knows something about this."

"You have good instincts. I would listen to them," Isamu murmured in return, pale eyes lit to an eerie orange from the fire.

It didn't make sense, though. If Tora had sent someone for Midoriko, it would have ended differently. If his purpose was to make her part of his arsenal, she would not have been left behind. And if he had meant to kill her so that she could not be used by Inutaisho, then she would not have been left alive. Then again, Tora might not have been involved at all, but the few statements they had been able to squeeze out of some of the prisoners led him to believe that Tora knew far too much about what was really going on. And there were his instincts, as Isamu had mentioned. They usually served him well, and at the moment they were telling him to finish with this conflict and return home as soon as possible.

His attention was diverted when Furu moved to withdraw the blindingly-orange blade from the fire pit, bringing it up to eye it speculatively before he laid it against the fire's edge and rose to move a few steps away. He pulled a hammering tool right out of the hands of another youkai, grasped a sharpener from the ground, and some other miscellaneous items Inutaisho could not identify from that vantage point. Then, offering smarmy gratitude to the obviously irritated youkai, Furu returned, brown legs folding under themselves as he made himself comfortable and bent over Inutaisho's weakened weapon.

"I can fix that, Furu," Inutaisho reminded him.

"I'm bored," came the drawled response, as the bear demon's eyes fixated on the hairline crack. "Besides, not all of us are spoiled useless by our own youkai swordsmith. I'll guarantee you I can fix this faster than you can."

"Faster isn't always better. Please keep that in mind," Inutaisho admonished with a slow grin.

"I guess we'll see how much I really like you, whether this thing falls apart tomorrow, eh?" Furu answered in turn, head coming up to smirk at his elder friend. His eyes lowered back to his careful work then, and he airily added, "So how long until that self-proclaimed northern god gets off his ass and comes to pitch in? He's had his own problems with them lately."

"Why would Eizan bother when he knows we'll do the work for him?" Inutaisho replied wryly, hearing Isamu's muttered agreement as they both watched Furu's skillful hands at work. "Although if I can get someone to take that bet, maybe I won't be left with the cleanup tomorrow...."



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Midoriko found it difficult to believe that a finer house than Inutaisho-sama’s even existed. It had been built hundreds of years earlier, yet contained more comforts than any modern house that she knew of. Its large size and many rooms were impressive enough, as was the beautiful land that surrounded it, picturesque and perfect, tranquil. An aura of solitude and peace encapsulated this place, and it was easy to feel comfortable. Nothing, however, had impressed Midoriko more than the bath that was built into the center of the squared building, a steaming pool of water that flowed in from an underground spring, directly into a massive marble enclosure. Sesshoumaru had shown it to her the day she had arrived in an attempt to end her complaints about reeking of smoke. The sight of all that clean, warm water had made Midoriko almost giddy, and she had barely heard him as he had explained that the house had been built in this place just because of the presence of that spring. As the warm air had swept past her face, Midoriko had closed her eyes, luxuriated in it, and had found herself silently praising the obvious wisdom of Sesshoumaru's ancestors.

Evening was gathering on the fifth day since her arrival at Sesshoumaru's home when Midoriko gleefully returned to that bath, having left her host to his business of reading a new letter from Inutaisho-sama. Quickly shedding her new kimono, Midoriko stepped down into the soothing waters, muscles tingling as the warmth lapped over her cold skin, instantly heating everything to bliss. The entire room appeared other-worldly from the foggy steam that rose to encapsulate the interior, creating ghostly apparitions that hovered above her as she sunk in and settled herself to enjoy a nice, long soak. She inhaled a deep breath of humid air, barely believing that only a few stone walls separated her from the snowy, icy ground outside. Oh, would Lia be jealous....

As she leaned her head back, feeling drowsy from the spring's effects, Midoriko fondly considered Sesshoumaru, who had been excessively kind to her over the past several days, providing her with clothing, food, and speaking to her in a tone that could almost be described as friendly. She wondered if it was all meant as an effort to keep her from arguing the need to return to her village, but Midoriko found that she did not care. Being around him as much as she had lately had only reinforced the feelings she had been realizing slowly, methodically, for as long as she had known him. As she grew more and more comfortable in his house, she found that her desire to return to the village was waning. In truth, she would be utterly content to remain here with him for as long as he would allow it, and she supposed that was all the more reason to try to get back to her village as soon as possible.

It was cruel, really, she thought suddenly, the smile fading some from her face as her eyes opened to stare at the distant ceiling. There was no possibility of a romantic involvement for them in the future, and yet the idea of him finding a youkai wife made her feel sick with jealousy. There would certainly be no place for her once that occurred and she found herself sadly wondering how long it would be before he would look to take on a mate. Midoriko knew he was less than a hundred years old, still very young by demon standards. Perhaps he would not find one in her lifetime, and if that was the case, Midoriko knew she would rather remain unmarried and free to be with him as much as he would allow, instead of being wedded to one of the village farmers.

When thinking of Sesshoumaru, Midoriko tended to purposefully avoid the word "love", but it still existed, in one form or another. Friendship, romantic, affectionate; all of those swirled together into a conglomeration of confusing feelings. She could feel it every single time she looked at him, spoke to him, saw him. She admired him in more ways than she could count, she was proud of the qualities in him that would make him a formidable youkai lord in the future, and she was grateful to him for many things, most of which he probably was not even aware. But she also knew that it was because she cared for him so deeply that she would never want their relationship to proceed beyond the point they had reached. He had his place and she had hers....and she would have to make the best of what time she was allowed with him.




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Mid oriko turned at the sound of her name. It echoed strangely within her ears as she looked down to find one of the little village boys grinning up at her, his hand extended, a beautiful, delicate yellow flower clasped in his muddy fist. She took it from him, murmured a thank you, somehow not noticing that his eyes were too large for his head and that his mouth held fangs. He then turned away from her, skipping off into treecover, and her mind absently prompted her with the fact that her village was surrounded by spiked, timbered walls, not trees. How strange....

Around her sat a dozen small wooden houses lined up in a straight row. Several adults were speaking to each other in low, calm voices, looking on as a small group of children squealed and played, kicking a ball back and forth between themselves. Midoriko glanced upward to find night sprawling overhead, and felt disconcerted by the amount of light around her. There was no moon, no stars. Where was it coming from?

"Midoriko."

Distracted from that eerie discovery, Midoriko turned at the sound of that familiar voice to find Lia suddenly beside her, smiling joyfully. "They appreciate it, you know," she said, gesturing a delicate hand toward the frolicking children. "And so do we all. The exterminators aren't going to know what to do with all of their free time."

"What do you mean?" Midoriko asked slowly, feeling dim-witted.

Lia blinked wide brown eyes. "What do I mean? Why that, of course," she said, turning to point behind them. Midoriko followed the young woman's line of sight, her gaze finally resting on an enormous mountain of dead youkai piled on the outskirts of the village, their dismembered bodies and unseeing eyes glowing with a fierce purple light.

"Imagine having all of those demon parts available for weapons construction and to have no youkai to fight," Lia said mirthfully, shaking her head at the strangeness of it all.

Midoriko barely heard the words, so horrified was she by the gigantic mound of dead youkai. Did I…? Her attention was diverted then when an unearthly scream pierced her ears. Feeling as though she was moving in slow motion, she whirled around in time to see a towering centipede demon rushing down toward the circle of children, all of whom were attempting to flee, none of whom were going to be quick enough. Midoriko lurched forward in a sudden gathering of speed, sprinting toward the demon, her vision filled with glassy eyes and extended pincers. She was absently surprised to find her sword suddenly in hand; the hilt was hot to the touch, and Midoriko could feel it burning insistently in her palm as she swung it at the centipede, watching with grim satisfaction as it exploded violently into a pile of mush.

Cheering echoed out from the people behind her, but for some reason, Midoriko felt the moment of triumph dissipate. An empty, desolate feeling seized her heart, as though she had just done something that had no hope of being repaired. Someone moved to stand next to her; she could see the shadow extend beside her, felt the brush of someone else's clothing. She glanced up at Ashrem, his black hair and robes ruffling in the wind, smile of satisfaction firmly in place.

"I knew you would see it my way, Midoriko. It was only a matter of time until you understood," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, allowing the man to pull her along by one arm until they reached the remains of the centipede. Midoriko watched in rapt fascination as Ashrem set about digging into the pile of goo, shoving it away in great handfuls until a pale, limp hand was made visible. He continued to dig, and with each removed handful, more of the body within was revealed until Midoriko finally took a step away from it, distancing herself as though to refute that she had been responsible. Beneath it all, there was Sesshoumaru, silent and cold, eyes closed in death. And as she realized what she had done, Midoriko felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably, that promise to Inutaisho-sama shrieking inside of her ears.

"I didn't know it was him," she gasped, unable to tear her eyes from her friend's eerily peaceful face.

"Yes, you did, my dear. It can hardly come as a surprise," Ashrem replied with certainty, sounding thoroughly above it all. In the next instant, the pile of youkai remains and Sesshoumaru’s body disappeared, followed quickly by the crowd of people within the village. Ashrem turned on her with eyes that glittered fiercely, as though possessed by some inhuman force. "You will make the correct decision. He trusts you, you know. He'll never see it coming."

Midoriko blinked dry eyes, her shock melting away as the realization struck her that she was caught in something unreal, a dream, and as soon as the thought occurred to her, the scene around her melted even further, the village houses collapsing into a void of blackness, leaving her behind with only Ashrem and a mind that was whirling with repressed truth.

"Ashrem!" she raged at the obnoxiously self-satisfied man, fists clenched furiously. "How could I have forgotten?!"

With a swift movement that didn't seem to catch him by surprise, Midoriko brought her weapon up, a well of fury motivating her to shove the blade directly through his stomach...only to find that it had no effect. Ashrem chuckled at her, as though forgiving her for a tantrum, and took a step backward to free himself from the sword. "You cannot touch me...I am safely at a distance. You, however, are at my every whim."

"You're an arrogant bastard, aren't you?" she snapped.

"Not at all. I simply know my abilities, as I also know yours now. You will grow to be quite formidable, Midoriko, and that in and of itself verifies what I have tried to tell you. Inutaisho will be forced to end your life one day. He cannot allow for a human to ever rival him in power. You will have to decide the matter first. In fact, I will see to it that you do."

"Coward," she accused, her angry expression morphing into a certain smirk. "You're so terrified of Inutaisho-sama and Sesshoumaru that you would send me to do your dirty work. It's not going to happen, Ashrem. You'll be surprised to find how stubborn I can be."

He shook his head at her, appearing greatly amused. "It doesn't matter, Midoriko. Don't you understand? You are now an extension of me and you shall remain so until I am finished with you. But I can see how awkward it might be for a stranger to be able to access your mind, so why don't I ease things for you? Let's start our work, shall we?"

"I'm going to kill you, Ashrem," Midoriko swore sincerely.

He grinned at her with a confidence that made her blood burn. "My dear child, your anger is premature...save it for later. You'll need it to survive the battles that will be coming. Don't disappoint me."

Midoriko glared for a moment, concentrating on Ashrem's leering, gloating face, and then with as much strength as she could gather, she swung her sword at him once more, this time cutting through the cloth of his robes. Blood immediately began to soak the garment, and Ashrem took another step back from her, the smile fading from his face instantly. Midoriko moved in to attack him again, but he held up one hand, his pupils growing large and dark, and she suddenly found her sword arm unable to swing.

"Cool your temper, Midoriko," he hissed, making a motion as if to wave her away.

-

Darkness overwhelmed her sight then and she felt herself struggling against...something, an unseen assailant that made her limbs and body feel sluggish and unresponsive. Her eyes finally opened and her brain instinctively kept her from drawing in a full breath, recognizing that she was under water before her vision was able to fully assimilate the fact. She tried to rise above the water; the surface hovered just above her head, distorted by the sloshing liquid that was being tossed about, but it felt as though a great weight was pressing her down to the bottom. Her chest tightened painfully, constricting at the lack of air, and just as she became certain that she was about to drown, the weight released her and her legs forced her back to the surface.

She pulled herself up over the side of the bath, gagging and coughing up a mouthful of warm water, waiting a moment for her starved lungs to draw in a deep breath. Midoriko did not allow herself the luxury of recovering from the near fatal incident, instead clambering back to her feet so quickly that she slipped on a puddle and slammed her knee back into the marble floor. Gritting her teeth and still gasping for air, she climbed back to her feet and grabbed for her kimono, pulling it on as she hurried out of the room.

Across the house, Sesshoumaru looked up from his father's most recent letter, registering the approach of rapid, bare footfalls. It was easy to sense that something was wrong, and so he dropped the letter and moved out into the corridor just in time for a very wet Midoriko to collide into him with force enough to suggest her great hurry. He grasped her by the arms to keep her from slipping, frowning as she worked to gather enough air for speech.

"Sesshoumaru!" she finally gasped, her voice sounding choked and strained, face tinted pink from some sort of exertion. She was completely soaked, her hair hanging down in long, sopping tendrils, water pooling off her body to form a puddle around her feet.

"What is it?" he questioned, not releasing his hold on her as his senses dove into his surroundings. He absently wondered if he could have missed an intruder's presence, but scoffed at the idea even as his senses of smell and hearing verified the presence of no one else in the house other than Kirara. An impatient golden stare settled on Midoriko as the girl began to fumble for what she wanted to say.

"I...," Midoriko started frantically, but she was stopped by a fit of coughing, and in that moment, the words she had been intending to say to him disappeared with a suddenness that made her blink in confusion. "I...," she tried again, struggling to think, but the urgency of the moment had been lost and she found herself feeling suddenly stupid as she looked up at the demon who stood tensed and ready for some unknown threat.

He frowned down at her odd behavior. "Did you come from the bath?"

"Yes," she admitted, then blushed furiously as she adjusted the kimono that was so carelessly hanging about her.

"Did you bathe or drown?" he questioned half-seriously.

You fell asleep. "I must have fallen asleep," she murmured automatically, but something about that struck her as odd. Her sight locked on Sesshoumaru's face once more; there was a flash of an image that unsettled her, but it was gone before she could identify it, and she felt for an instant as though she had forgotten something terribly important. An ache began to form in her skull, and she rubbed her forehead absently, struggling to think.

"And this is what you practically broke your neck to tell me?" he asked suspiciously.

"No," she said emphatically, shaking her head, attempting to concentrate, but the harder she tried, the further whatever it was seemed to slip away. Finally, out of desperation, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve, wanting to make sure he understood the gravity of what she was saying. "Sesshoumaru, be careful. Something's not right."

He dismissively waved away her concern, detaching her hold on him. "If someone poses a threat, I’ll sense them before they’ll be able to do anything. You must have been dreaming of something that disturbed you.”

Midoriko reluctantly accepted that, but it did not relieve her sudden encompassing fear for him and she could not logically explain what it was that was making her stomach clench with such anxiety. Worried brown eyes followed him as he moved away from her and returned to his room. She lingered at the doorway, something in her still wanting to form words that would not come, and it was oddly comforting just to be near him, as though she hoped his confidence and certainty would boost her own.

He appeared not to mind her presence as he returned his attention to a pile of letters and maps on the table, so she remained there, looking at the sparse furnishings and the weapons that hung bracketed sporadically against the walls. The room was as clean and calm as its inhabitant, but far colder, she thought, suddenly shivering in her damp kimono. The screen doors that led to the outside were open, as though he had recently come in from the outdoors. A shaft of moonlight glowed against the wood floors, the whitish light off-setting the orange glow from the lamp on the table. Even he appeared to glow, and she found herself watching, mesmerized. Her eyes closed then, and she inhaled a calming breath, allowing herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to be a true member of this household, to have the demon inside that room regard her with the same feelings she held for him....

"Go change, Midoriko," Sesshoumaru's voice distantly broke into her fantasy. He did not look back at her, instead flipping a page as he added, "It's too cold for you to stand about sopping wet."

She nodded wordlessly and reluctantly left his presence to do as he had suggested, wishing not for the first time that he could simply shed that demon side, and become an ordinary, attainable human man.