A/N: This will be a short story, told in 4 to 5 parts.
Chapter 1 – Walk of the Undying
Despite the years that passed, the sight before him was unmistakeable. Once deemed deserving of notice, he never forgets a face, especially one of importance to key historical events. And at this moment from afar, there was no doubt that it was her.
Atop an overhanging cliff stood a single, lone figure. Raven hair danced unhindered in a drifting breeze, reflecting an azuline sheen in the waning daylight. Serene, relaxed features were upturned toward sunrays that sought refuge behind distant mountains. Dark, wispy lashes brushed against pale cheeks, hiding expressive eyes from view.
He had almost bypassed the scene along his airborne route. The last time he had come across this woman was at the final battle with the spider hanyou. He had not even heard a whisper of her since, and to find her in the realm of his lands was unexpected. From past experiences, trouble had always followed her. Curious as to what business she had being here, he decided to investigate, changing course in flight.
Demonic speed brought his arrival near instantly to land a short distance from the open meadow. As soon as his boots touched the long blades of the willowing grass, the woman turned in his direction. He had not bothered masking his presence.
“It’s been a while, Lord Sesshomaru,” came her colloquial greeting, lids lifting to the sight of the regal daiyoukai. She knew it to be him before she even saw the whites of his kimono. His indisputable, powerful aura was recognizable anywhere. Ever omnipotent and always tinged with just a touch of malevolence. Others would have called it an evil presence. But she knew better.
“Miko,” he acknowledged, stepping forward to close the distance. The slight incline of his chin made him seem all the more aristocratic. It caused her to wonder if he could ever look any less. He was the epitome of youkai divinity.
Nodding politely, she answered his address, sounding more formal than her usual greetings. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, My Lord?”
Sesshomaru did not immediately respond to her uncharacteristic deference. She had never addressed him in such a manner. He found it odd. And as he stood there, pausing to study the woman not but a few yards away, he noticed that something else about her was different. Something about her was…muted, somehow. He could still tell that this was the same miko his brother had travelled with, but just could not pinpoint what had been so strikingly different that he was actually pausing to ponder upon.
Physically she looked much the same, aside from the few changes associated with growing into adulthood and the passage of time. Her face had slimmed, shedding the rounded traits of youth to a more refined profile. Sandy ivory had given way to a much paler complexion, almost porcelain. She also seemed slightly taller, but that was harder to gauge as his height typically towered over many. Though her hair held the same unique curl not native to most humans in Japan, it was much longer now, cascading down to her lower back in messy waves.
Catching him staring, her lips tugged an amusing smile. “Still talkative as ever, I see.”
The proud lord had always been a man – no, demon – of few words. So it should not have come as a surprise that he would not be much of a conversationalist. She figured he will say whatever was on his mind when ready. Besides, he was the one encroaching on her privacy. Whatever it was he wanted will eventually reveal itself.
Sighing, she turned back to watching the peaceful sunset, briefly searching around before lowering onto an area clear of rocks. Once seated, her chin rested upon bent knees as arms folded around slender legs. Maybe it was not the most dignified of positions to sit, she thought childishly. Especially not in front of the Lord of the West. But it was comfortable, and comfort was something she would cherish in whatever form it came in.
It was not long before soft footsteps sounded to the left as Sesshomaru sidled next to her. White and red-patterned silk billowed in the caressing wind. It grazed against the back of her exposed forearm from a gathered sleeve, allowing her to feel the exquisite softness of such luxurious textiles. It reminded her of satin sheets in a home out of reach. Though not as smooth nor as finely woven, satin had been – or will be – readily available and mass-produced, bridging the gap between the pauper and prince.
Of course his clothes would be the best this era had to offer. He’s practically a king!, she lightly mused.
It was nonsensical how being around this youkai royalty had never fazed her, thinking back to all those who had cowered at his haughty feet. Yet, she would be a blubbering mess around professors and other authoritative figures in the modern era whenever caught in their reprimanding glare.
As her thoughts wandered aimlessly, long moments of silence ghosted by, accentuated by the gentle whispering of leaves in the distant foliage. And just when it became so still that she questioned if he was even there at all, Sesshomaru finally spoke.
“Tell me what became of the Shikon no Tama.” A deep and firm timbre. She had almost forgotten what his baritone had sounded like. How long had it been now? Five years? Or was it six?
Either way, her brow quirked, thinking the answer was fairly obvious. Didn’t he know? She was sure he did. About to ask for clarification, her train of thought halted when remembering a small, tiny detail.
He had been there to help relinquish the lethal blow, but not when she had made the final wish.
Oh.
“It’s gone now, disappeared for good,” she replied, “You don’t have to worry about another evil coming after it.”
“You presume much. I do not worry.”
Casting a sidelong glance to her reticent visitor, she knew it was not pretence. He had no need for such falsehoods.
Of course not.
“Well, I was worried. With all that happened with Naraku, it’s relieving to know there’s not another blood-crazed demon bent on destroying everything in its path for power.” Grimacing, she added, “At least, it won’t be because of that stupid jewel.”
Though Naraku was far from the greatest foe Sesshomaru had ever encountered, he had still been an annoying, recurring pest that had brought chaos throughout his lands. It had taken years to hunt down the elusive coward, and even more to correct the environmental and political damage left behind.
So he acceded to her assessment. It was a bit of a relief, if not solely for the tediousness of preventative damage control. But that did not explain the how.
“What had been done to be rid of it?” He wanted to be sure that it was, indeed, gone for good.
“A selfless wish was made. And it disappeared.”
The sullenness of her reply did not escape his observation. He had been expecting a different, opposite reaction for achieving such a task. Had she not fulfilled her duty as guardian of the jewel? She had never shied away from celebratory pride before, at least not from the handful of times he had seen – and heard – her obnoxious yet cheerful rallying at every scuffle.
Briefly, he wondered what that wish had been. He had heard of the fabled legend of the jewel’s creation, though it was never of particular interest to him. He did recall an instance of the old flea’s retelling of the tale, and possible ways for its destruction. It had been right after Inuyasha had been sealed to a tree by the jewel’s previous protector.
Inuyasha.
Flashes of their last encounter replayed in his mind. And now it all made sense. He looked directly at the miko.
“You did not wish for the half-breed’s life.” It was a statement that required no confirmation. Inuyasha had not been brought back, that much he knew.
“No.” A soft sheen coated pools of blue. “It would have been a selfish wish if I did.”
The weight of that truth fell heavily around them. “Yes. It would have.”
Nothing else was said in the suddenly sombre atmosphere, both facing westwards now. Her gaze was back on the horizon where land met sky in vibrant washes of orange and pink. The sun dipped low behind the hills, casting long, trailing shadows across the valley like flowing ribbons. From the east, violets and indigoes meshed in a gradient overlay, staking their claim on the palette of the heavens. Soon, all would be dark, and a new stage will play in a twinkled sky.
Sesshomaru’s attention was focused elsewhere. He was not admiring colors of an everyday natural phenomenon. In his long life, any novelty will eventually fade, regardless of its magnificence. Instead, he was regarding the vastness of the domain under his protection. Land that was once ruled by a powerful inuyoukai general had since been passed on to the last of its bloodline.
She had her duty, and he had his.
“Why didn’t you save him?” The softly-spoken question pulled him from his thoughts, diverting attention to the miko at his side. She was still watching the setting sun.
“I was not compelled to,” he answered detachedly, leaving not a sliver of emotion passing through his stoic mask.
It was such a vacant response; lacking compassion, empathy. Humanity. She chided herself. Of course it lacked humanity – he wasn’t human, after all. Yet still, it bothered her. It bothered her to know how unbothered he was. Had the topic been about anyone else, she could understand. But Inuyasha had been his brother. His family. How could he still be so –
Turning, she planted flat, accusing eyes upon him. “You saved Rin.”
He stared back at her, challenging with his piercing gaze. “Yes.”
“Then why not your brother?” Her voice was raised, but there was something missing in her fire.
Whatever it was did not matter. The question was one he had considered repeatedly; hating to admit that it had ever even remotely occupied his ruminations.
Why not?
He was not positive of the answer, recalling how strange it had been that there was not a peep from their father’s fang, considering whom the request had been for. No hint of magic, it had stayed dormant. There were moments he wondered if it would have awoken if he willed it to. Had he willed it to on that fateful day? Had he been that bitter that even for his own kin, he did not have even the slightest inclination for his survival?
No, it would have not made a difference. The notion was quickly dismissed. The blade had always worked in mysterious ways.
She was still waiting when his gaze finally fell away in dismissal, and her shoulders slumped. It was pointless. There was not even a flicker of anything in that unyielding look he graced her with, proving just how even in death, there was nothing left. He was turning to leave when her next words caused his steps to pause.
“Use your sword on me,” she said evenly, sounding almost like a demand.
Golden eyes slanted to her face, immediately perceptive of the longing look now aimed towards the inheritance tethered at his hip. After what she had been telling him, he wondered if his ears were being deceptive. Was the miko not supposed to be selfless? Was that not the sole purpose for her earned title? A requisite for her success in vanquishing a mystical, destructive bauble?
Perhaps, he reassessed, even the purest will eventually waver to power. To the closest thing humanity may achieve to immortality. It was a dangerous vanity. To extend nature by such artificial means. He had done it for Rin, yes, but that had been his choice and for a life not yet lived.
But to have the audacity to demand such a favour from him? He nearly scoffed, disapproval at such a request easily reflecting in his mocking tone.
“Miko, you believe yourself to be worthy of a second life?”
She laughed, the lilt in her voice hollow as she replied, “I wasn’t asking for life.” Slanting upwards, dull blue eyes met his cold, cruel gaze. “Tell me, Sesshomaru, does Tenseiga not kill what’s already dead?”
If what had been spoken surprised him, it did not show, his expression remaining impassive as ever. Only the slight flare of his nostrils indicated any reaction to her query, and it was only then, did he realize the truth of her words.
And that was what had been different about this woman. What he had dismissed as possibly a cloaking spell was actually absence.
Absence of the decaying scent of mortality that shadowed every one of her species.
Absence of a muted thrum – a pulse that would otherwise indicate the presence of life.
And perhaps the most noticeable difference – of all their fleeting encounters – was the absence of the spark usually lining those determined irises. What had been a vivid flame had now withered to something dry, and like her voice, deceivingly hollow.
Yet despite all the proof he now had, she was different from his brother’s first undead miko. She did not smell of earth and clay. Her unique scent was dimmed, but it was still present with hints of spring blossom and citrus as it carried in the wind. Her body, from what he could tell, was real and original, not made of soil and dust. But then again, there were magic that even he knew not about.
Fully regarding her with renewed intrigue, Sesshomaru’s eyes narrowed upon her sitting form. “How.”
The miko flashed a tight smile, not at all amazed the question was masked as a command. She could already tell that today would not be the day he would acquiesce her request. At least, not until all his curiosities had been quelled. He was an inquisitive creature after all.
But she was not going to satisfy his musings today. He did not permit her request, so fair was fair. Aside from that, she was just too tired to elaborate on such details now.
Rising to her feet, she dusted off the crinkled pleats of her dark blue hakama. The color red had long since been abandoned from her wardrobe. There was no need to look like someone she was not. Taking a few steps, she stopped shoulder to shoulder by his side. Her neck craned to account for their height difference, eyes remaining locked on his questioning gaze.
“That’s a story for another day,” she said quietly, lingering on his unreadable expression. Smiling gently, she continued past him back into the woods, leaving a different lone figure to contemplate the enigma that is Kagome.
-X-
Sesshomaru had not given much thought to their last encounter, but fleeting visions of the miko’s strange request had crossed his mind on rare occasion. With an unshakeable recollection such as his, it came as no surprise when he easily spotted her again a decade later, looking no different than the last. And once again the memory unknowingly crept like a misty fog. Whispers of an old conversation graced him with silent words in the backdrop of a tranquil sunset, leaving behind new mysteries just waiting to be solved.
Attention tuned up the dusty trail to the woman of his past within the present. Engaged in conflict, she was surrounded by three burly looking men each with weapons drawn.
White sleeves were ripped and stained with dirt. Royal blue bottoms had been slashed cleanly, revealing a pale leg beneath the open slit. Masses of midnight locks were wild and untamed, framing her concentrated face like a lion’s mane. It made her look fierce, and he was subtly pleased with the steadfastness of her warrior’s stance. A wakizashi was gripped defensively in her right hand, prepared to strike.
Confidence leaked from the miko in potent waves, so when one of the men moved to attack, he was not surprised when she expertly dodged and landed a hit, drawing blood. But the scene quickly changed when the other two men converged and knocked her off balance. His eyes widened suddenly when a gleaming blade jutted through white and black, scraping against the sound of cracking bones.
Crimson flashed instantly and within a split second, he had already leapt through the clearing, a rumbling growl reverberating in his wake.
Before Kagome could register the shocked gasps of her assailants, she felt a gush of wind and heard three distinct thuds. Then, an uncomfortable feeling was starting to spread from her midsection, up her ribs, and through her upper back. Expression shocked, she was staring down at the source of such infliction.
There, jabbed through the center of her stomach was a worn, double-edged blade.
Dusty blue eyes followed the metal length to the gruff hand upon the hilt, trailing up the sleeved forearm, past the armoured shoulder, and finally stopping at the space where the head was supposed to be. Red liquid still spewing, the body stood a moment before it wavered and fell, grip falling away from the embedded weapon.
Looking up further, her sight landed upon a familiar white-clad figure. Silver strands glistened in the evening dusk, just as glimmers reflected off the thin katana being sheathed back into its dark scabbard, already slicked free of blood. Scattered around him were the remaining masses of the other two severed heads and motionless bodies.
Realizing what had just happened, she raised a brow at his rescue.
“You know I can’t die, right?” she asked, finding the concept of Sesshomaru as her knight in shining armour quite amusing.
“Hn.” He approached, coming face to face with the miko. He was close enough that she could almost feel his breath upon the crown of her head. A curious look was fixed upon his bland expression, and she could have sworn there was a tinge of red lining amber irises. “So it would seem.”
Suddenly, a firm tug jolted her forward, almost causing her to crash into him. She was quick to hold her stance preventing such a stumble. Peering at his hand she saw the small sword of her attacker, realizing he has just pulled it out from her impalement before discarding it to the ground.
“Um…thanks?” she glanced back up sheepishly, taking note of the tightness in his jaw and the focus of honey gold eyes at the spot of intrusion.
“You do not bleed,” he stated with mild inflection.
“Yeah, I found that weird the first time, too.” She shifted, moving to slide her own short blade back into the sash at her waist. This appeared to have snapped Sesshomaru away from his assessment as he took a step back, giving her space.
“Does this normally occur?” he asked with a casual motion to the fallen attackers.
Kagome eyed the bodies wryly. “Define normally.”
At his deadpan stare, she shrugged while trying to rearrange the folds of her clothes to their proper place. Half way through she gave up on the tattered remains and left it as best she could, glad her undergarments were still intact.
“Sometimes,” she finally answered while raking through her tangled hair, “it comes with the territory of travelling alone.”
He watched lithe fingers comb through fine, dark strands. Her actions were so natural while completely disregarding the many bloodless cuts littered across exposed skin. It seemed inhuman, almost demon-like. It was oddly mesmerizing.
“You do not fear the danger.”
“Have I ever?” Bending down, she grabbed the tail end of a tattered hem and ripped the thin strip the rest of the way. Rising again, hair was gathered away from her face, using the makeshift ribbon to tie a high ponytail.
With her neck in clear view, he can confirm with more than just sound that there was, indeed, no pulse. “Perhaps before.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Dusting off her appearance, she looked down one end of the forest trail, and then the other. “Are we close to a river or hotspring?” She really wanted to wash off.
Sesshomaru listened carefully before inclining his head to the northbound trail, thigh-length silver strands swaying with the simple motion. “Yet now, you do not,” he continued.
“What’s there to fear?” came a light-hearted answer as she began walking at a sedate pace, completely disregarding the corpses that would surely become some animal’s feast. Once upon a time she may have cared enough to bury them. Once upon a time she had a heart.
“Pain.” He followed leisurely in step beside her. It was the same direction he had been heading anyway. And once again, he was in no hurry to the destination. “Or perhaps you do not fear that either.”
She was reminded of the uncomfortable feeling in her gut and chest from just moments ago, almost completely gone by now. “Can’t fear what I can’t feel.”
“With your affinity to danger, that may be for the best.”
Was that…was that a joke? Angling to see his face, a sly smile reached her lips when she discovered the faintest of smirks. “You’re awfully chatty today.”
And…the smirk was gone.
“Oh no, don’t stop talking for my sake!” she backpedalled with a small chuckle.
Even back when they had been allies, it was rare getting a single word out of him. Aside from taunts and threats, there was not much else. He had always been mysterious and evasive, and she wondered if he was always so deep in thought or was thinking nothing at all. She had never pegged him to be a daydreamer. What could such a being be pondering all the time? What does one do to occupy their mind after living such a long, lasting life?
Sensing his rather pleasant mood, she was going to milk this opportunity as much as possible. Besides…it was getting harder to find someone to converse with lately, and she wasn’t going to waste a chance presented on a silver platter.
“So, what has the great Lord of the West been up to for the past ten years?”
“Politics.” A loaded answer.
“What a bore.” She made a face.
“Please, enlighten me with your worldly adventures,” he responded almost ludically.
“Touché.”
At the blander than usual façade returned to her, she realized his confusion at the terminology. “Sorry, that was French. I’ve just been going around villages to help the sick and injured. It’s sort of what I do best, I guess.”
“How long?”
“How long what?” She kicked a small rock along the road, recalling a game her little brother used to play when she would walk him home from school.
“Since you have been travelling,” he elaborated. He normally did not repeat questions, but for some reason he was feeling quite magnanimous. Chalk it up to boredom and restlessness.
Kagome was having trouble keeping her wonderment contained, positive that this was probably the most he had ever spoken with her.
Looking upwards to the clouds, she recounted in memory. “Pretty much the whole time.”
“Since our last encounter?”
“Since Naraku.”
They fell into a companionable silence after that. The sky was darkening, emphasizing the quiet stillness as critters hid for the night. Even Sesshomaru’s footsteps were as stealthy as a feline’s, making hers sound like a galloping horse with the slippers she wore. She wondered if he would maim her for comparing him to a cat.
Peeking through thick lashes, she stole a glance at the demon she had not seen in what seemed like forever. Faced ahead, it gave her a perfect view of his side profile. Magenta stripes still lined high cheekbones, stark and contrasting to such alabaster skin. Nose a perfect slope that drew sharp, sculpted angles. Lips held firmly closed – but not in a frown. She thought about his smirk from earlier, and wondered how a true smile would tug those lips. Not the I-am-going-to-enjoy-killing-you smile, but a truly happy smile.
“It is rude to stare.”
Embarrassed at being caught, she quickly looked away, eyes glueing to the road ahead. “Sorry.”
It was now his turn to study the miko. Though he could practically feel her discomfiture, her too-pale skin was missing the tinge of pink that would normally show.
There is no blood to rush her cheeks.
That awareness brought on a theory he wanted confirmed since first informed of her missing mortality.
“Was it the wish that caused your current state?”
She hesitated, fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeves before nodding in the affirmative.
“Explain.”
“You’re really going to dig this out of me, aren’t you?” she groused. Turning to see his reaction, she sighed heavily upon the seriousness of his curiosity. Stubborn youkai. She wanted to wash off the dirt and grime, and had a feeling that if she refused to answer, then he would refuse to lead her to water. Debating whether or not to tell him, she finally decided there was no harm in sharing. Taking a deep breath, she found the starting point.
“After we defeated Naraku, the jewel left behind was fully corrupt. It was the darkest I have ever seen it, almost pitch black.”
Sesshomaru reflected back on that eventful day. It had taken the combined power of Bakusaiga and her reiki-infused arrow to disintegrate and fully be rid of that despicable hanyou. All that remained was the completed Shikon, as melanic as she had just described.
“I couldn’t purify it. I had tried so hard to. But I couldn’t get over all that it had taken from me.”
He had seen her reach for the bauble on the worn battlefield, but had left shortly when the scent of tears salted the air. Her companions were all gone, and he had no interest in observing her grief.
“I didn’t have the strength to even touch it without crying. I was so angry. For weeks, I could barely look at it. And when I finally tried to face it, Kaede had found me in a trance, just holding and staring into the jewel. When she shook me from that spell, hours had passed. All I remembered was being someplace dark. A voice had been speaking to me.”
By now, her words were barely above a whisper, but he could still clearly hear everything. When it seemed like she was not going to continue, he patiently urged.
“It was the jewel speaking with you.”
“It was,” she confirmed. “I had considered so many wishes that would be rid of it. But each one had its drawback. It told me as such, and I knew it was telling the truth. In the end, I finally came to terms that there was no perfect wish. That’s the one thing gramps didn’t mention in the legend. Is that a selfless wish needed a sacrifice.”
And honestly, she had run through every possible scenario.
She could not wish her friends back. That would have been selfish, because what of others that had lost their lives in the quest for the jewel? She couldn’t wish for everyone back, because malicious beings had also perished along the quest, and bringing them back could spell more trouble and undo all the evil that had been dispelled. She couldn’t wish to bring back just the good-hearted folks, because who was she, or the jewel, to judge who is ultimately ‘good’? Shouldn’t everyone get an equal second chance at redemption? In this world, many had done the bidding of evil out of necessity. Kill or be killed. And what if those souls had already made peace? She couldn’t rip them away from that peace just to be brought back to a life unwanted. Would they even want to be alive after that? Or would they return like one of Urasue’s victims? Like Kikyo?
She didn’t dare to wish for an undo or redo, to before Naraku had come to power. She, of all people, knew not to mess with the time-space continuum. It wasn’t until finally coming upon a solution, that the jewel hit her with that one, little catch. In a roundabout way, it did make sense. Could something truly be selfless without sacrifice?
Sesshomaru pondered on her last statement, combing through each tale to recall if there had been any mention of such and coming up empty.
“I have not heard of this requirement for a sacrifice.”
She gave a mirthless chuckle. “It said I had to make a trade in order for it to disappear. One existence for another.”
By now, he had a hunch of what had been exchanged. But he wanted confirmation. “The trade caused this,” he stated.
“It took my life, but left my soul. I still don’t know how, or why, or exactly what transpired. All I knew when opening my eyes was that the jewel was gone, and so was my heartbeat.” Along with the passage home to my family….
It would seem there had been a high price to pay after all.
Sorrow clung to her like a wet cloak, yet he scented no tears. With everything that had just been relayed, she was surprisingly stable after recounting such admission. He had expected crying, or cracks in her voice. At first he had attributed it to her resolute strength; that perhaps she had grown past those turbulent emotions throughout the years. But now, maybe it had been an effect of the wish. She said she no longer felt fear or pain. Perhaps more had been taken.
“Yet you are still here,” he offered.
“But for what purpose?” She swiped her sleeves across her eyes, but he knew them to be dry.
“What purpose would you need?” he asked honestly. Humans. He never could understand their abstract necessities.
Kagome shook her head dejectedly. “You don’t get it. I’m not alive. I’m a shell of myself. I can’t feel.” Wiping angrily at her eyes again, she added, “I can’t even goddamn cry!”
At her rising voice, he scoffed at her delusion. “You are feeling emotions now, are you not?”
After a pregnant pause, her reply came in an oddly calm manner. “I feel flashes of emotions. But it’s never lasting. Just like now. One moment I’m angry, the next…nothing.”
“You no longer have to linger in grief, sadness, or pain. Tell me, are those not emotions humans strive to avoid?” He did not understand her fret. To him, feelings were a hindrance. It had taken decades to master full control of his, yet it came to her as simply a by-product of the wish.
“I can’t feel love.”
So that was the reason for her misgivings.
“You do not require love.” He said it so matter-of-factly.
Scoffing, she had expected such a response from the likes of him. “How can someone not require love? How can someone go through life not experiencing something so great?”
“I do not need love. And yet I have endured centuries.”
“Yeah,” she grumbled, “You’ve endured. I want to live.”
“You can live without.”
“Says the one with a heart of ice.” She sighed. It was useless trying to persuade since he had probably never known true joy from such a powerful emotion. “It’s different having experienced it and then to have it taken away, to be completely numb to all of it. I don’t want to go on like this. Maybe we can try Tensei –”
“Cease this,” he suddenly growled, halting them both in the middle of the road. The direction of her ramblings was not something he wanted to entertain. He had only ever killed with purpose, to those deserving, or for entertainment. And taking whatever life she had left was without purpose, and would not be entertaining. The miko, he had long decided, was not deserving of such a death. He would not be coerced to committing those actions, even though he was unsure if Tenseiga could actually kill her, seeing as she was not a being of the underworld in the traditional sense.
His tone remained sharp and unrelenting. “You will not make such a request again.”
Speechless to find two intense pools of swirling amber piercing her still, she could only nod under such scrutiny. Never had she witnessed such a reaction from him. It had always been hidden behind an emotionless mask, that to actually see such intensity up close was…something else.
But it didn’t last. Just like her flashes of emotion, in the blink of an eye it was gone. Expressionless mask once again in place, he turned and continued striding along the path.
Kagome eventually caught up with the demon lord, and the rest of the trek was encroached in silence. It wasn’t much longer before they finally came upon the sound of trickling water, and after leading her to the riverbed, Sesshomaru promptly left without another word, not even a single glance.
-X-