Three days ago
His mother had requested him to stop by her penthouse that morning and see her before he started his day.
She was not a warm type; she had never been. But, he did not mind it. He believed there were more than one type of good mothers, and his happened to be one that displayed her affections in her own way.
Sometimes, a very peculiar way.
She was not one for idle chit-chat as well, a trait he happily shared. And as usual, this morning, she went straight to the point.
They were sitting together at the breakfast table in her sun-lit drawing room, sipping tea, when she offered him a familiar white envelope. Her golden eyes, which he inherited, pinned him expectantly as he regarded the envelope with distaste.
“Another match?” He sighed, shooting her a weary look over the rim of his cup. “Have I not said enough is enough?”
“This one is different,” she told him. Her lips curled into a secretive smile. “Have a look before you refuse.”
Arching a brow at her, he took the envelope and opened it as she requested. He pulled out the photo he knew it contained, and froze.
The miko Kagome.
Someone had taken a candid photograph of her in the white and red priestess uniform. Her flowing raven locks were tied loosely at the back with only a few tendrils framing the heart-shaped face. She was smiling, though she was looking away from the camera. Her deep brown eyes were fixated on someone else – perhaps a customer at the shrine – as she listened with rapt attention.
Carefully, he placed the photo on the table, face down.
He despised surprises. He always had. And now, he felt a little bit like someone had pulled the rug from under him, and it roused his temper. He glared at his mother.
“What have you done, Mother?”
She seemed unperturbed even when faced with his ire. “Only what you should have done long ago,” she calmly said, then paused to sip her tea while he waited with bated breath. She was moving with deliberate languidness. Designed to torment him, doubtless.
She finally lowered her cup to speak. “I hired someone to find out where she is. Do you know? She is employed in three different places. At this point, the amount of labour she does is more than the lowest-ranked maid in any of my houses, and your miko most likely does not eat anywhere as well as the maid does.”
Her words extinguished his anger and replaced it with remorse. He tried to ignore the painful pangs of guilt that ravaged his chest at the reminder.
“It was unnecessary to hire an investigator to discover her whereabouts,” he told his mother. “You could have asked me. I have always kept my eyes on her.”
“Is that so?” She stared at him pointedly. “Not well enough, it seems.”
He flinched inwardly. He could not deny the truth in his mother’s words. Though he knew the logistics and the basics of her life, he had never made contact, let alone approach her for a word.
Even though it had been five-hundred years since she left the feudal era. Even though it had been five years since she returned to the modern era.
“I knew you check on her from time to time,” his mother said. “I knew you have information on where she lives, where she works. But truthfully, my son, for reasons I still cannot understand, you have made no move to claim her.”
He made a project out of stirring his tea, staring at the golden amber colour of the steaming liquid, keeping his silence.
“Sesshōmaru. It has been over five centuries. Isn’t it time to do something? Anything.” When still, he did not answer, she continued. “First, it had been one thing keeping you both apart. Then, it was another thing. Then, it was something else. Now, nothing stands between you and her. Is there a purpose for this exasperating delay?”
When he still refused to speak, she sighed and placed her cup back on the table.
“It may surprise you, but I am not so unlike other mothers out there. I wish to see my only son settled. I wish to see your father’s line, and your line, continue. I wish to—“ She turned away and pursed her lips, assuming a melancholy pose. “— to hold my grandchildren before I grow too old and drop dead.”
Sesshōmaru stared her. She was a daiyōkai in her own right, still looking like a demoness in her prime. She had no illness whatsoever. What she did have, however, was a penchant for drama, and this streak somehow always managed to rear its head at suspiciously convenient times. He would not be surprised if she managed a teardrop to roll down her cheek.
“Oh? Are you feeling infirm again, Mother? You can only use this excuse twice more before the end of the year.”
She whipped her head around to look at him now, arching her perfectly shaped eyebrows to match his expression.
“Do not be cheeky, my son. It suits you far too much,” she told him. “Now. I have asked the matchmaker to set up an Omiai in three days time. She will send you the details later.” She fastened a look on him that brook no argument. “Be ready.”
-------
Today
Sesshōmaru wished his mother had told him only one day, not three days, prior to the meeting, so that he stressed only for that one day instead of three whole days.
But, in the end, he decided to go to the Omiai. Because, like his mother so kindly pointed out, it had been five hundred years.
As soon as he stepped into the private room of the restaurant, it struck him how much the miko had looked the same. Yet, different.
Now, there was grace and maturity in her gait that she had not possessed before. She used to traipse around the Plains of Musashi in a set of clothing that was highly scandalous for that time period, and rolled around in that ghastly, rickety pink metal horse he had long ago learned was called a ‘bicycle’. Before, she had an open, expressive face. A cheerful, lively disposition. It had been vexing at one point, borderline inappropriate.
Now, her expressions and movements were guarded. Chary. Her eyes were no longer windows to her soul; they were shuttered close.
It was somewhat akin to looking at a porcelain vase that had survived a fall. Still beautiful. But, when one observed closely, one would find fine hairline fissures on the surface.
"A month's time… for what?" She had asked, rather bemusedly.
He stared back at her, and the words came out of his mouth unbidden.
"For the wedding."
She was stunned to stillness, at first. Then, she surprised him when she covered her mouth with the back of one hand and laughed. Her eyes were once more alighted with good humour. For a brief moment, he saw her as that young girl again, the cheerful version of her whom he last saw five centuries ago.
“Sesshōmaru,” she said when her laughter subsided. “Was that… meant as a proposal?”
Granted, it was a presumptuous proposal if there ever was one. He had not even asked if she consented to marry him. He only asked if she consented to marry him next month.
But, when he gazed at the twinkles of mirth still glittering in her eyes, chasing away the shadows that had darkened them, he thought… Perhaps the blunder was worth it.
He nodded. “It was not a very good proposal. I apologize.”
And yet, having seen her reaction, he could not imagine a better one.
She shook her head; the smile lingering on her lips. His eyes too lingered there for a moment longer than it should be before he forced himself to look elsewhere.
She had dressed herself meticulously in mauve and gold kimono. The garment was of fine quality. He was pleased to know she judged their meeting important enough to don her best formal outfit. Yet, the motif on the fabric seemed more suitable for an older, married woman. It most likely belonged to her mother before she passed away.
The thought of her deceased mother, her deceased everyone, squeezed a painful pressure in his chest.
The day Inuyasha told him that her entire family: mother, brother, and grandfather, had perished in a car crash, he had been shell-shocked. Though he had not many interactions with her in the past, it was easy enough to see she was not meant to be a solitary creature. She always seemed the happiest when she was surrounded by her friends and comrades. It was disturbing to picture her alone, with no kin around her.
“Are you going to see her?” He asked his half-brother. Right then, Inuyasha glanced at his wife who had just disappeared into the other room and shrugged. After that, they talked about something else, and never revisited the topic.
In the end, Inuyasha had not gone. Neither had he. No, that was not true. He had driven himself to Higurashi shrine and sat for the longest time in his car. Outside. Unable to muster enough courage to step out and face the woman he had waited for five hundred years.
He, Sesshōmaru. The almighty daiyōkai of the west whose name had inspired fear in the hearts of his foes. Who had never backed down from a challenge or a battle, even when his life was at risk. Who had entered the underworld without hesitation in pursuit of his ward, and slain the hell hound and the master of hell himself.
But, that day, he was more terrified than he had ever been in his life.
It had been four years, but the stain of shame was impossible to erase. As it turned out, time had a special way of beating humility into anyone and everyone. Including him.
In the end, he was no better than Inuyasha.
“I would like to know what you expect from our union.” He heard Kagome spoke, bringing him back to the present.
The question caught him off guard. Truthfully, he had no expectations. He had not thought of anything beyond getting her to agree to become his wife. Then, later, after he proved to her that he was a good provider, a good protector, and a good lover, he would make her agree to become his mate.
“I wish for a union filled with mutual companionship,” he started. “Amity. Loyalty. Fidelity. Honesty. Trust. Respect. And, of course—“ He paused to look at her directly in the eyes.
“Pleasure,” he finished softly.
His keen hearing caught the hitch in her breathing at that one word. His vigilant eyes followed the movements of her throat as she swallowed. Her scent shifted from curious to nervousness, and then… back to curious. He nearly arched his brow at that.
They rounded a corner and came upon an arched wooden bridge, painted bright vermillion, over a pond filled with koi fishes. Beyond the bridge, he saw a small gazebo jutting out from the side of the pond.
“Would you like to sit down?” He casually asked, gesturing at the gazebo. With her eyes, she followed the direction of his hand, and nodded her assent.
He helped her climb over another series of stone steps; her hand felt small and dainty in his grasp. And cold.
“You mentioned… children,” she said, as she took a seat on the bench inside the gazebo.
“I did.”
He decided to remain standing; his back resting against the railing along the perimeter. It was a better position to gauge her reaction. Her eyes rested briefly on his before she lowered them to stare at her lap.
“So… you intend for the marriage to be consummated.”
Well, yes… Should he not? He almost replied. But, hers was not a question. It was a statement, one she seemed to be resigned to.
He wondered how he felt about his future wife and mate feeling resigned to the notion of sharing his bed. Not exactly complimentary. Perhaps the better question was why she felt resigned. Earlier, she had scented him like a female yōkai would. He had caught her inhaling his scent. Deeply. With his yōkai senses unfettered by the glamour, he had smelled her interest. Very subtle, yes, buried beneath layers of uneasiness, confusion, and uncertainty, but it was undeniably there.
Pleasurable heat had spread within the deep pit of his stomach at the discovery that she was not unaffected. By him.
It was not much to go by. He had to remind himself one swallow did not make a summer. But— it was something.
“I do not desire a marriage that is a marriage in name only,” he finally said. “I want ours to be a full marriage. I cannot abide a platonic relationship with the one person I am to spend the rest of my life with. If you consented to this union, you will be my closest kin. I would hope that, at least with you, I could be free to express my wants and needs. Just as I hope you could do the same, with me.”
Her blush deepened, but she seemed to be taking in his response seriously, mulling over every word with great care.
“Furthermore, at one point, I do need an heir,” he added, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “My aristocratic title needs to be passed down. And, over the centuries, I have amassed great wealth and built an empire of corporations. They need a successor.”
She nodded. Most likely in understanding, not in agreement.
“What about… the mating?” She asked. The colour on her cheeks heightened even further, it almost matched the crimson maple leaves behind her. “I presume you would want that side to be official as well.”
He was hesitant to tell her what the yōkai mating ritual entailed. If she thought sex with him alarming, how would she react to the thought of mating with him?
“Yōkai mating involves… more than signing papers at the registry office,” he cautiously said. “More than exchanging verbal vows and the nuptial cups. It is more than… just sex. And, unlike the human’s convention of marriage, it is a permanent bond. Irreversible, irrevocable. There is no getting out of it.” He paused, trying to assess her reaction to his words.
Whatever it was, she hid it well behind her mask.
He did not realize the oddity of that thought until a few seconds later. Since when did she hide behind a mask? That should be his specialty, not hers.
“I will not ask you to commit to it until you are confident it is what you want,” he said, in an attempt to reassure her.
She regarded him with a blank expression on her face. She had become quite adept at hiding her emotions. Interesting.
“Shall I explain what it entails?” He offered.
The corners of her lips lifted just a touch. “Sesshōmaru. I think— if our marriage proved successful and we managed to reach the mating stage, I’m sure whatever we have to do to complete the ritual will be acceptable by that point.”
Acceptable. He was speechless. She was approaching the issue with a wholly clinical attitude. Perhaps it was not a bad thing. It would keep her from getting too anxious about the matter, when the culmination of their relationship might not even happen for quite some time.
“I see,” he said softly.
“What about living arrangements?” She asked. “Where will we live?”
He was relieved to leave off the delicate topic of mating and move on to the more practical subject of their potential residence.
“I own several penthouses in the city,” he told her. “Most days, I stay at the building closest to my office in Aoyama. But I also own a house near Otsuki, a little over an hour drive from the city. I go there once in a while and stay for a few days. Of course, you are free to visit all those properties to see which one you want us to live in, though I have an inkling you might like the house best. It is lovely, with ample outdoor space. I would spend more time there if I could.”
“Is that also where your mother lives?”
Sesshōmaru nearly snorted. “Gods, no,” he said. “She has properties of her own. Most of the time she resides in her penthouse in Toranomon. Not far from here, actually. She also has a house in Denenchōfu which she is fond of. She spends her spare time there. Other than that, our family estate is in Aichi prefecture. Although it is also a lovely place, she visits it more often than I do.”
After some thoughts he added: “I have houses in other parts of Japan as well, and some abroad. However, I do sincerely hope you would agree to remain in the Kantō region. It would make running a business more difficult if I had to relocate myself suddenly.”
She nodded. After some hesitation, she slowly asked: “And… are we to live… together?”
He wondered if others of his gender also had to face similarly odd questions when they proposed marriage. He was a stranger to the human’s institution, but he knew married couples commonly lived together, unless there were extenuating circumstances that made it impossible for the pair to live under the same roof.
“I… prefer that we are,” he said. “Though it might depend on which home you like best. If you are partial to the house near Otsuki, because of the farther distance, I might have to stay overnight in the city from time to time. Especially during the periods when my business requires more attention.”
Was it his imagination or did she look… relieved to know he would be away on occasions? He did not have time to mull that over because her next question was upon him.
“Will I… be allowed to work? Or… go out? With friends, or…”
He stared at her as her words trailed into nothing and she fell into silence.
What exactly does she think she is getting into?
“Miko, I am offering marriage, not a life inside a cage,” he told her, striving to conceal the impatience he began to feel. “You are free to continue working, or study, or pursue any other ambitions you may have. You are also free to go out and see your friends, or relatives, and enjoy your time with them. All I hope is that you will come home at the end of the day. To me. Might you find that acceptable as well?”
As much as he tried to smother his irk, some of it bled into his tone. Regret set in as soon as he heard the sharp edge in his voice. He turned away to cast his eyes upon the still water of the pond, watching the fishes swimming without a care in the world. His fingers curled around the handrail, the wood creaking and groaning under the pressure of his hand. He had to remember to not crush the railing in his attempt to pacify himself.
It was an unusual and difficult situation. For them both, though it was bound to be more trying for her than for him. If they were to proceed, she would be leaving her home to live with him in his environments. The stakes were higher for her, and she was entitled to have her questions answered and her concerns allayed.
He turned back to look at her. And, when he saw the defeat in her expression and, worse, her eyes, the remorse multiplied.
“I’m sorry,” he said, tempering his voice to its usual composure. “That came out more harsh than I intended.”
She shook her head, smiling a little.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you with my questions.” She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve… never done this before. I just want to make sure I am able to give you what you are looking for.”
“I understand,” he said. “Also, I know you are capable of giving me what I am looking for. If I was not confident, I would not have agreed to meet with you.”
Something in his words prompted her to look up. Surprise was clearly etched in her expression. A moment later, it disappeared, and her eyes were once again filled with softness.
“I can give you mutual companionship,” she said. “As well as amity, loyalty, fidelity, trust, and respect.” She paused, on the verge of saying something else. “With regards to pleasure—” She blushed again. “Well. I don’t have hundreds of years of experience like you do, but I will endeavour to do my best.”
Those were tepid words, though for some reasons, the thought of her doing ‘her best’ sent a little thrill down his spine. But— did she realize she had missed ‘honesty’? He nearly frowned. The woman reeked of secrets, and it was obvious she was not prepared to share them. No matter. He was no stranger to secrets. After all these years, he doubted she had any that could still shock him.
“I will also provide you with security. Protection.” he told her gently. He noted how her eyes found his when the last word left his lips. “Any material goods I own is yours.”
“That is generous,” she replied. Then, she lowered her eyes to her lap again. “There is not much I can bring to the table when it comes to material goods at this point. I am sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. I do not require any more.”
Their eyes met and he held her gaze without wavering. A few minutes passed in complete silence. He had the feeling that a war for her decision was taking place inside herself: to accept or to decline.
He was not one to pray, but at that moment, he sincerely implored any god who would listen to steer her to decide in his favour.
She rose to her feet and took a few steps towards him, not stopping until she was but an arm’s length away.
“Well, then. Sesshōmaru,” she said, staring at him straight in the eyes. “I accept your proposal.”
-------
The matchmaker had prepared a car to take Kagome home. Sesshōmaru waited on the driveway, watching the black sedan weaving its way slowly onto the main road. When it disappeared amidst afternoon Tokyo traffic, he exhaled a deep sigh and went around the back to go to his own car.
Rinshō, his personal assistant, secretary, chauffeur, and most trusted person all rolled into one, was exactly where he had left him: behind the steering wheel.
“How was it?” The question reached Sesshōmaru before he even had the door closed; enthusiasm palpable in every word.
Sesshōmaru settled in the back seat as he considered the question. “It was… interesting.”
Rinshō‘s young face fell with disappointment. “My lord, it’s not fair that you answered with just that one word. Interesting. It means everything and nothing at the same time. It doesn’t tell me anything at all.”
Sesshōmaru grabbed an envelope of paperwork from the seat beside him, and started rifling through the papers. “She agreed to marry me,” Sesshōmaru said. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
Rinshō’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Really?”
“Must you look so surprised? And relieved?”
“Well.” At least he had the grace to look sheepish. “My lord is not the easiest person to live with, so it is fortunate that your lady agreed—“
“Have I truly raised you to be this impertinent, Rinshō?”
When Rinshō grinned at him from the rear-view mirror, Sesshōmaru sighed inwardly. Especially lately, whenever the boy smiled or grinned, he resembled his grandmother so much that Sesshōmaru could not help but let things slide. Perhaps just a tad too much.
He tried to concentrate on the documents he was supposed to be reviewing, but his thoughts kept straying to the happenings during the Omiai.
The miko had said yes.
He was getting married.
He shocked himself by feeling a bit… giddy. It made him lightheaded. Such an odd sensation, considering he did not care much about the institution, it being invented by the humans as a social construct. Kagome might place more importance in it, having been raised to view it as one of the most important milestones in a human’s life. As far as he was concerned, they were getting married merely for the legality of it.
For him, the yōkai mating ritual would be the representation of their true commitment to each other.
Perhaps he was excited about that. Marriage was the first step that would lead to mating.
Although, he had promised his intended he would not push her into it before she was ready. Thus, his utmost priority would be to ensure she felt secure in her choice for a partner.
“In the case that your Omiai was a success,” Rinshō spoke, chasing away his musings. “Gobodo-sama asked me to proceed with booking the banquet hall. Would you prefer one that has three hundred persons capacity, or five hundred?”
Sesshōmaru looked up from the papers, eyebrows arched in astonishment.
“Banquet hall, for what?”
“For your wedding, of course, my lord.”
“How many people, did you say?”
“Three hundred or five hundred.”
Sesshōmaru put the papers down on his lap. “No.”
“No? But… Gobodo-sama said—“
“Absolutely not.” He emphasized every word. His mother must be deranged if she thought he would agree to such a vulgar spectacle. “It is not going to be that kind of a wedding.”