One Life by Chiaztolite

One Life

Sesshōmaru inspected the scene of carnage around him. The stench of death and destruction permeated the air, assaulting his senses and twisting his stomach in knots. He fought until the end and won, yet his victory felt hollow without his mate by his side.

With one final glance around him, he surveyed the broken corpses of his enemies, their forms littered across the ground like discarded toys. Then, taking a deep breath, he wiped Bakusaiga clean from the blood of its victims and returned it to its resting place. 

He scanned the battlefield, his eyes darting everywhere in search of the white and crimson uniform of his miko mate. Everywhere he looked, he saw rivers of red—the spilled blood of hundreds of warriors. A feeling of nausea rose in his gut as he surveyed the brutality of war around him. He should be thankful that Kagome was spared from such a sight—even centuries of battle experience couldn't make him immune to the horrors of war.

Yet, where was Kagome? Where was his mate? Not having her by his side made him uneasy, but he understood her decision to return to the village to protect the defenceless residents.

‘Trust me, Sesshōmaru,’ she had implored. He had desperately wanted her there with him, believing they could achieve anything together. He tried to explain that he trusted her and that his need for her was different from his trust, but the words escaped him at the time. He felt powerful when she was around, even though he was also scared of the vulnerability that came with her being part of his life. He needed her.

But, he understood others also needed her, and to ask her to abandon the villager’s plea for the Shikon Miko’s protection was to ask her to abandon a piece of herself.

Thus, after a promise to reunite as soon as the battle concluded, they split up.

With Bakusaiga sheathed, Sesshōmaru prodded their mating bond, seeking the usual answering warmth that would fill his chest as soon as he reached out for her. But, this time, there was nothing. No warmth, no thrills of recognition or even acknowledgement. That alone was alarming. As seconds passed by with no signs of her, the dark feeling sank further into the pit of his stomach.

When he heard Inuyasha shouting his name in the distance, the hanyō’s tone desperate instead of triumphant, he knew something was terribly wrong.

“Sesshōmaru!” Inuyasha shouted when he emerged from the woods. “Kagome—”

Sesshōmaru did not stay to wait for the rest of the words. He surrounded himself in his yōki and vanished in a blinding ball of light, travelling at breakneck speed to reach his mate’s side.

The village smelled of burnt ashes and blood. The moment his feet touched the ground and his yōki was reabsorbed into his body, the full assault to the senses nearly brought him to his knees. The scent of impending death hung heavy in the air. The smell of Kagome’s blood slammed into him, and a strong wave of nausea came over him, so much that he had to breathe through his mouth to stop himself from smelling it.

From smelling that she was dying. 

The people gathered around her hut, making the clearing seem too small for the sombre crowd. The air was thick with sorrow and regret. The oppressive atmosphere was heavy with grief as people filed into the dusty street outside her hut. Some wept openly, while others stared with glazed eyes. A young woman he recognized as Kagome's friend, the slayer, rushed forward with a tear-stained face. She broke through the group and stood before him.

“She’s been waiting for you, Sesshōmaru,” the slayer said, her voice quivering. “Kaede-sama is with her. She’s trying to do the best she can—“

The slayer could not finish her words before she clamped her hand over her mouth, turning away. Sesshōmaru did not want to ask why the woman’s eyes were rimmed with red. He did not even want to think of the reason. Woodenly, as though someone held a knife to his jugular, he entered.

The old priestess was hunched over next to the unmoving body of his mate. The pungent smell of iron and copper permeated the air, and a sickly sweet smell of death hung in the shadows. He felt his stomach twist with dread and nausea as he saw tell-tale signs of his mate's impending demise.

His eyes sought the old miko’s gaze, and with her watery, rheumy eye, she told him everything he already knew. She shook her head solemnly as she rose with an unsteady gait and hobbled to the door, leaving him with his mate as she went through her final moments.

When the curtains at her doorway fell to enclose them inside the privacy of Kagome’s old home, Sesshōmaru went to her side and reached for her hand. He kept his fingers gentle when they closed around hers, and he rubbed his thumb along her skin, a silent reassurance that he was there.

“Kagome,” he said, squeezing her hand and pressing her knuckles to his lips. “It will take only a moment. I will see you again shortly. Soon, you will be well again.”

Tears bled from the corners of her eyes down her temples. He could see her throat constricting as she fought her tears, but it was no use. Her pain was too much to bear, and blood bubbled at the corners of her mouth as she tried to speak.

“Sesshōmaru... The baby… I’m… I’m sorry—“

He couldn’t bear to look, but he had no choice. Almost unwillingly, his gaze moved to her midsection, where the soft swell had been growing for the past six months. The blanket they had draped on top of her was dyed red. The source of the colour kept seeping out, soaking the material until all he could see was a dark crimson hue. He wanted to turn away, yet his eyes were glued to the horrific scene before him.

“It will be alright, my mate,” he told her with more conviction than he ever thought he would have, squeezing her hand gently. “I promise.”

Her tears fell freely now. “I… am… sorry—“

He could not understand why she continued to apologize, as if she felt guilty. He wanted her to know that he didn’t hold her responsible for the situation, but the words failed him. He could only squeeze her hand and be with her through her final moments. If she must die, he wanted a good death for her. A peaceful death, but it seemed she was to be denied that comfort as well, because her death was neither swift nor merciful. It was long, drawn-out, excruciating, and painful.

With each of her ragged breaths, Sesshōmaru wondered if it would be kinder if he took her life rather than let her drag on like this.

But the thought of ending her life nearly had him retching. No. As painful as it was, he would be with her and hold her hand until the end. The dying light in her eyes told him that she cherished every second of their time together, even as torturous as it was.

“Do you… remember… when we first met?” Kagome asked, pale lips stretching into a thin smile.

“It was most unexpected,” Sesshōmaru said, his fingers gently brushing the sticky strands of her hair away from her face. “I tried to transform you into a pool of melted goo if I recall correctly.”

Her scoff, still remarkably indignant even during a dire situation, made him want to laugh.

“As if you could get rid of me so easily, yōkai,” she rasped, the corners of her lips twitching into a slight smirk. Sesshomaru could not help but smirk back.

“I’d much rather reminisce about the day I asked you to be mine,” he told her.

Then, she gave him a watery smile — her bloodied hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “The flowers you gathered just for me… the waterfall… you, it was all so perfect. Still the most beautiful day I’ve ever…”

The setting sun cast an orange light upon her face, highlighting her pale skin and streaks of tears. Her eyelids fluttered, and she breathed a sigh before her eyes slowly drifted shut. Her fingers, still trembling, slowly slipped from his cheek and drooped onto the floor.

Then, she was gone.

-----------

Sesshōmaru arranged Kagome's body, covering the red stain of blood that marred the pristine white sheet. It seemed silly to do when soon, with a slash of Tenseiga, she would be brought back to life, and everything would be as it should be. She would continue to carry their pup to term, and they would go on to have their… what did she use to say? They’re ‘happily ever after.’

He kissed her hand and placed it on her abdomen; the last tear she shed was a darker dot on the sheet. Then, with a single stride, he put his hand on Tenseiga’s hilt and drew it to his side.

He needed only a simple twist and a slash across her torso, and everything would be fine. She would be fine, and she would continue to live, and they would go on to have their happily ever after. His hand clenched on Tenseiga’s handle.

He began to see the pallbearer, the creatures from the underworld, gathering beside her body. They crowded around her torso to crane their thin necks and examine her face. The eerie light of the realm beyond shone upon her, and he could not bear a minute longer to let her linger in that in-between place.

He was about to swing the blade and bring her to life when he suddenly realized: there were no pallbearers for their unborn child.

His hand fell limply to his side, his grip slackening around Tenseiga's handle. He did not understand the absence of the pallbearer. Was it because their pup's life was tied to her mother's? Was it because their child had not yet breathed her first breath?

But the most important question remained: Would the child return to life too?

A familiar yōki at the doorway had him tensing. His mother’s energy signature was undeniable. But, instead of feeling comforted by her presence, Sesshōmaru felt dread suffusing him, and his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach.

As the guardian of the Meidō stone, his mother knew more than anyone else about the matter of life and death. If she had decided to come here, she must have sensed the direness of the situation and deemed it necessary to seek him out.

“My son.” Her voice, so heavy and full of grief, and so unlike her, had him turning to regard her from over his shoulder. “You can save only one life.”

A painful silence swelled between them as Tenseiga pulsed against his flank. It was as if the sword - the very soul of his father - was urging him to choose. Tenseiga was no ordinary weapon, and death was not a simple choice. It was a choice between the woman he loved beyond measure and a small life inside her womb.

Sesshōmaru's heart was torn as he confronted his mother's words. He had never seen her so vulnerable before — yet her tone was unyielding. Brimming with unshed tears, her eyes asked the question he never wanted to answer. Who would live, and who would die? His love for both pulsed in his veins, paralyzing him in an agonizing choice.

“Tenseiga can only revive one life at a time.” His own words emerged as a statement, an irrevocable truth, rather than a question.

"And you must choose which one," his mother said, confirming his biggest fear.

He turned to look at her, his eyes beseeching. “Tell me. How?” 

It was a question born not of denial but of desperation. He needed his mother to tell him that it was all a terrible, horrible dream. That this was all a nightmare and that he would soon wake up to her smile and laughter. That he would awaken to the scent of her hair in the morning and the feel of their child growing, strong and healthy, inside her womb.

“I’m sorry, my son. I’m sorry, but you have to make a choice.” Her words, so matter-of-fact, shattered him.

“But—“

"The choice, Sesshōmaru, is truly simple. The pup is young. She may not survive for more than a few days without her mother's body to house and nourish her."

He understood the logic, yet he felt he was killing his daughter just the same. To cast her to the afterlife alone, without ever feeling the warmth of her father's embrace or the softness of her mother's kiss. How could it be the right choice? It felt cruel. It felt selfish and wrong.

It felt like an atrocity, a heinous crime he committed against his child.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out, only a low groan that resembled the cry of a wounded animal, unable to stomach the reality of his situation. He needed… more time. More time to think, more time to process this. Perhaps, if he took a few moments to digest this dilemma, he could make the right choice.

But he knew: time would not make it better. It would only force him to accept the truth.

"I will leave you now," his mother said, inclining her head before she turned and headed for the door. The curtains fell back into place with a soft rustle, leaving the interior of the hut silent once more.

Sesshōmaru knew what he must do, but the thought of it tore him apart. He was to leave his daughter behind, fated to drift into the abyss of death, never to feel her parents' love. He wanted desperately to keep her, but there was no way for her to survive without her mother's body to nourish her. He was faced with an impossible decision that felt selfish and cruel though it may be the only choice. His heart splintered into a million pieces as he prepared to sacrifice his daughter.

Is this what Kagome would have wanted?

As he stood paralyzed with grief, the curtain behind him opened again. He barely noticed Inuyasha stepping into the hut.

"Your mother told us," he said, his voice pinched and strange like he had been weeping. "Can I... Can I do anything, Sesshōmaru? I feel like I could go mad with helplessness."

"I have to take the pup out of her belly," Sesshōmaru stiffly said. At this moment, he focused all his strength on getting the words out, on suppressing emotions, and on the gruesome task at hand. "It is... the best way, rather than cut her open after she is resurrected, and put her through another trauma of open wounds and long healing process.”

Inuyasha made a strangled sobbing sound behind him, though it was cut short. The hanyō sniffed; soft rustles of fabric filled the hut as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his fire-rat robe. "I'll stay and help you," he said. "Just... tell me what you need."

As he stood over her lifeless body, part of him wanted to fall to his knees and weep. But the other part of him was stronger, determined. He had to open her up and take their unborn daughter so that she could rest in peace in the afterlife. His heart felt like it was splitting in two, but he knew he couldn't stop until he had done what needed to be done.

He whispered inwardly: ‘Beloved, never once I ever thought I would be here, standing over your corpse to rip you open so I could take our daughter from your womb and give her the proper funeral rites.’

When he found himself unable to move, he heard Inuyasha's voice behind him: "The only thing worse than losing one life is losing two," his brother said, reminding him that Tenseiga’s power had a time limit. "You must bring Kagome back, Sesshōmaru, before it's too late."

Sesshōmaru grunted in acknowledgement. Inuyasha was right. There was no other option – not one that made sense. Sesshōmaru steeled himself before he steadied his hand to make the first cut.

He knew. He knew. Yet, as his claws hovered over Kagome’s lacerated belly, he found himself petrified with such fear, such hatred for what he was about to do, that he could not move.

Inuyasha must have seen how he had been rendered immobile by the crushing weight of what he had to do.

"Let me," Inuyasha said, a hand on Sesshōmaru's shoulder. "Let me do this. For you. For her. For your pup."

When still, Sesshōmaru did not answer, Inuyasha nudged him gently. "I will do it, Sesshōmaru. You just give the word."

The daiyōkai opened his mouth to refuse, knowing it was his burden to bear, his duty — to Kagome. To their daughter. But the hanyō’s voice was soft and firm, and so were his eyes, which peered unblinkingly at him.

"I'm your brother, after all," Inuyasha continued. "And her friend. Let me do this for her."

With each passing moment that he hesitated, he delayed. Sesshōmaru did not realize how terrified he was until Inuyasha came to stand beside him, placing his hand on his trembling arm.

Sesshōmaru's hands were shaking more violently than they ever had. Once again, Inuyasha's voice was odd yet comforting. "It's alright. I'll do it. Just...step back. I'll do it." 

Inuyasha’s words made him feel that much more awful. He could not even dispatch his duty by his mate and daughter himself. He felt cloying shame bubble up in his chest and throat, making him feel like a monster.

Sesshōmaru stepped back, feeling his throat constrict, closing off the words that longed to be said. Wordlessly, he turned around, unable to bear the sight of his mate's body being torn apart, even if it was to extract their pup out of her. Nausea filled him at the mere thought. Inuyasha did not speak, nor did he hesitate. Instead, he plunged his claws into Kagome's bloated, mangled belly. It was the most awful sound Sesshōmaru had ever heard in his thousand years— the sound of his mate's skin and flesh being torn. He wanted to turn around and kill Inuyasha, but Inuyasha wasn't harming Kagome; he was doing what needed to be done.

Inuyasha grunted, and Sesshomaru could no longer stay still. He turned around and saw Inuyasha’s hands disappearing into Kagome's bowels, lifting her womb carefully and taking care not to damage their pup. As Inuyasha pulled the gray flesh from her body, Sesshomaru felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyelids fluttering. His pup... his daughter... a part of him that had not yet been born.

Now, he knew what she looked like, what she would've looked like: a small, miniature replica of her mother.

"A girl," Inuyasha said as his voice broke, half in happiness and half in sorrow. "You had a daughter."

--------------

Later, the slayer came in to help. She let out only one choked sob before she calmed herself, her features levelling into a stoic mask before she moved to take the pup's corpse to gently cleanse and wrap her in a long swath of white cloth.

When Inuyasha handed him the bundle, Sesshōmaru held out his arm to accept, and he held it against his chest.

"We'll leave you to have your moment with her," his brother said, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “We’ll be outside.”

Sesshōmaru stood still for a moment before he could not bear it any longer and lowered his head to stare at his daughter's face. His eyes looked down at the pale visage, almost as though she was only asleep in his arms. She had inherited the silver tufts of hair from him, but her facial features were like her mother's, though he wished he could see if she had golden eyes.

She had been wanted. She had been loved. Even months before she was born, she had been loved.

Sesshōmaru squeezed his daughter harder against his chest. He could not speak the words, but somehow he felt as though she could hear him.

'Your mother is not awake to see your face,' whispered inwardly. 'She never got to name you. But never doubt, little one, that she loves you.'

He wished he could have seen the flash of gold in her eyes, and he kissed her stony cheek and pressed his forehead against hers. He had never prayed before but found himself mumbling unfamiliar words to the gods, hoping they would hear him whispering prayers and promises with his heart aching.

‘I am sorry, my little one,’ he thought. 'Forgive me. Forgive us all. I love you. And I am sorry.’

He was unsure how long he stood there with her, cradled in his arms when he heard movement outside. He peered over his shoulder to see Inuyasha enter the hut again. He brought a small wooden box with him, which he set on the table by the door.

"The monks are here," his brother said quietly. "To give her a proper send-off."

Eventually, he knew he must relinquish his daughter’s body so that preparations could be made to put her to rest. The slayer and the monk, along with a few of his entourage, were ready outside the hut to receive her. But, when he gave away that small bundle, his heart cracked again. Tiny fissures that ran deep, he knew they could never be repaired.

After they took her away, Sesshōmaru steeled himself, hiding behind the stoic mask he had practiced and perfected over the centuries of his life, and returned to the hut to Kagome’s side. First, he needed to bring her back to life. And then he must look into her eyes and tell her that Tenseiga had failed to save their daughter.

And that, by extension, he had failed.

The creatures of the underworld were still gathered around her body. Then, with one swift swing of Tenseiga, he obliterated them. Almost immediately, her heart began to beat, her breathing restarted, and her deathly pale complexion regained its usual rosy shade. Her broken flesh stitched itself back together, and her wounds disappeared, leaving every inch of her skin unblemished.

But she did not wake. It was as though her body and mind needed time to heal wounds that were much more than skin deep.

When Kagome's longtime friends and allies asked him where they should lay his daughter to rest, he did not know what to say. Inuyasha suggested they bury her upon the hill that overlooked the village, a place of sunshine, peace, and beauty, and Sesshōmaru had not protested.

Deep inside his thoughts, he wondered what Kagome would want, what she'd like him to do, but lost in a daze, he could not come up with an answer.

--------------

Every day, he came to Kagome’s side, put his hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently. He watched her for any changes—the slight rise and fall of her chest, the faint flutter of eyelashes, the subtle shift in her pulse. But nothing changed. Days passed, and she remained in the same state.

Each day that passed, Sesshomaru felt his own heart break a little more.

While she was sleeping, the spiritual bond they shared seemed dull. And without it, he had not realized how much he relied on her before. His world was one of darkness. With her, everything was light. She filled the void that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember. She had brought light into his life, which he had thought could never exist, and he had let her down by losing her. Yet, even if she woke up, she would never be the same. She would remember something horrible and monstrous, something that had ripped away what she loved most. In a way, she might never truly wake up.

And he did not know what to do.

“You have to open your eyes,” Sesshōmaru told her. “You have to return to me. You have to know what has happened. You have to see what I’ve had to do.”

Kagome remained still. Her eyelids did not flutter; her chest did not rise and fall. She gave not the slightest sign of hearing him at all.

“Kagome,” he spoke, his tone gaining a sharper edge. “Kagome, wake up.”

But the only response was silence.

“Wake up,” he repeated, his voice gruff. “Open your eyes.”

Still, she gave no response.

"Look at me," he said, his voice growing, breaking with desperation.

When she did not stir, he moved closer to her side on her futon. He held her hand, rubbing each of her fingers in turn, wishing he could wake her. Yet, the longer she slept, the more he began to hope that she would sleep for a long time. He knew he had no right to wish for such a thing, but he could not help but do so. In the state of sleep and ignorant of what had happened, he hoped his mate would find a semblance of peace.

He wished he could be the only one bearing the burden of this memory.

The hot sting of tears burning behind his eyes was becoming increasingly familiar these days. He kissed her hand. 'Please,' he thought. 'Please. Forgive me.'

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up from the tatami mat floor, leaving only a trace of dust in his wake. His feet instinctively propelled him out of the hut as if guided by something invisible. He walked past the glistening fields and through the village that had long ago become a part of him — a part of Kagome.

He kept walking, his mind adrift with thoughts of her until he’d reached the edge of the Western lands and found himself standing on the familiar beach where he'd once watched his father prepare to take flight and save Izayoi and Inuyasha. He felt a flicker of nostalgia, but soon it was replaced by a familiar restless rage that still churned in his soul.

He screams his anguish at the tempestuous roar of the approaching storm, wishing they would carry away every ounce of his wrath. His pain radiates outwards, crashing like waves against the walls of its confinement, hoping the rising wind will spirit away his agony.

“Did you not bequeath this sword to me so I can learn compassion?" he shouted, as if his father's soul could still hear him. "So I can learn to protect those who are precious to me? Now that I have found them… My mate. My own daughter, your sword could not bring her back.”

He opened his mouth, his chest heaving, and let out a guttural cry. But the vastness of the ocean and the wind stole his voice away, leaving a hollow void in its place. The waves roared like lions and competed with the inner turmoil brewing within him, expelling his screams into their depths. He turned to the shoreline, the sound of his tormented cries lost amidst its permanence.

His fingers trembled as he felt the handle of Tenseiga pressing against his side, hot like a blazing coal. Unbearable. With a determined grunt, he yanked the blade free and let it catch the light, its surface shimmering with a silent challenge. For a moment, he looked down at it, face twisted in hatred and disappointment.

“Damn you,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Damn you to hell, Tenseiga!”

He tossed the useless blade in the air and then glared at it, not wanting to hold it any longer. He pulled Bakusaiga out of its sheath with his left hand and swung the gleaming blade in a powerful blow, hitting the other sword squarely in the middle. He did not know what would happen, only that in his rage and maddening grief, he wanted Tenseiga obliterated. Angrily, he attacked it again and again.

Finally, hairline fissures appeared along the length of the blade before it shattered into pieces. And as he watched the broken sword fall onto the ground, Sesshōmaru pushed aside his loss and focused on the satisfaction that settled in his chest. Like a lump of burning coal, it glowed still with the orange embers of raging hatred. He stared at the useless metal shards lying on the beach. The satisfaction soon felt hollow. He turned around and walked away, leaving the fragments upon the powdery white sand.

------------

When Kagome opened her eyes, she knew something had irrevocably changed. Her belly was no longer swollen with child. It was flat, though it did not feel tender or painful. And she did not feel the push and pull of life from the other side. No thrumming heartbeat or kicks of tiny feet. It was like the silence of death. A stillness that she had not sensed in a few months, and yet, now that she felt it again, it was the most unfamiliar sensation of all.

She sat up, pushing away the sheets that covered her body. She looked around her hut, her hand on her belly, and wondered if she was dreaming. She threaded her fingers through her hair, the strands falling about her shoulders like a waterfall, the dark tresses thick and lustrous. She paused, realizing with growing alarm that her hair did not feel matted or tangled like she had remembered it in battle. It was soft, not bristly and knotted, as though the war never happened at all.

She did not have time to wonder at that oddity because Inuyasha, followed by the rest of her comrades, stormed into the hut. Their widened eyes fell upon her with an expression of surprise before they morphed into such sorrow that kicked her in the guts. 

"Inuyasha," her voice was soft as she implored her best friend. "What's happened?"

The first sound that came from Inuyasha's mouth was a suppressed sob. He tried to speak, but the words kept getting stuck in his throat. He took a breath as though to calm his erratic heartbeat. Still, he could not keep the distress out of his voice.

"Kagome... you were dead. Sesshōmaru brought you back to life, but your pup... Tenseiga wouldn't revive more than one."

Kagome fell silent. She stared at her friends with a detached gaze. She tried to process what Inuyasha said, but everything was jumbled in her head. She tried to make sense of the words, but then, the words did not matter. Inuyasha's words, the faces of her friends, her old hut... none of it mattered.

She knew what had happened.  

She felt as though she'd been kicked in the chest. She sucked in a breath and held it. Her gaze swept over the faces of her comrades, seeking some sign that her mind was deceiving her.

"How long… have I been asleep?" Kagome asked.

Inuyasha answered: "It's been almost a month, Kagome. You lay in Sesshōmaru's lap for three days and nights, and he wouldn't let anyone else near you. We thought you wouldn't wake up. But you did. Just now." His voice was rough and raspy, his throat tight, and he kept clearing it.

A month. A single month. And yet, to her, it felt like it had been years. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and then her hand instinctively lowered again to graze the bump she expected to touch on her midsection, nearly jerking when she felt only flat planes, that it did not find the evidence of her pregnancy.

And then she remembered. She remembered the battle, the yōkai she had fought tooth and nails, her wound, and the blood and the pain, and the sudden agonizing cramps and the dead weight in her belly, and then the burning, and more of the unbearable pain. She remembered the stillness on the battlefield, the blood that splattered across her face, and the blood that had poured from her abdomen as she lay on the ground.

She remembered how life had been sucked from her, and how she did die.

She remembered seeing Sesshōmaru's tearful gaze, hearing his voice and her dying words...

Kagome looked at Inuyasha and the rest of her friends again. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice soft. “Where is Sesshōmaru?”

“We don’t know,” Sango said. “He wanders, though he is always nearby. To watch over you, because you are still here. But I think… the village brings him terrible memories, so he chooses to stay away.”

Kagome nodded. “And… the pup?”

“Buried on a hill overlooking the village,” Sango said. “We picked a spot with the most beautiful view. And one where we can see from the village, so that she’d always be—“ Her friend looked away, the tears leaving streaks on her cheek, glistening under the rays of sun that filtered through the rice paper.

On her feet, Kagome struggled to take one step after another. Her body felt sluggish and strange,  unlike her own, after a few days of sleeping. She hobbled, but Sango was there to hold her arm and keep her steady.

“I need to see her,” Kagome whispered.

----------

Her friends took her to the grave they had carefully set up for her daughter. Kagome had to bite her lower lip to stop breaking down when she saw the small gravestone they had prepared for her. As Sango said, they had chosen a spot high up the hill overlooking the valley below, a peaceful place beneath an old tree. From there, she would always see the most beautiful view of the village.

Grief and rage tore at her soul as she stumbled toward her daughter's grave. When she arrived, the sight of hundreds of blood-soaked swords, each carefully stacked in ritualistic perfection, struck her with a morbidly satisfying feeling. A sacrifice to some unseen god? Or perhaps, it was a payment for the life taken too soon. A debt of vengeance paid in full. The grisly scene should have broken her heart, but instead, it filled her with cold satisfaction.

She knelt before the stone, careful to leave Sesshōmaru's gift undisturbed. For a long time, she only stared at it, wondering what she could say to her daughter who had not even known her own name. There was nothing she could say. All her words were stuck in her throat, and if she spoke, she would cry. She could not bear to see her friends cry, and have them see her cry.

A single line was carved into the stone, and Kagome traced her fingers over the flowing script. In the end, he had chosen the name that was her favourite. Tamami, or jewel. Not because of the Shikon jewel, but because Kagome imagined their child would be like a jewel in their lives, a single shining pearl on their palms.  

"Sesshōmaru named her," Inuyasha's whisper came from somewhere to her left. "He carved it on the stone himself."

Kagome had not wanted to cry, but in the end, the tears flowed unbidden. She tried to stand up and wipe the tears from her eyes. Her legs felt like lead, and she could not walk, so she crawled on her hands and knees closer to the grave. She cupped her hands and scooped out some of the dirt, smelling the earth and the grass, rubbing it between her fingers and letting it trickle through the gaps. She spoke quietly to the grave, her voice hoarse from grief.

“My little Tamami,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “I love you so much. I wish I could have protected you from the pain of the world, but it seems that you’ve already known some of it.”

Kagome turned away from the grave and smiled tearfully at her comrades. “She would have been beautiful and strong. She would have been the smartest, the bravest…”

Her shoulders shook with sobs, and she wiped her tears with trembling fingers. Those words were nothing but unfulfilled wishes now. Her azure eyes brimmed with sorrow as she looked up at Miroku, searching his face for answers.

“Is there… a heaven… for unborn children?” She pleaded, “I know it sounds silly, but… even if you have to lie, please tell me… that there is a place for her… in the afterlife.”

Miroku lowered himself to the ground and looked at her with eyes filled with kindness and compassion. “Kagome, look at the grave,” he urged her. “Do you see that statue and the stone towers beside it?”

Still sobbing, Kagome turned to look, and just as Miroku had said, she spotted the small statue in the shape of a Buddha, wearing a crimson bib and hat. Several towers of small rocks stacked on top of each other sat beside the figure.

“That is Jizo,” Miroku explained. “The guardian deity of children and travellers. He will protect Tamami’s soul and ensure she reaches her resting place in the afterlife. We built the stone towers as bribes so she’d be allowed to cross to the other side.” The monk squeezed her hand comfortingly. “So, you see, there is a place for her. And a guardian to take care of her in her parent’s absence.”

Inuyasha reached out to squeeze her other hand. “Kagome. There will be other children,” he said.

“But I won’t have her,” Kagome said, shaking her head. Her voice broke, and more tears flowed freely down her chin and onto the ground. “I’ll never have her.”

“But she will always be with you,” Sango said, kneeling beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Her soul lives on within you. As long as you remember her, she will never be gone. You will always carry a piece of her with you. In your heart.”

“You will see her again,” Miroku concurred. “Someday.”

Slowly, Kagome nodded, taking comfort in her friends’ presence and words. Before long, her heart ached for Sesshōmaru, whom she knew would feel the same grief, the same heartbreak.

“I want to go find Sesshōmaru,” she finally said. “He needs me, just as much as I need him.”

-----------

She could feel Sesshōmaru, the tugging on her heartstrings like an invisible thread leading her to him. Her feet led her to a desolate bamboo forest just beyond the village borders, and she saw his silent figure, standing still as though waiting for her. The air crackled as their eyes met, and the mating bond between them ignited.

A month after the battle, after her fall, and his unending grief, he had lost much of his bulk. His armour, which had been almost sculpted to his frame, now hung loosely, its metal plates clinking as he moved. His face was gaunt and pale, the purple and magenta markings stark against the opalescent colour of his skin, and his eyes held a heavy sadness that had not been there before.

He was a shadow of the demon she once knew. He had once been the night, but now his grief smothered his light, and his eyes lacked the golden glow they once held. She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him. She wanted to tell him that whatever it was that tormented him, she understood his reasoning. She wanted him nonetheless, and wanted the pup they had made together.

He was her mate — she loved him, whether he was there or not, and nothing could change that. But she knew that he would need time, and so she stood still, waiting for him to come to her. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched his anguish. He stood still and silent, the pain of his loss so intense that it seemed to vibrate off of him. A heavy air of grief settled over the clearing, coating everything with a palpable sorrow.

Then, she could not wait no more. She no longer hesitated when she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso. She nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck and clutched the fabric of his hankimono tightly. Her words were barely a whisper as she said:

“Sesshōmaru. It was a terrible decision, but I would have done the same.”

The muscles in his body tightened as if in anticipation of an impending shock, and then, within the blink of an eye, they all relaxed once more. He opened his arms wide, inviting her into a gentle embrace as he finally allowed himself to succumb to the depth of his sadness. His face was pressed against her hair, damp with tears, and her body shuddered with the intensity of his grief that bombarded her senses through their shared connection.

“Kagome.” His voice broke, his lips quivering against the side of her neck. “It is not meant to be this way.”

Her tears were a torrent now, her sorrow mixed with his. She felt two pains at once, her own and his. It was almost too much for her to bear, a pain that felt like it was tearing her apart. Yet, through it all, she felt a strange kind of relief. She felt lighter than she had since she first opened her eyes. She let her tears soak his chest, allowing her grief to flow out of her the way she would not let herself do with anyone else. But he was her mate, her cornerstone.

Kagome clung to her mate’s chest, her anguish evident in her shuddering breaths as she wept. Her tears trickled down onto his neck, and she leaned away just enough to press a kiss to the spot before returning her head to its place.

“I am sorry that you alone had to bear the burden of making the most terrible choice anyone could make, my mate,” she whispered against him.

He sighed heavily, tightening his grip around her shoulders. “Kagome. Our pup wouldn’t have lived… even if I chose to save her. But I wish I could. I wished I could have saved both of you."

They remained that way for a while, not speaking, not moving, only relishing the presence of each other as they grieved together. When he spoke again, his voice was still hoarse.

“I'm sorry," he said, his breath ghosting against her forehead. "I failed you."

Kagome shook her head. "No. I failed you. If I had stayed with you, if I had listened—“

"Then, you would have grieved just the same for those other children who'd have died without you to protect them, just not ours," he said.

She could not deny the truth in his words, even though it did not hurt any less. 

“You remained close by,” she observed, inching closer to him. “You must have sensed me waking up.”

“I have,” Sesshōmaru concurred, his voice deep and quiet. “I sensed you the moment you awakened. I was too much of a coward to face you head on, but I could not leave you behind either, or stray too far away from you.”

Kagome nodded and squeezed his hand in understanding, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly before pulling away enough to look at her mate with tear-stained cheeks. “I want us to visit her grave together.”

He tightened his grip around her shoulders and nodded. His voice was quiet and deep as he spoke. “Then, we will go together.”

On the way there, they were silent, merely holding hands as they walked atop the dried grass. It was early autumn, and the air was crisp, the leaves gently falling from the branches of the trees, floating on the wind. The sky was clear, and all around them, there was a sense of sadness that hung like a thick shroud, a despair that encapsulated the entire land.

The memories of the battle, and the feelings of loss, were still raw and new, spilling out of both her and her mate, and wafting in the air like a sharp scent that cut straight to the heart.

They reached the small hill where the pup was buried just as the sun was setting, and Sesshōmaru let go of her hand and approached the grave. He knelt before it, his back towards her. The lone tombstone stood against the backdrop of the horizon, a silhouette of a little girl who had not known a speck of happiness before she was swept off to an afterlife that she did not ask for.

Kagome knelt beside him and looked at him, admiration and warmth in her gaze. The faintest of smiles crossed her lips as she uttered her daughter’s name, “Tamami.” A gentle blush tinged her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes to the ground to gaze upon the gravestone.

He nodded. “You said you like the name best, if we were to have a daughter.”

Kagome looked up at him with tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “For remembering. For being strong enough to do this for me.”

He reached out and brushed away a tear with his thumb, the gesture so tender it took her breath away. “If you had been there, you would have been stronger.”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, turning her head slightly so she could place a kiss on his palm. "I doubt it, but I wish I had been anyway, so that I could have shared the grief with you."

The evening breeze, gentle and warm, brushed the silver strands of his hair and the pale hues of his skin. His golden eyes found her when he turned to look at her.

“She would have been beautiful and strong. She would have been the smartest, the bravest…” he said, almost vehemently. Despite everything, she smiled at him, her eyes brimming with tears as he recited the same words she had said to her friends in front of Tamami’s grave.

Sesshōmaru stood up, the grief still lingering, the pain of having lost his child never to be forgotten. He couldn't look her in the eyes as he spoke; he just stared off into the distance as if the sky held all the answers to his heartbreak. His usually strong hands trembled slightly as he intertwined his fingers with hers, and he released a deep, shuddering sigh before speaking.

"During the month after she died, I felt like I was walking on a tightrope, back and forth, between clinging to her memory and wanting to forget," he said slowly, his voice low and quiet. "It was like a tug-of-war inside of me; I grieved her loss and, at the same time, I felt I had to forget, lest the memory pushes me to the brink of insanity.”

“Even though I have just awakened, I know I will feel the same as you do,” Kagome replied, rising to cup his cheek, “I do not wish to dwell on her passing. It’s not what Tamami would’ve wanted. But I wish to remember her. She is our daughter, and we will always – always – remember her.”

The frown on his face did not last long. A sad smile,  filled with a deep sense of loss, plastered itself on his lips. He leaned down, his forehead pressed against hers, as he wrapped his arms securely around her. She rested her head on his chest, and his fingers ran through her hair in gentle, comforting motions.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her hair, a sentiment he never voiced aloud but proved with actions every day. As Kagome nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, she found her eyes stinging again with unshed tears. Her chest felt like it had split open, like someone had put a hand inside her and ripped it all apart. She sobbed silently against his skin and felt his arm tighten around her.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

The sun had begun to slide below the horizon, its rays fading away, and a sea of stars began to fill the sky. The moon, large and bright, cast its silvery hues on the small village blanketed below. Their grief was still raw, their emotions swirling around them in a heap of sadness. Yet, as they walked down the hill together in silence, their fingers entwined, a soft but strong connection formed between them.

With each step, their hearts seemed to heal just a little more until finally, side by side, they walked down into the village as one.