AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Word Count: 3,507
Glossary:
Katana – Long Sword
KAGOME KNELT BESIDE the comatose inugami.
It had been hours since Sesshomaru had collapsed after transporting them from the scene of so much animosity and death, but they hadn’t gotten far. They were still within the large confines of the abandoned shiro.
Weariness weighed heavily upon her. Manipulating the dark magic Tatsuo had—temporarily—gifted her had taken a toll, draining her energy, while emotionally, she was wrung out by the day’s events and painful revelations. None of that mattered, however. With Sesshomaru out of commission, it was up to her to find a secure place to rest.
The shiro appeared abandoned, but she could not take for granted that she and Sesshomaru were now alone with Tatsuo and Onigumo dead.
Sesshomaru had deposited them in the middle of a wide, ornate hallway, with walls made from hard wood and white plaster paneling. On one side were wide windows to the outside running down the length of the corridor in even intervals, their screens closed. Kagome had cautiously crept to the first door on their right and slid it open, revealing a guest room. Finding it empty of any hidden occupants, she quickly grabbed a blanket and returned to Sesshomaru. Carrying him had been out of the question. She’d have to drag him—but not before removing the arrow protruding from his back.
Wincing, an apology on her lips, he remained unconscious throughout. A blessing. Until it came time to roll him onto the blanket and drag his deadweight across the threshold and into the room, at least far enough to close the door. Even with the blanket’s smooth material and the polished wax floor, her back and shoulders screamed in protest.
As temporary camps went, hiding out in one of the manor’s generously furbished and lavish bedchambers was hardly a hardship. But she couldn’t rest yet. She needed to check the surrounding area for any unseen threat, but Sesshomaru’s injuries took precedence. A quick scan revealed the bleeding had slowed, the wounds clotting exceptionally fast. Thanking his youkai heritage, Kagome stuffed linen she’d found in an ornate chest against the wounds on Sesshomaru’s front and folded beneath his back to help staunch the residual bleeding, before hurrying from the chamber.
Moving quickly so she could return to properly treat his injuries, she looked around surrounding area with Sesshomaru’s sword in hand. The first screen door she opened was on the opposite side of the hallway from their chamber. What she found made her blink in surprise, her lips parting in wonder. Though the sky was overcast with ominous clouds that threatened another thunderstorm, the inner courtyard of the shiro captivated her. White sand covered the ground, with large boulders interspersed as ornamentation. Little stone paths lead around the artistically planted shrubbery and trees, but the most eye-catching element stood at the very center of the courtyard, a magnificent cherry blossom tree.
The courtyard was encapsulated on all four sides with a square walkway and protected from the rain by a wide overhang. Her grip on Sesshomaru’s sword eased at the peaceful sight. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she went to investigate the nearby chambers. Finding nothing worrisome, she returned to Sesshomaru not fifteen minutes later to see that he hadn’t moved.
Immediately, she set about seeing to his injuries and comfort. With the utmost care and efficiency, she undressed Sesshomaru to his fundoshi, before rolling him onto his left side to reach the wounds on his back. She counted three. Two were made by arrows. One just below his right shoulder, courtesy of Onigumo, and one lower and to the left. The surrounding flesh was blackened, burned by her powers. At the sight of the arrow wound, memory surfaced, and Kagome’s chest tightened, her eyes stinging. Guilt. Remorse. Then her gaze settled on his most grievous injury
In the dead center of his back was a horizontal cut only a few inches in length, mirroring the gash just below his sternum. Tatsuo’s katana had pierced clean through Sesshomaru’s chest, just below his heart, undoubtedly intentional to prolong Sesshomaru’s suffering. Some daemons could survive direct damage to their heart, while others didn’t even require the organ to pump life sustaining blood thorough their bodies.
Could Sesshomaru have survived a pierced heart? Her own tripped in her chest, realizing just how close to death he’d come. Her fault.
Along with the burns marring his chest, where she’d held him immobilized with Tatsuo’s magic. She winced, seeing Sesshomaru’s injuries as a reflection of her own mistakes.
While tending to him, the rain renewed its assault, pounding against the tiled roof. Thinking quickly, she rummaged through the chamber, elated when she found several containers. With the smallest jaw, she collected water to slacken her thirst, while the larger vessel was filled so she could clean Sesshomaru’s wounds and bathe him as best she could. Blood was everywhere. On him. On her.
And smeared on the ground in front of their chamber. She hadn’t even finished washing him when she ran to the hallway to try and mop up the blood, but there was no erasing the scent of his spilled essence.
Rejoining Sesshomaru, she continued her ministrations with quiet tenderness. Was he paler than his normal alabaster complexion, she fretted?
By the time she’d finished, his wounds were nearly fully clotted, but she did not breathe a sigh of relief. How much blood had he lost? Had a human bled as much as he had, she’d be digging his grave by now. Yet Sesshomaru’s chest continued to rise and fall with shallow inhalations and torturous exhalation. With nothing left to do but sit and wait for him to wake, hours past. The rain had stopped again when night fell. Kagome tried to remain vigilant while Sesshomaru slept but found herself dozing on several occasions.
By first light, she knew she had to leave Sesshomaru’s side. Stomach rumbling, feeling faint, she wondered how long it had been since her last meal. Not since yesterday morning, she realized in some surprise. She’d never even gotten to taste the hare Sesshomaru had provided for her before she’d run off, chasing a little girl.
The child! Was she alright? Injured? Or had she found her way back home safely? Knowing there was nothing she could do in her current situation, Kagome offered up a quick prayer to the kami on the child’s behalf, before refocusing on what she could do.
Earlier, after rummaging through the chests and cabinets in their chamber, she’d found a paper lantern, along with candles, steel, and flint. Grabbing them, she waited to light the wick not until after she’d patrolled the surrounding halls with Sesshomaru’s sword in hand—just in case. Her senses flared, searching. Detecting no threats, she continued deeper into the castle, paper lantern held high, its flickering candle her only source of light. The shiro was fully furbished, as though the inhabitants had simply decided to up and leave, abandoning their belongings and treasures. The effect was eerie, heightening her unease the further she traveled away from Sesshomaru.
She expected someone to jump out from every dark corner or attack from rooms she passed. Nothing happened. All remained still. Too still.
It wasn’t long before she stumbled upon the kitchens. Eagerly—doubtfully, she searched the larder. With the castle’s uninhabited emptiness, she was surprised to find suitable, if humble, fair of mostly dried rice and salted, dried meats. Dare she risk a fire? She shook her head and filled a kitchen cloth full of dried fish.
She assumed the provisions were more for Onigumo rather than Tatsuo, knowing that a youkai’s diet typically consisted of meat of the fresh and bloody variety. Kagome stifled a shudder, wondering if Sesshomaru would need her to find him fresh meat, but she’d already been gone too long. Worried for him, she collected what she needed from the kitchens before retracing her steps, and lost her way. Twice. She finally found her way back to find a still slumbering Sesshomaru.
Should she try and wake him?
Kagome settled a palm over his brow. Though his skin was dry, he was cool. No sign of a fever, thank kami. Still, after checking his wounds she dipped a cloth in a bowl of water and forced a few drops down the inugami’s throat. For long moments, she painstakingly repeated the process. Surely, even a youkai needed to keep hydrated, and having little else to do, Kagome cared for Sesshomaru the best she could.
What truly worried her was not once had the powerful inugami stirred. Not when she poked and prodded his injuries, while she bathed him, or even when she feed him water. Not a groan left his lips, not a flutter of his silver lashes. There were even moments she feared he’d stopped breathing all together, but each time she checked his pulse, she felt a low, steady beat, and when she’d hover her hand over his face, she felt his moist breath brush against her palm.
Left to wait, she tried not to sleep too deeply, needing to stay vigilant for any sign of approaching danger, or should Sesshomaru’s condition turn for the worst. She, also, tried not to remember.
The last was the hardest of all—impossible to obey.
She remembered first meeting Sesshomaru, the massacre at the Inu no Kami’s shrine that followed. The instant, insane attraction she felt towards the enigmatic inugami, the fear of her family learning her folly. Their contract.
Had it ever been real? Other than gaining the ability to commune telepathically with one another, all she really had was his word that their covenant had existed. She was inclined to believe it had. Why else would Sesshomaru lie about being unaware of the bandits’ approaching her village? Of allowing her village to be destroyed. Or the death of her obaasan.
Her memories of that terrible night were chaotic, but the morning after she remembered clearly. Sesshomaru had wanted her to be angry, had wanted her to go after the bandits and make them pay for what they had done, and when she had refused, he’d forced her to seek vengeance—as part of their contract.
No, she was certain it had been real, so when had he dissolved their agreement? How had he? More importantly, why had he? When forging their contract, he’d wanted her willing cooperation. But by marking her as a possession, he’d stollen her free will. Their contract had been temporary. His mark was permanent.
What had changed to make him want to…keep her, essentially? He hated ningen, despised miko.
Did that mean he…cared for her? In some twisted fashion.
“Onigumo is under the impression that you care for this girl. That you might love her.”
Sesshomaru’s answer was still capable of lancing her heart. “You are a bigger fool than he to believe such nonsense.”
Then she frowned, wondering why his reply bothered her so much. Surely, she didn’t love the lying daemon? She snorted. But she did care. Far too much to be wise.
Her thoughts continued, trying to unravel the tangled web she found herself caught up in with Sesshomaru.
“Why did you save me?” she remembered asking him, after Onigumo had tried to murder her.
Why…does a male…do anything…foolish, if only for…the female…he…has come to…care for...?
Was it all a lie? She shook her head. Sesshomaru had saved her life, had taken an arrow to the back for her. After taking a blade to the chest—because of her. That was not the act of one who was trying to manipulate her feelings—not like before.
At the risk of his own life, he’d saved hers.
I couldn’t end you... Not even at the expense of my life.
The tears she’d been striving to hold back flooded her eyes and spilled down her face in rivers. From the beginning, he’d wanted something from her. Her innocence. To open her eyes to the darkness within herself and revel in it.
What had he wanted when he’d changed their relationship by making her his pet? She didn’t know, but what she did know was that an inugami did nothing for free. They were selfish, self-serving creatures. And yet, when she’d sought his death, he hadn’t tried to kill her in return. Hadn’t abandoned her to her fate. He’d saved her, expecting nothing in return.
Even though I knew I probably couldn’t change you back to the way you were before…
Sesshomaru’s words haunted her.
Did he no longer desire her corruption? Hadn’t that been his whole aim from the start? Only to realize, not once since he’d rescued her from the town’s people bent on Onigumo’s murder had he mentioned their contract, or his desire to see her overcome by darkness. A silly observation. They’d only recently been reunited since then before she’d been captured by Tatsuo, but the events of the subsequent battle made her wonder.
Her memories were murky, shrouded by shadows, but a part of her had been aware. During their battle, he’d held back. It was especially true when he’d kicked her in the face. She bore the bruises, felt the pain in her jaw whenever she opened her mouth to drink or eat. He could have easily shattered bone. Broken her neck.
He’d held a sword to her face—but never swung.
Kagome shook her head, confused. Certain that she was merely being fanciful, attributing Sesshomaru’s actions to be more than what they actually were.
And yet…
When I feared that you were lost, I couldn’t end you.
Sesshomaru had even admitted to caring for her, if indirectly.
Back and forth her mind went, causing a headache to form.
Looking down at him, a tear fell from its perch at the tip of her nose, to splatter across his cheek. Careful not to disturb him, she wiped the droplet away, the gentleness in her touch giving away her own feelings.
“Please, don’t die, Sesshomaru.” A heartfelt whisper that fell on deaf ears. Or so she thought.
Sesshomaru startled her by cracking his eyes open, revealing a sliver of gold. Heart pounding, Kagome placed a hand over the fluttering organ, feeling unaccountably shy. “Sesshomaru? How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?”
After washing away the blood, she’d gently moved him onto another blanket that was clean and dry. The tatami mats were soft, and she’d been able to find a pillow for his head. She’d, also, found a pair of hakama that should fit him but had decided against jostling him further by putting them on him. Instead, she’d covered him with another blanket.
You’re alive...?
Kagome frowned. “Of course, I am. Why would you think...?”
Sesshomaru closed his eyes and turned his head towards her, nose twitching. She could hear him scent the air, watched his chest rise and fall. Was he…smelling her? She felt it, heat climbing up her face, and she berated herself for her foolish reaction.
I saw you die… Many times. Were they dreams? Or…is this a dream?
Kagome’s breath caught, eyes widening. When she remained silent, his eyelids opened, and she noticed a glazed quality to them. Quickly, she felt his brow. Had he caught fever without her knowing? But no, his skin was still cool. Frowning, her fingers traced down his temple to cup his cheek, thinking perhaps she was wrong, but his skin was cool to the touch.
A jolt went through her when he nuzzled into her palm. Tenderness flooded her—unbidden—as she stroked his cheek. He seemed to like that. “This is no dream,” she murmured. “I’m alive. Because of you. You saved me.”
His chest rose and fell heavily on a sigh. His relief was palpable. I thought I had failed you, over and over again.
Why was he saying such strange things? Was he delirious?
“Why is it so important to you that I live?” She bit her bottom lip, knowing her prying was unethical. Sesshomaru was injured and obviously not in full control of his faculties. She had just opened her mouth to take back her question and encourage him to rest when she heard his voice, like velvet, rubbing through her mind. But his voice was weak, thready.
Can’t bear the thought of you dying.
“Because you still wish to change me, to corrupt me?” She was despicable, taking advantage of an invalid, yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. What was she to him?
He shook his head wearily, confirming her suspicions. I wanted more. I wanted you for myself.
Her heart skipped a beat. “You could have just asked me. You didn’t have to bind me to you. I’m not a thing to possess!” Anger spewed like venom from her tongue. Shocked by her vehemence, she clapped her hand over her mouth, an apology on her lips when he spoke.
Not a thing. A gem. My gem.
She didn’t know what to think of his admission. Certainly, her heart should not be galloping a mile a minute. To give herself a moment to think, she encouraged him to lift his head by wrapping her arm under his skull, and placed a cup of cool water at his lips for him to drink. He did so without a word, eyes closed. Trusting her. Relying on her.
After lowering him back down, her lips formed the question that was burning her tongue. “Do…you care for me?”
I was blind.
Not understanding his ramblings, she wondered if he was serious, before guilt assaulted her. Rather than putting him under an inquisition, she should be treating him. He was her patient. What if he truly had lost his sight?!
“Sesshomaru—” Her hands fluttered over him, intending to do a thorough check of his eyes when he interrupted her.
You cried. Were always crying.
Nonplused, she stared at him.
My fault. I was cruel, selfish. I hurt you. I deserved your tears. Your anger. Your hatred. But you didn’t deserve to die—for my sins.
His eyes opened, half-mass, as though still half-asleep, but his amber gaze was rapt on her face. What have you done to me?
“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Confusion quickly morphed into anger, only for her time to just…stop when next he spoke.
Thoughts of you consume me.
Her entire being held still, afraid that if she moved, this moment would shatter and be lost forever.
When you chose Onigumo over me, I was enraged.
That was not what she expected, and it was on the tip of her tongue to argue. She had most assuredly not chosen Onigumo over him! And she was sick and tired of having such a ridiculous assumption throwing in her face. By both Sesshomaru and Onigumo.
Men! Instead, she bit her tongue, unwilling to interrupt this strange openness of Sesshomaru’s, unwilling to miss a single syllable.
I was going to let you go and be damned with our contract. I had just gifted you with the perfect revenge, yet, ungrateful wench, you threw my benevolence back in my face. I told myself winning our bargain had lost its appeal.
Kagome’s fists clenched, the temptation to snarl all too fierce. If not for the change that altered Sesshomaru’s expression, she would have blasted his ears with a taste of her mind.
I’d been deceiving myself. I knew then that I had lost but was unwilling to accept it. Her hands loosened, the rigidness of her spine collapsing as she tried to decipher the look in his eyes that had gone soft. Gentle. You are not what I had expected. Never had she seen such a look upon his face. What did it mean?
Jealousy… Such a disgraceful affliction. And over a ningen warlord. I desired for you to choose me, even above your sense of duty.
“But I didn’t choose you. You made me your possession.” Her heart twisted. “You took away my choices for your own selfish desires.” She remembered Onigumo and his…infatuation.
The warlord who fell in love with a miko, Tatsuo had taunted.
…you care for this girl…might love her… Tatsuo again, whispering insidiously to her even beyond the grave through her memories.
No, this wasn’t love. Not Onigumo’s crazed fixation, nor Sesshomaru’s extraordinary revelations.
“You sound…obsessed.” The thought was thrilling, yet terrifying. To be the object of an inugami’s habitual desire was electrifying, filling her with a new found confidence—as a woman. A femme fatale.
But the sensible part of her was highly disturbed, even fearful of the half-delirious male lying before her. A distressing thought nagged at the back of her mind. If he was willing to go as far as to secretly subjugate her, what wouldn’t he do to secure her?
Sesshomaru closed his eyes and was silent for so long, she though he’d fallen back to sleep when he spoke, quitter still.
Obsession would be easier to bear.
“What do you mean?”
If this was mere obsession, I wouldn’t care what you thought, how you felt. Yet that is all I think about anymore. Hurting you causes this strange ache in my chest. Sesshomaru began rubbing a spot just over his heart. Seeing you cry steals the very breath from my lungs. What have you done to me, Kagome?
Kagome. Not miko. Not aijin.
Because she was staring at him so intently, she noticed the muscles around his mouth relax, his features softening. Even his breathing had altered. Subtle. He was asleep.
Kagome signed, shoulders sagging. She placed a hand over her own rapidly beating heart, while staring at the clawed hand that continued to cover his own. Her mind was at war with her heart, her emotions a confusing vortex of pain…and tenderness.
Her thoughts turned bleak.
She wasn’t a person to Sesshomaru but something to possess. A gem, he’d called her, but a possession nonetheless. Something to take rather than cherish. Something to own than to share a mutual commitment. For all intents and purposes, he was her captor.
Yet, he claimed to care about what she thought and how she felt. It was hard to believe when his actions proved otherwise. But if true, it showed a side of him she’d never expected to see from him: remorse.
She sighed, finding herself tracing the dual stripes along one of his chiseled checks. “What am I to do with you?”