‘Keep the secret’ resumed with a vengeance, Kagome and Mayuri raising the stakes absurdly higher with each successive round. By the time they squeezed back through the fence, both women were in mute, red-faced hysterics. The moment the vines swung shut behind them, they doubled-over, laughing themselves hoarse.

“We did it,” Kagome gasped, clutching her stomach. “We kept our silence.”

“Not a word passed our lips,” Mayuri agreed, dashing mirthful tears from the corners of her eyes. “My husband would never believe I could hold my tongue for so long.”

The miko laughed again, because sure enough Mayuri was about as chatty as they came. As the two conspirators returned to the castle kitchens and began their work on the healing potion, the servant had Kagome beside herself time and again with a seemingly endless supply of stories—wholesome and otherwise—about the residents of Tatsumi castle.

“…And so she cracked her rival’s skull open with the frying pan and then went right back to cooking supper with it!”

“You’re kidding!” Kagome exclaimed, one of the cooks across the kitchen throwing the servant a dirty look.

“That’s what they say,” Mayuri maintained, nonplussed, as she continued to stir the literal pot. “Of course, the official story is that Taka-san fell and hit her head. But I don’t believe it for a second—everyone knows Koharu-san had it out for her. And if everyone knows it, I don’t see why I shouldn’t say it.”

Outspoken women were rare in feudal times, but Mayuri expressed her opinions boldly and without reservation. As the hours passed, she and Kagome bantered back and forth like old friends. Even though she had only known Mayuri for a little over a day, Kagome felt a distinct kinship with her. Maybe it was their closeness in age or the fact that they both had aberrant dispositions for the era—maybe it was even the latent spiritual powers Kagome sensed that Mayuri possessed—but whatever it was, she wasn’t alone in her sentiments.

“Must you leave tomorrow, Kagome-sama?” Mayuri sighed as they bottled up the finished potion. “You’re like a breath of fresh air in this backwater place.”

“‘Fresh air’, huh? That might be the nicest thing anybody’s ever said about me,” Kagome quipped, shooting her a smile. “But I do have to leave. I was wondering though, if you might want to come with me?”

“Come with you?” Mayuri blinked.

“I think with some training you’d make an excellent priestess,” the miko stated, setting her hands on her hips. “If your husband is okay with it, you could spend a few weeks in Edo with me, and I could teach you some useful things to start. You’ve certainly got the potential, and I’m sure Tastumi-sama would approve of having a full-time miko around.”

“A miko?—Me?” the servant said wonderingly. “But…I thought only maidens could be mikos?”

Kagome snorted. “If that were the case, I’d have been out of a job a long time ago. I was married once myself.”

“Oh,” Mayuri said, frowning slightly. “I didn’t know.”

Crossing her arms, Kagome glanced aside. “…My husband passed away, a few years back.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Mayuri’s frown deepened. “How, may I ask?”

“He was killed,” Kagome answered tightly, “by a demon.” Turning back, she relaxed her expression. “So, what do you say?”

“Kagome-sama,” Mayuri replied, setting down the bottle in her hands to clasp Kagome’s own, “I’d be thrilled to go with you! If it’s just for a few weeks now and then, I’m sure my husband wouldn’t mind.”

“Then we’ll leave together at dawn.” The miko smiled. “And just call me ‘Kagome’, okay?”

Mayuri smiled back. Gathering up the restorative draught, they made their rounds to the recovering victims to deliver the supplement. Upon drinking the potion, which Kagome had amplified with her reiki, a soft glow lit the afflicted’s skin, the smallest of their wounds kitting slowly back together before their eyes. Tearful thank-yous and heartfelt praise followed in Kagome and Mayuri’s wake. Though it was late in the evening when they finally finished their task, the daimyo insisted on throwing a feast in Kagome’s honor.

As she’d expected, Lord Tatsumi had no objection whatsoever to Mayuri’s taking a leave of absence to learn the miko arts. He firmly endorsed the notion, even going so far as to make it his royal decree—after he’d had his second round of sake. Refilling his cup, Mayuri flashed Kagome a wry smile from behind his shoulder, the miko raising her own cup to her lips to hide her grin.

As the feast drew to a quiet close, Tatsumi’s shy young daughter vanished and re-appeared at her father’s urging with biwa in hand. In her slender fingers a fan-shaped plectrum fluttered over the strings of the lute, its somber, twangy music filling the air. Kagome wasn’t familiar with the tune and the story it was telling, but the song spirited her away just the same. Resting her chin in her palm, she lost herself in her own narrative, the haunting, otherworldly melody reminding her vividly of Sesshoumaru.

First impressions, she reflected, were difficult to shake. Her initial, frighteningly hostile confrontations with the Lord of the Western Lands had colored her opinion of him in a deeply negative way. Even all these years and experiences later, it was difficult—had been difficult—for her to view him with anything more than guarded esteem. She conceded that Inuyasha’s attitude toward his brother had largely shaped her own, and maybe that was why now, with some distance between herself and all that served as a touchstone for those memories, she could allow herself to see Sesshoumaru in a different light.

How might she think of him, if like Rin she had met him under entirely different circumstances? As the biwa’s notes cascaded like falling rain, she imagined a forest in storm and herself wandering through it, a young girl lost and alone in the wilderness, until the pale, ethereal figure of a man appeared before her, shining like a beacon in the dark…

“…It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Jolted from her reverie, the miko started at the question. Seated alongside her now that her duties were over, Mayuri slanted her a soft smile.

“Marika-sama’s playing,” she clarified.

“Very lovely,” Kagome agreed, nodding faintly. “For a moment there, I was taken away.”

“…Thinking of your husband?” Mayuri prompted, placing her hand over Kagome’s.

The miko’s fingers tensed, her voice carefully controlled as she asked, “What made you guess so?”

“The dreamy expression on your face,” the servant replied, smiling softer still. “I can see that you cared for him dearly.”

Guiltily, Kagome looked away. Not only had she scarcely thought of Inuyasha today, here she was entertaining some silly romantic fantasy about his brother…

As Marika finished the song with a blush and a bow, Kagome applauded her performance with a strained smile, bidding goodnight to her, Lord Tatsumi, Mayuri and the rest shortly thereafter. Mentally berating herself the entire way back to her room, she sank like a stone into her futon, the exhaustion from the day’s activities—and from sustaining her concealment spell around the clock—thankfully pulling her almost at once into a heavy sleep.

It was late in the night when she awoke—tense and alert at the powerful youki assailing her senses.

Reflexively, she reached for her bow, fitting an arrow to it before she’d even realized that she had. As her mind raced to catch up with her instincts, her eyes widened in recognition—and dread. The thunderous aura that had wrested her from her slumber was unmistakable—

Sesshoumaru had discovered her, at last.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

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