In Kagome’s mind, there was not a minute to lose. Having set Miroku to task, she turned her attention to other matters—settling disputes, listening to petitions, overseeing expansions both militaristic and civilian. Ren was almost always at her side, ready to offer counsel or take responsibilities into his own hands, but ever since his overreach back at the raising of the gates, Kagome was reluctant to hand the reins over to him.
As the hours wore on, she could feel herself wearing thin from the effort. Without her even realizing it, several days had passed. She hadn’t been home in just as many. For the sake of remaining close to court, she’d taken to sleeping in a nearby weapons shed, which the soldiers and monks had endeavored to make more suitable for her. But even with the swords and armor replaced with silks and incense, even with tatami covering the rough wooden boards, the place was still close and drafty and iron-scented, and the few hours of rest she managed to catch there were far from peaceful.
She was running on fumes, she realized grimly. And preoccupied as she was with her work in Edo, Sesshoumaru was never far from her thoughts. Like an aftertaste he lingered in her mind, bitter and unrelenting.
Raw-eyed, stifled, Kagome held her last audience of the evening, and in the sliver of time that remained before night would set in and render her surroundings inhospitable, she ventured out into the fold of the wood. Despite the biting chill, at once her lungs seemed freer to breathe. A dusting of snow glittered in the skeletal branches, seeming almost warm to her as it blazed in the light of the dying sun.
She let her feet carry her where they would. As her blood began to cool, she took a few sips from the little flask of sake she kept in her pocket, and felt the heat of her cheeks burn the coldness away. Her thoughts quieted from their usual din. There was only the crisp snap of the branches beneath her, the strident calls of winter birds ringing in the air.
All was brisk and clear and uncomplicated. Only when Ikiryou turned from her side, slinking off fox-like through the trees did she pause, vaguely disquieted. He was staring back at her almost anxiously, his golden eyes glinting as he barked at her and took off again. After a moment of hesitation, Kagome followed after him.
“Ikiryou!” she called out, as he vanished beneath a thicket of brambles. Circling wide around it, Kagome muttered a curse, plucking a thorny tendril from her sleeve. “If this is another stupid rabbit hole, I’m going to—”
The miko drew short.
Wreathed in hues of reddish-gold, Sesshoumaru’s pale glowing figure materialized through a shadowy arbor of evergreens. Soundlessly, he advanced toward her, as Ikiryou glanced back at her with a tilt of his head.
The nails of Kagome’s free hand bit into her palm. It wasn’t her brother-in-law’s sudden appearance which had caught her off-guard—it was her failure to detect it. For he was well inside her barrier, and she’d never sensed him pass.
“Funny running into you out of doors,” she said, steeling her features. “You must be on your way to see Rin-chan.”
“No,” Sesshoumaru replied, stepping closer still. “It’s you I wish to see.”
As the dog rose from his haunches and slipped off into the woods again, the daiyoukai drew to a stop a few paces from her. Silent and looming, he regarded her, perfectly still. Kagome scowled.
“Are you really just going to stand there and stare at me?”
Much like Ikiryou, Sesshoumaru cocked his head to one side. “What’s that tucked away in your sleeve?”
“You know what it is,” she said irritably, the red-stitched hem falling back from her wrist as she extended the flask toward him with a shake. “Want some?”
To her chagrin, he reached out to take it. Kagome suppressed a shiver as his claws grazed the delicate insides of her fingers, which unfurled with a start. Taking the flask up as it fell, he regarded her a beat longer—then, without so much as the faintest flicker of expression, he turned and pitched the little bottle so far into the depths of the woods that Kagome never hoped to hear it land.
Her mouth fell open in an affronted gasp. Her eyes cut flashing back toward him.
“You—if you didn’t want it, you could have just said so!”
But Sesshoumaru’s look was severe.
“You are in a sorry state,” he said coldly, as her mouth snapped shut. “Your skin is pale, your eyes are ringed. When did you last sleep?”
Recovering, Kagome squared her shoulders. “Last night, as a matter of fact—”
“Do not lie to me.” She swallowed dryly as he closed the scant distance between them. The flare of his aura scorched her almost as much as the glare in his eyes. “You were not home last night, nor the night before that.”
Kagome glared back just as hotly. She was really going to have to strengthen that barrier…
“So what?” she retorted. “That doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been resting elsewhere. I’ve been busy. You may not have noticed it, your lordship, but I’m a pretty damn important person around here. I have plenty of things to do besides attend to you and your sick perversions. And I don’t appreciate you keeping tabs on me, whatsoever.”
“Busy,” Sesshoumaru repeated darkly, hooking a claw into her collar and dragging her face just that much closer to his. “Yes, you’ve been busy—distracting yourself to the point of delirium, playing at castles and soldiers while you avoid the inevitable.”
Kagome frowned, jerking herself loose from his hold. “I’m not ‘avoiding’ anything.”
“No?” Slowly, the daiyoukai retracted his hand, the crimson light of sunset filtering menacingly through his claws. “How many nights has it been, since you last ‘attended’ to me?”
“Three,” Kagome answered tersely.
“Seven,” Sesshoumaru bit back, the word striking her like a lash.
“…No,” she muttered, shaking her head, which was beginning to ache. “That can’t be right.”
She racked her mind for discrete memories, but now in her panic it seemed that there was only one night that had passed since she’d last been with him. Even the intervening hours of day had dimmed and obscured, melding with that night—that terrible, interminable night…
Kagome’s eyes squeezed shut as she drew in a bracing breath, the hysteria rising like water in her lungs. Desperately, she glanced up at the waxing moon to ground her, and in its present phase she knew Sesshoumaru must be right. Her shoulders sagged as she hugged her arms around her.
“You are weary,” Sesshoumaru said, guiding her flushed face back to his with the cool press of a finger. “You are distressed.” His voice had lost its icy edge, yet somehow this only unsettled her further. “When this happens, you begin to lose your bearings. You begin to forget.”
Kagome set her jaw, refusing to meet his gaze. Still, she could feel his eyes boring into her—not in censure, but with a force that was just as disturbing in its intensity.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Then tell me, Kagome, if you can,” he asked her lowly, “who was it that killed Inuyasha?”
Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi