Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.


Chapter 01: Transcending the Spider


Her dim, paper lantern bouncing, Kagome rushed down the twisting path worn between clusters of stalagmites. Hampering her way were the scattered bones of demons and she kicked them hard as she ran. Their ringing clatter as they skipped over stone though didn’t steal a single thought from her. All that flooded her mind was dread, drowning her with the devastating fear that she might be too late. Her fingers white from gripping it, the lacquered smoothness of a sheathed sword was tight against her breast. She hoped that she wasn’t too late.

Dripping down her neck, sweat beaded, its saltiness itching her skin. Keeping in step, Kagome shrugged, wiping up the droplets with her collar. Heavy and thick, her priestess clothing felt stifling hot despite the cold of the autumn night. Then his piercing yell ripped through the air and an icy chill shot down her spine, leaving a field of goose bumps in its wake. Her run became a sprint.

Opening wide, the tunnel ended with a huge cavern, its vaulted ceiling high above her head. The faceted walls glimmered with a surreal sheen, reflecting the firelight of the dozens of oil lamps set throughout the cave. Sprawling from one end to the other was a spider’s web of crystal. At the center, lay partially dissolved demons, their petrified bodies caught in the glasslike strands. She recognized many of them. The three-eyed cow and its rider. The countless wolves and their prince. The tiny flea who had long since turned into glittering dust and had blown away. Her eyes however, avoided one small bundle. With his small arms wrapped around the tiny cat demon, the terror on his frozen face was unforgettable, its image scarring her mind forever without the need to be reminded. No one died peacefully anymore, especially children.

“Kagome-sama!”

The priestess looked up, her racing steps softening as she searched for who called her. Standing still amid the frantic bustle of other familiar faces was Miroku. She ran up to him.

“Is it done?” he asked, exhaustion wrinkling his usually smooth voice.

“I did just as Bokuseno said,” she assured, remembering the withered magnolia’s final words. “The entire blade has been doused in Goshinboku’s sap.”

“Good.”

“Miroku!” another yelled.

Turning around, the monk looked for his wife, finding her bounding down the crystallized body of an enormous dog demon as if it were meant to be stepping stones. Without compromising her agility, Sango barked orders as she leapt.

“Kohaku, check his binds again! He’s weak, but he’s still dangerous. We don’t want him getting loose.”

She jumped off the paw and landed on the back of a big wolf demon with a tinier demon beside it, still gripping its two-headed staff.

“Rin, keep fanning. The fumes will dull his senses and the pain.”

With one final leap, the taijiya was beside them and a bit breathless.

“Houshi-sama, please check the seals one last time. This is our last chance. There’s no one left to save if we fail now.”

“Of course, Sango,” he said and then leaned in close and kissed her on the lips. Light and fleeting, it was soon over and he left, walking toward the center of the cavern and the design of paper seals that formed a barrier around it.

Her eyes leaving the monk, Kagome’s sight found the drained taijiya standing before her. Dark circles were heavy under Sango’s eyes with fine lines creeping out toward her temples. The last year had easily aged her ten. Despite her growing brood and the domesticated lifestyle that came with them, she was still a huntress to the core. She was a warrior and so she fought the futility, too desperate to defeat it to grieve those who had been lost to it.

“You look miserable, Kagome-chan,” Sango remarked.

Surprise paled Kagome’s expression.

“I wonder if I look just as bad. I think I feel just as bad,” the taijiya added, cracking a difficult smile. “If not worse.”

The priestess tried to speak, to reassure her or at the very least, to return the smile, but nothing came.

“That bad, is it?” she said with a worn sigh and then gestured to the sword in Kagome’s arms. “Is it done?”

“Yes.”

Sango nodded. “Take it to him. He’s waiting.”

Swallowing down, the priestess walked away, venturing toward the center of the web. As she neared, she passed a young woman kneeling on the floor. Huddled over a small kettle, she was furiously fanning the sweet vapor that billowed from it. Fresh tears streaked down her cheeks, following the stained paths of their predecessors.

Ahead, standing in a field of candlelight, she saw the heartening silhouette of firerat robes and an unruly mane of hair. Her steps quickened. She could hear his rough voice as he talked, its raspy edges steeling her nerves. Then her heart slipped a notch as she neared and the light revealed more than just a silhouette. His black hair still shocked her, reminding her that the white was long gone. The smooth crown atop his head only further spoke of the humanity that just remained.

“Inuyasha,” she said his name softly.

His back remained to her.

“Inuyasha,” she called out louder.

He continued to talk, ignorant of her presence until a deeper voice interrupted him, struggling as it spoke.

Inuyasha spun around, surprised.

“Kagome! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

The priestess shook her head, blinking back the tears that reddened her eyes. “Don’t worry. I was too quiet.”

Shame crept over Inuyasha and he reached up to touch his human ears. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be. It’s all right. Tenseiga is ready.” Fingers aching as she opened them, she held the sword out for him to take. Stalled by hesitancy and awe, he stared for a long moment at the dark, slender weapon before taking it. Fear tightened in his chest as he felt its weight, imagining it to be twice as heavy than it truly was. If they used this, there was no going back. Any mistakes made could not be undone. It would be the end.

The voice growls behind him again. “Stop wasting time, you deplorable half-breed.”

Turning to the side, Inuyasha looked back and revealed its source. Bound to a pillar was Sesshoumaru. The chipped cylinder of stone served to hold him up just as much as it served to secure him and he stared at Inuyasha with gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes. Bare-chested, he wore only his pants and boots, the rest of his clothing and armor strewn beside the twisted pile of crystal that was once his pelt. Feathery veins discolored his porcelain skin, condensing over his heart to create the image of a spider.

“The seals are ready,” Miroku spoke up as he approached with Sango and Rin not far behind him.

Slipping down the crystal webbing behind the pillar, Kohaku landed softly near the daiyoukai’s bonds. The young man tugged on the ropes decorated with paper streamers and adjusted them until he was pleased with their strength. Then as quickly as he had descended, he climbed back up. The attacks were sudden and unpredictable now and to be near the demon lord when they struck was to invite death. Sidling along web until he was positioned behind Inuyasha, Kohaku jumped down and joined his sister and Rin.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sesshoumaru growled; sweat drenching his skin and he shivered as he tried to keep his rioting blood in check.

“It might not work,” Inuyasha said.

“This is the only way left. It doesn’t matter if it works or not. If doing nothing means death then failure cannot be worse.”

The comforting feel of Kagome’s hand touched his shoulder and Inuyasha turned to find her close beside him. Then her hands slid around him and she pulled him in for a tender hug.

“It’ll work,” she promised in whisper. “I know it will.”

He looked down into her gray eyes, searching for hope.

She nodded. “Go.”

Swallowing hard, Inuyasha summoned the unassailable courage that defined him and stepped away from her and toward Sesshoumaru. Sliding it out, he unsheathed the sword and as he did, Rin collapsed to the ground. Sobbing cries wracked her delicate frame and Kohaku picked her back up, steadying her against his chest. Muffling her cries, she buried her face into him, unable to watch any longer.

Leaving the glossy sheen of the sap-slicked blade, Inuyasha’s dark brown eyes looked up at Sesshoumaru’s. He watched as the fragile control the daiyoukai clung to began to crack and his shivering grew into convulsions. Another attack was coming. His eyes flickered red and the creases knotting his brow deepened as the first wave of pain struck. Tightening hard, his muscles twitched as he strained with the pulsing veins that ran just under the surface of his skin threatening to burst. Malignant, the spider on his chest swelled, its jagged legs growing longer to wrap around him. Then they tightened, crushing his lungs to leave him gasping.

“Do it!” the youkai lord stuttered, and then the excruciating pain ripped into him like countless knives rending him from the inside out. He roared, his howls of agony echoing. Loosening from the walls, shards of crystal fell, ringing as they shattered on the ground.

Inuyasha stood frozen as the screaming continued, hoping that they would subside like before, hoping that there was still time. They didn’t and the spider grew.

“Do it!”

“Sesshoumaru, I…”

“Do it now… brother.”

Buried behind the pain and the force of his command, Inuyasha heard a plea. The daiyoukai was begging. That no matter what happened, he wanted it to end. He wanted it to end now and he needed him to do it.

Raising the sword, he pointed the trembling tip toward Sesshoumaru. Focused, Inuyasha’s eyes stayed on him and he readied himself to take one final step.

“I’m sorry, o-nii-san.”

Stepping forward, Inuyasha plunged the sword through Sesshoumaru’s chest until he felt the tip driving hard into the stone behind him. Stunned, he let the sword go to find his hands shaking. Impaled cleanly, he looked up to watch as the spider receded in size and he laughed in disbelief. He hadn’t turned into crystal. It had worked.

“Sesshoumaru,” he blurted out and his relief faded as he watched his half-brother’s gold eyes tarnish.

The demon lord coughed, crimson spilling from his mouth while it slowly began to seep from the wound through his heart. Tenseiga had truly cut him. The unexpected irony combined with the numb tickling in his chest drew a strange smile on his lips. Flexed muscles softening, he began to slump, held up now by the sword that pierced him.

“NO!” Inuyasha yelled and grabbed Tenseiga’s hilt, yanking hard on it. Embedded deep into the rock, he couldn’t budge it and he cursed his human blood.

“Stop,” Sesshoumaru whispered, his strength vanishing.

“I have to save you.”

“I am saved, you half-breed.” The daiyoukai coughed his twisted chuckle and his head dipped, too heavy to hold up anymore.

Inuyasha left the sword to support him. “You can’t-”

“Goodbye, Inuyasha.”

In a long hiss, Sesshoumaru’s last breath left him and he went limp. The pain was gone.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.


Chapter 02: A Connection


Up the sun-dappled trail, Kagome hiked, her boots akin to lead beside the feathers tickling her insides with excitement. So inebriated by zeal, she hardly noticed her panting breaths or her racing heart pounding in her chest. They were almost there. They, being a loose term as she made a rare stop to yell back down the mountain.

“Mama! Souta! Hurry up! It’s only a little farther!”

Far below on the steep, wooded slope, her two companions rested on a fallen tree, their water bottles tipped to their lips. They eyed her with a cool regard as she continued to yell, in no hurry even when she abandoned them to climb further.

“I can’t believe how much energy she still has,” Souta muttered as his sister disappeared around the bend. “We’ve been hiking all morning and now it’s the afternoon.”

Mama smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’m just happy that she has energy, aren’t you?”

“I guess.”

“Besides, she’s used to hiking up mountains. She was doing it for some time not long ago. Remember?”

He nodded.

From beyond the thick wall of trees, they heard Kagome yell again, her persistence spurring them on.

“Come on, Souta. She said it’s only a little farther.”

He grumbled, but slid off of the tree and tucked his bottle back into his bag. Mama joined him, putting hers away as well and then patted his shoulder as they began their hike yet again.

Ahead, Kagome giggled as she tromped up the leaf-choked trail, the way worn by passing animals rather than by people. It was complete wilderness now, but even without the familiar roads she remembered, the mountains were still the same. A sprawling range, the forested slopes looked like a slumbering tiger and they were climbing its head.

Kagome glanced down at the sheltered field at the beast’s side, hunting for the last vestiges of an old fortress hidden there. Black beside the rich greens, she spied the rotted stumps of hewn wood and the regular angles of decayed foundations, their presence a faint echo of the proud band of exterminators that had once thrived there.

Early that morning, she had guided Mama and Souta to it, the place where Sango and Kohaku had grown up. They had explored through the remnants of the different buildings until they had found the courtyard. A blooming meadow now, together they burnt incense to honor the many that had died there.

A pang of guilt struck deep, hitching Kagome’s breath. With Miroku by her side, she wondered if Sango was buried there somewhere among the flowers. Then the schoolgirl shook her head, driving the upsetting thought from her mind. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t think that way. They were alive and happy in the time that they belonged.

A dark shadow caught her eye through a veil of trees and her regret sank away as she was overwhelmed with excitement. They were at the tiger’s eye.

“Mama! Souta!” she shouted, “I found it! We’re here!”

Without waiting for them to answer, Kagome disappeared into the dense foliage. Headed toward the shadow, she tromped over beds of pine needles and brushed supple branches of undergrowth out of her way. Out of breath, Mama and Souta finally made it to where she had vanished. After exchanging wary looks, they too entered; following the path she had forged.

Leaves rustling and twigs snapping, Kagome weaved her way through the last of the trees to stumble out into a clearing. Edged with a face of craggy rock, she wandered through it, puzzled. She was at Midoriko’s Cave, wasn’t she? Hardly eroded at all, the mountainside looked right, but where was the cave? Her eyes pouring over the rock, she was soon joined by her family. In silence, they stood together, each equally perplexed.

“So where’s the cave, o-nee-san?” Souta finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Kagome mumbled. Then her expression brightened and she walked toward the face. “It all looks familiar except for this spot. There’s a boulder here that wasn’t here when I visited years ago and I think it’s exactly where the opening is supposed to be.”

Stepping in close, she began to inspect the massive rock. Gliding over its rough surface, her fingers searched until they found something soft and fibrous. Dusting the dirt away, she revealed the weathered remains of a hemp rope. Curious, she gave it a slight tug and the thick cord began to disintegrate in her hands.

“It looks like an old seal,” Mama spoke up as she leaned in for a look. “Meant to keep people out…”

“Or to keep something in,” Kagome finished.

Mama nodded.

“Looks like something already got in,” Souta added. The two women turned to find him kneeling beside the boulder. With a stick in hand, he prodded at a clump of pine needles, brushing them away from a large hole dug between the rock and the mountainside.

Joining him on the ground, Kagome peered into the gap and at the scratch marks that carved it. “It looks like it was done by an animal,” she mused aloud. “Caves make popular dens.”

The others agreed.

“Well, I hope it’s still not in there.” Slinging her backpack from her shoulders, she set it down on the ground by the mouth of the hole. A moment later, she was on her hands and knees, shoving her bag through the burrow while she crawled in behind it.

“Is she crazy?” Souta asked, dumbfounded. “Who knows what’s in there?”

“Then you can keep an eye out. If any animals come, make sure they don’t go in the cave after us,” Mama said with a gentle smile and then took off her backpack. “Kagome, wait for me! I’m coming too!”

“All right, Mama!” her daughter answered, her voice muffled by the rock.

Souta stuttered, his eyes flashing from his mother to the encroaching forest that surrounded them. When he looked back, she was gone.

Shrugging off his backpack, he cursed under his breath. “Damn it.”

“I heard that,” Mama announced cheerfully as she crawled. Reaching the end of the hole, a beam of white found her. She smiled. Kagome had already gotten her flashlight out. Unzipping her bag, she fumbled through the pockets until she felt a metal rod.

“Have you got it?” Kagome asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling out her flashlight and clicked it on. Rising to her feet, she dusted off her knees and looked around. A void of black where the lights didn’t touch, she was astounded by how dark it was. Then she smiled again at Kagome, admiring her fearlessness. Then behind her, Mama heard scuffing and took a step away so that Souta could get through.

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

“No, I’m all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am!”

Kagome giggled. “Souta’s fine, Mama. He considers himself man of the house.”

“Does he? Your grandpa might have something to say about that.”

His flashlight flickered on. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t think you need your flashlight, Souta. You can just go by the glow of your blush.”

The girls laughed and Souta grumbled.

The tormenting finished for now; they began to walk down the cave. Refreshing against their skin, the cool air brought relief after trudging through the summer’s heat outside. This weekend vacation had been quite a surprise for all of them. With the tending of the shrine for the season’s regular influx of guests, they were often too busy for a break, especially when they needed it the most. Mama looked at Kagome, her daughter’s flashlight beam flitting all over as she chattered on about the cave’s history. She hadn’t seen her this energetic in months, not since the way through the Bone-Eater’s Well had closed. It had hurt to see her child so depressed and even more so when she realized that she didn’t know how to fix it. Then last week she thought that perhaps if Kagome could share and revisit someplace in the past, then she wouldn’t feel like she had lost something. It was all still there, just a little faded now. Her daughter’s friends had jumped at the chance to help, agreeing to look after both the shrine and Grandpa. As a result, they were now delving into the sacred cave where it had all began, sharing the adventures and creating some of their own.

“Being a little insulted, Midoriko tossed Inuyasha out. I swear, sometimes he was such a… Mama, are you listening?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

Kagome paused, unsure of its sincerity. Her mom was so difficult to read sometimes. Eventually realizing the futility, she walked on instead, her beam settling on the path and the stalagmites she had to step around. Soon the thrill of finding the cave subsided and an unexpected ill feeling began to weigh on her. As familiar as it was, there was something out of place about the cave. It lacked the soothing presence she remembered, leaving her to wonder if it was still Midoriko’s cave. Had she vanished completely with the destruction of the Shikon no Tama? Was she finally at peace?

Sparkling white, something on the ground caught her eye.

“I see something,” Kagome called out as she walked over to it. Stooping to a crouch, she set her flashlight down. Then with a finger, she prodded the pile of white dust before scooping up some into her palm. “It glitters.”

“Yes, it does,” Mama agreed as Kagome poured it back and forth between her hands, the grains dazzling in the light. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember it being here before, but it reminds me of sand.”

“Only brighter.”

“Yeah, and it’s finer and lighter too.”

“Like glass?”

“Crystals,” Souta said.

The two women turned to face the boy.

“This is a cave,” he added.

Kagome frowned. He had a point. “But, I don’t remember any crystals let alone their dust. None of this seems right.”

Shining her flashlight down the tunnel, their mother pointed to the scattered drifts ahead. “Either way, there’s more of it deeper in.”

Dumping the dust back on the ground, Kagome stood up. Then with a sense of trepidation that would slow their steps, they walked on. Glimmering against the stark, black earth, islands of white swelled into branching peninsulas until the last of the ground was swallowed up. The blanketing dust was firm under their feet, sinking only enough to create fine imprints as they passed.

Soon, the tunnel opened up into an enormous cavern. Overcome with awe, the adventurers gasped as they entered. Rippled in waves before them was a shimmering sea of white flooding the cave. Imagined currents of crystal broke against dark monuments of rock and through a crack in the ceiling, the summer sun shone down, reflecting nuances of lavender amid the white. Warmed directly beneath the pristine rays, a stone pillar stood.

Smooth but for a strange shape at its fore, Mama squinted, trying to make out the features on the pillar. Still baffled, she leaned forward to whisper to Kagome. “What’s that over there? Is that where the priestess is? Is that Midoriko?”

The schoolgirl shook her head. “It can’t be. Midoriko was suspended by the demons she battled. I don’t think she’s here at all anymore. I can’t feel her presence.”

“Many years have passed.”

“I’m sure she’s free now and, because of that I’m happy that she’s not here for me to show you.”

“Then this can only be something new. Something that happened after you left.”

Kagome nodded and then took the first tentative step out into the cavern. Expecting to sink in it as if it were snow or wade through it as if it were water, the deep pool of crystal dust remained solid as she walked across it. Close behind, her mother and brother followed, relying on her experience to keep them all safe.

As Kagome neared, she realized that it was a human that stood transfixed to the pillar. Then a moment later, she knew it was a naked man. No blush of embarrassment came to her cheeks though. Paler than alabaster, it was a statue, a breathless marvel of art that would be wasted in a museum display surrounded by fluorescent lights and plaster walls.

Arriving at the stone platform beneath it, Kagome stepped up, leaving her family below as she went on to investigate. Washed clean of dust, she looked up at the blue sky through the crack, thinking of the rainwater that must pour down on it with every storm. Then her sight drifted back down to the statue and her brow furrowed. Protruding from its chest was a rusted sword. With slumped shoulders and a drooping head that hid its face, the statue seemed to hang from the blade. Cascading around its head were long locks of hair as brilliant as the crystal dust. Lured by them, she reached out to touch the hair and then gasped as her fingers glided through the strands, leaving them to sway languidly in the air.

“He’s real!” she blurted out, her voice awash with giddy excitement. She had found someone from the past. She had a connection. Caution fleeing, Kagome moved in closer and clasped his head. Cold, but soft, his skin was smooth and just beneath it; she could feel his flesh and bone. Slowly, she lifted his head up, his hair parting as his face saw light for the first time in hundreds of years. She finally had a connection.

A terrified gasp escaped her and Kagome stumbled back. Losing her balance as her foot slipped off the edge of the platform, she fell and landed hard on the dust. Caught between coughing and groaning, she struggled to sit up as Mama and Souta rushed over to her side.

“Are you all right?” they asked collectively, her mother helping her to sit up.

Kagome nodded fervently, her coughs subsiding, but her face still white with fear.

“So, what’s wrong? Do you know who it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s… It’s Sesshoumaru.”

Mama and Souta looked at each other. “Who’s that?”

Chapter 03: Short Vacation


“We have to go,” Kagome muttered, not hearing their question. Then without wasting another breath, she clambered to her feet and began to search the crystal dust. Spying the metal rod of her flashlight, she hurried over and picked it up, her trembling hand steadying once she gripped it.

“What’s going on, Kagome?” Mama asked, watching her scramble.

“We have to go,” she repeated.

“Why? Who is he?”

“We have to go.”

Reaching out with a gentle hand, she took her daughter by the arm. “Who is he?”

Her blank look of shock startled Mama, leaving her to feel like she should already know the answer to her question and that she should fear it.

“He’s Sesshoumaru.”

Mama shook her head, perplexed. “But who is that? I don’t know who Sesshoumaru is.”

Kagome blinked, jarred back into the moment. Swallowing, she tried to think of an explanation, but instead crafted perhaps one of the biggest understatements of her life. “He’s Inuyasha’s half-brother.”

“Oh,” Mama said, her sigh of relief finishing with a smile, “That doesn’t sound bad. Inuyasha was a nice boy.”

“He’s his full-demon half-brother, mama,” she explained. “He’s not a hanyou and he’s definitely not nice. We have to go.” Tugging at her hand, Kagome tried to pull her mother away, her attention firmly on the tunnel leading to the surface. Mama though held fast.

“If he’s Inuyasha’s brother then he’s family. We can’t leave him like this.”

“You don’t understand. Sesshoumaru is dangerous and he’s probably been sealed here for a reason.”

“Wasn’t Inuyasha sealed to Goshinboku for a reason too?”

“That was different-”

“Look at him,” Mama softly interrupted. “Really look at him.”

“But…” Kagome began, her argument dying to a murmur. Prey to a reassuring smile, she finally relented, letting her sight rise to the pinned demon lord. Pale like fine marble, again he reminded her of a statue. Hard lines of sinewy muscle carved his masculine frame with a seamless perfection that would make any sculptor weep. As she stared, she felt an unmistakable force draw her in. Stripped of his armor and clothing and exposed to the elements, a strange sensation of vulnerability struck her, a quality she wouldn’t have ever associated with him. He was powerless.

The schoolgirl relaxed and her mother’s hand fell away. At the center of his chest was the scar of a spider, its body stabbed through like his. Lured to it, Kagome stepped back onto the platform. Again her hands began to shake, but she didn’t take any notice as she reached out to touch him with a hesitant finger. Tracing it lightly, the spider had a rough feel, reminding her of a brand. Then with wills of their own, her hands slipped through his hair to seek his face. Finding his jaw, she cradled it on either side and lifted. Silvery strands fell away, slowly revealing the face that had ushered thousands, humans, demons and otherwise to their deaths.

Then the terror that tightened in her chest melted away into nothingness as she stared at his face, its familiar features weathered by time. His markings, striking and exotic in her memories, had faded from sight, leaving him plain. Sunken and empty, this wasn’t the face of a ruthless lord, but of a man broken deep down to his soul.

“We have to get him down,” she said, looking back.

Mama nodded.

Taking a small step back, she began to scan his body, searching for an easy means to free him, but it soon became clear that there was only one way. Her eyes settled on the sword mottled with rust.

“The sword’s the only thing holding him in place. I think if we pull it out, he’ll be free.”

Met with agreeing nods, Kagome let Sesshoumaru’s head droop back down. Moving to the side, she reached up and grasped the sword’s hilt. The ancient threads of silk woven around it turned to powder in her hands, but her grip remained solid. With a deep breath, she summoned every ounce of her strength as she readied herself. Then when her mental countdown reached zero, she pulled. Straining as if she were moving a mountain, Kagome struggled to pull out the anchored sword. Frustrated by the poor angle, curses spilled from her.

“Kagome, do you need some help?” Mama asked, taking a step forward.

“I got it,” she ground out and then sputtered a laugh of relief, “I can feel it moving!”

With a bright ring, the sword snapped off at the hilt. Caught by surprise, Kagome stumbled a few steps to the side before regaining her balance. Her chest heaving and her cheeks flush, she looked down, staring at the hilt in her hands in disbelief. Jagged where it broke, she fingered the end of the blade, flaking off crumbs of the brittle steel. “Damn it.”

“Kagome?”

“Yeah, mama.”

“Rather than pulling it out, maybe if we break off the sword closer to him. Then we can just lift him off of it.”

Kagome paused, considering her point. “That might work.”

Mama let her backpack drop onto the ground and she stepped up onto the platform to stand beside her daughter.

“Be careful. The edges are still sharp.”

The older woman nodded, opening her hands and placing her palms against the flat side of the blade. Kagome did the same and together they began to push. Their efforts were slow and steady as they tried to keep from making the wound bigger. Soon the sword started to bend and then with another sharp ring, it snapped again. Clattering as it struck the platform, the blade bounced away to land in the dust.

Smiles on their lips, the two women looked at each other and then at Sesshoumaru. Leaning in next, Mama peered into his wound before prodding it with her finger.

“I can feel where it broke off,” she said, finding something hard just below the flesh.

“It’s not that far. We could just slide him off.”

They exchanged agreeing looks and then they each took a side, sliding their shoulders under his armpits for support.

“Are you ready?” Mama asked.

“Yeah.”

“Lift.”

Bracing themselves under him, they began to slide the daiyoukai forward. Heavier than they thought, they grunted in amazement when they finally freed him, the weight of his body buckling their knees. As gently as possible, they let him fall to the ground. Letting him go, the women straightened up and looked at each other, grinning over their achievement.

“You both know that he’s lying on his face, right?” Souta spoke up after they congratulated each other. “How’s he supposed to breathe?”

Dread flashing over their faces, they knelt down in hurry and turned him over onto his back. Pale and lifeless where he lay, the youkai lord looked no different than he did on the pillar.

“I hope he isn’t dead,” Mama said as she rubbed his cold cheek with her hand, hoping for some warmth. “Was Inuyasha like this when you unsealed him?”

“No,” Kagome replied, shaking her head, “He woke up right away and grouchy too.”

Moving in close, the schoolgirl bent over Sesshoumaru until her ear hovered just above his mouth and nose. Her sight fell to his chest and in the deafening silence of the cave, she listened and watched. Time seemed to unravel as she waited with every passing second lasting longer than the last. Then she laughed, letting out her held breath as she saw the faint motion of his chest rise and fall.

“He’s breathing!” she announced, but her smile sobered when she noticed tiny bumps of gooseflesh spreading across his skin. “He’s cold. We have to warm him up.”

Slinging it from his shoulders, Souta set his backpack on the ground. He unzipped it and began to rummage through it until his searching hand felt something soft. Big and plush, he pulled out a blanket.

Mama looked at the deflated backpack and laughed. “I wondered why your bag was so big.”

Souta shrugged as he walked towards them. “I thought we were going to have a picnic.”

“Wait,” Kagome told him and then looked at her mother. “Do you have a coat in you backpack?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Souta, go get the coat, please.”

“Why?”

“We need to save the blanket for the stretcher.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Mama said. “He can’t walk on his own.”

Digging it out fast, Souta brought his sister the wool coat.

“I need both of you to go out and find two long sticks that we can use as poles to carry him,” Kagome asked. “They have to be straight, smooth and without any little branches on them. I’ll stay back and watch him.”

“All right. We’ll be back as soon as we can. You’ll be fine until then?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Flicking their flashlights on, Mama and Souta hurried toward the tunnel. Still sitting on her knees, Kagome watched them vanish into the darkness. Alone now, her attention fell to the daiyoukai and she unfolded the heavy coat. Familiar with what it took to care for wounded comrades, she pulled him onto his right side and slipped the sleeve over his arm. Making sure it was tight against his shoulder; she tucked the rest under his back. Then she pushed him away, rolling him onto his other side so that she could slip his left arm into its sleeve.

Finished, Kagome returned him to his back and pursed her lips with dissatisfaction. Barely covering his chest, her mother’s coat was a snug fit, but he needed something more. She climbed to her feet and sought her old, yellow backpack. Finding it at the bottom of the largest pocket, she pulled out her jacket and returned to Sesshoumaru’s side. Over his hips, she laid it, rolling him like before so that she could tie the sleeves around his waist.

Pleased, Kagome sat back onto her bottom and sighed. She felt better now that he was covered. It didn’t seem right for a lord to be exposed like that, for him to be so defenseless. Her sight drifted to his placid expression and a knot of fear tightened in her chest. He wouldn’t be this peaceful forever. The demon would wake up eventually, leaving her to wonder what he will do when he does. Will he be dangerous? Will he kill people? Will she have to purify him?

The schoolgirl tucked her knees up to her chest and rested her arms over them. The future weighed on her mind as she imagined the worst and what she might have to do to stop it. Perhaps she should have left him pinned to the pillar, spending an eternity in slumber.

“Kagome!” Mama called out cheerfully, a long pole of wood balanced on her shoulder. “We’re back!” Behind her, Souta trudged along, dragging his through the crystal dust.

Looking somber, Kagome stood up to greet them.

“Did something happen? Is he worse?”

“No, he’s fine,” she assured, smiling meekly. “At least, he’s the same as he was.”

“Oh. Well, we found some straight branches. Do you think they’ll work?”

“I hope so.” Kagome stepped down from the platform and picked up the blanket. With a shake, it unfolded and she laid it out on the ground, thankful that Souta brought such a big one. “Lay the poles parallel to each other on the blanket.”

Once they set them down how she asked, the schoolgirl moved them almost to the end of the blanket and adjusted the distance between them so that they were just a bit wider than Sesshoumaru’s shoulders. With the pole ends sticking out just beyond the edges of the blanket, Kagome was pleased enough to begin. Taking the excess she had left on one side, she laid it across the poles until it barely reached beyond the furthest one and then tucked it under. Careful not to disturb them, she grabbed the rest of the blanket and folded it over in the other direction. Catching on, Mama picked up the furthest corner and helped keep it straight.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“Umm,” Kagome hummed, casting about until she spied her little brother, “Come here. We’re going to need your help.” Then she looked back at her mother. “Mama, you’re going to have to pick up that end while I pick up this side. When we do, Souta, you’ll have to pull the extra blanket under the stretcher so that we can keep wrapping it around.”

“All right,” Souta agreed.

“Ready, mama?”

“Yes.”

Together, the women picked up the stretcher, wary not to dislodge the placement of the poles or the folds. Crouching low, Souta slipped under the stretcher and gathered up the excess fabric. Next, he pulled it across; making sure it was even and tight before he stood up again.

“Good job. Now layer it over the top again and keep going around until there’s no more blanket left.”

“Got it,” he said and laughed. “It’s sort of like folding a letter.”

“It is,” Mama added. “Where did you learn how to make a stretcher? Was it from your friends from the past?”

Kagome shook her head. “I read it in one of the survival books you got me.”

The warmth of pride filled Mama and she smiled.

“Sesshoumaru’s weight ought to keep it together while we carry him, but we have to be careful not to let it come apart beforehand and to take it slow when he’s in it.”

Kagome leading the way, they carried it to the platform and set it down beside the daiyoukai, making sure it was aligned with his body.

“I’ll take the shoulders,” Mama said as she crouched down by his head, “You take the feet.”

Her daughter nodded and grabbed him just above the ankles. “Now?”

“Now.”

Grunting, they both lifted and then sidestepped. When they were certain that he was centered, they finally set him down onto the stretcher.

“It’s our moment of truth,” the schoolgirl said, taking her two pole ends into her hands with her mother following suit.

After a deep breath and a ready word, they hoisted him up. Heavy, but sturdy, the stretcher held and the women stepped down from the platform, slowly walking toward the tunnel.

“Souta, please carry our bags, would you?”

“Yes, mama.”

Soon they were surrounded by darkness with Souta and his flashlight leading the way. Though it was hard going, neither Mama or Kagome felt the need to complain. After all, heroes never complain about what had to be done. After a while, dim sunlight filtered into the black, guiding them to where they had crawled in. Through the hole, they dragged Sesshoumaru, patiently rewrapping the stretcher once they were out.

Beyond the tattered treetops, the sun retreated to the horizon, dyeing the sky in rich hues as the day faded into night. Having to take frequent breaks to rest and drink, their hike down the mountain was slow and they soon gave up any hope of reaching the hotel before it was too dark. As he had done in the cave, Souta led the way with his flashlight. Behind him, the exhausted women dragged their feet, their eyes bleary, bodies sore and arms numb. Then at long last, the amber glow of streetlamps peeked through the trees.

“We’re almost there,” Kagome blurted out, stumbling as she tried to walk faster.

“I want a hot shower,” Mama murmured next.

“So do I,” Souta agreed, “But I’ll let you go first when we get back to the room.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite son.”

“I’m your only son.”

“Wait,” Kagome spoke up.

“What?”

“We can’t go back to the hotel.”

“What? Why?”

“We can’t take him there. We have to go home right away.”

Reaching the embankment beside the road, the others stopped where they were, shocked and confused.

“What do you mean we can’t go back to the room?” Souta whimpered. “You don’t make any sense. We can’t go back to our house right now. We rode a bus to get here.”

“Then we have to rent a car. They’re still open.”

“Just explain to us why, Kagome,” Mama asked.

“Humans and youkai don’t get along. There were quite a few times we were chased out of a village just over Inuyasha’s ears let alone over Shippou or Kirara.”

“But that was the past.”

“Exactly and now it’s the present and who knows how people might react. It could be worse than dirty looks and a few curse words.”

Her mother conceded. “You’re right. Souta and I will go check out of the hotel and get the car. We should have just enough. We’ll be back soon.”

Satisfied with their plan, the women set the stretcher down in the grass. Then with a drooping Souta in tow, Mama crossed the street, heading toward the hotel. Alone again, Kagome sat beside Sesshoumaru. Every so often, she reached over, letting the back of her fingers graze his cheek. He felt warm and she smiled. Once she let her hand glide to his neck where his heartbeat thrummed and then she was sure that he was alive.

Headlights flashed over the road, soon followed by the pebbly sound of tires rolling slowly over asphalt. The car veered close, pulling up onto the shoulder before coming to a stop. Opening their doors, Mama and Souta got out.

“Open up the back doors,” she told her son as she walked down the embankment and then she looked at Kagome. “Are we ready?”

“Yeah.”

Each taking a side, they picked up the stretcher and hauled it up to the car, the long rest in between making their efforts harder than before. Over the bench seat, they dragged him, bending his legs to make him fit in the cramped sedan.

“Should we save the poles?” Kagome asked as she pulled them out.

“There’s nowhere to put them and we have plenty of brooms at home.”

Nodding, Kagome tossed them away.

“Souta, go sit up front,” Mama ordered and then she addressed Kagome. “You’ll have to sit in the back with him. It’s a long drive and you’ll have to make sure he makes it all right.”

“Okay,” she replied and climbed in. Leaning over the back of the front seat, Souta watched as she lifted up Sesshoumaru’s head and slid her lap underneath. He had so much hair and Kagome gathered up as much as she could to keep from sitting on it.

Finishing her walk around the car to make sure the doors were shut and nothing was forgotten, Mama finally got in. “Souta, sit down and put on your seatbelt please.” Once she heard the click of the belt, she shifted the car into gear and they slowly began to accelerate down the road.

Whizzing by, light from the streetlamps filled the car, offering Kagome glimpses of the sleeping face in her lap. With each flash, an unsettling feeling sunk deeper into the pit of her stomach, constituting of a mix of fear and uncertainty over what the next few days would bring.

Chapter 04: Guidance from a Cat


Adrift in dark water, Sesshoumaru floated deep in a sea of nothingness. As an anchor to bind him, an unseen chain pierced him through the back and left him to face the black emptiness above. For ages, he hung there tethered until even the memories of sunlight faded into the void. In their place, the deep invaded, blotting out the world with black.

Then without warning, the chain snapped, falling away into the abyss as he slowly began to rise. Limp before their mercy, he let the currents carry him up as the water began to lighten from black to blue. The paling sea was lost on Sesshoumaru; instead he stared at the first glimmers of light with the eyes of a drowned man. Soon the dazzling rays of sunlight penetrated the water, dissolving the murk. Appearing above and marked by shards of white, the surface approached, its reflecting lights promising freedom with edges sharp like knives. His strength gone, he realized that he couldn’t stop and so he did what he knew. He surrendered. So through the flickering lights, he rose, listening to the delicate chime of glass striking as he waited to be cut.

Dark gray eyelashes fluttered and amber eyes opened, blinking at a blinding world missing for nearly half a millennia. The daiyoukai’s fingertips sought his eyes and he rubbed them soothingly until the glare dulled to reveal shadows and shapes. Above him was a white ceiling, smooth and clean with a strange contraption hanging from its center. It was a peculiar set of glass tubes suspended by bits of metal with a delicate chain dangling beneath it.

Drawing his attention away, a warm breeze brushed against his cheek and he looked to its source, a white plaster wall with an open window set in the middle of it. The parted blinds rattled quietly with the next gentle gust and beyond them, a tinkling ring stirred him with thoughts of white shards and an endless sea. Held by a thin string, a glass, wind chime hung from the eave, swinging lazily as it sang.

A bubbling purr began to rumble and Sesshoumaru looked down at his chest, realizing that the added weight upon him wasn’t natural. Although it was slow, his sense of feeling was returning. Forepaws tucked under its body, a plump cat lay upon him, its slit eyes regarding him coolly. Then it gave him a welcoming mew, sounding strangely reminiscent of a cow rather than a cat.

Feeling defeated by nothing more than an overfed, house pet, the daiyoukai decided to sit up. Sore and clumsy, he strained to shift his weight onto his forearms. Sensing his struggle, the cat stepped down from the warm roost, choosing instead to sit on the floor beside him. Muttering its bellowing mew, the animal offered encouragement. Unimpressed by the cheering, Sesshoumaru summoned his strength and began to push himself up until he finally managed to sit up. With his upper body hunched, he stared at the now rumpled futon lying over his legs. Then he felt something bump against the hand he had braced against the floor. Looking down, he discovered the cat rubbing against his forearm, pleased by his efforts. Clearly believing that its support had been pivotal in his success, annoyance brewed in the daiyoukai. After all, it might be right.

Deciding it was best not to think about it, Sesshoumaru began to examine the strange room. Surrounded by plain, white walls and a tatami mat floor, the space was simple and rather empty. It smelled of lead paint and old wood. Then he wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. And it smelled of humans.

Strong and potent, the human odors enveloped him, emanating from sources closer than the walls. Picking up the edge of the quilted futon, he sniffed it lightly. Musty and sweet, it had belonged to an old man. Then his fingers felt for the lapel of the thin, yukata robe that hung from his body. Even though the scent was faded by time, it still bore the faint musk of a young man. The presence of humans was indisputable, but by clothing and caring for him, their intentions only grew more mysterious.

Keen to investigate, he pulled the blanket back, exposing his legs. Although the daiyoukai’s body was shaky and sore, he gradually felt more in command of it, shifting each leg until it responded aptly to his will. Ready, he slowly bent both of his legs until his feet were under him. Then he pushed forward off of his hands, pivoting onto the balls of his feet. Between balanced and wobbling, he maintained his crouch and carefully began to stand up.

With legs like rubber, he took his first step next and stumbled toward the wall. Reaching out with his hand, he landed hard against it with a loud thump. Sliding to lean against it with his shoulder, he felt his heart drumming in his heaving chest. There he stood for a long while, waiting for his body to calm down. While he gathered his bearings, his fingers drew his attention next. Dull claws tipped them, their razor points lost to the passage of time. A once instinctive feat, Sesshoumaru concentrated on his youki, attempting to grow back his missing claws, but none of his familiar power surged through his veins. Instead, a foreign sensation spoiled in the pit of his stomach, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was fear.

The daiyoukai pushed away from the wall. Heading for the rice-paper, sliding door, his awkward steps began to grow steady as walking became natural again. His hand met the door jam and he slid the door down its track, revealing a hallway. Cramped and short, the hall floor was paneled with wood, its polish worn away. Quietly, he stepped out and began to follow the corridor. Fingertips grazing the wall, he passed several doors. His stealth however was routinely interrupted by the talkative cat following him and its constant need to announce his arrival.

The hallway ended in a flight of stairs and Sesshoumaru peered down at the floor below. Muffled by the walls, he could hear people talking and music playing. Blurting out a rapid chatter, the voices changed every few moments. One attempted to convince him that by using her soap, he could get his whites whiter and his colors brighter. A strange offering considering that he felt his hair was white enough. Another then asked if he’d like to feel fresher, but what a pad had to do with that was baffling.

Hearing so many voices vending and yelling, the daiyoukai lingered with hesitation. Without any youki or strength, he was in no shape to confront what could be hundreds of humans. Instead, he sniffed the air as he tried to determine their numbers and location. It might still be possible for him to sneak out. Then his brow furrowed. Despite all of the talking and bartering, he could only detect the scents of two males in the cacophony. It didn’t make any sense. He sniffed again and was met with the same result. Could they hide their scents and thus mask their numbers? What was the point of that if they were going to make such noise regardless?

Soft and slow, he began to make his way down the stairs. With one hand on the rail, his other was tightened into a fist. Dull nails grazed his palm and left him to wonder if he had the strength to defend himself if it came to that. Then his ears perked up. The merchants were silent, their confident shouts replaced by the singing of a young woman lost in love. Bizarre and cheerful, her song was peppered with bizarre gibberish from what might be a language he hadn’t ever heard before. Then sounding distinctly closer than any voice he’d heard yet, an old man began to mutter.

“She’s a pretty cute girl,” Grandpa said with an appreciative tone to his voice, “I like how she shakes her butt.”

“Ugh, grandpa,” Souta grumbled. “I don’t want to hear about what you like again. It makes you sound like some dirty, old man.”

“Bah! I don’t have much time left, so I ought to enjoy it.”

“By looking at girls’ butts who are as young as your granddaughter?”

Grandpa scoffed. “It’s better than looking at old lady butts. They’re all wrinkly and saggy.”

“I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to get some more tea.”

“I want some too. Take the tray and refill the pot.”

“Yes, grandpa.”

“And bring back some of those red bean sweets while you’re at it.”

Souta sighed. “All right.”

Tray in hand, the boy came around the corner, eyes on the floor and complaining under his breath. Then a strange, tall figure caught his eye and he looked up. With a loud crash the bamboo tea tray struck the floor, scattering ceramic shards of the now shattered teapot across the wood.

“Oh shit.”

“What was that?” Grandpa yelled from the other room, “Guess I’m not the only one who has a bad habit. You better get those sweets if you don’t want me to tell your mother.”

Wide-eyed with shock, Souta gawked at Sesshoumaru who stared silently in return. Neither moved nor spoke, their minds absorbed by what options they had for escape.

“Souta, don’t worry about it,” the old man yelled again, worried when he didn’t hear a reply from his grandson. “I won’t tell your mother about your cursing, after all I’ve said worse out in the storage shed.”

Limping as he backed up, the daiyoukai began to move away.

“Sesshoumaru,” the boy spoke up, his voice trembling and barely more than a whisper.

Perplexed and made uneasy by his knowledge of his name, the demon kept moving, edging down the hall and away from the boy, the old man, the mysterious vendors and the singing woman.

“Wait, Sesshoumaru,” he said louder and took a step forward.

Fierce and vicious, the demon growled.

Souta froze in place, terror coursing through him. “Kagome!!”

His scream for reinforcements wasn’t lost on the daiyoukai and he instantly moved away, stumbling down the hallway in a hurry. In no position to fight, he needed to find someplace safe to hide and regain his strength. If they were malicious humans who intended to harm him, he would make them regret it soon enough. Until then, he had to figure out where he was and what to do.

Ahead, bright sunlight diffused through another rice-paper, screen door and a slight smirk played on his lips. Behind him, the boy continued to sound the alarm, but the demon paid him no mind when his shoulder slammed into the door frame. Reaching over, his hand grabbed the handle and he slid the door open. There was little that they could do. He was free now. Then he looked out and for the first time in his life, Sesshoumaru’s mouth dropped.

Behind a paltry veil of trees, a city beyond his imagining hummed. From the vantage point of a small hill, he stared down at asphalt streets, the sweet odor of tar pungent in the heat of the summer afternoon. Bustling across the roads, giant, metallic beetles scurried. Trailed by faint puffs of smoke, they hummed and roared as they went, carrying humans under what could only be their half-translucent wings. Above them, multi-colored lights flashed beside huge signs painted with meaningless words and smiling, human faces. Towering amid them, massive buildings rose far overhead, their tallest crests seeming to mingle with the wispy clouds that marbled the pale sky.

Preceded by a deep mew, the daiyoukai felt soft fur rub against his calf. Tearing his sight away from the chaotic city, he looked down to see the cat slip past to hop out onto the porch and then pad down the steps to the ground below. Devoid of surprise or fear, its indifference dissolved Sesshoumaru’s complete astonishment and he soon followed.

With a hobbling gait, he walked out onto the courtyard. There, his sight roamed over the trees and buildings as he tried to sort out where he was. An old, iron bell caught his eye and he nodded. He was at a shrine, but that only left him with more questions. It was safe to say that as a youkai lord, he didn’t care for them, so to awaken in one was profoundly mystifying. What priest or monk would harbor a demon rather than purify it?

Turning the corner, he soon came across an enormous tree. Full and a vivid green from the spring rains months before, the daiyoukai stared at it, sure that he had seen it somewhere before. Then his eyes brightened and he remembered. Bigger than his memory served, it was the sacred tree, Goshinboku.

Stepping through the gate, he walked up to the trunk and felt its smooth bark with his hand. High up, he spied the deep, elliptical notch left by an arrow, reminding him of the one time he visited it with a purpose, to see his half-brother sealed to it. Brow furrowed in thought, his memory of Inuyasha’s sealing stirred up another memory, one of the young woman who seemed to always be at his side. He referred to her as Kagome, did he not? Wasn’t that the name the boy was yelling earlier?

“Sesshoumaru?” a woman called out, her voice oddly familiar and out of place.

‘Are my memories manifesting in reality?’ he wondered silently with eyes closed. ‘Has time degraded my mind this far?’ He hoped not. He then pivoted on his heel, turning around.

Graced with black, wavy hair and gray eyes, it was a memory that awaited him. “Sesshoumaru, it’s me, Kagome.”

Chapter 05: The Meaning of Knife


Sesshoumaru took a step back, edging away from Kagome.

“Wait!” she called to him, taking two steps for his one. “Please don’t go.”

He paused. Retreat wasn’t honestly his fashion, even when done with dignity.

Kagome swallowed, pushing down the anxiety that crept in her throat. As Inuyasha’s enigmatic older brother, she didn’t know much about him, except that he wasn’t above violence when things weren’t in his favor or even when they were for that matter. Her nervousness spiked. She didn’t want to fight him. She just saved him.

Sesshoumaru glanced at the nearby fence, sizing up its height. His brief look however didn’t go unnoticed and Kagome swiftly found her voice.

“A lot has changed since the Feudal Era,” she warned. “The company of an ally might be nicer than a city of strangers, don’t you think? If you stay, I promise to explain everything that I can.”

He snorted, masking the sway of her reason. “Where am I?”

“Tokyo.”

“Tokyo? What’s Tokyo?”

“I’m sorry. This region used to be Edo, but it’s now known as Tokyo.”

Sesshoumaru nodded. The presence of the sacred tree proved her to be honest. Perhaps it was due to the brevity of their lives, but humans were so fickle when it came to names, changing them on a whim. “How long was I sealed?”

“I don’t know. Ever since I wished the Shikon no Tama into nothingness, I haven’t been able to go back through the well. My family and I just found you a few days ago in Midoriko’s cave.”

“Strange.”

Kagome waited, hoping for an explanation. The silence however wore on, and her patience thinned. “What do you mean by strange?”

“Show me the well.”

Still confused and somewhat annoyed that her question had gone unanswered, she waved her hand, and began to walk away. “It’s over here. Come with me.”

Keeping a slow pace, she led him across the grounds and toward a small wooden shed. Immersed in a sense of emptiness as she climbed up the familiar steps, she reached for the weathered door and slid it open. Sunlight poured in, revealing a square well in the shadows.

“It looks familiar.”

“It’s the Bone-Eater Well. It’s how I traveled from my time to yours.

“How?”

“I just jumped down it. By accident the first time, but I traveled through it continuously for about a year, living my two lives.”

“Then you are simply human.”

Kagome blushed; embarrassed by his insinuation that she might be something supernatural. She hadn’t realized how she might seem to someone who had known her first in the past, and now in the present as well. “I’m Kikyo’s reincarnation. Since the jewel was burned with her body, I was born with it inside of me. I think because of that, I was allowed to travel to your time, and then back again at will.”

“Then when Naraku was defeated, you were returned here.”

She nodded.

“Strange.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

Keeping silent, he turned around and left the shed.

The first sparks of anger smoldered in her chest and she chased after him. “I’ve been truthful with you. You should be honorable and do the same with me. What’s strange?”

“This has nothing to do with honor, but with respect.”

“Then be respectful and answer me.”

“I will not,” he refused, stopping his trek across the courtyard to confront her. “As a lord, I am entitled to respect, a courtesy that is undeserving of a nameless human who has yet to earn it. Learn your place or your lesson will be harsher.”

Her fury ignited. “I’m not nameless! I am Higurashi Kagome!”

“That is not what I was referring to.”

“If that’s not it, then you mean your lordship. That by being a daiyoukai, you believe that you’re better than everyone else? Well, I’ve got news for you. It might only be a few months for me, but it’s been three hundred years since Naraku’s defeat and nothing is the same. There are no youkai here. Not one. Humans rule everything. We do what we wish now, and for once, you need to respect us.” Her voice lowered, and she let her last words cut. “You’re a lord without people. A lord of nothing.”

Breathing hard, Kagome glared victoriously at him. Then her triumph began to tarnish and her eyes softened. Shock paled his face. Three hundred years pass, and everything he had was a memory. She had gone too far. Worrying so much about his wakening and what he might do had put her on edge all week. She had expected a fight, and when there wasn’t one, she started one.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know for certain. There could be some youkai out there that I haven’t been able to sense.”

“No, you are correct,” Sesshoumaru said, “I am the last one. I am a lord without people. A lord of nothing.”

“No, that’s not true…” she began to disagree, but he turned away from her, limping toward the house. Soon he disappeared inside, leaving her alone.

Frustrated and angry at her bullheadedness, Kagome began to pace and mutter, recounting events and how she could have gone about it without ripping an injured man a new wound. She would stitch it up when she saw him next; at least she hoped she could. Looking up, she spied her mother walking toward her, a frilled apron tied around her waist.

“Mama, I screwed up,” she admitted, her voice miserable. “He’s not awake for fifteen minutes, and I’ve already ruined things.”

Leaning close, her mother hugged her around her shoulders. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. A lot has happened to you over the last year and a half. More has been expected of you than should be demanded from anyone, let alone a teenage girl.”

“I just wish I had handled it better. Sometimes I forget about the different customs.” Kagome looked up, catching her mother’s dark eyes. “I think I hurt his feelings.”

“He’ll understand,” she soothed. “He may be a demon, but he’s still a man and like most, he just needs time to think. You can make amends with him later.”

“All right.”

Mama smiled. With her arm still around her daughter’s shoulders, she pulled her toward the house. “Besides, I’m fixing steak in honor of our new guest’s recovery. Dogs like steak, don’t they?”

Kagome giggled. “I hope so.”

“I wonder if he’ll be like Inuyasha and love ramen too.”

She shook her head and laughed. “Somehow, I think his tastes are probably too refined for ramen.”

Mama frowned. “That’s too bad. Inuyasha was such a cheap boy to feed.”

Soon they reached the steps and passed through the door leading into the kitchen. A rush of savory aromas met them, and Kagome’s stomach gurgled with anticipation. On the stovetop, saucepans bubbled, and Mama surrendered her daughter to make sure that none of them had burned. Fresh vegetables were spread out on the counter, each washed, trimmed, and ready to be chopped. Satisfied that all was cooking well, Mama left the stove for the refrigerator and retrieved a paper-wrapped package of meat.

“Can I help?” Kagome asked.

“Of course,” he mother replied, and gestured to the counter. “Could you finish dicing the daikon while I trim the steaks, please?”

“No problem!” Walking to the sink, she washed her hands and then searched for her apron in the drawer. Finding it, she tied it on and rolled up her sleeves. Picking up the half cut-up radish, she repositioned it on the cutting board and looked for the knife. Not finding it beside the cutting board, she began to look around the counter and under the other vegetables. “Mama, where’s the knife?”

“The chopping knife?”

“Yeah.”

“It should be there.”

“I can’t find it.”

“I set it down on the cutting board before I went outside.”

“It’s not here. The daikon was the only thing on the cutting board. I’ve checked all over the counter and I looked in the sink. It’s gone.”

“I wonder where it went.” Mama walked toward the hall and yelled into the family room. “Souta, did you move my chopping knife?!”

“No!” came a distant reply.

Her mother hummed. “If he didn’t take it, who could have? It’s strange.”

“Strange,” Kagome murmured, and then she blanched with fear. “Sesshoumaru.”

Bolting out of the kitchen, she ran down the hall. Focusing her powers, she searched for his presence. He was upstairs. Not sparing a moment to slow down, she made for the stairs. Reaching them, she flew up, taking each step two at a time, and nearly stumbling at the top. She was such a stupid girl. How could she tell him that he was a lord without people? That he was a lord of nothing? His title was all that he had left. She was so stupid, and so was bushido. Stupid warrior culture and their death before honor rules.

Her thundering steps softened as Kagome began to sneak close. Moving from the side, she could see into his room, its sliding door open a crack. Through the gap, she peeked at the tatami floor, and then her hand rose to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Spilled across the floor was silver hair, its strands glinting beautifully in the light.

“Oh no.”

Behind her, she felt Mama and Souta walk up. Looking back at them, she realized what she has to do. Even though she doesn’t want to look, she can’t subject anyone else to her mistake.

“Wait here,” she said, and she reached for the handle. Closing her eyes, she pulled the door down its track, and then slowly opened it. She gasped. Bathing in the sunlight at the center of the empty room was Sesshoumaru. The knife still in his hand, he was surrounded by swirls of his shorn hair. With his longest locks reaching his neck, the rest of his hair was ragged and uneven where he had cut it.

“Sesshoumaru?” she whispered.

Ignoring her, he continued to look out of the window.

“Sesshoumaru?” she said louder.

Silence.

Taking a step into the room, she called out again. “Sesshoumaru? Are you all right?”

“I am now.”

Unable to stifle her shock, Kagome blurted out the obvious. “Because you cut off your hair?”

“I am not a lord any longer,” he admitted. “I am a being without a time or a place. I have no purpose. I do not deserve the hair of a lord, of a warrior. My honor will not permit it.” Pushing off of his knees, he rose to his feet. Turning around, he began to walk toward her. She began to back up until she felt Souta behind her. Twirling the knife as he neared, he caught it by the back of the blade, and then handed it to Mama. “My apologies, Higurashi-san. I took it without your permission.”

Mama smiled. “There’s no need.” She gestured to his hair. “Would you like me to even that out for you?”

Mulling over her offer for a moment, he then nodded. “It would be appreciated.”

“My scissors are downstairs.”

“I will accompany you.”

Brushing past Kagome, he left with Mama. Lingering behind, she and Souta stared at the pools of hair, still mystified. Then Souta spoke up.

“Damn, he’s hardcore.”

Kagome nodded.

“At least he didn’t kill himself.”

Kagome nodded again.


A/N: Sorry for the brevity, and the tardy update. My original work has been demanding a lot lately.

Chapter 06: The Soul of a Man


Far below their twisting boughs, Sesshoumaru stood alone beneath the many trees that peppered the shrine. The midmorning sun filtered down through their branches, dappling him and the ground with light. The trees began to rustle, and as familiar that day as it was hundreds of years ago, the summer breeze began to blow. It ruffled his hair, and caressed the back of his neck. It sent yellowing leaves dancing to the ground.

Taking his broom, the daiyoukai began to sweep them up again. The smooth cracked wood felt good in his hands as he gathered them together in a pile. It was an ancient broom. Cobwebbed and dusty, he had dragged it out of the back of the storage shed, letting it feel the brush of the ground after years of uselessness.

Sidestepping in a slow constant rhythm, he swept up more leaves, remembering the hours he’d spent doing it in his youth around the dojo of his master. The memories though felt vague, trapped in a fog of time. It’d been so long since he last remembered them.

Footsteps interrupted his rhythm. A slow shuffling gait, they dragged on the right side. He snorted. The old man’s hip always seemed to be sore in the morning. It was accompanied by another noise, the quiet rustle of a broom being dragged.

“Good morning, Sesshoumaru,” Grandpa said, his voice equal parts warmth and rasp.

Glancing over his shoulder, the demon nodded his bow, and began to sweep again.

The old man chuckled. “That was the most modest bow I’ve received in years, but then you are the older one, aren’t you? Even if you don’t look it.”

Sesshoumaru looked over his shoulder again, and let his eyes linger.

“You’re lucky and unlucky,” he went on, “Old age takes its time to find you. I’m afraid it snuck up on me. I’ve been tending the shrine for so long now.” With a soft swish, he began to sweep beside the youkai. “The years go by so fast, and I’m only sixty-five. I can’t imagine how a year might feel to someone who’s lived for hundreds of them.”

“The summer is a smile,” he replied after a moment, “the fall is a gasp, the winter is a shudder, and the spring is a sigh.”

Grandpa let his broom pause as he thought, and then he chuckled again. “Sounds like a good woman.”

Faint even in the sunlight, Sesshoumaru smirked.

“Ha! There it is! Just like the summer, you have a smile.”

His smirk vanished. “You are simple to please.” Again, he began to sweep, but with quick purposeful strokes as he slowly edged away from the old man.

“The little triumphs are the best ones.”

The daiyoukai shrugged.

“I’m surprised though to see you out here. The chores often fall to me. My grandchildren are too busy with their own lives. How can they care for relics from a past that has no place in their future?” He sighed. “Between the internet and cell phones, I feel like a relic for even caring about a few old scrolls and chipped pottery.”

Sesshoumaru stared at him blankly. “What is the internet?”

“I’m sorry. Hmm… well, I don’t rightly know, but it seems like it’s a huge waste of time.”

He nodded, and then smirked. “If you believe yourself a relic for that, then I must be one as well.”

Grandpa laughed. “A welcomed relic who helps out. I’m still shocked.”

“It’s familiar work, and it reminds me of when I was young and learning swordplay for the first time. My master required me to clean the dojo every morning. Compared to a forested mountain, this shrine is an indulgence.”

“A whole mountain?”

“My master was not an admirer of fallen pine needles.”

“Wow.”

The demon shrugged. “It was my path to discipline, and to do it honored the art that would make me a warrior. It was not a hardship, but a privilege.”

“Well, this place isn’t a dojo, but I appreciate the honor.”

“I have come to realize that it truly is a holy place, and that I still hold a thread of the power I once wielded. You must forgive me. It was an accident.”

“What was?”

His broom stopped, and he pointed to the massive iron shrine bell near the entrance. Dark and jagged, a large crack ran its length.

The old man’s mouth dropped open.

“I was attempting to clean it, but it would appear that my mere presence was too much for it.”

“That was two hundred years old!”

“Hn,” he snorted, unimpressed by its age. “There were several seals that caught fire earlier as well. I stamped them out.”

“Where?”

“In the storage shed where I discovered this broom.”

Grandpa dropped his broom to cradle his forehead in his hands. “My heirlooms.”

The daiyoukai shrugged, and continued to sweep.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed, “I have an idea! Have you ever heard of Miyamoto Musashi?”

“No.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have since he was a little bit ahead of your time.”

“Who was he?”

“A great human warrior.”

“Human?”

“Yes. He never lost a match, and is considered one of the best swordsmen in history.”

Intrigued, Sesshoumaru let his broom stop.

“Come on,” Grandpa waved to him, “and leave that broom there. I’ve got something to show you.”

Letting the broom fall, Sesshoumaru joined the old man, and they walked slowly across the grounds.

“Aside from being a fine swordsman, Musashi was a reasonably well-educated man. His success inspired him to write about his way of the sword so that others would understand what it meant to be a true warrior.”

Hidden away in a far corner of the shrine, they soon approached a small shed tucked beside a tree with low hanging branches.

“Perhaps one of his most memorable analogies was his comparison between a warrior and a carpenter. You see, in order to build a house, a carpenter must be meticulous, and capable of putting together a master plan without any errors.

“A carpenter must understand the nature of the wood, and its best uses. He must deduce what every piece’s purpose is, and how to work it, mold it, and sand it. From that, he then must know how to construct the frame, floor, doors and walls of his house. He must know in what order to place them, and how to tease out the best features from even flawed materials.

“A warrior must do the same. He must understand the nature of his opponent, and how he can be defeated. He must deduce what his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses are, and how to manipulate them. From that, he then must know how to create a defense, and an attack. He must know in what order to feint, and to stab, and how to tease out the best route to victory when facing even the strongest rivals.”

Seemingly still interested, Sesshoumaru nodded.

“There is more than just the ability to plan. A carpenter must be skilled in a variety of tools in order to succeed. No tool is insignificant, because everything has a use. As a warrior, you must have realized long ago that every weapon has its place. That you should know how they’re meant to be handled, because you never know when you may have to rely on them.”

An old-fashioned lock, a long board hung across the shed’s doors, keeping it shut. Grandpa tried to lift it from its hooks, but it was hopelessly wedged in. It’d been years since he’d last opened it, and after a few more struggling tries, he looked back at the daiyoukai.

The demon stared back at him.

“Could you?”

“Ah,” Sesshoumaru murmured, and he stepped forward. With a supernatural ease, he lifted the board out of place with one hand, and set it down against the shed.

“Thank you,” the old man replied. He then reached for the handles, and the hinges whined as he opened the doors.

Swirling in the sunlight, dust motes glittered in the small workshop. Tables lined the room, each covered with a tarp. Grandpa walked over to one, and pulled back the cloth, sending up new clouds of dust. Set in rows, a myriad of carpentry tools were laid out. Chisels, saws, hammers and levels; each one was immaculate, and in its proper place.

“It’s an old hobby from my youth,” he reminisced, letting his finger longingly trace a few tools. “Nearly every piece of furniture in the house originated here.” Then he pulled his finger back. “But when Kagome was born, my daughter needed me, and old hobbies were put to the side. I had hoped that Souta would show an interest, but he didn’t.”

A long silence passed as each dwelled on a past that had become just that, the past.

“You’re a broken man, Sesshoumaru.”

His brow furrowed, the youkai stared at him, but didn’t refute what he had said.

“Only a broken man seeks out his youth, searching for the beginning so that he may build once more. Perhaps you think that if you sweep up enough leaves that you’ll find yourself again, but it won’t work. You’re not who you were then.” Grandpa picked up a hammer, and gave it to him. Sesshoumaru looked at it. The solid steel alloy felt heavy in his hand. “You need to find a new purpose. A new way of the warrior. And the sliding door in the kitchen is warped, so it doesn’t slide like it used to. The stairs creak, and the wood floor upstairs is awful, and needs to be replaced. I know that you’re an honorable man, so consider this training your compensation for room and board.”

Finished, Grandpa patted him on the shoulder, and walked away, grumbling under his breath about his hip as he stepped out. Some tea sounded nice, and sweeping the leaves could wait a little longer.

Alone, Sesshoumaru set the hammer down, and began to walk over to each table, pulling off their tarps. After folding them neatly, he set them down in a pile by the doorway. On top of one of the tables, he noticed a small bookcase lined with yellowing tomes. White creases traced their spines, and he plucked one up.

‘Bikini Girl’s Basic Guide to Carpentry,’ he read. “Strange.” He thumbed through the pages, remembering again what it was like to read.

Through the gap on the shelf, he spotted another book. ‘Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi.’ He took that one too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m home!” Kagome announced with bubbling vibrancy. With two deft shakes, she was shoeless, abandoning them by the door as she walked across the cool floor.

“Welcome home,” came Souta’s tepid reply from the family room.

“School was tough today,” she went on, “I think I did pretty good on my math exam even though the teacher went over the material way too fast.” Kagome continued to ramble on as she set her backpack down to hang up her school coat in the closet. A long time ago, she realized that she didn’t really care if anyone listened. She knelt down next, and unzipped her bag. Inside were several textbooks, and she pulled them out. With them cradled against her chest, she carried them with her as she walked down the hall toward the family room. “I went to the library too, and found some good history books for Sesshoumaru so he can catch up with the world.

She stepped into the family room.

“Do you know where he…”

Feeling a pillow of sawdust under her foot, her question dried up, and then her mouth dropped. From wall to wall, the room was a disaster. Long wood dowels along with massive torn sheets of rice paper were strewn about the floor, and over the furniture. And at the center, the table was overwhelmed with a variety of tools and one sticky bottle of glue.

“What the hell happened here?” Kagome blurted out.

Hidden somewhere amid the chaos, an indifferent Souta replied as he channel-surfed on a still barely visible television. “Sesshoumaru’s fixing the screen door.”

“He’s what?!”

The boy sighed. “Grandpa showed him the tool shed, and now he’s fixing the door.”

“Is he?” She looked at the disarray, mystified.

A pile of rice paper shrugged. “He’s determined.”

His clothes and skin stained with paint and wood glue, Sesshoumaru entered, carrying the skeletal frame of a new door.

“Is the frame dry?” Souta asked, leaving his sister wondering how he even knew the daiyoukai was there.

“The clamps were left on the joints for four hours as Bikini Girl instructed, and as I have learned, her instructions are not to be trifled with. I will be sliding it down the track to make sure it fits. Would you take the roll of rice paper out to the shed? I will be applying it out there once I am finished.”

“Sure!” Souta clambered out of the mess enshrouding him, and walked over to the big roll set beside the wall. With a labored grunt, he hefted it up, teetering a bit as he took his first step.

“Isn’t that too heavy?” Kagome asked.

“Nope!” he answered as he walked down the hallway, and out the door.

The schoolgirl shook her head. He won’t put away the dishes, but he’ll carry something that’s as big as he is out to the shed for Sesshoumaru.

Stepping around the debris, she headed for the kitchen. In the entryway, she found the daiyoukai kneeling down as he aligned the frame with the track. On the other side, she spotted Mama and Grandpa leaning against the counter with two cups of tea between them. Taking the greatest care, Kagome gingerly sidled around the demon, and joined them.

“Good afternoon, Kagome,” her mother and grandfather welcomed her.

“Good afternoon,” she answered.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mama offered. “There’s still plenty in the pot.”

“Maybe a little later. What’s going on?”

“He’s fixing the door.”

“Why?”

“You’re a woman,” Grandpa said dryly. “You wouldn’t understand the soul of a man.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed.

Mama smiled. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but exactly how much will this soul of a man cost? The labor may be free, but the materials definitely aren’t.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the old man replied. “The shrine’s going to be short a few heirlooms in the future, but not any anyone would miss. Besides, I think we’d be missing a lot more if I didn’t find something for our houseguest to do.”

Chapter 07: The Wayward Receipt

Clacking smoothly beneath his feet, Sesshoumaru could feel the steel centipede race along its fixed track. Trapped in the husk of its segmented body, he held onto the bar overhead with one hand, letting the beast take him where it pleased, and hoping that they somehow agreed. Souta had called it an elevated train. He looked down at the boy sitting in the plastic seat beside him. A locomotion of man.

It reeked of them at the very least. Sweat mostly, but there were a host of other odors as well, and none of them were flattering. Still, it was the nature of the summer, even when they hovered upon the cusp of fall.

“Isn’t that heavy?” a young woman asked from the seat across from them. She gestured to the stack of lumber he held on his shoulder. Pungent as she spoke, he could smell her sickly sweet breath. It reminded him of mint. ‘Strange.’

“He’s fine,” Souta snapped.

Taken aback by the sharpness of his reply, she looked up at the daiyoukai, and then back at the boy. They both stared at her in silence.

“Oh.” Confused and unexpectedly embarrassed, she pulled a magazine from her purse, and turned away.

Looking around the train, Souta caught several surreptitious glances their way. A few passengers whispered, and he growled when one pointed a finger. Crossing his arms against his chest, he leaned back and sighed.

“People are stupid. Don’t they realize that they’re staring at us and how rude that is? It’s so annoying.”

“It has always been this way,” Sesshoumaru replied. “In three hundred years, nothing has changed.”

The boy nodded.

“The only improvement is that they do not do anything that requires me to kill them now. I cannot melt them with poison, but I can toss them off of the centipede for their transgressions.”

In shock, Souta looked up at him.

The demon looked back; his expression was both blank and honest.

“You can’t kill anyone.”

“Why?”

“You just can’t. It’s wrong.”

Sesshoumaru shrugged. “I find that to be a remarkably insufficient reason. Humans are more prevalent now than ever. A little population control might be a benefit.”

His mouth dropped. “You can’t. It’s wrong. Taking a life is wrong.”

“Why?”

Pressing his brain, Souta scrambled to think of a better reason. Shouldn’t wrong be good enough? Then he smiled in triumph. “Because it’s against the law.”

“Law?”

“The government made it against the law.”

He nodded. “The government. That was mentioned in those books that Kagome retrieved for me. Instead of lands divided by feudal lords, the islands of Japan are united under one government. They were ruled under an emperor at one point, but now a group of men are elected into office by the common people, though I find it odd that they would permit the peasants to decide over such important affairs. Human are such unfathomable creatures.”

“Anyhow,” Souta went on, “In order for our government to protect its people, it enforces laws. One of them makes murder illegal.”

“Hm.”

“If anyone violates the law, they get arrested by the police. Eventually, they get tried in court, and if they’re guilty, they get punished.”

“Are they then killed?”

“Only if they’ve done something really bad, like murder. Usually they just go to jail for a very long time.”

“That seems to be a considerable amount of unnecessary effort. Why not stab them and be done with it?”

“What if they aren’t guilty? What if the wrong person was caught?”

“An unlikely occurrence.”

“It’s happened before.”

“The accidental death of one human is hardly a tragedy. Many innocent ones die from illnesses and injuries every year. They did nothing to deserve it.”

“But you can’t compare people getting hurt or sick to purposefully killing someone for a crime they didn’t commit. People can’t help dying from car accidents or heart attacks. It’s just bad luck. Besides, the government and the police are supposed to protect the innocent, not make us live in fear. That’s what the laws are for. What good is it to have rules, if the people in charge can break them whenever they want?”

A long silence passed as Sesshoumaru mulled over the boy’s reasoning.

“Laws, you say?”

Souta nodded.

“Demanding order from this chaotic city, these laws appeal to me.”

He let out a sigh of relief.

Letting out a whistling whine, the train began to brake. With a pin-pon, the intercom turned on, and a friendly woman announced their arrival at the upcoming station.

“That’s our stop,” Souta said as he turned around in his seat to look out the oversized window.

“Good,” Sesshoumaru replied, and shrugged to adjust the stack of wood until it was comfortable.

Built with sterile gray concrete and trimmed in a sharp blue, the station platform appeared as their train glided up beside it. From business suits to school uniforms, a few dozen people stood out on the platform, each waiting behind the red line that ran parallel with the track.

Coming to a smooth stop, the train idled for a moment. Then there was a mechanical hiss, and the doors slid open. Normally impatient, the other passengers hung back, wary of the strange man and the boy near the exit. Taking the opportunity, Sesshoumaru and Souta stepped off the train first. Making their way across the platform, they wove through the milling people waiting to get on. They soon found the exit gate, and they took the short flight of stairs down to the sidewalk below. Wedged between a traffic-clogged street and a dizzying array of storefronts, they began the final leg of their journey home.

“What are we building today?” the boy asked. The novelty of the mystery had finally given way to his pressing curiosity.

Sesshoumaru snorted, noting the ‘we’ he used so loosely.

“The sliding door is new, and the stairs don’t creak anymore. After ripping it out a while ago, we finished laying the new upstairs floor last week. All of the cabinets have new hinges, and are repainted. I know that Mama said it would be nice to have a new table in the family room, especially after we spilled glue all over the old one. Maybe we can just sand it and repaint it too.” He laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny if she thought it was new?”

“A new table for the family room may be a fine addition at another time.”

“Oh,” Souta murmured, puzzled. “Then what’s this wood for? It’s a type used in furniture, isn’t it? Aren’t we making a table?”

“We are crafting a table, but not one for the house.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I am not the sole pupil in this new way of the warrior, so why should I be the only one who has a table on which to work?”

The meaning behind his cryptic remark sank in, and Souta’s eyes lit up. “We’re making me a worktable?!”

The daiyoukai nodded.

“All right!” he half-yelled, unable contain his excitement. “My own workbench!”

He smirked, amused and pleased by the boy’s exuberance.

“So what did we buy exactly?” he said as he opened the plastic bag he carried. His interest, which had been somewhat mild at the hardware store, suddenly erupted, and now he wanted to examine everything. “Let me see if I can figure out what it’s gonna look like. This is so awesome!”

The afternoon breeze picked up, and a flimsy slip of paper hardly worth noticing was swept up out of the bag.

“Crap! The receipt!” Souta yelled, watching it as it fluttered and flew out past between two parked cars. “Mama’s gonna kill me!” His mind awhirl with new tables and his mother’s measured wrath, he was hopelessly distracted from the danger as he dove out into the street after the insignificant piece of paper. Had it been any other day, he never would have done it.

As he stumbled out onto the hot asphalt, he realized his mistake, but by then it was too late. The cool shadow of the delivery truck was already upon him. There was no time to brake.

The whine of twisting metal tore the air. The sour stink of coolant sprayed, followed by the heady pungency of gasoline and oil. Some of it splattered on his face, and it burned.

Though his eyes were pinched shut, Souta felt something strong wrapped around him, protecting him from the scattering chunks of metal and the shards of glass that showered from the sky. A terrifying eternity passed for him in that fraction of a second that when the eerie silence finally came, he could hardly believe it.

Shouts began to pepper the quiet.

His vision blurry at first, the boy opened his eyes to pieces of truck strewn about the street. Warm and secure against him, he noticed the powerful arms of the daiyoukai around him. Swelling at cuts along the surface of his skin, red began to trickle and drip.

“Sesshoumaru! Sesshoumaru!”

“I’m here,” he answered softly.

Hearing his deep voice, Souta shook as he was overwhelmed with hard sobs. “Are-are you… Are you all right?!”

“I’m fine.”

The boy twisted around, and buried his face into the demon’s chest as he hugged him tightly. He could feel beneath his torn shirt. His back was sticky with blood. “You’re hurt, Sesshoumaru! I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I was so stupid. And now you’re hurt, and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“Do not concern yourself. The wounds are shallow and not even worth mentioning.”

“B-but…”

The daiyoukai pulled Souta back so that he could look him in the eye. “Not worth mentioning. We must go now.”

Sniffing and hiccupping, he stifled his sobs and bit his tongue, afraid that if he said anything more that he’d start crying again. Sesshoumaru was going to be all right. Inhaling deep through his nose, he nodded instead.

“Good.” With bits of glass and debris spilling from him, Sesshoumaru stood up. They then took a few steps away, and looked back at the demon-shaped hole in the truck’s engine.

On the sidewalk, a crowd of people stared in wordless disbelief. Then one began to clap. And then another. Soon a rush of applause surrounded them, accented with cheers and high-pitched whistles.

“What are they doing?” Sesshoumaru asked.

“You’re a hero.”

“A hero?”

He nodded, and rubbed his wet eyes with the back of his hand before looking up at the daiyoukai. “You’re a hero.”

A siren wailed in the distance. Trapped behind a wall of stopped motorists, flashing lights spun, but when Souta spotted them, he tugged on the tail of Sesshoumaru’s shirt. “It’s the police. We have to go.”

“Are they not allies? Enforcers of your laws?”

“Now wouldn’t be the best time for an introduction. Not too many people can stop trucks with their bodies, and only get a few scratches. They’re gonna ask questions that are probably best left unanswered.”

The youkai nodded. Even as he was perplexed over the need for secrecy, he accepted that it wasn’t his culture. It wasn’t wise to debate when he had very limited knowledge on the subject.

Together, they abandoned the lumber, the plastic bag and the wayward receipt. They slipped through the flocks of onlookers until no one recognized them anymore. Soon, Souta was leading them down side streets and alleys until they saw the familiar trees lining the shrine.

Still echoing in his ears as they climbed the steps, Sesshoumaru remembered the crowd’s applause. ‘You’re a hero.’