InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One Less Star, Book 1 ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

One Less Star, chapter 9

by CinnamonGrrl

At the sound of excited shouting, Ryouta looked up from where he was slicing kukicha twigs into tiny, even strips. The only sight that met his eyes out the door of his hut was the old and familiar one: on the right, Hikari's little garden, with its brown-tinged flowers drooping from the recent lack of rain; on the left, Ichiro's small paddock of horses. Beyond them were various houses and shops, stretching only a scant hundred feet before the paddies began. Down the centre was the dusty road that served as the sole thoroughfare through their tiny village.

The horses were shuffling nervously, shying back from the fence and making noises of growing unease. Ryouta placed the knife on the table and stood, the herbs forgotten. Ichiro was very careful to train his horses to be calm and stalwart; whatever was happening must be unusual indeed for them to become this agitated.

He waddled down the steps of his hut and down the road, coughing on the dust that swirled in the sudden wind that had sprung up. Waving his hand before his face, he peered left and right for signs of any of his fellow villagers but there was not another soul to be seen.

Another shout: "Demon! It's a demon!" Ryouta's heart leapt to his throat and he began to run toward the voice, pushing his rotund body as fast as it could go.

"Ryouta, what's happening?" piped a voice at his knee, and he looked down to find the tiny girl, Miyako, jogging beside him. She easily matching his pace, he noted with vexation. Yes, it was time to cut back on the harumaki. If only they weren't so tasty…

"Ryouta!" Miyako persisted, this time tugging hard on the tail of his haori. "I heard someone say there was a demon!"

"So did I," he puffed, bolting round another hut. He came up short at the sight that met his eyes.

Floating above one of the paddies at the edge of the village was a huge, floating feather, and sitting on it were two people. One reclined, his face pale and drawn, his houshi's robes stained with blood. The feather's other occupant was a woman, her many richly embroidered kimono slashed raggedly down the front and side.

She would be very pretty, Ryouta thought, if not for the pointed ears and scarlet eyes that bespoke her youkai heritage.

Those scarlet eyes swept over the small assembly before her. "I require the assistance of a healer for my companion," she declared.

"No… Kagura…" the monk said weakly, reaching out to her with an oddly-gloved hand wrapped with prayer beads. "There's no time… we have to keep going."

She ignored him. "Surely there is one with some skill at healing?"

At her words, the little crowd parted to reveal Ryouta at the back, to his great and everlasting dismay. Even Miyako-the little traitor, he thought unkindly-- retreated from him, her eyes round as she watched the youkai step from the feather-boat and walk toward him. He felt sweat break out on his clammy brow and jammed his hands up his sleeves to hide their trembling.

"You, ningen," she said, "you are a healer?" A motion of the closed fan in her hand brought the feather floating toward Ryouta. The man was indeed grievously injured, one of his sleeves slashed from shoulder to wrist. The torn edges of his robes were crusty with a sobering amount of dried blood, and the flesh Ryouta could see through the tears was red and enflamed-looking.

"I am b-but an herbalist, youkai-sama. I do wh-what I can-" Ryouta began, horrified to hear his childhood affliction of stuttering revisit him. "But I know only of d-dosing illnesses, youkai-sama. Injuries such as his are b-beyond me."

She only smiled at him, a slow and terrifying smile that promised carnage if she were to be disobeyed. "You will do what you can in this instance as well, will you not?" she asked, and Ryouta found himself nodding frantically.

"F-follow me, please," he said, as there was nothing else to say, and led the way back to his hut. It was highly unnerving to have the monk floating between them at waist-height. "That is an unusual g-glove on his hand, youkai-sama," he ventured nervously. Never had he seen the like, and how odd that the monk wore only one.

She sliced a look at him from the corner of her eye. "You will not remove it, healer, do you understand? In fact, do not touch that hand of his at all." She turned her gaze forward once more.

"I take no responsibility for the aftermath if you do."

Ryouta felt his heart disengage itself from his throat and plummet down to his stomach. "Yes, youkai-sama," he whispered, and led the way into his hut.

Inside, he bustled around in making a pallet for the monk, and watched with amazement as the demoness motioned with her fan, making the wind currents speed and swirl in the small space. The monk was borne up from the feather and placed with a gentle thump on the pallet, and the feather shrank to a more normal size. She tucked it into the knot of hair at the back of her head in a practiced motion.

"Remove his clothing," she commanded. "I shall avail myself of the women of this place to repair the damage to our attire."

Ryouta strained over his bulging belly to undress the monk, handing the garments to the demoness. She took them and left without a word, filling him with a keen relief. He let out the breath he was not aware he'd been holding and set to work.

Ryouta mixed cold water in a basin with some of the hot water always boiling over the cook-fire and began to bathe the monk of the blood, grime, and sweat that streaked him. It was slow going, but once his body and wound were as clean as Ryouta could possibly make him, the monk seemed to rest easier.

Sitting back on his heels, Ryouta covered all of the monk's body but his left arm with a blanket and studied the wound. A long, jagged tear went right down to the bone in some places. He began to steep some herbs in boiling water and fished out some clean white thread and a curved needle in the shape of a half-moon. These too he soaked in the tea.

Once the tea was cooled he washed the wound with liberal amounts of it, careful to pick out any tiny bits of plant matter than had slipped through the straining, and then began the arduous and unpleasant task of stitching the monk up. It would have to be done in two stages, one row of sewing deep within, halfway to the bone, and one on the outside, on his skin.

He grimaced the first time the needle bit into flesh-- there was little Ryouta hated more than sewing people up. The reluctant and grating slide of metal through muscle, fat and skin made him queasy.

"After this is over," he muttered to himself, "I shall become no more than a gardener."

"When this is over, and he is well, you may become a dung merchant for all I care," the demoness said from the doorway. Her many layers of rich kimono had been traded for a single yukata and simple obi, but her hauteur was undiminished. "But should he die…" She smirked and settled fluidly to her knees by the monk's side. "You will not have much need of plans for the future."

Ryouta gulped and bowed repeatedly. "I will do my b-best, youkai-sama," he gasped.

She nodded coldly. "See that you do."

 

* * *



The third morning of her stay at Sesshoumaru's home, Kagome was on her way to the bathing chamber to fetch any dirty towels when she heard a faint sound of frustration. Following the sound, she peeked into the room and found Sesshoumaru kneeling before a dressing table and struggling to comb his hair, an arduous task with only one hand.



He wore just a pair of hakama, leaving his feet and chest bare, and Kagome felt like all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. He was… he was really beautiful, even with just a stump for a left arm. With his hair rumpled from sleep and a grouchy frown on his face, he looked so endearingly similar to so many of the memories stuffed into her head that she found a lump growing in her throat.


"Miko," he muttered, golden eyes meeting hers in the mirror's reflection, "assist me."


She entered the room hesitantly, a little worried it was a trick of some sort, and cautiously looked around. It, like the rest of the chambers of the house, was modestly sized and furnished. The bed was very big in order to accommodate Sesshoumaru's unusual height, and aside from the dressing table-which held nothing but the comb he'd replaced on its surface-there was a single kimono chest and nothing more.


Another memory flitted by, of another Kagome and another Sesshoumaru sharing this bed in their dimension, of making love on it, of sleeping in each other's arms. That Kagome had given birth in their bed, bringing their children into the world in the same place they'd been conceived. That Kagome had looked up at her husband after her exertions and been met with a smile of love and pride.

"Higurashi," purred a voice in her ear, "if you continue to stare at the bed, I might get… certain ideas of why you were actually prowling around my door."


Kagome twitched at his sudden nearness, in surprise and horror and longing, turning so quickly her kimono whipped around in her wake. "What?" she squeaked. "I wasn't-I was-nothing!"


Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed fractionally, telling her he was laughing at her, and he turned back to face the dressing table. "My hair," he said. Picking up the comb, he held it back over his shoulder for her to take.


She stepped up behind him, careful not to tread on the long swath of hair pooling on the floor between them. Its length was nearly to his ankles, and doubtless was the reason behind his struggles to tame it.


"It needs a trim," she murmured, taking the comb. "Will you let me cut it?" At his nod, she scampered away to fetch a pair of shears from the kitchen. By the time she returned, he was sitting back on his heels once more before the dressing table. She had him raise up on his knees and then carefully cut away any length that fell below them, collecting the snipped strands and laying them aside.


"It was so long!" she said conversationally, taking up the comb once more and now having a much easier time passing it through the beautiful tresses. They were a strange hue of white; Sesshoumaru's hair had an almost bluish glint to it, like the cooler tones of platinum compared to his half-brother's warmer pure silver.

 

All she could think of were all those times the other Sesshoumarus' hair had cascaded over the other Kagomes as he rose over her in bed, falling around them like a silken prison as he kissed her, made love to her, held her. The hair was fine, but heavy and growing densely on his head. She loved the feel of it sliding through her fingers and was quite sorry when she could delay no longer and finally lay the comb down. "All done," she said, trying to infuse her voice with some brightness, but the intimacy of the act had caused a queer thickening of her throat, a tightening of her chest.

 

Looking up, she found him watching her closely in the mirror's reflection and immediately blushed crimson. Please, she prayed anxiously to some unknown god, please don't let him be able to read minds.


He said nothing for a long moment, just stared at her in the mirror, before nodding. "My thanks," he said at last.


She nodded in return and started backing out of the room, desperate to put some space between them.

"You will attend me likewise each morning," he continued, turning from the mirror to look at her.

Kagome mumbled something that could have been "okay" or perhaps "kill me now", and fled to the bathing chamber for the forgotten towels. Once there, she splashed her cheeks with cool water and decided that the next time she saw Midoriko, she was going to give her a piece of her mind.

Life settled into a pattern over the next few days. Kagome rose, washed and dressed, and went to help Sesshoumaru with his hair. Then she helped Jaken with breakfast. Shippo, Rin, and Kohaku were up and ready by the time the meal was, and when Sesshoumaru joined them in the dining room they all ate together in each other's sociable, if bleary-eyed, company.


After that, she took a few hours to meditate and practice with her miko skills. Manipulating them had never come easy, and she needed to be careful and vigilant if she wanted to maintain any sort of control over them at all. She keenly missed Kaede's advice and influence, and wondered if Sesshoumaru might let her visit the old miko any time soon. She'd give just about anything to see the woman's wise face, or hear her gravelly voice impart some much-needed wisdom right about now.


Jaken had demanded she assist with the cooking and cleaning now that she and her companions had more than doubled the household population in one fell swoop. Kagome's mornings were now occupied mostly with laundry, sometimes with dusting and polishing. There was lots to be dusted and polished, to be sure, but the sheer amount of clothing to be washed was vexing to her, and she began to think of ways to reduce it.


The first obstacle, of course, was Rin. The child owned approximately eight hundred thousand kimono, and tried to wear each one at least once a day. Kagome approached Sesshoumaru for permission to declare that Rin was only able to wear three garments a day.


That almost made him smile. "You may try," he said graciously.


Kagome approached the girl right away. "Listen, Rin," she began, her tone conspiratorial. "You look great in your things! They're beautiful, and I don't blame you for wanting to try them on all the time. But you've got to help me out, here. You keep wrinkling them, or spilling things on them, and I just can't keep up."

 

Rin looked stricken. "I'm sorry, Kagome! I didn't mean to make extra work for you."


Kagome gave her a quick hug. "Well, you won't anymore, will you?"

 

"No, I promise," Rin replied, then grinned. "I'll even help." Kagome wondered if she should be worried about that grin, and shooed the girl off to change into some more practical working attire so she could report back to Sesshoumaru.

 

He looked impressed in spite of himself when she relayed to him how the discussion with Rin had gone. "And how did you accomplish this feat?"


Kagome shrugged. "You just have to know how to deal with teenagers," she said. "It wasn't so long ago that I was one, so I guess I haven't forgotten yet how they hate to be told what to do. If you treat them like equals, approach them on a level basis, they're usually pretty great."


He looked a little confused, as if he were wondering how to even begin pretending that a young human girl was his equal, but inclined his head to her. "I, Sesshoumaru, will remember that. My thanks."

She blinked in surprise. "Er. You're welcome." She was getting better, she realized as she scuttled from the room. Just a few days ago she'd have gaped in astonishment that he'd thanked her. By now it was just a momentary distraction.


It was a shame, she mused. If he weren't such a stubborn bigot about humans, this could all end up differently. She still had to work hard to contain her attraction to him, and Midoriko had remained persistently silent, almost as if she knew of the blistering scolding Kagome was going to give her the next time they spoke.


Later that day, Kagome hauled the final basket of laundry out to the huge cauldron of steaming, soapy water that bubbled away over a small fire. Rin was there making good on her promise to help, hair bound away in a kerchief like Kagome's to keep it out of her face, and stirring the boiling laundry with a long wooden spoon.


She was also laughing, watching the fighting lesson Sesshoumaru was giving Shippo. These lessons had commenced with the others.


"You cannot rely on your trickster ways to remain alive," the inuyoukai had intoned. "When they fail-and they will-what is left? Use them to augment, not substitute for, competent battle skills." And he had tossed a small sword to the kitsune.


"But I can't, not yet!" Shippo had protested, awkwardly grabbing for the pommel of the sword-and missing-with his left hand. It clunked to the ground at his feet. "My arm's not healed yet."

"Because no one will ever attack you again, should you only have one arm," Sesshoumaru agreed easily. "All your enemies shall back away and leave you be, and danger shall never again darken your doorstep. When my half-brother took my arm, I was able to retire in peace, and not once have I been called to defend my life with the limb that remains."


Shippo stared, open-mouthed, at the other demon for a long moment, absorbing both the cauterizing sarcasm and sage wisdom in his words. Then he clamped his lips tightly closed, adjusted his grip on the pommel of his sword, and moved into what he thought was an attack posture.

"All right," he said with determination. "Let's go."


Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed in what Kagome was quickly learning to recognize was his version of a smile, and began the lessons. They occurred daily, and everything had gone well until Sesshoumaru began to toss the odd blow or lash of his ki whip at Kohaku.

The first time it had happened, Shippo's cry of alarm had drawn Kagome from the kitchen where she was rolling rice balls with Jaken.


"He almost took Kohaku's head off!" Shippo exclaimed, his face pale, when she ran outside to him.

Kagome, wide-eyed, surveyed Kohaku. The boy seemed none the worse for wear, and indeed didn't seem to have even noticed how close he'd apparently come to death. She turned her gaze to Sesshoumaru. He met her stare calmly, and she turned back to Shippo.


"Kohaku was never in any danger," she told him, ignoring Shippo's gasp of surprise. "If Sesshoumaru wanted him dead, he would be. He's just trying… to wake Kohaku up, I think." She turned to Sesshoumaru for confirmation, and he nodded. Kagome plastered a bright smile on her face. "See? Just trying to help."


Shippo didn't look remotely convinced, but accepted what she told him. Ever since then, Sesshoumaru had been including Kohaku in the training he gave Shippo, as well as the drills he gave the kitsune and Rin each evening after supper.


They even seemed to be working a little. Kagome was positive Kohaku had flinched a little the last time the ki whip had lashed past his face. Wouldn't that be the best present ever for Sango, the next time they saw her? To give her a Kohaku was more aware of his surroundings, and on the way to recovering?


Kagome wasn't terribly surprised at Sesshoumaru's behaviour with the children; her memories of the other Kagomes told her what an involved and concerned father he had been in all those other dimensions. She hadn't really expected him to be different here, even though these children were not his. The thought of it made a rebellious warmth creep through her, and she squashed it fiercely.

No! she thought, dumping the laundry into the cauldron and taking the spoon from Rin to stir furiously, not noticing that she sloshed so much water with her vigor that she put the fire out. He's horrible, he hates humans, he's disgusted by me, and I'm not going to start down that road. That way lies heartache, and my heart aches enough already.


"What troubles you this time, girl?" Sesshoumaru demanded, suddenly beside her, and she dropped the long spoon into the cauldron as she sprang back with a cry.


"Nothing!" she said, grabbing for the spoon before it was lost beneath the burbling currents of laundry. "And if you call me a liar, I'll…" Her words trailed off as she blushed a little, thinking how embarrassed she'd be if he ever really knew what she was thinking.


"You'll…?" he prompted. In spite of his blank face, she somehow knew was teasing her. Kagome frowned, trying to think of a suitable punishment she could give him that wouldn't result in her demise.

"I'll put Rin's red kimono in with your things and dye them all pink," she said at last, folding her arms across her chest in satisfaction.


"You could try," he replied smoothly, "but they are enspelled, the silk of spider youkai. Any damage you attempted would be instantly restored and repaired."


They stood, glaring at each other, for a long moment.


"They like each other," Rin confided in Shippo, watching from across the courtyard.


"Yes," he agreed uneasily. "It's… frightening."


Sesshoumaru was approaching again, ready to resume the swordplay. The cool expression on his face told Shippo and Rin he'd heard every word of their little conversation, and Rin wasted no time returning to Kagome's side.


Shippo just prepared for an extra-strenuous finish to the lesson, and sighed. Look on the bright side, he told himself. Sesshoumaru can hear twice as well as Inuyasha, but at least he's not pounding you on the head every two minutes.

 

 

* * *

 


On the fourth day of her stay at Sesshoumaru's home, Kagome meditated yet again. As the days passed and Miroku and Kagura had not returned with Inuyasha and Sango, nor sent word of their progress, she found herself in zazen more to control the grief and worry about her friends than to hone her miko abilities. It was only moderately successful, and she was only too pleased when Rin tapped shyly at the door to her bedroom.


"Come in!" Kagome said, happy for the distraction until she saw the apprehension on Rin's pretty face. "What's wrong, Rin-chan?"


Rin sat on the bed and stared down at where her fingers were playing with the flap of her kimono. They were, Kagome noted, still a child's hands in spite of Rin's newfound devotion to making herself appear more adult, with more sophisticated hair and clothing: stubby, a little dirty, and with bitten nails. Kagome wondered if she'd remembered that manicure kit the last time she'd left the modern era, and got up to rummage through her backpack.

 

"Rin?" she prompted over her shoulder. "What's the matter?"


"Last year," Rin began slowly, "I began feeling… unwell." Once she got started, her words sped up until they ran together. "My stomach began hurting, a lot, and thenIbeganbleeding," she concluded rapidly.


Kagome's hand, which had just lit upon the manicure kit, froze as comprehension dawned. "Oh," she said, and turned to face the girl with a smile. ""Not a lot of fun, is it?" she said ruefully. "What did you do?"


Rin smiled in relief when she understood that Kagome would let her talk about it. "I went to Sesshoumaru-sama… I was afraid I was dying." She paused, watching as Kagome and selected a nail file from the kit and began to work her magic on the girl's ragged nail tips. "He told me that all females go through… through cycles, and that human females bleed once a month for the time they are able to have children."


Her wide dark eyes were dismayed. "Is this true, Kagome-san?" she whispered. "Do I have to keep doing this for years and years?"


Kagome looked up from Rin's hands. "Unfortunately, yes," she said. "I try to think of it as Kaede told me-it's being a part of nature's rhythms. And it means that we're women now, and have to be responsible."


"I don't want to be a woman," Rin said miserably. "What if Sesshoumaru makes me leave when I'm a full adult? What if he won't let me stay here anymore?"


Kagome held out the little tray of polish bottles and waited for Rin to choose the colour she liked best. "Why would he do that?" she asked, puzzled.


"Jaken-san told me that ningen children must leave their parents' homes when they are of age," Rin replied. She watched curiously as Kagome stroked on the sparkly pink colour.


No wonder the poor thing is upset, Kagome thought crossly, and made a mental note to yell at Jaken later. "Some do," she said aloud, "but most stay as long as they like, and only leave if they feel like having their own home and their own families."


"So you don't think Sesshoumaru-sama will make me leave when I'm older?" Rin asked, almost pathetically happy.


"I'm pretty sure he'll want to keep you here forever, Rin-chan," Kagome said, then grinned at the other's fierce impromptu hug. "Careful! You'll smudge!"


Rin pulled back immediately, staring anxiously at her nails.


"Blow on them, they'll dry faster," Kagome advised, and smiled again as Rin obeyed. "Do you have any other questions about it?"


"It?" Rin asked, frowning mid-blow until she realized that Kagome meant. "Oh, that. Well, does it always hurt? Do you know of any ways to make it easier to… deal with?"


"The pain depends on the person," Kagome replied, starting to paint her own nails a pearly lavender. "I don't have many cramps, but my poor mom-hers are terrible. They say exercise makes them go away, so the next time you get them, take a walk or go swimming or something, that might help."


Finishing, she began to blow on her nails, speaking between puffs of air. "As for… the other question," she said, "I have… some things I use… but not many. I'll need to… go back home… for more, soon."


She went back to her pack and carefully withdrew a small cardboard box, then briefly instructed Rin on how to use them, all the while hoping Sesshoumaru would let her return home before she needed them herself.


Rin jumped up, hugging Kagome again. "Thank you!" she said fervently, and then dashed from the room, box clutched to her chest like a precious treasure. She went to her room and secreted the box at the back of her most densely-packed drawer.


Once satisfied that even Jaken's finely-honed snooping techniques would be thwarted by the plethora of undergarments and toiletries crammed within, she went back downstairs. Rejoining her comrades under the pavilion, she thus revealed the basis of the dirt on her hands as she picked her way through the grubby pilings supporting the structure overhead. Shippo and Kohaku sat amongst the scraggly weeds, thin slivers of light falling on their faces and shoulders from between the cracks in the planks above.


"You were right!" she exclaimed to Shippo, holding out her hands for his admiration. "She did know what to do!"


The kitsune leant back on his elbows with a casual air of satisfaction after noting her newly polished nails.

 

"Told you," he said smugly. "Kagome knows just about everything, and she's a girl, too. I had a feeling she'd be able to help you."


"Thank you for not being… strange about it, Shippo-kun," Rin continued, her eyes wide and grateful. "I think some boys might feel… funny, talking about it."


He blushed a little. "Who you think I am, Inuyasha?" he demanded gruffly to hide his embarrassment. "I grew up with Kagome and Sango… you learn things. And besides," he continued, purposefully averting his gaze, "I could tell you weren't feeling well. Friends do what they can, right?"


"Right!" And she hugged him, making him blush harder. "I'm so glad you and Kagome-san and Kohaku-kun have come to stay with us. I hope you stay forever!"


Shippo didn't reply right away. He looked at Kohaku's blank profile, at Rin's happily glowing face, and finally down at the little fish darting around the pilings sunk into the river bank at the water's edge. His fingers toyed with the feathery tips of the weeds surrounding them, and he sighed.


"Forever's a long time, Rin-chan," he said at last. "A lot can happen."


She was quiet a long moment, sensing his sadness. Then, "Kagome-san said swimming will make me feel better! And it's warmer today. Let's go swimming." She was already wriggling out of her two outermost kimono, folding them carefully and placing them on a large, dry stone. "The current's not too strong," she said after peering at the river with a discerning eye.


Shippo lost no time in stripping down to his hakama and tugging off Kohaku's haori. "C'mon, Kohaku," he said cheerfully, and helped the older boy down to the water. They made Kohaku monkey-in-the-middle, and amused themselves with tossing pebbles by him and splashing all over as they scurried to catch the projectiles.

 

And then his hand came up, almost faster than Shippo's youkai eyes could see, to snatch the pebble from mid-air as it whizzed by his head.

 

"Did he just-" Shippo asked at the same time Rin said, "Shippo, he-" Both stopped short.

 

"We have to tell Kagome," he said, and she nodded.

 

They raced up the slope toward the house, both wanting to be the one to impart the news. Shippo, with his fox paws, had a distinct advantage over Rin in speed so she settled for screeching joyfully at the top of her lungs.


"Kagome-CHAN!" she hollered from outside just as Shippo burst into the kitchen.


Kagome whipped around from where she stood, shelling peas and trading jibes with Jaken. "What? What's wrong?" Her arm tightened around the wooden bowl she held until it almost groaned from the pressure.


"Kohaku moved!" Shippo said as Rin stumbled into the kitchen, panting. "On his own!"


Kagome dropped the handful of peas back in the bowl and brought her hand to her mouth, blinking at Shippo. "Where is he?"


"In the river, where it happened," Rin replied breathlessly, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.


"You left him in the river?" Kagome demanded, thrusting the bowl at Jaken and dashing to the door with the children hot on her heels.


"You have dripped all over the floor, you worthless miscreants!" Jaken hollered after them, impotently shaking a tiny green fist. "Who is going to clean this?"


Kohaku still stood hip-deep in the river. Heedless of her clothing, Kagome crashed into the river to pull him to shore, prying free the pebble clutched in his still-upraised hand.

 

"This is great," she babbled happily. "This is wonderful. Sango's going to be so happy!" She hugged his arm close to her, feeling her sagging spirit lift for the first time in a week. Then Sesshoumaru was there, peeling her away so he could peer into Kohaku's eyes.

 

"The boy is improving," he said, and turned to Rin and Shippo. "Continue to try and attract his attention." They both nodded. "We eat soon, change to dry clothing. Take him."


Once they were gone, only Kagome and Sesshoumaru were left. Kagome was drenched from head to toe, and stood shivering with arms wrapped around her waist as she stared at the ripples of water as the river tumbled by. With so much going so wrong lately, Kagome had come to view the possibility of a coherent Kohaku as a saving grace.


"Something's finally going right," she whispered, smiling, and peered through her sodden bangs at Sesshoumaru, who had not moved since the departure of the children.


His eyes were fixed on her in a way that made her belly tighten weirdly; following his gaze, she realized he was staring at her chest. She looked down and saw that the position of her arms had framed and pushed her breasts together and up. The chill of the water had caused her nipples to stiffen, and the water itself had rendered her pale blue yukata practically transparent.


A blush of arousal and embarrassment coursed up Kagome's throat to her face. She moved to cover herself with her arms but he was beside her in a flash, his hand brushing hers aside before moving to trace the outline of one nipple with his fingertip.


"Why hide a thing of beauty?" Sesshoumaru murmured, one side of his mouth quirking the slightest bit as Kagome gasped.


She closed her eyes as every drop of blood in her body seemed to concentrate in that tiny part of her body that he touched. She was not at all surprised by his actions; a dozen Kagomes in her head readily offered memories of lovemaking that had centered almost entirely on her breasts. In another era, Sesshoumaru might have been accused of having a bit of a fixation, in fact.


Desire fought with relief for dominance in Kagome's confused mind; she had waited so long for him to touch her, to make real the insubstantial, tantalizing memories of making love with him in other realities. It was so odd to have so much theoretical experience, and yet be a virgin in actuality.

 

Not just a virgin; completely inexperienced. Inuyasha had never gone further than the very rare chaste kiss, and he'd never let Kouga have enough time alone with her to do more than clasp her hands and stare meaningfully into her eyes. And poor Houjou…he'd never had a chance, not with all those handsome youkai running around five centuries before he'd even been born.

 

Kagome wasn't ignorant of what happened between two people. She knew what it entailed, had always suspected it could be something intense and powerful. And when she'd received the memories of the other Kagomes, they'd aroused her, certainly. But to know it was real, that he was really there and really doing this, this heady pressure of blood and tense muscles and heat-oh, she hadn't expected it to feel like this.

 

His claw pushed the slightest bit more against her, piercing the fabric separating them to graze lightly against the sensitive flesh, and Kagome jerked against him, her eyes flying open. She dragged her gaze up the graceful length of his throat to his face, almost panting with desire as the pressure on her nipple increased, and found him staring down at her, carefully gauging her reaction.

 

There was little hint of arousal on his face. Instead, he studied her coolly, making Kagome feel like a bug on a pin, examined and dissected. It was in such stark contrast to the memories she had of his passion-flushed face, of golden eyes half-closed with pleasure, that her stomach twisted in shock. Pain and shame and disappointment crashed through her, and without thinking, she slapped his hand away. The sting of the impact was just another sensation grating over already-raw nerves.

 

"Don't touch me," she whispered brokenly. "Why do you have to ruin everything?"


He glanced at her hand, then at her face, and quirked his mouth at her again as he took a step backward. "It is my way," he said nonchalantly.

 

His footsteps were silent in the damp soil of the river's shore; Kagome watched him walk toward the barn with eyes that were almost painfully dry before leaning back against the piling, needing the support of the rough wood against her back.

 

She lifted her face to the weak late-afternoon sunlight and thought she might give up this great and vaunted soul of hers for another chance, all those years ago: if only she could do it over again, she'd let Buyo run around the well-house without interference, would in fact avoid the well-house as if it were the source of all evil in the world.


Which, sometimes, it really felt as though it were.