SesshÅmaru was not quite sure how he and the miko ended up on the futon together.
Last night, they had attended Rin and Kohaku’s wedding. He had felt a little melancholy watching his ward get married, and finally secure in her position as the wife of the Taijiya Chief. Jaken had been crying incessantly during the ceremony and most of the reception, but he was made of sterner stuff.
The miko was the only person who noticed he was not quite alright, and took it upon herself to keep him company throughout the evening. His mood had been surly, but she had the charisma to chase those dark clouds away with a smile.
What happened after was a little blurry. He might have imbibed a little too much, and she did too. He remembered walking her home to her hut — or tried to.
They must have stumbled onto the futon together, after which she rolled herself to snuggle into the nooks of his body and held him as she fell quickly into slumber. Her head fit so perfectly under his chin, a pleasant weight on his chest. Her warm breaths fanned his neck as she slept peacefully.
He did not dare move, lest she moved and ruined arguably the most comfortable position in which he had ever found himself.
Unlike her, he did not know how to exude charisma, not even to save his life. But he knew how to keep her warm and comfortable.
So, he let her doze off as he curled his arms and his mokomoko around her, keeping her close.