When Sesshoumaru returned to Kagome’s sickroom, he saw that her friends were still at their vigil. Seated now beside the slouching monk, the taijiya leaned against him, her red-rimmed eyes heavy-lidded as she clasped the trailing edge of the bedsheet between her bloodless fingers. Curled in her lap, Kirara raised her bleary gaze to Sesshoumaru’s as he drew near.

“A room has been prepared for you,” he told them. “Go and rest.”

With a tired nod, Miroku stiffly rose, pulling Sango and Kirara up with him. Pausing at the door, he bowed his head in gratitude before following the waiting servant down the hall.

Sliding the painted screen shut behind them, Sesshoumaru remained. Alone now with her, he hardly knew what to do. Circling around to her far side, he gazed down upon her.

It was no less difficult to look at her a second time than it had been the first. Yet he forced his eyes not to stray. His claws dug into his palms as he traced every cut and fracture that marred her face—burning her deformity into his consciousness even as he searched in vain for traces of her former beauty. For she had been beautiful, though he felt he had not truly appreciated this before.

An irrational part of him still struggled to accept that this was, in fact, Kagome. Yet her scent and her presence were unmistakable. And if this was her lying mutilated, then this was him standing guilty beside her.

And so he looked remorsefully at her face, stared at her mangled features until the image of them was branded behind his eyes, and closing them, he saw her wretchedness still.

And even so, this was not enough.

Sinking to the floor beside her, he took the white sheet that covered her in his claws. Carefully, reluctantly, he eased it down past her shoulders. His jaw locked tight at the fading punctures that littered her neck and collar. All the beasts who had inflicted them upon her were festering dead in that pit, yet still his blood burned with the urge to lay them low, a keen stab of envy toward his brother lancing through him.

His bitter fury steepened as the sheet continued its slow descent down her body. As he had studied her broken face, so he trained his anguished eyes over every savaged inch of her until she lay brutally bare before him, and he realized with galling self-reproach that this exercise in penitence had been pointless from the start. How could he, from looking upon her, presume to know the extent of her suffering? Like gazing upon the chopped surface of a lake and trying to perceive its depths, the rends in her flesh gave only the most superficial indication to the deep, dark torments she had endured.

A faint tremor shook his claws as he covered her once more, his searing anger turning inward.

He had caused this to happen to her. In his negligence, he had consigned her to a fate far worse than death. Yet she had survived, despite the gravity of her injuries. To send her on to the next life after that would be the coward’s way out of his obligations to her.

And Sesshoumaru was no coward.

Neither, by any means, was she. He had witnessed her bravery before on many occasions, but this…

In awe of her, he trailed his clawtip along the smooth, unblemished patch of skin beneath her left eye. The dark fringe of her lashes fluttered faintly against him.

Emotion slammed into his throat—hot and powerful and fierce. Of all people, she deserved a full and happy life. He had robbed her of this, and until he restored it to her, he would never have peace.

The surety of this solidified in his mind. As he withdrew his hand from her, he swore to her that he would find a way, even as his own helplessness smothered him from within. It was not a sensation he was accustomed to, and he strained beneath its crushing force.

In his desperation, he wracked his thoughts for magics that might make her whole again. He knew of a few—likely his mother would know of more—yet all were nefarious in one way or another. He could not heal Kagome, only to curse her in the process.

He needed a way to reverse the damage—cleanly and completely.

As his fists clenched and his fangs ground together in urgency, he discovered at last that he had been clutching the Shikon no Tama in his right hand. Sesshoumaru stilled, unsettled at the sight. He could not recall removing the gem from his haori.

Near-black and opaque, the Jewel glinted up at him from the cradle of his palm. Sesshoumaru’s features contorted in wrath. With a snarling curse, he hurled the loathsome object across the room, where it crashed with a loud, brittle ring against the doorframe.

Seething, Sesshoumaru glared at the Jewel as it rolled heavily across the floor. A few moments later, the screen whipped open, a startled young demoness appearing in the entryway. Wide lavender eyes took in the scene before her as she fell to her knees in a deep bow.

“Forgive me, my lord—I heard a disturbance.”

Reining in his aggression, Sesshoumaru swiped up the now-purple gem before rising to his feet. His eyes swept briskly over her huddled form.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Fearfully, the demoness peeked up at him through the dark slant of her bangs. The long gleaming tail of her hair slipped around her side as she shifted, the ribbon that loosely bound it the same light shade as her eyes. “Hikari, my lord.” Hesitantly, she sat back on her heels. “Inukimi-sama charged me with caring for Miko-sama, during her stay.”

Coolly, Sesshoumaru assessed her. Faint wisps of blue stripes adorned her cheeks, but from the color of her eyes and the shortness of her fangs and claws, he could see that she was only part inuyoukai. He suspected this was the reason why his mother had selected her for this task, which even the lowliest of his kind would consider beneath them. Yet as he scrutinized Hikari closer, beneath the humility that necessarily accompanied her mixed heritage, the gentleness he saw in her expression was entirely her own.

“Very well,” Sesshoumaru said as he stepped aside, “then see to her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Picking herself up, Hikari hastened to Kagome’s side. A mist of soft purple light enfolded the miko’s limp body, levitating her carefully from the bed. For a moment, Sesshoumaru watched how the glow lit her sleeping form, before he turned and left Hikari to her work.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

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