As Kagome crested the steep granite steps, sunlight gleamed from the shrine’s gilded eaves, haloed the silvery stone lanterns in ethereal radiance. She drew strength from the shrine’s holy presence as she walked around it, following the paved path to the wooded temple that lay beyond. Constructed only a year ago, the multi-tiered building still

Kagome’s smile was still in place, but there was a flintiness in the curve of her lips, a chill in her aura that would have had Shippou scampering off and Inuyasha’s ears falling flat. Sesshoumaru merely inclined his head. Not waiting for him to rise, she strode briskly past him toward the door, shooting Kanako

“Shit!” Kagome gasped. Wrenching back her hand, she stared down at the table—and the bloodied root slices swimming atop it. Pain seared white-hot through her wounded finger. In her distraction over Sesshoumaru, she had cut herself open to the bone. Kaede stood, Rin rising as well—their own injuries momentarily forgotten. “Kagome-chan…are you all right?” “Kagome-sama!”

Back in Kaede’s hut, Rin flitted excitedly about the main room, pointing out the array of potions and charms she’d concocted over the months of Sesshoumaru’s absence. Taking down a softly glowing bottle of purplish-pink serum, she tossed another radiant smile to the demon lord. “This one is called ‘Widow’s Broth’. It soothes the souls

Grief closed its icy claws around Kagome’s heart. Dazed and disoriented, she strove against it. Railed against it—against the loneliness, the pain. Against the eviscerating torment of her disappointed hopes, and those she’d pinned them to. Inuyasha, Kohaku, Mayuri… Sesshoumaru. The last was the greatest—the most crushing, the hardest to bear. Everything—everything went back to

Kagome frowned. Countless times in her life, she had bathed with other women without a second thought. Her school friends from the Modern Era, Sango, Rin, Mayuri— The tub was certainly large enough to accommodate two people. Even she and Inuyasha had managed to squeeze into it on more than one occasion. But as Kagome’s

As dawn broke, tinting the edges of Kagome’s vision red, she stirred as if from a heavy sleep. Blinking her scratchy, tired eyes, she sat up slowly, annoyed but unsurprised to see Kanako staring back. Wrapped up like a mummy beside the cold hearth, the girl regarded Kagome from just over the blanket’s knitted edge.