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Kagome lay on her futon. Sunlight painted the shouji screen luminous white, mocking her with its warm and bright cheer. She would have much rather swathed herself in full dark but turning to face the corner would have required too much energy. So, she stared helplessly at the playful sunbeams while resentment bubbled like venom in her veins. She punched the tatami floor as the throbbing ache started again in her left leg, like being stabbed by thousands of pins and needles. Would it ever end? she wondered glumly. She would have cried if she had any tears left in her.
But the only things remaining in her soul were pain and bitterness and those deep shadows she wanted to lose herself in. She craved the oblivion of sleep; wouldn’t have minded too much if she never woke up again. But the sun was in her eyes and even sleep had abandoned her.
A door slid open behind her, and Kagome squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t deal with them; Inuyasha, Shippou, Sango and Miroku. Their well-meaning encouragement, their soft and sympathetic murmurs, all their glasses half full. She wanted none of that. She had seen the gleam of pity in their eyes.
“Go away.” Her voice, unused for however long, was a sorry rasp. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to see them. Whatever they had to say, she didn’t care to listen.
“This has gone on long enough, miko,” a cold voice spoke from directly above her.
She stiffened, her gaze flickering up. She hadn’t expected a visit from him, of all people. But there Sesshoumaru was, towering over her and pinning her down with his sharp gold stare.
“Agree to disagree,” she muttered and turned back to stare at the shouji screen and the stupid sunlight.
“You have lain here for three weeks now and from the smell of it you have not bathed in all that time. You have not touched your food for the past five days. Your friends are worried.”
“I don’t care.”
“They might coddle you and let you drown in your own misery, but this Sesshoumaru will not. This will end now, miko.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because this is not like you. Because you can get over this. Because I have been where you are, right now.”
Kagome’s hand clenched into a fist but she did not rise to the bait.
Sesshoumaru’s feet entered her line of vision. Two perfect and healthy appendages that steadily supported his weight.
And he growled out his impossible command: “Get up.”
The broken thing inside of her rattled and a dry, horrible laugh bubbled to her lips.
“Can’t.” She bared her teeth at him. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“They told me all about the attack,” he told her, matter of fact. Then, he was crouching beside her and pulling the heavy quilt off her.
She didn’t protest, simply stared at him in mute defiance. Let him see. He’d understand, then.
Sesshoumaru tilted his head, studied what was left of her leg. “The wound is healing well,” he commented, claw-tipped finger gracing the healing skin.
Kagome hissed out a breath as the toes that no longer were there curled at the contact.
“It still hurts,” she snarled through gritted teeth.
“I know,” he answered simply. “It is a cruel irony, that constant ache of limb one has lost. It is akin to living with a ghost.”
Kagome’s gaze flickered to Sesshoumaru’s left arm and then up to meet his eyes. His steady gaze trapped her. There was no pity there. His golden eyes were clear and what she saw in them stole her breath. The numb corners of her heart shivered. Something that had drowned deep within poked through the murky waters and glimmered.
He held out his hand to her, his stare still boring to her very soul, seeing all of her. And accepting, understanding what lived there now.
“Come, Kagome,” he said. And though it still was a command, his voice was gentler now. “It is time to get up.”
Kagome’s fingers trembled as she settled her hand into his. Tethered by his gaze, supported by his strength, she let him pull her up.