She was assisting Miroku with the consecration of the new temple when the visitor approached. A traveling priest. More and more were trickling into Edo again, as word spread that the Shikon Miko’s mourning had ended. Kagome scowled to herself. As though she would ever stop lamenting the loss of her husband. Glancing sidelong at

Softly, Kagome smiled. “He’s such a beautiful boy, Sango-chan. You and Miroku-sama must be so proud.” Cradling the newborn to her breast, the former taijiya smiled in turn, though the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. Exhaustion, Kagome assumed and therefore asked, “Have you been able to get much sleep?” “It’s been difficult,” Sango admitted,

I must go was all he had said, and rather sharply at that. Kagome ground her teeth—as much at Sesshoumaru’s abrupt departure from Edo village as at the pangs now assaulting her lower half. With all the stress and weight loss following Inuyasha’s death, she’d experienced a temporary reprieve from the relentlessness of womanhood. But that

It was the one rite of hers which Sesshoumaru had never prompted her to observe, this daily paying of her respects to Inuyasha. Not that Kagome had ever needed prompting. Even in the depths of her depression, she had dragged herself here, to his graveside. It was the one place she felt a fleeting measure