Kagome didn’t sleep much that night, nor the nights that followed.

Insomnia was as bad as being drunk, she decided, as she caught herself nodding off once again. Koshirou’s promises to rally and resume his place in court remained merely that—words, and nothing more. While he enjoyed his early retirement, rising from bed to watch Yahiko in his lessons, or to listen to his grown daughter Marika practice the biwa, Kagome bore the brunt of his burdens in unspoken resentment.

It was wearisome, pretending not to run a kingdom while actually running it in truth.

She felt stretched, torn. A dark voice whispered in her mind for her to stop pretending. Another voice whispered for her to simply pull up stakes and run away from it all.

But where could she run to, and what sort of life was that, anyway? Was it any better than remaining here?

At least if she stayed, she could attempt to build something. Something for Yahiko, for Mayuri’s sake. A tribute that would last, even after Kagome was gone.

“I owe it to her,” she reasoned aloud. “It’s the least I can do to atone for what happened. If there’s any chance of peace for me in this life or the next, it’s that.”

“This sort of talk sounds familiar,” Hirokin said, a sardonic glimmer in his eye. “How well did this line of thinking serve you, Kagome-sama, during your tenure in Edo?”

Kagome’s eyes flashed as she stopped before him. “This time, things will be different; I won’t make the same mistakes as before.” With reiki-limned fingers she pinched his chin. “Maybe one day you’ll learn to mind your tongue.”

Hirokin grimaced. “…Yes, my lady.”

But at the way his breath caught and his youki simmered, this was most certainly a lie. Darkly, she joined him, in relishing his well-deserved pain.

…

To help her stay awake when she was holding certain audiences, Kagome set up Natsuko near her on the dais. While Kagome entertained her guests, the shamisen player entertained her.

Vassals and visiting dignitaries loved the novelty of it. A lady’s artful touch, they praised. But there was nothing ladylike about it.

Behind a floral screen, Natsuko sat kneeling as she played, elevated on a square cushioned stool. As her soft music drifted through the screen, adding to the shadowy mysticism of the presentation, only Kagome could see her clearly. While the most tedious of petitioners droned on, Kagome could steal glimpses at Natsuko as often as she liked.

Natsuko’s flashy, embroidered kimono was arranged in such a way that when she spread her knees just right, the silky layers would part, and Kagome could see clear through to the naked junction of her thighs. It was like an offering, a sultry invitation, every time Kagome glanced over, in the midst of a sip of tea or a lull in conversation, and saw that little pink sliver of flesh peeking out at her, fringed with wispy dark curls that grew glossier as the day wore on.

By the time the last visitor took their leave, the underlayer of Natsuko’s kimono would be wet and glistening beneath the trickling outlet of her cleft. Kagome’s would be, too.

As the servants cleared the tea service, Natsuko dallied as usual in her departure. When the room was empty except for them, Kagome crossed over to her behind the screen. Catching Natsuko’s lush mouth in a hungry kiss, she trapped her to the wall and hooked her fingers into that hot, slick little crevice that had been teasing her for hours straight.

Natsuko moaned like the whore she was. Reaching for Kagome in turn, she pawed at her vainly through the back of her dress. Their breasts crushed together, tongues twining and teeth pulling at swollen lower lips.

“Don’t keep me waiting so long tonight, Kagome-sama,” Natsuko purred, as they drew away for breath.

Slipping her damp fingers between those pouty lips, Kagome said, “I’ll keep you waiting for as long as I like.” As Natsuko licked her own wetness off with a simper, Kagome smiled. “Don’t sulk, Natsuko-chan. I have a present for you.”

The younger woman’s almond eyes lit up at this. “Oh, Kagome-sama, what is it?”

“You’re so spoiled,” Kagome chided. “You’ll know what it is when I give it to you. Now, run along.”

With a feline little grin, the shamisen player flounced off, her instrument slung over her shoulder in beautiful abandon. Wiping her mouth and hands clean, Kagome smoothed out her hair and dress, preparing to leave the main hall as well. But before she could take a step toward the door, it whisked open on its track.

Startled, she glared toward it, her fingers still in her swept-up hair. The armored man who entered faltered at the sight, then glanced away, abashed.

“Kagome-sama,” the captain of the guard said to her with a bow. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but there is a matter that requires your attention.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi