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It had begun as a way to teach the younglings how to read. They clambered over her whenever she had a book in her hands, constantly asking what specific symbols meant, and she eventually got fed up with the interruptions. The alphabet was wobbly, but they were diligent workers, intent on impressing her as quickly as possible.
The wolf joined to impress the miko; the slayer joined to impress the wolf. And the miko allowed them both to believe she had no hidden agenda, encouraging them to practice their writing skills with each other outside of her lessons.
Once they'd memorized the basic symbols, she'd proposed a sort of confessional in their assignments, ensuring the scrolls would be left unopened if labelled as such. There were mentions of a 'diary' from her time, a book meant to hide one's most intimate secrets, and while the children had nothing to hide, the adults certainly did.
It took many weeks of convincing, but, according to the miko, it was much easier to admit to something on parchment than state it out loud, especially if someone else was involved. Sesshoumaru had scented the interest on the slayer's part—it was almost laughable how ignorant the wolf prince was to her affections—but she grew more confident with each written word, and soon, the two of them were going hunting together.
She'd somehow convinced him she needed guidance on how to do it properly, feeding his ego while allowing them ample time alone.
The miko's pride was palpable.
"Do you need writing lessons, Sesshoumaru-sama?" Rin asked, ending her current sentence with a flourish. "Kagome-sama is a great teacher."
Sesshoumaru lifted his cup to his lips. "It was a skill taught to me at a young age."
"But you could probably use a refresher," she argued. A raised eyebrow had her grinning. "Kagome-sama says that when we haven't practiced in a while. She doesn't want us to forget what she taught us in the beginning." Considering Rin's keen observation skills, he doubted she ever needed this 'refresher'. However, said skills were second only to her persuasion skills, and Sesshoumaru quickly found himself agreeing to join their next lesson.
The miko was surprised but intrigued by his presence, offering him a crisp piece of parchment and an unused brush. She also requested kanji instead of the hiragana she'd taught the children, and it was his turn to be surprised.
He'd known she was educated but hadn't realized how far her knowledge went. The more complex symbols were reserved for those of noble birth, making their missives unintelligible to the common folk and keeping their secrets safe. Was there more to her upbringing than a simple disparity in time?
Curiosity piqued, Sesshoumaru used as much kanji as possible, reciting a tale about his youth regarding Bokuseno. The miko was already aware of his existence, so it wasn't much of a stretch, but the bit about him escaping to his glade to avoid his tutors would be new.
He waited until the paint dried, then rolled up the parchment and slid it into her basket. A hand was placed on Rin's head, but no other parting greeting was said, and he took to the sky before the miko could offer one.
"Thank you for sharing this with me," she said the next time Rin dragged him to her lesson. A pale brow rose in question, allowing her the time to expand on her gratitude. "We haven't talked much, so I wasn't expecting anything, but—" She held up the parchment from their last encounter. "—I enjoyed reading about this. We didn't spend much time with Bokuseno, but he seems lovely."
He continued staring, her face eventually turning red, and she cleared her throat. "You obviously don't need lessons, but if you ever need to practice or get bored, I have lots of extra supplies. Even if you don't want me to read it." Her tone became wistful as she gazed over at Rin. "Communication is essential, but sometimes the only person we can talk to is ourselves, so writing things down makes it easier to sort out our emotions."
The girl, though well on her way to becoming a woman, looked up, offering an innocent but genuine smile, regaling the miko with her latest adventure with the kit, embellishing it with falsities of princesses and saviours clad in armour.
"That's called a fairy tale, Rin-chan. Let's work on your sentence structure before you start in on the stories." Rin pouted but acquiesced, and the miko offered him a slight bow before settling down beside her, holding Rin's brush steady when she got too excited.
Once satisfied with her penmanship, the miko allowed Rin to add pictures to her collections, calling them 'illustrations'. Sesshoumaru kept his distance, content to observe but not interfere—or participate. The miko had passed his test; there was nothing more to do.
His curiosity about her upbringing continued to fester under his skin, but with how she was with Rin, he could only assume she was bred to be an educator. He wondered if it ran in her family.
Kagome made a list of all the herbs she needed to collect later, hoping to pass the chore off to Rin and possibly the other villagers. She enjoyed the mundane routine of making salves and treating the sick or injured and wished she could enjoy the solitude of being alone, but there was always someone needing her help, and her stocks were getting low.
Maybe she'd travel further away from the village next spring. The natural flora called to her, beckoning her to dive deeper into the unknown, but responsibilities kept her chained to the village.
She sighed. She'd never call them that out loud, but sometimes her skin felt so tight she was ready to burst out of it. She'd tried meditating or putting the energy into training, but something still clawed at her every time she lay down to sleep in her hut. It felt like the walls were closing in on her, and nothing she did ever helped.
"Hey Kags!"
Grateful for the distraction, she raised her hand in greeting, automatically brushing her hair away from her face as Kouga's entrance sent the wind into an uproar. "Hello, Kouga-kun. Did the hunt go well?"
He flashed her a triumphant grin, puffing out his chest. "When does it not? Nothing can outrun me." He winked at her suggestively, and Kagome bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning.
Kouga was sweet, and he'd matured a lot since she'd come back, but his overzealous flirting grated on a nerve she didn't know she had. Half the reason for inviting him to join their little writing party was to distract him—the other half was to give Sango the chance to seduce him.
She'd half expected the slayer to be married with several kids when she'd returned, but Miroku had stepped back—and then out of the way—so she could focus on rebuilding her village. It had been a mutual decision, and though they remained friends, the time spent in each other's company grew less and less.
And it wasn't too hard to see where her affections really lay. Sango had never been very good at hiding her emotions. She'd been worried she'd given herself away, considering how often Kouga visited, but lucky for her, his charisma was second only to his ignorance of those around him.
Hence the writing assignment.
The slayer's visits were just as rare, but she made a point of showing up whenever she had free time. How convenient that happened to be when Kouga did as well. She wasn't as meek as she once was and wanted him badly, but she didn't want to compete with his affection for Kagome, so they had to be sneaky about it.
Sango appeared behind him, cuffing the back of his head. "Don't bother them when you smell like boar innards," she chastised.
Kouga frowned, holding up his arms to inspect himself. "If I smell so bad, how come you haven't complained?" The women shared a look, the slayer turning as pink as her armour, but neither said anything, and the miko gave her an encouraging motion with her hands.
Sango swallowed, then flipped her hair over her shoulder as she spun on her heel, making sure the wolf prince got a full view of her neck. "Guess I'm just used to you smelling terrible."
"Oi! I don't smell!" He followed after her, boasting about all the different uses for scent within his pack. The slayer pretended to be uninterested, and by the time they reached the treeline, he was almost whimpering for attention.
"Kouga-kun is silly," Rin said, tracing the lines of her story.
"I know," the miko agreed. "But at least he's behaving himself."
"Because Sango-san keeps him in line."
The miko was aghast. "Rin-chan! Where did you hear that?"
Rin's brows scrunched together. "Isn't that what girls do to boys? Make them walk in a straight line? Kaede-sama does it to men who visit from other villages. You do it with Inuyasha."
The woman's face blazed red, and she sputtered. "That's not—those are two completely different things!"
Finally looking away from her artwork, Rin pinned the miko with an innocent but curious stare. "Then what does it mean? Kouga-kun always walks differently when Sango-san is around."
The miko groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You are too young for these kinds of conversations."
"Does that mean I shouldn't be doing it to Shippou-kun?"
"Rin-chan!" The females continued to stare at each other, the miko's blush extending below the top of her robes, but the slight twitch of his ward's mouth had them both dissolving into hysterical giggles.
"No one should keep anyone 'in line'," the miko said through her laughter, attempting to be serious. "Not even friends."
"That's good," Rin grinned. "Sesshoumaru-sama always walks in a straight line. I thought he'd have to do it alone forever."
The miko stiffened, then shook her head, patting the girl on the shoulder. "Sesshoumaru has lots of people who care about him. Most of all, you." Rin gave her an odd look but let the topic drop, arranging her papers to keep the story intact.
"Do you think I could send this to Shippou-kun?" Rin eventually asked, placing lines of text next to her drying pictures. "He says all they have to read at school are spells and homework."
"I'm sure he'd love that."
Rin picked at the edge of one of the pages. "He's a lot better at writing than me," she sighed.
"He's had more time to practice than you," the miko automatically replied. "He has to use it in his studies. But I'm sure you could name a lot more plants than him."
Rin immediately brightened. "I stopped him from eating poisonous berries the last time he visited!"
The miko's smile was warm, and Sesshoumaru's fingers flexed at the sight of it. He'd never cared much for human expression, but Jaken had impressed upon him the need for it in order to comfort Rin. She was exuberant with her joy but more jaded with her sorrow—as if she thought it would be a burden.
Humans were more physiological with their reactions, but observations of the miko left him unsettled, as the emotions she expressed through her actions and face did not always match her eyes.
Like when she'd become flustered about Rin's assessment of her relationship with his brother. She appeared embarrassed, but there was a flash of resigned frustration, and he couldn't help but wonder at the stale scent surrounding her.
Pulling out the leftover parchment from his last deposition, he began to write down questions. It was more to get them out of his head, as he'd never voice them out loud, but as he watched the females interact, he remembered the miko's suggestion of 'do not read' at the top.
Another test may be needed.
He'd intended on watching her as she went through the bundle of letters but was pulled away by Jaken on matters of the shiro, and by the time he returned, the parchment had been tied together with some string and was lying against the inside of her basket. She greeted him with a smile—one brighter than that for the wolf—but didn't question his return or anything he'd written.
He'd given her another tidbit from his childhood, luring her in as he'd done before, but had then taken her advice of writing 'do not read' part of the way down to see if she took her vows seriously. The observations he'd made after had been candid, mostly pertaining to her actions regarding his ward and her interference with the slayer and the wolf prince. He didn't care about either, but it was the safest topic, and he wished to see if her claims about a 'diary' were truthful.
The miko had never been one to stifle her emotions, often wearing them on her sleeve for all to see, so he knew if she had read his latest entry, she would immediately give herself away, but there was no change in her demeanour. She went about her chores as she normally did, only pausing to gaze at the horizon as the sun painted the sky before dipping below the mountains.
Her scent shifted, and Sesshoumaru was taken aback by the abject longing surrounding her. He would've thought she missed her family, but she was looking in the opposite direction of the well—and the village.
Did she regret her decision to return?
She caught him staring, her cheeks turning as pink as the sky as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Then, straightening her shoulders, she headed back to her hut, head bowed. The sounds within her house were scattered but consistent, signalling her disquiet, and he made a mental note of the new questions he now had.
"You are restless."
Kagome sighed. Sesshoumaru had been spending more and more time in the village, specifically in her hut, and she swore the walls were getting smaller each time he showed up.
She enjoyed the company, especially since he wasn't against mundane tasks like laundry and gathering herbs. He was as meticulous as she was, arranging the plants in groups according to size so each bundle would dry out simultaneously. Even now, his sleeves were pulled back to remain dry as she handed him freshly washed dishes.
She'd questioned Rin about it and then Jaken, but even the toad had no answers regarding his lord's odd behaviour. Kagome had braced herself for a tongue-lashing, but Jaken had seemed strangely at peace with it. From what she could gather, tensions back at the shiro were high due to trade negotiations between the surrounding villages, so anything that allowed Sesshoumaru to relax was alright with him.
She stole a glance at the daiyoukai as she handed him a cup. He looked relaxed enough, but then again, Sesshoumaru never seemed to be bothered by anything. She'd initially been worried about inviting him into their little writing group, but he'd been surprisingly open about it—at least initially. His first few entries had been wonderful; the graceful penmanship was full of intrigue, creating a window into his childhood that she doubted many people had seen.
But it was short-lived. He still wrote, but most of the parchment was labelled with 'do not read' at the top, and, as per her promise, she'd made a note of how long the parchment was but hadn't actually read it. She was dying to, the curiosity clawing at her to the point of causing her insomnia, but she wouldn't break that trust. It was hard enough to find that kind of connection with anyone, let alone someone like Sesshoumaru.
"Am I not allowed to be?" she replied, scrubbing a bowl.
Sesshoumaru clicked his tongue, and she chuckled softly. He was a creature of so few words, but there were little tells that spoke volumes. "You are weighed down by responsibility," he stated.
"Aren't we all?" He was being intentionally vague, and Kagome found she enjoyed needling him—now that she knew he wouldn't gut her in response.
He plucked a spoon from her fingers as his eyes narrowed. "It should not be your only occupation."
She blinked, finally turning to him. "The great Lord Sesshoumaru is telling me I need to have more fun?" She supposed stranger things had happened, especially during her fight against Naraku.
"I am merely pointing out the need for balance."
A dark brow raised as she tried to discern if he was joking. But since Sesshoumaru joking was an oxymoron, she leaned against the counter, another sigh escaping. "I don't have time. The weather has turned, and if I don't bulk up on supplies before the first frost, we won't last until spring."
"I was not aware you were the sole provider of the village."
She shoved his arm, feeling they'd spent enough time together to do so, and he barely moved, the action going ignored. "I'm not."
"Yet you continue to act as such."
"Would you rather I leave it to Inuyasha?" she countered. "You've provided more meat for them than he has."
"We have."
Kagome pursed her lips, unable to argue. The village survived mostly on dried meat, as it lasted longer, but it also enabled them to go longer between hunts. Inuyasha was never meant to settle down, and no one blamed him for taking every opportunity to rid neighbouring villages of lower-level pests. Least of all Miroku, whom he dragged with him most of the time, but it left Kagome to try and train the villagers to hunt, and while her reputation as the Shikon Miko still held significance, most of the men weren't too thrilled with being upstaged by a woman.
Not Sesshomaru, though. He'd tagged along out of boredom, she assumed at least, and been quite content to watch, offering up tips to improve her aim and stamina. He'd also made it known who was responsible for the kill when they'd brought it back to the village. It was probably due to Rin's presence, or at least her influence, as she'd been at the forefront of the welcoming party when they'd returned.
"Fine, we have," she relented. "But that doesn't change the fact that the winters are harsh. I spend most of my time mixing pastes and teas so everyone doesn't die from a simple cold."
He considered her briefly, eyes lingering, then relieved her of the remaining dishes. Kagome's eyebrow was still raised, but both shot up when he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her outside. "We're not done," she said, digging her heels in.
"It can wait."
She wasn't given the chance to argue, one arm wrapping around her waist before they shot into the sky. She'd gotten used to the lack of gravity while travelling with Inuyasha, but they'd never gone this high, and she fisted his sleeve. "A little warning would be nice!"
The edges of his eyes creased, as if he were stifling laughter, but everyone knew Sesshoumaru never laughed, so that couldn't have been it. "And allow you the opportunity to refuse? I think not."
She'd have shoved him if they weren't several hundred metres in the air. "How do you know? Maybe I was in the mood for a break."
"You have not had a 'break' since your return."
She found her balance, crossing her arms to glare up at him. It didn't have the desired effect, especially since he was so much taller, but she wasn't about to let it go. "And how would you know that?" He stared at her long enough that a blush spilled onto her cheeks, but her arms tightened, chin rising defiantly as she waited for an answer.
Sesshoumaru eventually sighed, eyes on the horizon. "You have succumbed to illness in order to provide for others at least once every three moon cycles, miko. To the point where Rin has requested youkai remedies to secure your survival." Knowing eyes slid toward her, deepening her blush. He was right, but that was beside the point.
"Youkai medicine doesn't work on humans," she mumbled.
"I am aware. As is she, to a point. But it proves how far gone you were for her to become that desperate." Kagome looked away, shoulders hunched. Full-blooded youkai rarely needed handmade antidotes, but they'd developed a range of remedies to aid their hanyou offspring. They were human enough to get sick, but their youkai blood attacked their antibodies, making it that much harder to fight off the germs, so they needed something to help boost their immune system.
"I didn't think anyone noticed, to be honest," she said.
"Your influence is far-reaching," he replied. "As is your compassion. Many would mourn your passing."
"Including you?" she teased, giving him a sly smile.
"Indeed." His response was so quick that her head whipped around, but she caught a twitch at the side of his mouth. "No one else is able to keep Jaken away."
Kagome's snort turned into full-blown laughter, and she had to grip his arm to keep herself upright. "You're such an ass!" His chuckle was lost along the wind as they descended, multi-coloured lights flickering in the distance, casting a dancing kaleidoscope along the newly fallen snow in all directions.
She gazed in wonder as a bustling market came up to meet them, youkai of all kinds walking between the stalls. Some children ran free; others clutched their parents' hands or claws tightly, eyes wide with excitement. Sesshoumaru's power settled over her shoulders as they touched down, and she looked up at him in question.
"Your reputation precedes you, miko, but it is better not to cause a stir." He stepped away, but her skin still buzzed with youki. "You will startle less children this way. Some of them have never encountered a human before."
She was never more glad to have shirked her miko robes, though she still felt under-dressed in her simple yukata. "You could've warned me before so I could've changed," she griped, though there was little bite to her tone.
Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow. "You are fine the way you are."
'Nothing like a non-compliment from the Western Lord to boost your confidence.' Kagome offered him a grateful smile, then looked around. "Are you looking for something specific? Or are we just browsing?"
"You are the one in need of a break," he reminded her. She brightened, then set off to inspect every stall, gasping in awe at all the youkai-made merchandise. It took her several booths before she found something she really liked—a bright yellow satchel, resistant to fire and large enough to hold several clusters of herbs—that she regretted not bringing any money with her.
But before she could question their currency—or bartering system—a small bundle of something was given to the merchant, who bowed and thanked Sesshoumaru profusely. He walked away before she could question it, silver hair flowing as he brushed it over his shoulder.
"I'll pay you back," she said when she caught up.
"It is of no consequence, miko."
It happened several more times. Any item she happened to linger over was quickly traded for another small bag or some clinking silver coins, and Kagome was caught between anger and losing herself to exasperated laughter. "You can't just buy everything I show interest in!"
"Can I not?"
She groaned, stuffing a set of paintbrushes into her new satchel. "You have to at least let me try to pay you back."
"I do not."
Her mouth dropped open. "What happened to 'do as you please'?"
He finally paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Is that not what I am doing?"
Kagome shot him a scathing glare. "I meant me!"
A silver brow raised. "And when was the last time you purchased something for personal use outside of your duties to the village?"
She was going to smack him. How was he able to throw so many things in her face in one evening? "That is not the point."
He flipped his hair over his shoulder again. "When you succeed in making one, I will listen." Only the fact that he was going out of his way to protect her kept her from singeing the end of his pelt. When they got back home, all bets were off. "Think of it as repayment for everything you have done for the village," he continued. "They cannot afford such luxuries, but This One can."
All the bluster went out of her sails. "You're not playing fair."
A smirk graced his lips. "Where would the fun be in that?"
Kagome rolled her eyes. "Like you actually have fun." She doubted it was even in his vocabulary.
"I have indulged on occasion," he replied, slowly taking the next corner so she could catch up.
"Oh yeah? Like when?" She adjusted the strap of her satchel; it felt much lighter than the collection of items inside it, and she wondered if that was part of the appeal.
"I am having fun right now." He said it in such a serious tone that she felt the heat from earlier return to her cheeks, but she wasn't about to let him come out on top.
"Well… Good. I'm having fun, too."
"As I had hoped."
Stifling another groan, she dragged a hand down her face, using it as an excuse to cover her blush. She was having fun, more fun than she'd had in ages, but she felt like admitting it would be dangerous, so she ducked into the next booth, pretending to examine a long line of silk kimonos.
"Your companion has good taste, my lord," the shopkeeper said, bowing respectfully. "Are you looking for a matching set?"
Kagome felt her whole face get hot, and she waved her hands. "No, no. We're not—"
"You would be better off with a different shade," Sesshoumaru cut in, leading her to a collection of purple and lavender.
The merchant nodded enthusiastically, selecting a rich plum adorned with periwinkle lotuses. "This would be best."
"Agreed."
Kagome looked between them, suddenly feeling invisible. Her protests were ignored as Sesshoumaru selected a matching obi to go with it. There were other accessories, but he waved them off, much to her relief. "She is capable of protecting herself," he said when the merchant offered an assortment of charmed jewellery.
"Apologies, my lord. I can't sense her origins, so I thought it better to be safe than sorry." He finally turned to her, holding the obi up to her face. "Your eyes are lovely, my dear. Do you hail from the southern dragon clan?"
She blushed fiercely, giving Sesshoumaru a helpless look, but the asshole only smirked, perusing the rest of the rack. "No, I'm more local than that."
The shopkeeper folded the silk together, smiling broadly. "The phoenixes then! I wasn't sure, as it's been centuries since someone with a blue flame has graced their nests, but I could sense your power when you entered the market." He motioned to her bag. "Your choice in sling is most appropriate. You won't have to worry about your belongings going to waste, even in your true form." He continued to putter around the stall, congratulating Sesshoumaru on such a strong match, and Kagome wasn't sure she'd ever be able to speak again.
"You're enjoying this way too much," she groused when they finally left, the merchant wishing them good luck in their travels. "First a dragon, then a phoenix? He'll be calling me a mermaid next."
"It would be an appropriate comparison," Sesshoumaru replied.
"Would you stop?" Embarrassed laughter bubbled up, her nerves getting the better of her, and she raised the bundle in her arms. "This is too much, Sesshoumaru."
"I fail to see the issue."
Her shoulders drooped. "I haven't done anything to warrant all of this."
"It is only because you are collecting it all at once," he admonished. "If the gifts were given over time, you would not be as bothered." She shook her head, still overwhelmed, and he stepped closer, fingering the ribbon keeping the outfit together. "If it will alleviate your worry, there will not be a need to replace this. It is resistant to most attacks and is self-repairing."
Kagome looked aghast. "I'm not going to fight anyone in this!"
"But you could."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not you. I get dirty and covered in blood and wreck things—"
"And yet you are still in one piece." His honesty was so genuine that it had her tearing up.
Her head fell forward against his stomach. "Thank you," she murmured. "This place is wonderful."
His claws brushed the back of her neck before running through her hair. "I will be sure to bring you again."
She let out an exasperated groan. "Don't start! We haven't even left yet." She wiped a tear away when he wasn't looking, then cleared her throat. "Is there anything else to see?"
His smirk shifted, finally reaching his eyes. "Much."
Their trips to the market became a frequent endeavour, and Sesshoumaru found himself looking forward to each one. The miko was a delight to be around, but that usually came from his constant provocation. He couldn't help himself. She was so expressive, regardless of the emotion, and the fact that she kept him guessing with each reaction only egged him on.
They'd kept up with their written correspondence, though half of his letters consisted of 'Do not read' at the top. He found writing down his observations of her behaviour cathartic, taking notes even when in her presence. And she kept her word, tearing her eyes away when she got to his warning. Sometimes, she hesitated, her fingers tracing the lines of his words before rolling it back up.
She made a point of wearing the kimono he'd bought her whenever they went to the village, perpetuating the image that she was more than simply under his protection. She never shied away from his touch, allowing him closer and closer whenever they travelled, but it was not until they passed a group of grass lizard demons, their gazes lingering a little too long on her form, that he realized just how close he wished to keep her.
Cursing his lack of intuition, he'd struggled for a week on how to approach her about it. Considering how often they travelled to the market, he hadn't scented another's claim on her, male or otherwise. And the way she perked up whenever he arrived said much to her openness on such a proposal, but putting it into action left him fumbling, each day dragging on without so much as an uttered word on the subject.
He eventually gave up on a verbal request, opting to write everything down. The words flowed easier, her lessons lending a hand in the graceful flow of each stroke. Perhaps even those well-versed in the skill required extra practice now and then.
He rewrote it several times, only proclaiming himself finished when the parchment was blemish-free. His request spoke of devotion and loyalty, describing how well he could provide for her, considering their recent outings. She would claim it a nuance, and he would boast of her strength to everyone who would listen, but he still wished to lavish her—be it in his symbol or something else.
He'd returned to the village by himself, eliciting the help of the shopkeeper for a hakimono that matched the design of her kimono. The pika was more than happy to oblige, selecting periwinkle as the primary colour before darkening the edge of the sleeves to plum. The hexagonal markings of his clan remained, etched into the fabric in bright ivory thread. He was tempted to buy another set for her but knew it would be too much.
At least for now.
His heart beat steadily against his chest as her next lesson loomed closer. The parchment was fastened with a purple ribbon and a sprig of plum blossoms. She looked at him questioningly when he handed it to her, but he said nothing, resuming his usual place against a nearby tree.
Rin and Shippou were close by, working in tandem to create an illustrated story for the slayer's upcoming wedding. Apparently, he wasn't the only one affected by the miko's lessons. She'd offered sincere congratulations when the wolf announced his claim to the village, but the slayer had thanked her more personally in private, stating it never would've happened without her matchmaking skills.
He could've waited until they were alone to give her the letter, but impatience had gnawed at him, keeping him awake at night with words and wishes he wished to convey. Plus, an overt claim such as this in front of the children would likely create one of her lovely emotional reactions. She would likely try to keep it hidden, her face flushing when they asked her if she was sick again, and Sesshoumaru relished the thought.
He watched her intently, waiting for the moment she would get to the second half of the letter and meet his gaze, but a frown marred her brow instead. She went back to the top of the scroll, reading it a second time, and when a sigh escaped her lips and she rolled up the parchment without finishing, Sesshoumaru bristled at the rejection.
He stayed where he was, even as she coached the children in their task. She didn't look at him at all, leaving her satchel behind to walk them both back to the village. With a growl lodged in his throat, he shot to his feet.
If she wished to reject him, she should've done so properly, he thought, striding purposely toward the basket. He wasn't about to let her keep such a confession to laugh at later. He plucked the scroll from her pack, opening it to see which line had offended her the most. His eyes followed the slight smudges from her fingers, stomach rolling when he reached the midway point and found the problem.
He'd written 'do not read' above his proposal.
Youki sparked to life at his own incompetence. It had become an ingrained reaction to separate the two parts of his letter, and with all his rewrites, he hadn't even noticed he'd done so.
He tried to rip the offensive phrase off, cursing viciously when a large tear left the bottom half in pieces. There would be no way to salvage it now. He would have to rewrite the entire thing.
"What are you doing?" He jerked at her question, her soft voice a mixture of bemusement and fury. He tried to crumple the parchment, not wanting her to see his failure firsthand, but she grabbed it away from him before he could, attempting to flatten out the creases. "It isn't nice to ruin other people's things," she said.
"Technically, it is mine."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You gave it to me to read." She grabbed for her bag. "I was surprised. You hadn't written 'do not read' in a while. I thought things had changed." The last part was a whisper, likely meant only for her, and instincts had him intercepting her departure, his claws wrapped around her wrist.
"A mistake, I assure you."
A dark brow rose, but she didn't pull away. "And that's why you were trying to get rid of it?"
"No." He dragged his free hand through his hair. "I was trying to rip off that part of the letter. I wished you to read all of it."
"Then let me do it right now." It was a challenge, one she had every right to, but a seed of doubt had taken root. Instincts raged at him to release her, to hear her answer, and he eventually let go, bracing himself as she rolled her shoulders. He tensed as she unrolled the parchment but hesitated with how intense his gaze was. "I can wait until later," she relented.
"I would rather you did not."
She eyed him warily, then found where she'd stopped, her eyes flitting back and forth as she read his message.
It became harder and harder to breathe, even as her cheeks warmed. It was the reaction he'd hoped for, but he was less inclined to gloat without the upper hand. She finished reading, the parchment clenched tightly between her fingers. "Is all of this true?" she asked.
"Hnn."
"I don't need you to buy me anything else."
He tried to chuckle, but it came out as a snort. "Even when I wish to?"
She glared at him, looking him up and down before turning on her heel and flipping her hair over her shoulder. "As the future Lady of the West, I'm going to have more leeway with the merchants. You won't be able to use such underhanded tactics."
Sesshoumaru's eyes widened, and he reached for her, not allowing her to get more than a metre away before he turned her back around. "Then you accept?"
"I don't have a choice."
His expression turned stormy. "You always have a choice, miko."
"Not really. Not when you're involved." She draped her arms over his shoulders, fingers teasing the back of his neck. "As long as you choose to call me by my name from now on."
His shoulders slumped in relief, and he pressed their foreheads together. "I would rather call you mate."
"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," she warned. "You haven't even kissed me yet."
"Something I am about to rectify." Her laughter was cut off as he pulled her closer, claiming her lips. She went up on tiptoe, uncaring of his armour as her body moulded to his. She indulged as much as he, gasping when his fangs pulled at her bottom lip.
She acquiesced to his silent command, but he was left reeling as she became an active participant. Hair tangled around his claws, she slanted her head, nails digging into his shoulders. A soft hum signalled her approval more than anything, and he'd have slumped against her if he hadn't been intent on tasting all of her.
She was breathless when he pulled back, cheeks flushed for a different reason, and Sesshoumaru added another expression to his list of favourites.
"Next time, just tell me," she said, leaning against his chest. "Things get lost when you write them down." She chuckled softly. "Though I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed getting your letters."
"Moving to the Western Keep will allow for faster communication," he said, not missing a beat.
"You only just asked to court me; don't get ahead of yourself," she replied, kicking him in the shin. "I might not even like your home."
"Then I will just buy you a new one."
"Don't you dare!"