Kagome had been expecting to see a long line of petitioners awaiting her on the veranda outside. For several days she’d held no audiences as she’d attended to Kaede and the funeral preparations. In hindsight, she supposed this should have been her second sign that something was afoot.

Inside the main hall, a small crowd milled about, awaiting their turn to be heard. They hailed Kagome and made way as she stepped past, but the miko’s gaze was riveted on the raised tatami platform at the back, and the proud, handsome samurai captain who knelt upon it, looking for all the world like a king holding court.

“Ah, Kagome-sama,” Ren said smoothly as she approached, cutting a swathe through the reverent throng. Standing from the silk cushion, he bent low at the waist. The soldiers and scribes who flanked him followed suit—though they lacked his artful flourish. “It is good to see you well this day.”

Kagome didn’t like the little barb of insinuation in his greeting, but she beamed her most serene, radiant smile at him nevertheless. “Thank you, Ren-heichou, for serving as my proxy here, while higher spiritual concerns demanded my attention. I know it must have been taxing for you, since you’re a man of the sword.” Turning fully to the crowd, she added, with a touch of reiki to infuse surreal brightness to her expression, “Bless you all for your patience. Return tomorrow, and I will give you my counsel.”

Bowing, the petitioners withdrew in awe—the wealthiest among them leaving offerings of coin and jewelry at her feet. Kagome barely spared this a glance. Miroku’s monks would sort through all of that, later.

As soon as the last of them had gone, she turned back to Ren and his entourage, her expression clear and hard. The samurai smiled thinly. Though his voice retained its patented smoothness, a note just as hard underscored it, as he held her gaze.

“Leave us,” he said, and the armored men who surrounded him—a few of whom were Kohaku’s men, Kagome didn’t fail to notice—marched promptly out.

Kagome’s expression remained flinty. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you, Ren-san? What’s this new stone wall I see being raised, and on the hill beyond this one, I could’ve sworn I glimpsed some foundations going up.”

“The funny thing about having an army, Kagome-sama,” Ren said, as he stepped down from the platform to approach her, “is that it tends to attract others. How long did you intend for Edo to go without a clear seat of power? The castle I’m raising will prove that such a seat exists, regardless of who sits it.” Kagome’s eyes narrowed at this, yet the samurai merely smiled. “I cannot speak for the minds of demons, but in the eyes of men this show of strength and solidarity matters most. As for the wall of stone, it sends a message equally clear, and I can tell you that in just these few days you’ve been absent, there are merchants and gentry lining up to secure a spot behind it—at great cost, I might add.”

Kagome didn’t doubt it. “Edo is different,” she maintained, coolly and firmly. “Edo is a holy place, and I won’t confuse religion with politics here.”

“I would never dare presume, Miko-sama, to force you to bear a title you do not want.” His gaze sharpened upon her. “And you do not want it—that much is clear. Be honest with me: you do not wish to rule.” As Kagome’s spine stiffened, he continued swiftly on, “But neither do you wish to be ruled. There is a difference, and I hope you’ll trust me when I say that I can understand and respect this.”

Warily, Kagome eyed him, her jaw set despite the chord he’d struck. “So, what is it you’re proposing, exactly?”

“Only the outcome which has been most obvious and inevitable from the start,” he said, his tawny eyes glinting at her. “A formal cementing of the alliance between us.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi