Relieved as Kagome felt, it was still vaguely distressing to her that Natsuko didn’t even attempt to snub her or curse her upon arrival. Instead, cowering back in her bed, she gazed palely at Kagome in tremulous, tearful apprehension.

“T-that beast,” she asked faintly, clutching the blankets up to her chin, “…is he gone?”

“He’s gone,” Kagome assured her, kneeling down beside the bed.

Natsuko relaxed with a shudder. “I thought I was going to die…” Her dark sheening eyes strayed to Kagome’s, welling anew. “But you saved me. Even after I said such horrible things…”

Kagome shook her head. “Never mind that now, Natsuko-chan. I’m just sorry I put you in such danger to begin with. I’d been warned Ikiryou was mad before, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“You loved him,” Natsuko said simply.

Kagome’s eyes stung. “I did, though he turned out to be a monster. Guess that suits me, doesn’t it?”

Natsuko’s face fell in regret. “He was,” she said quietly, “but you aren’t.”

“Maybe I am,” Kagome muttered, frowning away.

“No!” Natsuko exclaimed, then winced. As Kagome helped to settle her back down, Natsuko said hoarsely, “If I’d died without taking back those words, my soul would never rest.” Her bloodless hands sought Kagome’s, clasping them weakly. “I only said that because I was angry with you, and I was afraid…afraid you’d cast me aside, like he did.”

Kagome’s heart ached at Natsuko’s plaintive expression. She knew a little about the shamisen player’s past. She had been a daimyo’s young mistress, before he’d dispensed with her at his wife’s furious insistence. She’d lived like a beggar after that, had nearly starved to death on more than one occasion. It was during those grim hard years she’d learned to play the shamisen. Kagome didn’t need to ask where or how she had learned it.

There had been a child too, a little girl, but as to what had become of her, Kagome couldn’t ask, and Natsuko wouldn’t say.

“There’s no need to fear, Natsuko-chan,” Kagome said softly, brushing Natsuko’s sleek dark hair back from her brow. “No need to worry about pleasing me either. You can stay here for as long as you’d like. So rest easy and recover your strength, and maybe when you’re feeling better, I can listen to you play the shamisen again?”

Natsuko smiled, beautiful and beaming. “You will.”

…

Days later, Kagome met Chiyako and her entourage at the castle gates, and wished them a safe journey back home.

…

The nights grew longer, colder. As winter came into full swing, Kagome dismantled her military campaigns one by one. The fight had gone out of her, it seemed. War held no savor for her. Just the thought of senseless bloodshed turned her stomach.

But mostly she was tired. So very tired of it all.

Kagome sued for peace by letting go. With each rein she handed over, her soul felt a little lighter in the bargain.

…

At last there was only one duty left to her, and it was diminishing by the day.

Koshirou spent the greater part of his hours sleeping now. When his sunken eyes did crack open, whatever they saw was beyond her. The strength even to speak had left him. He no longer engaged with Kagome, or anyone else.

Still, she attended to him as best she could, to comfort him and ease his passing. She found that Natsuko’s playing seemed to soothe him. As often as she was able, the shamisen player would come to his chamber and fill it with lilting, lovely song. The dark air seemed to lighten. The gloom to lift, if only for a short while.

Standing outside on the balcony, with a light shawl draped about her shoulders just for show, Kagome listened to Natsuko playing now. This song she knew. Closing her eyes to the bleak wastes of winter, Kagome let the bright, breezy melody spirit her away, to a place of everlasting spring.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi