Pearl-white and roofed in jade, Inukimi’s lofty palace glowed like a jewel in the early evening dark. Cities spiraled around and beneath it, a host of lights both natural and magical winking at Sesshoumaru through the mist as he descended, his boots touching to the moonstone balcony that bordered his mother’s favorite indoor garden. Sliding open the ornate screen, he entered and glanced around.

A sprawling koi pond occupied the majority of the space. Fat fish with gleaming, iridescent scales swam lazily about—a few monstrous specimens Sesshoumaru recognized even from his youth, though most were younger and markedly smaller. From the glass-paned ceiling above, moonlight filtered through, silvering the leaves of the exotic plants that framed this end of the pond on both sides. He could sense his mother here, though as yet he still could not see her for all of the boulders and flora surrounding him. Stepping out onto the square stones that formed a path through the water, the demon lord followed the winding trail toward the waterfall at the opposite end.

Icy white water crashed down from on high into a circular pool at the base of the flower-encrusted rocks. At the far edge of this pool, Inukimi sat. The silken train of her kimono trailed just above the water’s glassy surface, her legs folded neatly to one side atop a glittering promontory of granite. In her lap lay a small silver dish, filled with sparkling granules which she sprinkled now and then to the crowd of koi drifting hopefully around her. Her posture was relaxed, yet her expression may as well have been carved in stone. Though Sesshoumaru had not bothered to conceal his presence, she made no move to acknowledge him as he stepped closer to her. Sighing inwardly, the demon lord greeted her instead.

“Haha-ue,” he said.

Her golden eyes cut to him, her features turning flintier still at the deference in his address. “No,” she snapped, the overfed fish scattering with surprising speed as she rose abruptly to her feet. “I have told you, Sesshoumaru—I refuse to assist you in this disastrous scheme of yours.”

Briskly, she strode back to shore, silver clanging as she shoved the feeding dish into the hollow of a lantern statue. Leaping lightly from his own perch of stone, Sesshoumaru followed after her across the garden. Taking up a slim set of hand shears, Inukimi ignored him as she began to aggressively prune a flowering shrub, the demon lord hanging back for a few moments before he approached her again.

“Just now,” he spoke to her at last, “I could not bring myself to go through with the act.”

Eyes narrowed, the Lady of the Western Lands paused in her task. “That is to your credit.”

“My credit,” Sesshoumaru said, the corner of his lips rising mirthlessly, “and what good to her is that? If pride alone could have aided Kagome, she would never have suffered a scratch.” As his mother’s grip tightened on the shears, he continued ruthlessly, “My honor is of no use to her. And so, I must find a way to abandon it.”

Slamming the shears back to their pedestal of stone, Inukimi whirled to face him. “You are obsessed.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Deluded,” she accused.

“Perhaps,” he said, stepping closer to her, “but not in this. Your grandmother despised her mate, did she not? Yet she confided to you that her children were not conceived by force. How could this be so, unless she took measures to set her inhibitions aside. Measures,” he pressed on, regarding her intently, “which she must have confided to you as well.”

Inukimi’s eyes flashed in defiance. “And what makes you think I would reveal this to you now?—so that you may make an easy sacrifice of yourself to that priestess? You do not owe her this, Sesshoumaru.”

No—he owed Kagome far more than this. He owed her more than he could ever hope to repay, but to his mother he merely said, “What I owe her is for me to decide.”

Inukimi’s face fell as she turned from him. “Somehow I knew—I knew that it would come to this. I should have killed that wretched girl myself, the moment she arrived here.”

“And yet you did not.” Slipping his arms around her, Sesshoumaru dipped his head and pressed his temple to her own. “Why is that?”

Seeming to wilt in his embrace, Inukimi did not reply. For a daiyoukai of such strength and renown, she felt so slight and vulnerable against him. Nuzzling her cheek, he rumbled to her in the unspoken language of their kind. It was a wordless appeal to her affections. For whether this night or another, with her aid or without, he would not be dissuaded from this course, however unbearable.

This, Inukimi knew. As well as she knew her heart, and his own.

“You will suffer for this,” she whispered to him in despair.

Sesshoumaru frowned, his arms returning to his sides. “I am suffering now.”

Turning toward him, Inukimi reached up, taking his face in her claws. “My son…my only son.” Closing her eyes in resignation, she let her hands fall slowly away. “In the courtyard of that palace, there is a silver-fruited tree. But do not eat of it,” she warned him, “until you are alone in her presence.”

Nodding, Sesshoumaru drew back from her, his blood burning with purpose once more as he moved to the door.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi