The words had barely left her mouth when Sesshoumaru appeared, already unarmored and unshod—as if the sight of him standing there in his full forbidding attire wouldn’t have been an affront enough to her, on this day of all days. The cup clattered to the floor as Kagome leapt to her feet and balled her

Hirokin left. In his absence, Kagome seemed to shrink in upon herself. Half in a daze that even demonic sake couldn’t be blamed for, she started home at last. The house was empty, for the moment. As her eyes scanned dismally over the dark, cluttered space, a new neat pile drew her attention. Checking herself

Kagome frowned, glancing away. “You and I are different in many ways,” Hirokin stated frankly, “yet what we want is the same.” “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.” There was the faintest ripple in the water around her. Lapping her just below the hip, it raised gooseflesh on her skin even

The smell of smoke was in her hair, in her clothes. Rank and heavy, it polluted her lungs. It grimed her skin to the point that even after she’d stripped down and shaken off the ash, she felt it clinging to her still. It was unshakeable—tireless and singular in its oppression. It had plagued her

Who? Light, pale and thin, burst from Kagome’s skin. In a flash she was free of the claws that held her. And in that same flash she beheld—blood and anguish. Dread and dark waters and bleak confusion. Scenes of violence whirred past her, spinning like the frames in a movie reel gone off the tracks.

In Kagome’s mind, there was not a minute to lose. Having set Miroku to task, she turned her attention to other matters—settling disputes, listening to petitions, overseeing expansions both militaristic and civilian. Ren was almost always at her side, ready to offer counsel or take responsibilities into his own hands, but ever since his overreach