Daiyoukai Make Captivating Art by Sereia

Chapter 1

A/N: For all the artists out there! I hope you know how much you're appreciated!

..::**::..

"What are you wearing?"

Yuka placed her coffee on the table, then unzipped her jacket, showing off the rest of her shirt. "Isn't it awesome? I found it at a night market with Kenji."

Kagome frowned, tilting her head to the side. The picture was slightly distorted, like it was out of focus, but the colours were captivating, so she could understand why it had caught Yuka's eye. "Is it a fairy tale?"

Her friend nodded eagerly. "I think it's a take on Romeo and Juliet. Doesn't it give off the whole star-crossed lovers vibe?" She reached into her purse and pulled out some postcards with the same image so Kagome could get a better look.

A dark-haired woman stood on the edge of a cliff, face hidden as a man reached toward her. There was something oddly familiar about him, but his face was mostly hidden by silver hair. Kagome turned it over, looking for a name. "I don't see a signature."

Yuka shrugged. "Who cares? The art is gorgeous, and that's all that matters." The conversation shifted, and the postcard was slipped into Kagome's bag, mostly forgotten.

..::**::..

"Hey, Kagome, what's this?" Shippou held up the distorted image as she poked her head out of the kitchen. Five hundred years had done wonders to his childlike form, the kitsune now towering over her and sporting four tails—when his glamour wasn't intact.

"What have I told you about going through my bag?"

He brushed off the rebuke. "I was looking for your keys. It's my turn to drive." He pointed at the postcard again.

"That's just something Yuka found while on a date with Kenji. She's got it on a t-shirt, too." The darkening of his youki stopped her from letting the question drop, Shippou's usually carefree face deepening into a scowl. "What's wrong?"

"They removed the signature," he said, foxfire burning the edges. "And it's not even a good copy."

"Do you know the artist?"

Emerald eyes flickered toward her, and he nodded once before putting it in his pocket. "Something like that."

"I thought it was weird there wasn't a name on it," she replied, tapping her chin. "It's a shame because the artist is obviously talented."

Shippou didn't seem to hear her, checking his watch before typing something into his phone. It dinged a few times in reply, and a mischievous grin lit up his features. "Change of plans. Do you have a dress you can wear?"

Kagome looked down at her tattered shorts and bathing suit. "Are we not going to the beach anymore?"

He shook his head. "The artist happens to be holding a gallery today. But there's a dress code."

She perked up, shoving the remnants of their picnic into the fridge as she rushed into her room, pulling out a blue sundress before twisting her hair to one side. Re-emerging, she found Shippou had somehow changed into a forest green dress shirt and charcoal vest.

"You really need to teach me that trick," she grumbled before doing a quick spin. "How's this?" He gave her a thumbs up, then ushered her out the door, hoping his friend wouldn't skin him alive for bringing her along.

..::**::..

The gallery was a mixture of paintings and photography, the latter focusing on a sophisticated combination of lighting and shadows around regular everyday objects. There were books, backpacks, and even a bicycle, sunlight filtering through the spokes as it leaned against a tree.

An odd sense of nostalgia took hold of her, as if she was walking through a memory, and Kagome stopped to inspect each piece. "Are these done by the same artist?" she asked in awe.

Shippou nodded, hands in his pockets. "He couldn't decide which outlet he preferred. None of the photos have people in them, though." He chuckled at one of traditional miko robes blowing in the wind. "He couldn't find the right model."

"So the paintings—"

"Are what he wishes he could've photographed."

Kagome peeked around them to make sure no one was close enough to listen. "Is he youkai? Or hanyou?" It would make sense with the overall fairy tale look of the image on Yuka's shirt.

The kit gave her a knowing smirk, then pointed to the second room. "Why don't we go find out?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just because you've got five centuries on me doesn't mean I can't reach up there and box your ears," she threatened.

"You'd have to find a stool first." He jumped to avoid her foot making contact with his shin.

"You're lucky we're in public," she shot back, tempted to zap him anyway, but the first painting in the collection caught her eye, thoroughly distracting her.

Calm brushstrokes trailed across canvas, creating a startling familiar image of the Bone-Eater's well surrounded by the rolling hills outside Kaede's village. "Shippou," she whispered, voice caught in her throat. His smirk shifted into a waned smile, and he tugged her gently to the next one.

Images of her past assaulted her from all sides, each moment frozen in time, but it wasn't until they reached the picture of the woman on the cliffside that her heart lurched in her chest. Yuka's shirt hadn't done it justice, the crisp lines emphasizing the man's longing as he reached for her.

But it wasn't a man. The pointed ears and firm jawline were much clearer, and if they hadn't been a dead giveaway, the magenta stripes on his cheeks certainly were. The woman looked as if she had no idea he was behind her, and Kagome's fingers twitched as she stopped herself from touching it.

"I didn't know," she said, emotion welling up. "He never said anything. I had no reason to stay, so when the jewel sent me here, I didn't try to go back."

Shippou wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I know. Trust me, I've spent the last 500 years berating him about it." Everything had felt finished when Inuyasha had found her in the meido. Her wish had destroyed the jewel, leaving those involved to finally start living, and though melancholy had gripped her for the final years of high school, Kagome had known she was in the right place.

If she'd known someone had wanted her to stay…

She was torn between regret and rage. The incidents with Mukotsu and inside the bowels of Naraku had stirred her own curiosity about his motives. Why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't she looked at them closer?

"Is he here?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from the canvas.

The light returned to Shippou's eyes, and he ushered her toward the centre of the room. "Why do you think I brought you?" There was a small crowd around what Kagome could only consider the collection's centrepiece. The other paintings were of standard size, enabling people to hang them in their homes, but this one was more like a tapestry, stretching along an entire wall.

"Feel free to ask him about his inspiration for this piece specifically," Shippou said.

Kagome had always struggled with insecurity during her hunt for the shards, especially when her only good quality seemed to be detecting them in the first place. She'd taken up the bow because it was expected, but truth be told, she would've rather had a more versatile weapon.

Apparently, Sesshoumaru had had the same thought.

Blue eyes were focused in fierce determination, both hands gripping the handle of an intricate sword, the blade bathed in reiki. Instead of her school uniform, or even the standard miko robes, she was clad in armour, dark curls flowing around her shoulders.

Was this how Sesshoumaru saw her?

She could've spent the entire day staring at it, but as Shippou moved them closer, the shrill voice of a woman steadily got louder. "I don't see what the issue is. All the other pieces are for sale."

The low baritone of a very familiar voice responded. "All the other pieces are for sale. But not this one."

Kagome looked up at Shippou in question, who only grinned more. "It's his favourite," he said with a shrug. A blush stained her cheeks, and she nodded in understanding, having to duck around patrons as they finally made it within the inner circle.

"I will pay you triple the asking price of your collection. I simply must have it for my summer home!" the woman said, pulling out a chequebook to emphasize her point. Sesshoumaru, though the short, dark hair and modern clothing could've fooled anyone, shook his head.

"You are welcome to speak to the curator about any other piece. This one is from my private collection and will remain as such." He turned away from her to end the conversation, the woman sighing in defeat before wandering to her second choice.

Shippou tucked her behind him as they approached. "You run into that problem every time. You'd think you'd have learned not to bring it by now."

Sesshoumaru gazed at the tapestry, but she saw his shoulders stiffen. "It would be a shame to allow it to collect dust."

"Especially with such a captive audience."

Letting out a sigh, Sesshoumaru finally faced them, running a hand through his hair. "I thought you were busy today, kit. Did you show up just to rub my nose in my failures?"

"It's kind of become a habit," Shippou admitted. "But I brought you a present this time."

He pursed his lips. "What could you possibly bring me—" Hazel eyes widened as Shippou stepped aside, his breath catching. Kagome gave him a brief wave, unable to look away. The stark emotion on his face was something she'd never seen before, and his image flickered between modern artist and daiyoukai of legend.

His lips formed her name, but no sound came out. "Oh, and before you yell at me for using a stand-in—" Shippou pulled the VIP lanyard from her neck, and she watched as Sesshoumaru inhaled sharply, her scent and aura washing over him.

She'd wondered why he hadn't sensed her when they first arrived.

Words refused to form, from either of them, and Shippou groaned, handing over the charred postcard. "Someone's been profiting off your work again. Her friend came across this at a local market. You might wanna talk to that lawyer of yours again."

Latching onto the distraction, Sesshoumaru took the piece of cardboard, growling softly before pulling out his phone. He spoke in harsh but hushed tones, his eyes flickering to her every few moments as if to make sure she was still there.

Kagome waited quietly, managing not to fidget before he finally ended the call. "I take it you don't sell t-shirts either?" she asked.

"Certainly not. Your friend should have known better."

"I know. I told her it was missing a signature."

His eyes softened before he rubbed the back of his neck. "I had not planned on you stumbling across this collection, miko. I had hoped to find the right moment—"

"It's been ten years since I came back through the well, Sesshoumaru," she chastised. "Don't you think you've waited long enough?" Both youkai stared at her, Shippou eventually snorting and shoving her forward.

"You made your bed, old man. Now lie in it." Giving them a backward wave, he went in search of the refreshment stand.

"You're very talented," Kagome said, motioning toward the tapestry. "I can understand why you don't want to part with this one."

Ears turning red, he nodded once, then blurted, "There are others. If you would like to see them."

She wrapped her arm around his, enjoying how the colour from his ears bled into his face. "Only if you personally tell me the story behind each one."

Another stiff nod, but his expression relaxed into a hopeful smile. "As you wish."

..::**::..

"Kagome, look! Yuka's got another one!" Eri said, waving her over to their table. Yuka got up and did a quick show of the latest addition to her wardrobe, this time in the form of a skirt. Kagome made a face, and Yuka's expression fell.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked. "It's by the same person as before—"

"You know the actual artist doesn't see any money from these cheap knockoffs?" Kagome said, crossing her arms.

Yuka sat down with a huff. "Why does that matter? They're basically getting free publicity with me wearing it around town."

Kagome resisted the urge to slam her hand down on the table. "The person stealing their art is getting the free publicity. Do you even know the name of the real artist? Or why he drew it in the first place?"

Her friend had the decency to flush, picking at her napkin. "I just liked the design."

"I know, it's gorgeous, but you need to pay more attention to the source and quality of the art before you buy it at some backend night market. If there's no signature, there's a high chance it's been stolen and reproduced without the artist's consent." She let that sink in for a moment before placing an invitation on the table. "If you want, we can go to the next gallery showing in two weeks."

Her friends reached for the card simultaneously, gushing over the name and immediately demanding how she knew Shou Yasei.

"His events are so exclusive!" Eri said. "I've heard only the most beautiful people are allowed to attend."

"I've heard he checks your family tree before you can even enter the front door," Yuka continued. "And that no one's actually seen him in person."

Kagome rolled her eyes. "He's not as scary as all that. He just wants to share his art with everyone."

Yuka and Eri shared a look, and Yuka leaned over the table. "Do you know know him?"

Kagome's lips curved up into a secret smile. "Guess you'll have to come with me and find out."