The sprawl of the outlying township had grown. It seemed quite prosperous here, and Kagome was glad. She strolled through the markets and streets, unrecognized and unremarked upon. It was a bustling place, so the presence of strangers passing through wasn’t an uncommon thing, she supposed.

A monk at the temple balked at Ikiryou. But a few gold coins in his hand, and all was forgiven. Taking in the sights of the buddhas and altars, Kagome ventured on to the quiet yard that lay beyond them. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for, until she found it resting beneath the scarlet-fringed boughs of a maple tree—

Mayuri’s grave.

As Ikiryou sat back on his haunches, Kagome knelt before the stone. Her fingers trailed over the etched characters. Tracing the smooth curve of one, she remembered the bow of Mayuri’s lips, how they’d pouted and how they’d quirked. So impish and full, like the gleam in her sloe-dark eyes.

In Kagome’s mind, she was perfect.

“Mayuri,” Kagome whispered, bowing her head in love and regret. “Mayuri, I’m so sorry…”

“Kagome-sama?”

Tensing, she stood. As her eyes cut to the approaching figure, Ikiryou padded between them, lowering his spear-shaped head.

“…It is you,” her addresser said, his sallow cheeks paling a little at the dog’s hulking menace.

Ikiryou didn’t like strangers getting too close to her—particularly strange men. Kagome often forgot how frightening he could be. Touching a hand to his bristly brow to quell him, Kagome gave the man a nod of respect.

“Koshirou-sama. Sorry for the intrusion—I was just passing through, and thought I’d stop by to pay my respects.”

Tastumi Koshirou, lord of the region, took her in with his sharp, hawkish eyes. Kagome appraised him in turn. He had a jaundiced complexion, which hadn’t improved since she’d seen him last. He looked thinner too, though he held himself proudly upright to compensate. Despite his sickly demeanor, he had the fine patrician features of a feudal aristocrat, and the noble bearing to match. He was perhaps twice Kagome’s age. A few threads of silver shot through the long, low-bound tail of his hair.

His eyes slanted to the grave. “Mayuri-chan—you remember her?”

The familiarity of the honorific caught Kagome by surprise. After a moment, she nodded.

“She was…my friend,” Kagome answered, with difficulty. “Though I only knew her for a short time, I’ll never forget her.”

“She had a way of leaving an impression.” Lord Tatsumi’s lips curved, slight and inscrutable. “You remind me of her.”

Kagome blushed a little, though she wondered why. There was something subtly pointed in his words. As he stepped forward to stand before the grave himself, Kagome drew back in deference. For a little while, he considered the stone, as a summer breeze sighed hot and heavy through the rustling maple leaves.

“She was my mistress for many years,” Lord Tatsumi said abruptly. “Her son Yahiko is mine. When we discovered she was with child, I married her off to a childless widower, to avoid a scandal. Now he is dead, and my son—my only son—is an orphan, foisted upon distant relatives who aren’t even of his blood. Yet how can I claim him? To do so would disgrace us all.”

Kagome gaped. Needless to say, the bomb he’d dropped on her left her in total shock. She had no idea how to respond.

Lord Tatsumi turned toward her, frowning. “I don’t know why I told you this. Forgive me.”

Kagome shook her head, still reeling. “…It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” She mustered a smile. “You might say I’m used to people confiding their troubles to me.”

Lord Tatsumi returned the tepid gesture. “I supposed you are right,” he said, his voice sounding oddly strained. “Perhaps that is why I told you. Perhaps I wish to unburden myself, here at the end…”

As he trailed off, a series of coughs overtook him, hacking and sharp. When he lowered his sleeve from his face, the blue silk gleamed dark with spots of blood. His smile was wan and mirthless.

“I am dying,” he said simply. “My whole life I have been cheating death. But this time is different—I can feel it in my bones.”

Kagome believed him. Life was nothing but war. It was a string of battles that came one after the next. No matter how hard you fought, the next one might kill you; but if you stopped fighting altogether, the end would be sure. She could see that Lord Tatsumi had given up the fight.

Yet she stepped toward him anyway.

Touching a hand to his arm, she said, “Let’s go back to the castle, Koshirou-sama. I know a remedy that’ll soothe that cough of yours.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi