Kohaku’s katana returned to its sheath with a snap. Jolted from her reverie, Kagome turned toward him at the sound. But the taijiya was already walking away. “…Grave lad,” Ren remarked as he drew up beside her, his smile wry. Sharp and narrowed, his hawkish eyes followed after Kohaku’s dark receding form, before flitting around

In that severed head Kagome glimpsed another. The image exploded red behind her eyes. The roar in her ears was deafening. Her stomach lurched as she reeled away, panic clawing at her throat. Her palm clamped to her mouth in frozen horror. At her shoulder, a touch—the warmth and weight of it familiar. Hunched, she

“Ren-san,” Kagome greeted warmly in relief, while Kohaku’s whole demeanor chilled. “What a vision you are to behold,” the captain said to her. “My memory of your loveliness has been a poor substitute.” His light eyes flicked casually over the taijiya standing so frigidly beside her. “…Might this fierce young man be your little brother?”

More harried militiamen followed in the messenger’s wake. Spilling into the room, they reported their own versions of these alarming sightings—not a few of their accounts clearly embellished by some combination of excitement and fear. As Kohaku began giving out orders, Kagome hurried to the north-facing window. Squinting, she could just make out the approaching

Kagome stiffened. With effort, she kept her tone light as she replied, “Just checking in.” Kohaku’s flinty eyes pierced hers a moment longer. “Checking in,” he repeated, as if weighing the veracity of each word, before his gaze cut past her toward the stair. “Who’s your friend?” Kagome glanced behind her. Near the edge of

Restless as Kagome felt, there was never a shortage of work to be done in the village-turned-mecca that Edo had become. Visiting Rin in the makeshift hospital she’d raised in the heart of the sprawl, Kagome was struck by the sheer number of battle-wounded among the afflicted travelers and refugees. Yet there were no warlords

And yet, as the days passed and Kagome continued to catch phantom glimpses of this beast of the woods—the smoky wisp of a tail turning into the trees, the glint of gilded eyes through the brush, the pale points of ears tipping just above a fallen log or the far side of a boulder—her irritation