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Perhaps it was because he saw her on her own turf, he saw how she worked and behaved in her true role as daughter and eldest child in the household; as a student and a friend; as a caregiver and a pacifier. In the morning he witnessed Kagome interjecting herself into an argument that stemmed from the fact that an unknown youkai sleeping on the couch (even though he wasn’t asleep, it was an alert rest, where pure rest was never accomplished to its fullest extent) and where she performed beautifully in his defense even though yesterday she was less than happy to have him here. He saw her help her brother with a math problem before he went off to school, he saw her clean the dishes from which they eat upon and he saw her discuss, somewhat less energetically than her grandfather, about whether traditional miko robes were as important as the training itself; the heavy garment acting as a discipline in itself for you had to walk upright with the heavy material clinging to your body. And perhaps it was because she seemed to smile more and laugh more when she was with her family, how it seemed so natural for her to conduct her life full of emotions and happiness. Or finally perhaps it was that Sesshomaru was finally realizing that she wasn’t such a bad human anyway. Well, perhaps it was easier for him to admit that because she wasn’t truly human. He had to keep reminding himself that she was immortal now as well, and somewhere in the vicinity of his chest ached a bit when he realized that her family wasn’t. Would she have to leave them in the future as she spent five hundred years in the past? Or will she abandon the shards and Inuyasha to begin her immortal life in this era? He tried to ignore the feeling that was again in the general vicinity of his chest when he thought of the idea of spending five hundred years without her. Forget the miko wench! The sword will call you to her whenever is necessary and you’ll see her often enough! Get a hold of yourself! A woman? Why would you ever want a woman to accompany you? Sesshomaru shifted his arm a little as he turned his head to glance the other way, away from the window where he had been staring at the miko quite openly. It is just time I took a mate, he thought, although he knew that propriety called for him to finish this…business with the miko before he could even consider a mate. He continued writing, another little amusement that came from the experiences he had here.
She wasnt normal. Neither was she brave nor courageous. But her stamina was not to be tested. And that is what he did. The glittering pieces were all lined up in a row at the beginning; the black and white board sheen with a kind of cheery glow of anticipation. It was a board that had been used many times, through many games and many players.
But now it was almost empty. An annoyed finger lightly tapped on the side of the board, anger permeating from the nails scratching at the surface. But the game wore on.
The board saw death to pieces. The carnage lay strewn on each side of the board. No one was speaking, the deadly silence emanated from the room to create a certain sound of its own; the complete opposite of noise. The board lost track of all time, all notion of existence. The world, for a moment, was suspended on air--the players alone to concentrate on a battle of wit and integrity. But there is always one winner.
She knew that her stamina was almost to a breaking point�never before had this occurred. But she competed. No one ever got better by playing someone inferior. He seemed to be the kind of person she would have liked to have known outside of their game, perhaps meeting him at a bar or through mutual friends. He played for the game too, but she knew it was over now. She knew that the ultimate outcome lay in her favor. It wasnt because she was superior. It was because she had played more than he had. Her skills were sharper�something that only resulted from recent and determined practice. Perhaps on another court he would be the winner.
She delicately moved her knight to rest beside his king. She didnt have to say it, but she said it anyway, out of habit
Checkmate.
He laid down his king honorably. Slowly he got up, shaking her hand politely, not saying a word. As he walked away he turned back to her still sitting in her chair. From about seven feet away he shook his head as if in disbelief. And then he grinned. A Cheshire cat grin. And as he turned back and walked away she knew he was still grinning.
Sesshomaru grumbled a little as he reread what he wrote. It was always the same now�he wrote of a woman, a woman who reminded him of Kagome, and yet, the woman did not think like her. Instead he seemed to pour his feelings and perceptions into the woman; he seemed to make her feel what he was feeling and what he thought. Writing always seemed to be able to explain his mood better than he could and he didn’t like the way this was shaping up to be. Did he really want to know Kagome as someone other than his brother’s miko and an annoyance that involved his sword and her jewel? Did he want to continue this haphazard relationship and develop it into something more? Into something more than it already was? And what exactly did more mean? But the most important question was�
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