Coffee Shop by Vera

Something to Protect

Author's Note: I'm a sucker for angst, especially if it's subtle, and this one shot has been bugging me all day. Had to get it out of my system. This story is different from what I've seen or written, but I hope you like it all the same. Feel free to review if you like, but it was mostly written for me, and to be shared by anyone willing to read. 

 >>>>

Two hundred days. 

Breathing deep, he allowed a small hum of pleasure to escape as the scent of coffee and freshly made deli sandwiches to fill his nostrils. Another day; things had always blurred together for the daiyoukai to a degree when it involved time. That was something he had so much of, and everyone else had so little. Ever since he started paying attention to the short life span of humans, he realized just how precious and short it was. Stopping his train of thoughts, he kept himself from being reminded of big brown eyes and a side ponytail.  As expected, the café was not very busy at this time of day – students were in school, and most of the general, working public had not yet been released for lunch. The perks of money management and keeping artifacts from his own era meant that he could take a day off when he pleased, and then return to collecting and running his museum.

“Would you like another refill, sir?” Looking up at the pleasant barista he nodded, and removed the toothpick from the second half of his sandwich before taking a humble bite, the woman scurrying out of his line of vision. Everything was peaceful; if that was one thing he enjoyed about the future, was that there were more opportunities for peace. Wherein the Feudal era had long, scattered periods of these, here, they were moderate and almost always available if one wanted it. Of course variables remained, but here he could choose when he wanted it – though he did miss the endless fields and wildlife, he had learned to adapt in the ever changing, ningen-dominated world. Youkai were far from extinct. They had simply learned to change with the times, and lived like humans more often then not. Even he had to admit it was relaxing; no land treaties, no constant threat of war (at least none he personally had to see to) and no people to worry over.

 It was just him, and he liked it that way. 

Then, she came in. Her scent hit him like a slap to the face, bringing him back to a time he had long since put behind him. Or, at least, tried to.  Genuine surprise rang through him as he observed her from the other end as she rushed it, and set in her order. Chicken teriyaki, a good choice. For a moment he worried that the miko had not yet begun her little time-traveling adventure; but, further inspection of her aroma ebbed that fear. Though faint and mixed with another medley of different scents, he could smell Inuyasha.   

Though the young woman had never been a particular interest of his, she was an idle curiosity; and her being from this time certainly answered a lot of questions he had. Part of him wanted to entertain the idea of speaking with her, but that could raise problems. Particularly since…shaking his head, he pushed that thought back, and sipped more of his coffee, watching as she grabbed the sandwich and headed out of the store in a flurry. 

One hundred and eighty days.

"When is the meeting?"

The voice on the phone wasted no hesitation. "In an hour, Mr. Tashio."

Nodding to himself, Sesshomaru had a smooth gait as he walked by the windows of the cafe he'd been in the other day. Instantly she was recognized, and he allowed himself the luxury of chuckling faintly. Ningens - such creatures of habit. It was the third time he'd seen her there, and as he moved passed the open door, he spoke in perfect harmony with herself, as she said her order: "Chicken teriyke on white."

One hundred and seventy-six days.

Previously, he had been unsure of where she stood in her Feudal adventure, but a few choice mumbled words gave him a clearer time-line. This was a few weeks after he teamed up with Naraku (a choice that still annoys him to no end), and it would be a while before she saw him again in the past. Idly...he couldn't help but wonder what would occur if he revealed himself to her here. Panic? Confusion? It wouldn't surprise him if he got an earful out of it. She always did have quite the loud mouth. Standing up for what she believed in even if the situation was clearly against her.

She was a foolish mortal in that aspect.

Rin had thought highly of her though, which was unusual. His ward had only been in contact with her perhaps a little over a handful of times - some occassions longer then others - but...she was a good judge of character, even if it had taken him some time to recognize it. After all, she chose to stay with him him, even knowing what he was; what he could do. He fought to never allow her to regret that decision.

He found himself entirely curious as to the woman who had ran around in the past as if it were nothing; who learned how to fight and accepted a destiny she had every right to refuse and turn her back on. Even the daiyoukai would not have been able to blame her if she refused the path laid out for her. It was rather ludacris, particularly after knowing the world she had come from. It only made the young woman that much more interesting and remarkable. A real testament to the good that could come from humanity.

Oh, how his father was rolling in his grave.

One hundred and fifty-nine days.

Banana smoothies.

He'd noticed that they had been a frequently ordered drink of hers: a favorite. In a funny way, it was suitable to her. Bananas were bright and sweet, versatile and able to be the difference between good meal, and an excellent dessert. She was rather bubbly, her sunny disposiition matching the yellow of the fruit - and, clearly, she was versatile, living in harmony both in her natural world, and his own.

That day, he couldn't help but pick up a few bananas on his way home, and ate one during the drive. How had he never noticed how good they were before?

One hundred and ten days.

Life got busy for him, and her too, he imagined; for when he did finally venture through the same area, it was quite a while since he saw her again. Her normally blazing spirit seemed to be dampered, and he only had to guess once as to why: Inuyasha. He knew of his brother's infatuation with the future miko, and the one who was now nothing more then a clay pot. While, in it's own way, he was showing maturity by attempting to stick with the woman he pledged himself to...no good would come of it on any side.

Sesshomaru knew the woman hurt each time his brother ventured off to see her (he could almost always smell the dead one on him during their encounters), and as she was a member of his active pack, it was shameful to put her through such things. At the very least, he could show more discretion and not be secretive. He could only assume that doing so made it that much worse for her, even if she was learning to accept it.

Her smile was never something the daiyoukai had paid much attention to before, but now that it was missing, he found that she didn't look quite right without it.

Eighty-eight days.

He could smell her dried tears, and it made him uncomfortable. How he managed to miss the emotionally distraught nature of the female before he hadn't the slightest clue. Was he too wrapped up in his own goals and world to notice her beyond what was needed? Perhaps. Much had been on his mind at the time, and she was hardly his charge; stability, in any form, had not been his obligation, nor priority. But, now?

Sesshomaru never was good at these things. In an attempt to make the miko's day a little brighter, he anonymously ensured that whatever she ordered from here on out, was covered. Getting too close, literally, would not be a good idea....but, perhaps being a faceless beneficiary would be welcomed.

         Eighty-one days.        

She seemed to be in a better mood, if the fact that she laughed after nearly tripping inside the store was any indication. Honestly, how her group got anywhere with her lack of grace on land amazed him. It eased his weary, ages-old heart to know that, if only for today, things seemed to be getting better. She had earned his respect and had certainly earned it, time and time again. While battling Naraku, if he could have saved her life at the cost of his own, he might have done it. Not because he felt affection for her (because he didn't) but, because the miko deserved someone who would do for her, what she was doing for a world she barely even knew.

Thankfully, it hadn't been necessary. If not for his sake, then for Rin's. The poor girl had been lost without him and had been, until he left her with Kaede, where she had the chance to truly come into her own, and eventually made him proud by marrying a respectable man with some land who lived in the West; he was honorable, and his home and family were safe.

That was all he wanted; that was all any parent wanted, didn't they?

Rin may not have been his by blood, but she may has well been. He loved her like his own; and, she was all he ever had as far as children. For a warlord, having a family was not particularly practical in the Feudal Era for more reason then one. He hadn't been ready at the time to truly commit to  such a thing, nor had there been any he could see himself living with peacefully. Love had not been a requirement, or even something he dared to hope or think of. But, someone who could be a friend would have been nice - and it was still something he wanted, if nothing else.

Her laughter drifted to his ears as he sat in the back, feeling content to just bask in her presence in the shop as he read the newspaper. To anyone, it must have seemed like such an ordinary day. And really, it was; but oh, how he loved it. 

Seventy-five days.

Kagome.

It's funny how he nearly forgot what her name was, but it hadn't mattered. A name...it was just that; he remembered her by her actions, her opinionated declarations and her strength, her willingness to fight for her friends and for the world. That seemed much more important then her name.

Seventy days.

Nearly a week, and he already missed the lightness she brought into his world by simply existing. He didn't need to speak to her, have any sort of contact with her; all he needed, was her to be her, and he could contently relieve moments of the past as if they were being recounted to him by an old friend. Sometimes, he would feel terrible when he saw her, if he knew they'd encountered each other. Rarely did he treat her well in those moments, or anyone, for that matter.

Yet, he couldn't wish they did not happen. He survived because of his attitude then, and he still survived because of it now, though it had matured and had been tempered by time. Of course, if need-be, he would happily let loose and allow a few choice mortals (or demons) to feel the wrath of his claws, or the terrible effects of his highly toxic poison. Old habits died hard, after all. If he had a slip every now and again, who could blame him?

Looking at the empty booth she usually sat at, he made up his decision. He would speak with her - sort of.

Sixty-four days.

Sesshomaru repressed a grin as he watched her read his note; it wasn't signed, and she did not know his penmanship, but he did speak to her as though he knew who she was. In a way, at least. Having her think that she had a stalker was not his intention.

And when she left a response, it was tucked carefully into his jacket's pocket, for later.

Forty-two days.

Why won't you tell me who you are?

Their notes thus far were utterly harlmess, and perhaps borderline flirtacious at times simply because the anonymity of it all was so enticing. She could not have a normal life - but he could give her something to revel in as a young woman. To be honest, he had expected her to ask a lot sooner then she had, which in itself showed how much she had grown over the last few months. Each day she grew wiser, even if it was hard to see beyond her youthful air.

Repressing a sigh, his pen glided effortlessly over the paper, a twinge of sadness in his words: I am afraid.

Forty days.

He was a coward.

How many enemies had be slain? What atrocious things had he done, knowing in the end, it would have been for the better? And yet, when it came to this slip of a female, none of that held a candle to the pressure of this light relationship. A wry smile crossed his lips; the mighty truly hath fallen, if he considered what he had with her any kind of relationship at all. It was nothing. Nothing more then a growing girl's fantasy and something to keep himself entertained as the days passed, one without regard for another.

Thirty-five days.

The miko was quite pretty. Long, dark hair; a petite frame with small, gentle curves and an expressive face and bright blue eyes. The passed few days he found himself simply looking at her, wondering if her hair was as soft as she imagined it might be, or if he kissed her, if she would taste like peppermint from toothpaste, or more like bananas.

It was a curious thought, and nothing more. At least, that was what he would tell himself to block out the taunting voices that reminded him of all the times he had tried to kill her in the past. How he held little to no regard for her safety until he learned how important she was to the destruction of Naraku.

Regardless of the past, things were different now. And, if he enjoyed watching her look out to the rain, as if wondering what world was inside each little droplet, then, who could tell him differently?

Twenty-seven days.

Every little nuance seemed to be so much more apparent now. The way her fingers tapped against the table to how she would blow on her tea thrice before adding a cube of sugar, and finally taking an experimental sip. Things he never paid attention before in anyone suddenly became highly important, and were logged in his memory so that it would never be forgotten. Someone would always remember how the miko liked some ranch salad dressing on the side when ordering sadnwiches; how she never left a place two minutes before or after the turn of an hour; the way she folded her napkin when they weren't being used, or even the days of the week she was more likely to wear her hair up then down.

Frankly, this imformation frightened him. Why were they so important? They were jus insignicant details that she probably didn't even realize she was doing herself, let allowed cared about.

And yet he cared.

Eleven days.

She had been bugging him for over two weeks now, refusing to give him the peace she once offered. Sesshomaru was not used to being driven crazy by things that were not present, especially in this time, but here he was, agitated over someone who was five hundred years in the past, working on saving the world from a demented hanyou. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to close - his chest constricting painfully as he tallied off another day in his mental calender. He knew what was happening, but he was powerless to stop it.

The mighty daiyoukai could do nothing more, then watch as history unfolded again, right before his eyes.

And, thoug he knew it had to be done, he had to wonder: was it truly worth it? 

Eight days. 

This will be my last letter to you. All I wish to say is that you are deserving of everything you desire.

No one is more worthy then you.

Five days.

He couldn't look at her face when she read his letter. He could smell confusion, but he didn't want that to be the last thing he saw of her. The world was an ugly place, but she....she was beautiful.

Four days.

Sesshomaru could not even bring himself to get up out of bed. It hardly seemed like a necessity as the rain poured violently outside.

Three days.

Bananas.

They'd become a staple in his home, and he wondered how he had ever lived without them for so long.

Two days.

Did he breath at all today? He couldn't tell. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, dragging out the inevitable.  Perhaps it was his curse for being what he was; able to live, but always watching as things around him went into ruin, until one day, he too, would meet his demise. Once, he would have fought tooth and nail and evade such an end.

But these days, he would welcome it with open arms - if it was truly his time to go, then, who was he to say otherwise? What had he to live for?

One day.

Unable to help himself, he visited the shop again. It was wrong of him to do so, but, he could not help it. The cofe was a familiar place to him, and helped put him at ease. While he had always enjoyed coffee shops, this one always held a particular appeal to him. There were better places for coffee; places that were closer to both his home, and his job, but rarely did he ever go there. No, Sesshomaru would go out of his way to come to this one, and this one alone. Why?

The answer literally came walking through the door: Kagome.

It was only after he saw her did his visits truly become more frequent. After all these months, he never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop that he loved to much...and it was her. The answer had always been her. A ray of bright sunlight that could clear the cloud's to anyone's day. He had not expected to see her again, but the Kami's had granted him this one last request.

She came as quickly as she left, and his head hung down slightly. His moment was over, and there would be no seeing her again after this. Fate would not allow it.

Was he in love with her? 

Not quite, though the feeling itself was unfamiliar to him, something told him that he was not far off from it. Life was so cruel. He had been searching for what he needed to thrive and it existed in another time; and now, he would never be able to grasp it. He would be forever alone, and the irony of the situation nearly made him laugh. For so long he hated humans - when Kagome, who was as human as they came, was exactly the type of person who could have swept him off his feet.

His past self never would have allowed such a thing to come to pass. However, now, in the future? It was an all too tantalizing thought.

He could feel the exact moment the well sealed for good, and his heart stilled a moment.

The miko's fate was sealed.

Finally, he had understood the meaning to his father's words, and had found something, no, someone, he could have protected.

But, it was too late. And with that realization, also came the price: under his brother's care, within her first year as his wife, Kagome would die.

The world would be poorer for it, and he would forever be lost of the knowledge to know what it would be like to be cared for by the miko, someone who could actually have the capability to love someone like him - so that he could love her in return.