InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate - ON HOLD ❯ PART TWENTY NINE ( Chapter 29 )

DISCLAIMER - The ownership and general brilliance that is the original Feudal Fairy Tale remains the property of its honored and rightfully revered creator Rumiko Takahashi without whose brilliance, we would not have fodder.

 

Quotation by: Alfred Tennyson - “Idylls of the King” - The Passage of Arthur

 

Reviews are fuel.

 

Edited By: Meara, check out her fabulous piece and I warn you not to drink anything while reading “The Courtship of Lady Kagome”, you will not regret it. It is charming, witty, and decadently funny with a refreshing, original, perspective. Personally, the Haikuat the end of each chapter is worth the read alone….

 

 

EP

 

Part Twenty-Nine - This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate

 

 

“The old order changeth, yielding place to new,

And God fulfils himself in many ways…”

 

What is destiny but a series of moments, a chain of events that may appear at first as happenstance? In reality, seen from a higher vantage, a pattern emerges, revealing with frightening clarity, an individual's true purpose; their gift. The double edge sword, however, is choice. What one chooses to make of it is then called destiny, in retrospect.

 

The amorphous being that was Kikyou glanced at Inuyasha with a mere suggestion of a smile as she continued to approach the dais and enveloped the small Guji who seemed to burst into an iridescent flame composed of spectral colors.

 

“Look upon me. All reside here,” said the iridescent being in chorus of voices.

 

A surge of energy hit the unsuspecting Miko causing her natural defenses to surface instantaneously. An amber plume of light lit her silhouette in an attempt to ward off the opalescent beam of light that hovered on the periphery of her own aura.

 

Kagome felt, rather than saw, her Mate's instinctively, protective movement towards her just as a firm yet gentle voice echoed within her mind.

 

“Lower your defenses, Aijou. Kikyou is returning what is rightfully yours. She cannot harm you. You are the Shikon-no-Miko, the Naohi and we all serve you in the end,” entreated the familiar voice from within.

 

The sudden shift in the cavern's dark hue to a blinding, yet surprisingly comforting, white light made it difficult to see her tachi and, more importantly, Sesshoumaru, who was wagging a war with his emotions.

 

What little she could see of him reminded her of that fateful night with Kirara, as Sesshoumaru's body became incandescent, luminous. So much so, he was nearly translucent, as were the others, she realized as she looked about her. The warm presence she felt moments before still with her.

 

It was not for Kagome to realize she had the very same appearance to their eyes, but with a single difference. Their bodies were intact, though now merely light. She appeared to them as a radiant ball of energy without humanoid form. None could speak, temporarily paralyzed by the beams of light that surrounded their respective bodies, allowing only their heads to move. Returning her gaze to her Mate, his facial expression was fascinating. He was staring directly at her with what she could only describe as shock; the shock of an unspoken truth made manifest. His amber eyes looked beyond her right shoulder, just as a hand touched it, engendering warmth through her entire body. A thoroughly comforting, familiar, warmth caused her to release a breath she had no idea she held.

 

“Take my hand, Aijou,” said the voice. Kagome turn to face gentle, green eyes; those belonging to her father; instantly the image of Tatsuo came to the fore in recognition of the familial resemblance. They were related, after all.

 

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Masaru was confused. He knew he must obey his Master's command, and yet, instinctively he felt the need to move forward in defense, particularly of the Miko more so than his Lord. What he saw before him undid all that he had ever known. He had seen much in his 451 years of existence, but never this. Even his hatred of the demon slayer, Sango was put in abeyance, she too, and her forbearer, were part of the event that unfolded before his eyes.

 

The dais glowed unnaturally as all seven beings within the hallowed circle pulsed with energies unfamiliar to him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he watched both youki and aura dance within the light; their focal point the tiny Guji who sent tendrils of light towards each being. What was more, the limestone slab directly above all those within the circle radiated a single beam and the likenesses above had merged within the Guji's iridescent form without Masaru's initial notice. The Shinto Priest was a conduit to this perfect manifestation. While he watched, the iridescent shades of light from brilliant white to darkest violet pulsed within each and then the unthinkable happened, their forms morphed into balls of pulsing lights, seemingly danced about each other, exchanging wave upon wave of energy. Masaru wondered briefly what each was experiencing. He did note his Master's aura and that of his Mate along, with Lord Sesshoumaru's younger sibling, were the most incandescent. Their amorphous forms were blindingly radiant. Masaru had to look away more often than not as he tried to look at the three. The Miko proved the most difficult of all to see, her aura being the brightest.

A low thrumming sound entered the room from the path they had originally come, an amber, pearlescent mist surrounded the six beings and the Guji.

 

Perhaps it was an optical illusion, but the balls of light stopped moving, as though waiting and new ones formed hovering near each. Here was the peculiar thing. The seemingly fluid, iridescent entity that hovered behind the Lord of the Western Lands and that of Lord Inuyasha seemed linked by a singular strand of golden light. Masaru squinted, unsure of what he was seeing. They were linked.

 

Just as quickly as the dance had begun, it ceased. A sudden hush settled within the cavern and each entity slowly fading before his eyes. In the end only the Guji's remained, liquid fire dulled considerably, no longer fed.

 

It was then youkai soldier heard a reassuring voice echo within the ancient cavern.

 

“They will return, Masaru. Simply wait.”

 

sks

 

 

Kneeling on the hillock at the streams edge, Inuyasha stared at the pale lily he held between his fingers in consternation. The slab marking his mother's grave was freshly groomed of weeds, though he had not attended it for ages.

 

The rustle of silken garments and the unsheathing of a katana in defense, reminding Inuyasha he was not alone, and with that was some measure of comfort, despite the company.

 

“What in hell…how did we…” whispered the Hanyou in disbelief, not bothering to face Sesshoumaru.

 

“Be quiet, Inuyasha. This Sesshoumaru senses another presence,” warned the Taiyoukai, facing the stream, Toukijin at the ready. `This is nothing like the scroll.'

 

Inuyasha spun around, Tessaiga unsheathed as he looked about frantically for the unseen enemy. Nothing appeared. The only sounds the peaceful flow of water over the rocks within the stream and the occasional birdsong.

 

The hairs on the back of the Hanyou's neck rose, as an electric current shattered the stillness.

 

“Interesting, my son that you choose Toukijin in defense, when my gift was Tenseiga,” observed a resonant voice from behind both Taishou males.

 

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed as he slowly pivoted on one heel; annoyed having been bested once more by the Inu-no-Taishou.

 

“Father?” queried the distraught Hanyou in a small voice, feeling suddenly rather diminutive and insignificant as he looked upon the great dog demon, his sire.

 

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“How odd…Why here?” Kagome asked with no small amount of humor. She studied her father's face, trying to capture in memory the contours that were slightly unfamiliar to her of his gentle, handsome visage.

 

The luminous being opened his arms and she leaned into the warm embrace. Here before her, perfect in its replication, was their porch.

 

“This place holds fond memories for me, my child. Here we spoke of a time to come. The time which is now, Kagome, ask your question.”

 

Looking up, she smiled. “Tatsuo is my uncle?”

 

He gazed at her meditatively for a moment. The question was not the one he had expected. “Yes.”

 

Snuggling closer, she closed her own eyes. “Mom misses you. She never remarried. I suspect you know that.”

 

A soft chuckle caused the Being's chest to rise and fall below her head.

 

“I miss her more than I can say and Souta and my father but that is not why you are here. You have a question,” said he in a deceptively pleasant tone.

 

Kagome rose from the comforting hug she had long missed, stepping down the stairs; standing, for all intents and purposes, in the moist earth looking towards the well-house, the scent of sakura blossoms calming her spirit.

Turning slowly, she faced the glowing entity, her own face serene, though her mind buzzed.

 

“Suppose I fail in the pivotal moment. What then?”

 

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Shippou felt strange. Three human years of his life had been spent with the tachi. Memories had begun to fade of this strong, burly male Being, whose craggy face held kindness and pride.

 

Both sat on the grassy knoll silently, watching the butterflies flit about oblivious to their presence.

 

Furtively the kitsune looked up into equally bottle green eyes, then looked away, his cheeks blushing, apple red. He had never found conversing difficult before this.

 

“I am proud of you, my son,” answered the raspy voice. “You have grown and what is more, you understand your place within your new family.”

 

“But…how could you be?” Shippou retorted, suddenly somewhat discomforted by the unjustified praise. There was nothing to be proud of to his mind. Without Kagome and Inuyasha, Hiten and Manten would still be alive. It was for him to avenge his family's death at their hands, not the tachi, however well intentioned. He was still a failure and not worthy.

 

A gnarled hand pulled him roughly forward. By instinct the kitsune quickly flipped and moved away assuming a defensive stance, breathing heavily.

 

“The Inu-no-Taishou's eldest has been busy, I see,” said the elder fox demon with approval. His pup looked confused and decidedly less than pleased at the sudden attack.

 

“Shippou, show me what else you have learned,” said the Fox taking up a defensive position ready for battle. They circled one another, green eyes narrowing in both faces, awaiting the others first move.

 

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He was conscious of nothing but pain, agonizing pain.

 

The Houshi's right arm was blackened to the elbow. Dark green, bilious veins distended, excruciating to the touch. Miroku could not think.

 

Sango looked about her, trying to understand as the Monk lay curled upon the ground holding the afflicted arm to his chest, gritting his teeth. All around them villagers went about their day. Even practice was being held as other slayers went through their morning exercises, oblivious to the two beings within their midst.

 

Both felt impotent in that moment since their weapons of choice were not to hand. Sango intrinsically knew, they could not be seen.

 

`This is clearly an illusion of some sort,' thought the Exterminator as she tried to block the moans of pain from the Monk writhing on the ground. One of them had to remain vigilant. `This could well be a trap.'

 

“Monk, have any ideas? I'm at a loss here. We must still be in the cavern. Why are we in my village of all places?” the Slayer asked over her shoulder. She had to remain on guard for both their sakes. Their very lives could depend on it.

 

“Simple, it is the source of your pain, Sango. All stems from here,” was the dispassionate reply.

 

Whirling in fright, the demon exterminator faced the disembodied voice that spoke to her from behind.

 

Just slightly out of phase hovered two beings, one clearly her father and the other kneeling next to the Priest; his name Miyatsu, Miroku's grandfather.

 

 

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“It is my choice, Father. This Sesshoumaru sees no purpose in wielding this impotent sword,” answered the Western Lord venomously, unsheathing Tenseiga and throwing it to the ground at the luminous Being's feet in disgust.

 

The Hanyou stood grounded to the spot, hands trembling as Tessaiga slipped from his grasp involuntarily, thudding to the ground, its rusty blade almost touching the tip of Tenseiga's.

 

“You're really tall.” Inuyasha said, unaware he had voiced his observation out loud.

 

Ancient, citrine eyes glanced at the hanyou in amusement. He saw awe in the half-demon's golden orbs.

 

“Imbecile,” Sesshoumaru murmured disparagingly, returning his gaze to the stream stream, intentionally showing disrespect.

 

“Excuse me, Lord Asshole! I've never seen him like this. It sorta slipped out.”

 

“This Sesshoumaru reiterates, you died protecting an imbecile and for what, Father?”

 

Silence followed as the Being of Light turned and kneeled in front of Izayoi's grave, pulling Inuyasha down with him abruptly. The Hanyou handed his father, with trembling hands, the now crushed lily to place on the grave's mound.

 

An ancient claw received the gift, brushing individual petals reverently, smoothing each before gently resting it against the headstone, silently.

 

“Would you not do the same for Kagome and Satori?” was the quiet query.

 

Inuyasha felt, more than heard the subtle shift in Sesshoumaru's defensive demeanor and eventual, careful retort.

 

“The Miko carries this Sesshoumaru's heir. They are worthy of my protection.”

 

“…and love, moron. Chichi is waiting for you to recognize that you love them, the same way he loved my mother.”

 

“And you, Inuyasha. You were loud even then, those little ears were so alert to their surroundings and easily disturbed by unfamiliar sounds,” said the resonant baritone, as sun-kissed eyes fell upon the hanyou once more with paternal pride.

 

Inuyasha snorted self-consciously, blushing to his roots, his koinu ears twitching.

 

Those simple words, gently spoken, gave Inuyasha the courage to speak the truth he felt in his heart. The truth, Sesshoumaru would not voice.

 

“When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and admit that you worship the ground Kagome walks on? Everyone can see it. You're such a dumb ass! You got everything and you won't even admit it,” spat Inuyasha, turning back to the amused gaze of their sire.

 

A low rumble that became the thunderous laughter of his father put an abrupt end to the one sided argument. Inuyasha felt the Inu-no-Taishou's tacit approval. The half-demon's ears twitched again at the unfamiliar, yet pleasing sound, blushing even more intensely.

 

It was a fraction of a second before Inuyasha registered that he was firmly pinned against the rough bark of a nearby tree. His larynx painfully gripped as a snarling, male youkai practically foamed at the mouth glared at him with murderous intent in his cold, gilded eyes. Several sharp claws poised to rid the hanyou of his offensive voice box.

 

“You will show respect to your elders and betters, half-breed” growled the Western Lord, fangs bared in threat.

 

With great effort and much wheezing, Inuyasha showed all his usual bravado, while trying unsuccessfully to remove the vice about his throat, the Taiyoukai's grip slackened minutely, allowing him air.

 

“What- the- fuck- ever! You know you're not going to try and kill me. Not in front of our father, anyway. We have shit to do and way bigger fish to fry. So let me go already, or I will make sure Satori has no siblings.”

 

“Not the words I would have chosen my pup, but fitting,” agreed the Dog General, “In many ways, Inuyasha has much to teach you, Sesshoumaru, just as you have much to impart to him…given time. Release him, Sesshoumaru. Play time is over,” commanded the Dog Demon, his tone making clear, this was not a request.

 

“Do not humor him, Father. It does nothing to improve his manners, which, as you can see, leave much to be desired,” ground out the demon Lord between clenched teeth. He released the Hanyou and threw him to the ground for good measure.

 

In no way deterred by his elder sibling's brutal treatment, Inuyasha snarled in response.

“Feh! Like he can teach me anything worth knowing…and I'm not a pup,” grumbled the half-demon, pleased by what his sire had said. `I am not worthless,' thought the Hanyou with sudden pride. The Inu-no-Taishou said so and he was his father.

 

The Western Lord roared in frustration.

 

“Why are we here? The scroll did not speak of this!”

 

The Inu-no-Taishou was well pleased at the unspoken emotions bubbling below the surface of the sharply spoken words of his eldest son. He eyed the amulet the Western Lord wore.

 

Inuyasha intuitively knew he should reach for Tessaiga, his amber eyes traveling from one then the other in utter amazement and irritation. `Apparently, stubbornness runs in the family.'

 

In all the years he had done battle with his brother, never once, had he spoken in such a manner. There were emotions there. Gone was the cool, studied malevolence in his usual speech. Sesshoumaru was afraid, very afraid and was it possible, slightly jealous?

 

“Pick up your sword, Sesshoumaru. Accept the gift of life,” came the even more fearsome commanding roar.

 

Time passed slowly, far too slowly for Inuyasha's liking.

 

The Taiyoukai's blatant refusal to obey his sire's command, on principle, made the demon Lord appear like a spoilt brat throwing a tantrum to Inuyasha's eyes.

 

“Typical.” grumbled the Hanyou.

 

Inuyasha's round eyes narrowed in annoyance, growing more impatient with each passing moment. He had had enough of the stalemate. Cursing under his breath, he stalked to the blade, retrieved it and forced it into his brother's clawed hand.

 

“You're the idiot. Learn to fuckin' wing it, Lord Pompous. He brought us here for a reason. If we get this shit over with, we can return to the others and finally kill Naraku's sorry ass.”

 

Sesshoumaru growled threateningly at the Hanyou, refusing to admit, for once, that his baby brother might have a point.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Inuyasha said impatiently at the snarling Taiyoukai glowering down at him before turning to his father.

 

“Even now, he teaches you, Sesshoumaru. Sometimes, the good of the many is paramount to selfish desires. I would have thought you would have learned this by now under the guidance of your Mate.”

 

His father had never been one to waste time nor repeat his instructions and yet he stood patiently waiting. In ages past, he would have simply struck him for his insolence or found other means to force his hand.

 

The irritating cracking of Inuyasha's knuckles brought the Western Lord's internal musings to an abrupt halt. Sesshoumaru shuddered in horror at the words that next left Inuyasha's mouth.

 

“Okay Daddy-O, what's the deal? I ain't got all day.”

 

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“Time is against us, Kagome. You will simply have to trust in those with you and more so, in yourself. You have everything you need now. Ask the right question.”

 

The Miko closed her eyes in frustration. `He's just as bad as Mother.'

 

“Where do you get such faith in me? I am eighteen years old. I haven't really lived. Sometimes I make stupid choices. Suppose I don't know when to fire the sacred arrow? I could blow everything.”

 

Uncoiling himself from his seated position, the tall, translucent Being smiled down at his first born with sadness mixed with understanding.

 

“You want assurances I cannot give, Kagome. None of the Sacred Seven can.”

 

Regarding him closely, the Miko pursed her lips in thought.

 

“Correct me, but your gift is Sight, the ability to see the outcomes of actions, yes?”

 

By his facial expression alone, she guessed, no felt, she had finally asked the right question.

 

Taking his hand, they walked towards the woods in animated conversation, Kagome unaware, of the other presences following at a distance, a proud smile upon one female face.

 

“Task one accomplished, I think, sister.”

 

“Yes,” Midoriko responded with obvious pride.

 

sks

 

“In all that is there must be balance, both darkness and light. Death and Life are two sides of the same coin, my sons. One without the other is void. Neither will ever be victorious over the other. It is very much like oil and water, forever seeking equilibrium, never finding it and yet, the universe unfolds because of it. Within the eternal struggle is creation,” said the Inu-no-Taishou.

 

His father's voice, though melodic in its resonance was rather distance to the demon Lord's ears. Myriad images passing before his eyes, of ancient wars, blood and gore the like of which he had never seen.

 

Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, the Killing Perfection, eldest son of the Inu-no-Taishou watched with rapt attention, akin to horror, the visions he was being made privy to. There was one recurring theme throughout, he could not countenance.

 

Overwhelmed with anger at his impotence to stop the carnage unfolding before his eyes, Inuyasha openly wept, tears coursing down his face, unafraid of the emotions engendered within him by the sight. He was part human, after all. Compassion being the core strength of his character, a gift from his mother bestowed to both he and his father.

 

“This is the outcome, should we fail. Together you have the means. Now it is for you both to choose,” said the resonant baritone of their sire. “Life is the obverse of the coin of death. Use it wisely, my sons. I can tell you no more. Pay attention.”

 

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A dull moan escaped the Houshi's lips.

 

“Only his death will free our line, Miroku,” said Miyatsu sadly, gentle hands hovering over the diseased limb, his healing touch giving temporary relief in its passage.

 

Sango pulled the Houshi close, being careful of his arm, her face livid and somewhat confused by the elder Houshi's actions and words.

 

“Leave him be! Can't you see he is in pain and you his grandfather?! Why are we here? Answer that!” she hissed up at both males. She was not impressed with their seeming indifference. `Surely, they could both do something to alleviate his distress? Does the life of a fellow ningen mean nothing to either, now that they had passed?'

 

“Sango! Know your place!” barked her Father, indignantly, his handsome features made sharp by the set of his lower jaw.

 

The Slayer chuckled wryly, eyes narrowed, as she took her father's full measure, perhaps for the first time in her life. “Know my place?” she repeated the words lightly, too lightly, as though testing their validity upon her tongue and finding them wanting. “You mean like mother did? Never questioning, never saying a word, suffering silently? Slowly dying within?”

 

“Sango!” snapped the Chieftain, a might discomforted by her candor.

 

“Repeating my name will make no difference, Father. I do love you, but in no way, do I intend to follow my mother's path in life or in love.”

 

Miroku's pained, amethyst eyes turned up, sooty lashes masking, as best he could, his pain, while she held him to her chest gently. She attempted to speak her words without rancor, but failed. A new pain assailed the Monk, the likes of which he had never experienced. The woman he loved more than his own life had bared her soul to him, without meaning to. He should not have been privy to such pain, such ancient hurt. Hurt that colored her reality and sense of self. Again, his talks with the Priestess surfaced in a new way. He held his tongue, violet eyes turned to the offending male that had so influenced his Slayer's well being and not for the better.

 

“Kohaku understands his place.”

 

“Does he really? Then take the time to explain to me,” Sango said quietly, “I have devoted my life to the task of protecting that which is precious and human, sharing your bigotry against all things demonic, and yet, I have seen real love between a Miko and a demon Lord, our mortal enemy and apparently, your ally. Explain that, if you can?”

 

Gently, Sango laid the monk in his grandfather's arms and stood, facing her father. He was right. This was the source of her being, her way; the sticking point, between them.

 

The Chieftain of Slayers could not maintain her gaze, choosing instead to point at a woman in the distance clearing, cleaning garments against a rock.

 

“You are looking at the past, one moment in time. I loved her Sango, as best I could. We were, as all in our time, arranged. No choice,” came the quiet answer, “I make no apologies for my actions. It would change nothing.”

 

The female Slayer stood next to him, quietly observing as a young girl brought more clothing. She remembered the moment. The little girl was her. The day had been hot.

 

As though in answer to the unspecified query, his deep voice responded to the unexpressed question within his daughter's saddened gaze.

 

“You have a choice.”

 

“She had none!” Sango hissed with strident accusation.

 

“No, she did not, being female and of a lower cast. You, however do.”

 

The day had begun well, Sango thought, as she turned and ran in the opposite direction to her secret place, over the hill into the tree lined forest beyond their village, falling to the damp forest floor, the smell of earth invading her nostrils and the taste of warm salty tears.

 

“I am sorry, Sango,” said a deep male voice. Through bleary eyes the Slayer looked up into empathetic, mauve colored ones. “I won't pursue you anymore, my love. I finally understand why we will never be. I remind you of him. We need not speak of this again.”

 

She sniffled, placing her hands below her head and wept, while a warm hand stroked her back, comfortingly, apologetically, warmly, caringly, never once straying below her waistline, finally.

 

“Life is funny, isn't it Miroku?” she uttered sadly. Now that she had what she wanted from him, it was too little and too late, by all appearances. He had taken the choice from her.

 

sks

 

 

Masaru had grown tired of standing in place, not moving. He was hungry, tired and in need of a bath. Much too much had happened on this day, and never once had he taken blood from an enemy in vengeance as he had planned. The scar given to him by Sango's father might well have to be born without retribution.

 

The sudden crackle of thunder, seemingly from above made him abruptly stand rigid, sword drawn.

 

Slowly, the iridescent beams of light returned, first the Miko's then the Taiyouka and his sibling and shortly there after, the Houshi, the Slayer and the Kitsune as though they had never left.

 

Only one change had occurred, the Guji held the Houshi's staff above his head, as he disappeared, the staff clanking to the surface of the podium.

 

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Sunset.

 

 

Tatsuo watched as the elderly healer breathed peacefully in sleep. It had been the day of days. The scent of sakura blossoms carried on the early evening wind. `It has been done. All the signs were there.' As told to the ancient prophets of the Fire Clan, the completion would occur when the cherry trees would bloom once more beyond their season.

 

The inner courtyard's trees were once more in full bloom as foretold, the eerie amber mist had faded, having done its work, protecting the occupants of the shiro. He had but one more task, requiring the Miko and Totosai, but it would wait until morning.

 

 

 

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Rin sat in Ayame lap upon the stone bench watching the fireflies, while the Ookami Prince stalked back and forth in front of the youkai guards. She drank from the ancient tea cup, the essence of jasmine as prepared by Tatsuo. It was bitter, but she was told to drink it.

 

Slowly a flaxen head came into view, followed by shiny onyx tresses. The ward screamed with glee, running to her master with unfettered joy. Jaken blubbering at her heels, equally thankful for their safe return.

 

The Taiyoukai's face remained impassive, as he allowed his ward the luxury of greeting. A clawed hand gently cupping the back of her head, with seeming tolerance of her touch, face implacable, though to the accustomed eye of his Mate, softened as he watched through hooded lashes the tears of his ward in welcome.

 

“Jaken! The evening meal, now” and then, as though in afterthought “please,” commanded the Taiyoukai.

 

The tubby, little retainer ran off to set the preparations in motion with renewed zeal. `The Taiyoukai is tired. He said please.' There was time enough to wonder at this anomaly. He had a castle to feed and a pregnant Miko, who seemed tired, though she gave him a sunny smile.

 

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They bathed silently, quietly attended each others grooming needs. Kagome, who liked to hold court by babbling incessantly about anything that came to her mind, was particularly silent. Her aura, Sesshoumaru found, was unusually peaceful and resolute as she left the Taiyoukai to dress in her own private quarters, begging he go ahead as she had one more task to fulfill before joining the Lord and the others in the dining hall.

 

Sesshoumaru was somewhat perplexed by her request but chose to keep his own counsel. He did what he had always done. Not to put too fine a point on it, the Taiyoukai dressed hurriedly then secreted himself beyond the courtyard and waited to see what his Mate was up to. After all, pregnancy did not always leave a bitch rational.

 

Slowly, the shoji opened revealing a most breathtaking sight. His heart raced as he scanned the demure, yet attractive amber, silk kimono. Kagome's hair upswept with the kogai he had given her for her birthday. Her skin was radiant and the gentle swell of her stomach had begun, she wore no scent. Moist lips the color of a ripe plum begging to be devoured. Calming his rapidly beating heart and the sudden surge of blood to his nethers, he watched as she looked down the hall towards their quarters nibbling her lower lip enticingly. She chuckled, pointedly looking in his direction. It was apparent she had felt his presence, rather than seen him hovering on the tree's limb with as much dignity as he could muster.

 

“My Lord, I am going to see Inuyasha. There is something I need to do for him and, for that matter, for me. Kikyou was right,” Kagome said gently.

 

The flutter of white silk in her peripheral vision caused the Miko to turn in time to see him gracefully land mere feet from her, stoic visage in place.

 

Kagome's lips upturned into a mischievous smile as she shook her head and approached the Taiyoukai with a twinkle in her warm eyes.

 

“Never change, my darling, Sesshoumaru,” she added softly, passing the back of her hand over his warm cheek.

 

Closing his eyes, he breathed in her scent, grasping the little hand with his callused own, gently kissing her palm.

 

“Hn.”

 

“I suppose, asking you not to accompany me is a waste of time, Lord Stalking Perfection? Please just allow us the illusion of privacy, just for a little bit?

 

Sesshoumaru growled quietly in irritation, releasing her hand with a slight, very slight, inclination of his head. He didn't have to like it.

 

Kagome walked on ahead as he stood, deciding, his thoughts interrupted by a small red headed male's approach. He was hard to miss, his scent preceding him.

 

The little male stood next to him with an equally contemplative expression, little lips quirked, arms tightly crossed over his chest.

 

“Shippou?” queried the Western Lord in his usual resonant baritone.

 

“Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama?” came the polite reply, green eyes looking up with curiosity. There was an element of steel in the kitsune's expression not previously there, though it wavered the more the Western Lord glared reproachfully down at him.

 

The Taiyoukai stooped, so they could have a youkai male-to-youkai male discourse.

 

“Exactly when did you avail yourself of my bathing herbs?”

 

Shippou `eeped' and blushed, glancing away hurriedly.

 

 

“Mama likes how you smell …”

 

“Lady Kagome's views aside, ask in the future young kitsune,” admonished the Taiyoukai as he stood regally, having made his point. Kagome had disappeared, he noted in annoyance, but he would find her.

 

“Yes, my Lord. I-I'm sorry,” Shippou replied apologetically, throwing himself at the Taiyoukai's feet.

 

Glancing at the prostrate fox demon, the Western Lord sighed. “See Tatsuo. He has many herbs. Undoubtedly you will find a pleasing combination that will be distinctively you. Be mindful of the strength of your choice, however do not be so free of claw in future. A little goes a very long way,” said the Taiyoukai, effectively ending the conversation as he made to follow his Mate, leaving a thoroughly flummoxed kitsune in his wake.

 

sks

 

It was one thing to flatten Kouga mid bellow with a well deserved punch to his jaw. It was quite another to actually ignore her completely, or so it felt. Not only had Inuyasha merely taken her hand and squeezed it, before excusing himself for a bath, the usually cocky swagger was not evident as he rushed towards his chamber, having made no mention of their recent adventure below.

 

Ayame had had enough. Now that she thought of it, they all seemed reticent upon their return. Perhaps over the evening meal, all would reveal itself. She could only hope. Ayame had no intentions of making the same mistake twice.

 

A tentative rap on her shoji brought the Northern Wolf Princess out of her worried reverie. She had made particular efforts with her manner of dress for the evening, wearing a dazzling, aquamarine Furisode, delicately embroidered with golden threads, her obi, sleeves and hem accentuated with irises. This kimono was only worn on ceremonial occasions at high court.

 

“Come,” she called out.

 

Kagome's beautiful face greeted her at the opened shoji. Ayame's eyes fell to the Western Lady's outstretched hands and what they held; the Kotodama-no-Nenju, Inuyasha's beads of subjugation.

 

“I believe, these are now yours, Princess,” Kagome said lightly, averting her gaze, lowering her own head, presenting the offering.

 

“Inuyasha?” Ayame said, noticing the silver head behind the Western Lady.

 

“So, you want them or what, woman?” the Hanyou replied with a hint of diffidence, furtively glancing up through his bangs awaiting her reply. There was hope in his eyes.

 

sks

 

Violet eyes watched intently as Sango brushed her hair unconsciously with trembling hands. The Houshi relieved her of the brush gently and continued where she had left off, her damp locks nearly dry from repeated brushing.

 

A firefly entered the room and settled on her comb winking up at her. Sango bent gentle and blew at the little entity as it flitted away out the window to join the others in the moonlight.

 

“Did you mean it?” she asked, eyes closed, basking in the feel of the rhythmic motion of the brush through her hair and the warmth and pleasing scent of his body so close to her own.

 

“Yes, Sango” the Houshi responded, placing the brush upon the small table and retreating to the pillow near the low table. He would adhere to her deepest wishes. It had been a mistake to be so close without recourse to act on his feelings.

 

She glanced at his arm curiously, it appeared normal again. “What did Miyatsu-sama do to stop the pain? How were you able to follow me so quickly?”

 

“I truly don't know, Sango. It is temporary, to get me through to the battle, that I know.” Miroku answered tactfully, lips pursed in thought. “I'm wondering why they both appeared to us? What was the purpose?”

 

Sango released a sad chuckle, standing then closing the gap between them sitting opposite the Houshi at the low table. “I don't really know either. He never once asked or even referred to Kohaku. The entire encounter was about me. Nothing to do with the pending battle, at least I don't think so.”

 

Miroku nodded, afraid to voice his thought. The Slayer missed nothing, dark brown eyes narrowing. “What? I can see the wheels turning.”

 

“Nothing, …” he answered dismissively, putting a smile in his voice. “Shall we go?” he added equally pleasantly, rising with the aid of his Shokujo, “You look particularly edible tonight, Sango. I am sure, Masaru will approve,” he said lightly, averting his own gaze.

 

She stopped him with a gentle touch to the afflicted arm. “Tell me, Miroku.”

 

For a long time their eyes met, before he sat again, placing his staff across his lap, fingers steepled in thought.

 

“I think Sango, that meeting was more about me, than you.”

 

“WHAT?!” she retorted, “Of all the egotistical…”

 

“I told you, it was just a thought. Let's go, the others are waiting,” he countered coolly. It was clear, she wasn't ready to hear the truth. What Miyatsu had said was for his ears only and the kappa.

 

Sango's brows furrowed, as she reached for his hand once more, girding her loins. If she dared to give it credence, something rang true in the statement.

 

“Please explain. We will take our meal here, in my quarters. We won't be missed,” she said with resolve, prepared to listen, prepared to choose.

 

sks

 

Kagome watched the dance of the fireflies in the moonlight from the balcony of their private chambers accompanied by the scent of sakura blossoms on the gentle wind instilling calm. She heard the faint echoes of soft, feminine laugher below; a former enemy who now was friend. The Priestess smiled in contentment as she watched the Hanyou and the Princess walking in the shadows of the cherry trees, fingers intertwined.

 

One clawed digit placed a wayward strand behind her ear, warm hands surrounded her, settling about her waist and the slight rise found there. Satori fluttered in greeting.

 

“I can already tell, she's a Daddy's girl,” murmured the Miko absently, leaning back into the Taiyoukai's warmth and pleasing scent.

 

In a seeming non-sequitur the demon Lord observed forlornly, “Wolves. Common, loud, ill-bred pups will infest this land unchecked, the sheer ignominy of it will follow this clan ages hence.”

 

The Priestess snickered, acknowledging without words what her Mate had implicitly said.

 

Inuyasha was family. He had chosen his Mate. Good, bad or indifferent, he was his brother with all the requisite rights that entailed.

 

“Come, we will rest now, Miko,” commanded her Taiyoukai.

 

 

“Rest, indeed, my Lord,” Kagome rolled her eyes, gazing once more at the dance of the fireflies and Kirara standing sentinel beyond the gates. An insistent tug of her hand towards their palette soon put the fleeting concern from the Priestess's mind.

 

There was the delightful prospect of her `pervie blankie' to snuggle with in her immediate future. He had become rather creative of late.

 

sks

 

Malevolent laughter echoed through the ancient keep on the misty mountainside stronghold.

 

“Enjoy the respite, Lord Sesshoumaru. Tomorrow is the day of reckoning and all will be mine,” said the Hanyou, the jewel grasped tightly within his clawed hand.

 

Kohaku watched through hooded eyes as the Hanyou glided from the hall, secure in the knowledge Hakudoshi's mission would succeed this time. After all, he had lent him his most sacred, ancient talisman. No one would suspect. Not this time.

 

Naraku's victory was assured, of course.

 

Author's Note

 

I hope you enjoyed. One part to completion ladies and gentlemen. Tomorrow, expect the next installment of the Valentine's story….review responses will follow shortly. Sorry for the delay.

 

EP