Upon her throne, Kagome sat, sweet smoke curling from the stem of her long, slender pipe. Only Ikiryou shared the dais with her.

It was unconventional to say the least, to have such a great beast of a dog occupying the space her husband alone might have shared—but this was her castle, and she did as she pleased.

Every now and then between puffs, she reached over to stroke Ikiryou’s neck or scratch him behind the ears. Curled on his side, asleep, he stirred, rumbling faintly. Seated below them in the hall, her gathered generals made their pitches while the servants bustled about as discreetly as possible, refilling cups and taking away empty plates. This war council had been going on since early morning, without reprieve.

One by one, the men presented their strategies for Kagome to vet. Subtly, she pitted them against one another. In this way, she let them perform the hard work of sussing out the flaws and advantages for her. She wasn’t a militarist by any means, but she did know people. More so than paying attention to the specifics of battle formations, counter-measures, and the like, Kagome studied the expressions of these martial men. Some were grizzled, wizened and cautious; others were younger, more hot-headed and ambitious.

Bloodthirsty, even.

From the mixing together of these various personalities and egos, Kagome formulated a strategy of her own. She could see where one man faltered in his confidence; or blindly overestimated himself. She could see where the majority agreed or dissented—for her, it was like reading words straight from the page. A downturn of the lips or a glint of the eye revealed much to her. With a great deal of condescension, even Hirokin had admitted that Kagome had a intuitive knack for it—and had deigned to teach her a few tricks of his own.

“It is almost too easy,” he had said with a wave. “You humans are so painfully expressive.”

Kagome had taken that as a lesson from him as well. Her face was like stone, utterly cool and unreadable as she smoked her pipe, petted Ikiryou and let these men of war have it out while she presided over them from on high like a statue of the Buddha himself. When at last they seemed through hashing it out, she held up her hand for pause, and then held them suspended in silence for a while yet.  The smoke lent a ghostly haze to the still air, like incense before the altar of a shrine. The red sunlight streaming in through the open shutters seemed to smolder as it spilled across the floor at Kagome’s feet.

“Isami will lead the siege against Hiromi castle,” she decided. “The rest of you will stand by for now.”

Looks ranging from dark triumph to grudging acceptance flickered across the faces of the assembled generals. But she had given her pronouncement, and there was nothing more to be said. With a glance toward the burnished balcony, and the purplish mountains looming beyond it, she dismissed them. Bowing low before her, the generals rose to depart.

The last one to leave was Saigo Isami. He was one of the younger generals among the lot, not much older than Kagome herself. Though heir to a small fiefdom, his horizons clearly extended far beyond it. Despite the fair, aristocratic cast of his features, so classically cool and serene, he carried a violent air about him. In some ways, he reminded her of Kohaku—and of Ren. With a predator’s smooth gait, he turned and retraced his steps to her, inclining his head once again.

“Kagome-sama,” he addressed her still profile, “how fares your lord husband? I meant to inquire before, but there was not the chance.”

Kagome turned to face him. Taking a slow draw from her pipe, she unpacked all that was layered into this seemingly courteous remark. No, there was not the chance to ask after Koshirou because he wasn’t important enough to warrant the pause for it. But as for the question itself—

“The same, Isami-dono,” she replied, taking Ikiryou by the scruff as he started to bristle. “No better and no worse. He stays abed to conserve his strength. I don’t see that changing.”

“Yet surely it must,” Isami insisted, and she could hear the steel beneath the smoothness, like a blade sliding from its sheath. “One way or another.”

Kagome’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “I suppose,” she said. Then after a beat, “How nice of you to show such concern for your liege lord’s welfare.”

“Not merely for his,” Isami replied, taking another step forward. “I hold you in high regard, Kagome-sama. I take it that by entrusting this campaign to me, you esteem me as well?”

With her eyes, Kagome weighed him from head to foot. “Win it, and we’ll see.”

At the brazen trail of her gaze, his dark eyes burned. She could see the savagery in that look, and knew he’d assail Hiromi castle all the more fiercely for it. Good, Kagome thought. Bringing the pipe to her mouth again, she curled her lips around the stem deliberately enough for him to read into it however he liked. The corner of his lips curled slightly in turn.

Kagome thought of counter-measures.

At her side, Ikiryou growled. She dug her nails into his scruff, and he was subdued.

“My lady,” General Isami said, his eyes burning still as he departed from the hall.

In his heated wake, Kagome’s gaze returned to the western mountains. They would be hers soon enough, and so they would be Yahiko’s. An inheritance no man would threaten, so long as she drew breath.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi