As her home came into sight through the trees, Kagome drew to a stop alongside Sesshoumaru. The sleepy haze of morning had been scorched away by the noonday sun. Gilded, the village burned her eyes as she gazed upon it. An indescribable heaviness settled in the pit of her stomach.

Her clammy hand twitched in Sesshoumaru’s cool one. She couldn’t recall placing it there, but as she blinked her brimming eyes, her grip tightened around his smooth, hard fingers—fingers that were fast slipping through hers, like the branches of that tree overhanging the edge.

Her nose and throat stung as she looked to him in desperation. It was selfish, but she didn’t want to let him go. How was she supposed to go on without him? How was she supposed to return to that house, to that bed? It seemed inconceivable. Surreal. But it wasn’t anything more than a series of steps. That was the reality. It was her own mind that was distorting the simple facts, building them up into some great, seemingly insurmountable obstacle.

Still the anxiety crushed her. A shaky whimper smothered in her throat. When his arms went around her, she pressed her pounding temple to the cold surface of his armor. Her fingers hooked in his fur and sleeves. Her tears beaded and ran gleaming down the mending metal of his chestplate.

When had she become so dependent on him? She wanted to believe that her neediness was born from some irrepressible, primal urge. She was carrying his child, after all. But the deep, secret guilt in her heart made her uncertain. It was a sentiment she had often felt over the years, though she had never consciously attempted to connect it to him until now.

And even now she was afraid to…

Afraid to make that connection.

Her mind locked against it like an iron door. Her shoulders stiffened in his hold. As he withdrew from her, her fingertips trailed numbly down his armored chest, seeking in vain for purchase—as they might have against the sheer side of that cliff, even after she’d flung herself from it. His eyes were on her, but her head was bowed. All she could feel was the weight of his stare. That, and the weight of her own reservations, heavy and centered in the band of gold shackled around her left ring finger.

“It’s time for you to go home now, Kagome.”

Her eyes met his. The expression reflected in them was unfathomable, as obscure to her as if she’d never bothered to look in the first place. Was he telling her to go, or simply reminding her of her own decision? Did it even matter?

No, of course not.

Nodding, she stepped back as he turned from her. The fine fur of his pelt brushed her ankle—perhaps by accident, perhaps not. Either way, Kagome was strangely comforted by it. As his ethereal form vanished into the shadow of the wood, her feet turned at last toward home.

In the end, it was surprisingly easy to cross that dreaded threshold, to step back into the life she’d been determined to shed herself of only hours ago. Standing for a moment in the harmless humdrum of her surroundings, she berated herself for reacting as she had. One misconstrued phrase from Sesshoumaru, and she’d been ready to pitch herself and her poor baby into the gully. Kagome shook her head.

Sesshoumaru had been right to be so harsh with her. Clearly, she’d needed a reality check. It was his gentleness and compassion she didn’t deserve. Sobered by the thought, she went about putting the house—and herself—back in order.

Her hair was still damp from her bath when Inuyasha returned that evening. He glanced around at the spruced-up dwelling. At the timely, savory bubbling of the kettle, and the placid neatness of his wife’s appearance, a smile spread across his face.

“Feeling better, huh?”

Testing the stew once more, Kagome dropped the ladle as she stood and selected a couple of bowls from the shelves. “Yeah, a little.”

Beneath the tatami mats, the floorboards creaked as he crossed over to her. Irritation prickled through her as his arms wrapped around her from behind, forcing her to set the bowls she’d just taken down aside. The tip of his nose nuzzled her ear.

“Did you go out and talk to someone, like I said?”

Kagome swallowed. Oddly enough, in a sense she had—though telling Inuyasha that she’d gone to his brother was obviously straight out. She nodded meekly instead.

“Good.” His voice fell huskily as he brought his lips to her neck. “See, if you just do what I say, things’ll be so much better for you.”

Having nothing to say to this, she curled her fingers against the table edge. As the tips of his fangs skimmed her thrumming pulse point, she repressed a shiver.

“…Aren’t you hungry, Inuyasha?” Her eyes flitted toward the steaming kettle. “The stew’s done.”

“It’ll keep,” he said lowly as he pulled her over to the bed.

Throwing a handful of sand into the hearth to dampen the flames, he pinned her down beneath him.

Now that she was ‘well’ again, her husband had no compunction making his demands upon her. It seemed to Kagome that her pregnant state had inflamed his desire for her. She could only hope the effect was temporary. As the days passed and his carnal attentions showed no sign of slacking, she entertained the idea of feigning illness just to get a reprieve from him—an idea that made her actually feel ill for even considering it.

…As ill as she felt glimpsing the worship in his eyes when he took her. As ill as she felt when she couldn’t bring herself to look at him at all.

Tonight was one of those nights. That afternoon, she’d spent a few hours serving as a model for one of Rin’s latest creations—a sweeping, multi-layered kimono, with an outer layer of floral-patterned blue silk. The girl was a talented seamstress. In the past both Kagome and Sango had stood in to help her make the final adjustments.

“…Are you sure, Rin-chan?” Kagome asked. Shifting her basket of herbs to one arm, she placed a hand to the slight swell she felt in her belly. It was a gesture that was fast becoming a nervous habit. “I wouldn’t want to throw off your measurements.”

“Oh, please, Kagome-chan,” the teenager said with a wave. “If you’re showing already, it’s barely.”

Rin’s cheery smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Knowing the reason for it, Kagome pushed her uncertainty aside and followed the heartbroken girl back to her home. Inside, swathes of silk spilled from the trunks and shelves, the various worktables littered with sewing tools and spools of thread. Lately, Rin had been throwing herself into her work with tireless passion. This fervor of hers was evident in the stacks of finished kimonos that lay piled off to one side.

She had just dressed Kagome up in the majestic gown when an imperious voice spoke from beyond the curtained door. Because his youki was suppressed, Kagome started, realizing only now that it was Sesshoumaru. Distractedly, and perhaps a little coolly, Rin bid him enter. A set of pins clenched in her teeth, she circled obliviously around Kagome’s tense, flustered form, tucking and pinching at the silk. Stepping back, Rin paused a moment to accept the wrapped parcel her guardian had brought her—no doubt another bolt of priceless silk.

Fists clenched in her fine, draping sleeves, Kagome was looking anywhere but at her brother-in-law. Her cheeks flared as she felt the heat of his eyes upon her. Despite the fact that he’d seen every inch of her naked body a dozen times over, she felt intensely embarrassed standing here in all this finery before him—like she was pretending, even for a moment, to be something that she wasn’t. Someone that she wasn’t. A dignified, elegant noblewoman—

A lady.

Rin’s soft sigh of appreciation drew her attention back. Hands clasped before her, the young woman beamed at Kagome in admiration.

“I think this is my finest kimono yet,” she declared. “And you look absolutely lovely in it, Kagome-chan.” Turning toward her silent guardian, she crossed her arms expectantly at her chest. “Doesn’t she, Sesshoumaru-sama?”

All the blood drained from Kagome’s face. And now she couldn’t help but look at him as he looked at her. His golden eyes trailed slowly over her figure, her features, before resting level with her own. In the raw, unfettered intensity of that look, he was as exposed as she was.

“Yes,” he answered, at last.

Now that look of his was all she could see. Whether her eyes were open or closed, whether mirrored in Inuyasha’s heated stare or the fiery backs of her own shuttered lids, she couldn’t escape it. No matter what, the image remained—tormenting her with her husband’s every hot, panting breath.

She was burning from it—for it. And as the realization, the sensation, consumed her, she pressed her hands to Inuyasha’s chest and gasped for him to stop.

“Huh?” he rasped out, catching her by the hip when she tried to extricate herself from him. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I…” she stammered, still straining to put space between their joined bodies. “I just—”

She bit off at the frown darkening his features. And now he was the one withdrawing from her, a wounded, defensive glare in his eyes. It pained her to see him so stricken. Knowing she was to blame for it only deepened the ache. She couldn’t do this to him. His life before her had been nothing but an unending series of rejections.

Kagome had sworn that she would never reject him.

But she couldn’t do this anymore, either. She couldn’t embrace him like this—face him like this. Not after what she’d done. Not with the thoughts that were running through her head.

Turning over quickly, she raised her hips to him. A tremor ran through her as she presented herself to him in full. Her voice was ragged when she spoke.

“I just…want to try it like this.”

The air was dense with his silence. As his clawed fingers traced over her outer thigh, Kagome struggled to breathe altogether.

“…Really?” he asked, his voice just as breathless.

As she nodded, she felt him settle behind her on the futon. Heat flooded her belly as he re-entered her at this infernal angle. With glazed eyes and parted lips, she surrendered herself to his lust and her own—praying to the gods, to her ancestors, to whoever might be listening, to have mercy on her soul.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 10/12/22

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