Sesskag Week Day one – Tanabata

Canon Divergence / Drama & Romance / 1,340 words.

Kagome sat on the rim of the well, night wind tugging at her hair.

Her stomach had curled into a hard and tight ball of anxiety. The upcoming battle against Naraku loomed heavy on her shoulders, and on a night like this she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever have the chance to see her family again.

She gripped the narrow ledge of the well's rim, her fingernails pushing against the soft wood.

A quiet pulse of youki made her look up. A tall white figure approached her, and with every silent step he took, Kagome's nervousness melted a little more.

He stopped to stand in front of her, his hooded golden eyes bright in the summer night. He wasn't wearing his armour or his swords; he looked oddly vulnerable without them.

At the same time, however, her heart swelled, giddy with the knowledge that he felt comfortable enough in her company to show this side of him.

Her head tilted, her gaze locked with his, and her lips curved in a smile.

His face didn't as much as twitch, but his eyes softened.

He crouched down.

"You are upset."

It was not phrased as a question, but his deep voice was as soft as a caress.

"I was," Kagome admitted.

He reached for her, his clawed fingers picking up a lock of her hair and pulling it towards him.

"I'm not anymore," Kagome added, as Sesshoumaru brought the dark strands to his lips. "Even if I was never able to go home again, I'd still have you."

"Yes."

Funny, how such a short and simple word could carry so much weight, become a binding promise.

Warmth flooded Kagome and she leaned towards him.

His eyes flashed, and then his lips were moving against hers – slow and sweet. A surprisingly tender kiss from someone like Sesshoumaru, but a kiss that was becoming increasingly familiar.

When he finally pulled away, fear suddenly gripped at Kagome, its cold claws raking down her spine, chilling her blood. Her hands fisted in the white silk of his kimono.

Somehow, she knew with absolutely certainty that this would be their last stolen moment.

Terror choked her, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Sesshoumaru was fading in front of her eyes, despite her firm grasp of his kimono.

Then, she was clutching at air.

A ragged whisper tore from her throat.

"But you promised…."

Kagome woke from the dream, her pillow spotted by small wet splotches where her tears had fallen. She rubbed at her eyes. They felt crusty and swollen.

But the sadness that squeezed her heart was a million times worse.

She burrowed under the blanket and hugged herself, allowing herself a moment to dwell, to let herself feel the pain before she would be ready to rise and face the day.

Because most of that dream, of her and Sesshoumaru meeting by the well, was no fantastic figment courtesy of her demented subconscious. No, it was much worse than that; it was a memory.

An embellished recollection of an actual event that had taken place two nights before their final confrontation against Naraku.

It had been the last time they had shared such a moment, with just the two of them. Two days later, they had fought side by side deep inside the grotesque spider Naraku had become.

And after they had defeated him and rescued the Shikon jewel, the currents of time had tugged at Kagome and pulled her back to where she had started.

She had sat on the bottom of the well and cried.

It was ironic, really; she'd been so worried she'd never see her family again, but even in her darkest nightmares she'd never imagined she wouldn't be able to see him.

Kagome breathed through the heartache and then firmly pushed it aside. Enough of dwelling for now.

She got up from bed and headed downstairs for breakfast.

A wry smile touched Kagome's lips as she stood in her under robe and briefly studied her outfit, hanging on the door of her closet. Then, with practised movements, she pulled on the white kimono and carefully secured it in place. The red hakama came next. She tied the belt with care, adjusted how it cinched on her waist, smoothed down her kimono.

Kagome made her way outside, pausing to slide thronged sandals onto her feet. She supposed she should have tied her hair back, but doing so would have been too strong a reminder of Kikyou. Wearing the miko uniform was bad enough.

She grabbed the broom by the door and set to work, sweeping the shrine yard.

It was the first day of Tanabata so they wanted to make a good impression for anyone who might come and visit the shrine. She'd helped jii-chan to put up the decorations last night. Pristine green bamboo stood under the Goshinboku, ready and waiting. They looked oddly forlorn, without any wishes hanging on their branches.

It reminded her a little of how Sesshoumaru had looked, without his swords and armour.

Kagome's heart ached, and she looked up to the cloudy July sky.

She had never given much thought to Tanabata before, though she knew the mythology behind it – growing up at the shrine and listening to jii-chan's stories, she knew a lot of mythology.

But this year, the holiday hit a little too close to home.

This year, she knew too well how Orihime must have felt, being permitted to meet her husband once a year – and even then only if it didn't rain, otherwise she wouldn't be able to cross the river.

The broom clattered to the ground. Kagome was moving before the thought fully penetrated her consciousness, stalking towards Goshinboku.

There was a small desk set next to the bamboo, which Kagome would likely man later in the day. On the table was a couple of sets of writing utensils and a wooden box.

She reached into the box and pulled out a slip of paper. She picked up a small brush, dipped it in ink, and paused for just the second, the tip hovering above the paper.

Perhaps she should've wished the well to open again. Perhaps she should've just wished him well.

But like an echo of the pleas Orihime might have once made to her father, the words flowed from her heart to the tip of her fingers, drawing wobbling characters onto the tanzaku, the black ink a stark contrast against the white paper.

I want to see him

Kagome took tanzaku to the nearest bamboo and hung it there, her throat tight, but her eyes thankfully dry.

She set aside the brush and went back to pick up her broom.

She was not foolish enough to believe that her wish was granted, but at least this year she'd made one from the heart. And the bamboo didn't look so lonely anymore, either.

She smiled to herself and continued to diligently sweep the yard, hoping that despite the clouds it wouldn't rain today.

Something dark and familiar uncurled, brushing lightly at Kagome's awareness. Her head shot up. She squeezed the handle of her broom and held her breath.

Nothing.

She must have imagined it; great, now she was going crazy on top of everything else.

Her heart quivered and a shiver ran down her back.

There it was again. The unmistakable prickle of youki.

Kagome held the broom to her chest and slowly turned around to where she was sensing the dark energy.

He stood silently at the top of the shrine steps, underneath the red torii gate.

Kagome's breath caught in her throat. The broom fell from her nerveless fingers.

The whole world blurred, as tears flooded her eyes. And when she managed to blink them away, he stood in front of her, his finger gently brushing away the wet trail on her cheek.

"You are upset," he told her, in that deep voice, just as soft as she remembered.

Laughter bubbled in Kagome's throat, and she threw her arms around him.