The next few days passed in utter boredom for Kagome. After reopening her wound, Kaede had made it her personal mission to be on the younger miko’s case about not straining her arm, and so she was forced to idle about and try to amuse herself as best she could without doing any sort of strenuous physical activity. Training was out, of course, but under the circumstances Granny Kaede had extended the meaning of “strenuous” pretty broadly, enlisting Rin and Shippou to help her with her daily chores instead.

Kagome couldn’t remember the last time she’d actively wanted to do laundry or scour pots, but it beat the heck out of just sitting around doing nothing. Back in the old days, she would have killed for this kind of free time to spend on her studies. Just the thought of poring over her notes and textbooks and various academic subjects felt like a dream now.

Well, Kagome reflected, maybe not Algebra…

She didn’t want to bother Miroku and Sango–they had their own recoveries and apparently their own tasks to attend to around the village. Shippou and Rin were preoccupied, of course–either helping the older miko or playing with the other village children and Ah-Un. Even Entei had better things to do, his fiery mane bent low as he grazed with Mo-Mo at the edge of the woods.

And Sesshoumaru was a lost cause. When he wasn’t spacing out staring at Tessaiga, he was spacing out staring at nothing. She’d tried a few times to engage him, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood. A couple of icy glares at interrupting his meditations, and even she knew when to throw in the towel.

So she’d settled for watching Toutousai work his way through the mountain of free commissions he’d been forced to undertake. After the seventh or eighth knife sharpening, though, they really all started to look the same. The only other being around who seemed as stir-crazy as herself was Jakken, who’d taken to running to and fro, fetching water or whatever else Toutousai needed to complete his smithing duties. Reluctant as she was to give Jakken any credit, the busybody imp did seem to have the good common sense not to annoy Sesshoumaru right now.

More than a little jealous of Jakken’s industriousness–and more than a little irked by this knowledge–Kagome found herself going out of her way to pick fights with him. It was petty, of course. But it was also easy. And it gave her something to pass the time.

“Will there be anything else, Master Toutousai?” Jakken asked, setting down a brace of buckets at the swordsmith’s side.

“No, no,” Toutousai grumbled with an irritated wave. “Leave me be!”

“Yes, Master,” the imp said glumly, sinking down onto a nearby rock.

“You can fetch me some water, if you don’t have anything better to do,” Kagome suggested dryly.

Jakken sprang to his feet at once, predictably outraged. “Fetch it yourself, wench! This Jakken does not take orders from mere humans.”

“Now, let’s see,” Kagome said, her eyes squinting in feigned concentration. “Your ‘master’ over there is taking orders from humans. So, by the transitive property, that means you are, too.”

“Tr-‘transitive’…?–what nonsense are you saying?!” the imp spluttered, looking for all the world like an angry, animate pickle. “Speak plainly or not at all, mortal scum!”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you: if you are serving Toutousai, and Toutousai is serving humans, then that means you are essentially serving humans, too.”

“Ridiculous!” Jakken seethed, a big oily drop of sweat breaking out on his brow nonetheless. “Your twisted mind games will not work on me, miko!”

Said miko sighed, rising to her feet. “I give up.”

Maybe a walk would do her some good, Kagome told herself for the fifth time that day. But instead of just ambling around the village, she made for the forest instead. She might find something of interest there–like a tree with patterns in its bark, or a particularly colorful rock.

Mustering as much enthusiasm as she could for these exciting discoveries to come, she ventured past the treeline. Most villagers didn’t traverse this part of the woods. A distinct magical energy hung over the place. The trees were older and more secret, their shadows longer than those of their younger counterparts. But having actually gone up against real monsters, mikos like Kagome and Kaede weren’t quite so superstitious. Though eerie, there wasn’t anything malicious about this spot.

Drawing up beside the stream, she recollected that this was the place, too, where they’d caught Sesshoumaru bathing the other day. Lying down on a sun-warmed stretch of stone, Kagome remembered how the water had glinted from his chiseled chest, his beautiful silver hair streaming in dark gleaming rivulets down his shoulders and back. His right arm had been extended just before him, the muscles flexed and taut–and she knew what it was he’d been doing before they’d arrived.

The thought sent a little thrill through her, her hand slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans seemingly of its own accord. Though she hadn’t been able to see anything below the rippling surface of the stream, she’d noticed how large the angle was from his arm to his body and couldn’t help but think that the gossip she’d once overheard about youkai size wasn’t such a rumor, after all. Imagining those strong, elegant fingers wrapped around his hard length had Kagome opening her legs a little wider. The stricture of her jeans felt unexpectedly good against her sensitized flesh–as she slid her fingers down through her soft thatch of curls, finding the little nub that was aching to be touched.

She was halfway gone when she felt a cool shadow fall over her.

Blinking open her eyes, she froze in shock as Sesshoumaru’s dark gold gaze skewered her where she lay. Her hand was still down her pants, fingers curled around her soaking mound. She itched to withdraw it, but the idea of being caught wet-handed seemed somehow even more embarrassing than her current state.

Scarcely breathing, she could only stare as his simmering eyes slid down the length of her body, resting for a moment between her spread legs before returning to her flushed face.

“Keep going,” he said.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi