Sesshomaru's secret

Two

It had been a week since finding the photograph, it took three days for Sesshomaru to come back around the village, much to Rin's dismay. Inuyasha had been insistent on allowing his brother the time alone, that he would come back on his own. When the silver-haired demon lord entered the hut again, it was a silent agreement among everyone to not bring up the woman; it did take threatening Myouga to get him to keep his mouth shut, but he eventually did. It didn't stop the glances of sympathy and pity being aimed at the dog demon, though. The fact that Sesshomaru caught every single one cast his way, and he knew why it was being given, it undoubtedly pissed him off to the point that even his beast was starting to stir in irritation. He didn't want or need anything from the humans, the assholic flea, or his incompetent half breed of a brother; he had made it thus far. He was not a sniveling invalid who needed his hand held in solace.

"Hey, Sesshomaru." Kagome paused as she shifted through her bag. Sesshomaru glanced over at her from where he laid against the large oak tree the Miko had noticed he had silently claimed it as his own. He wasn't certain how she had found him, considering he was a fair distance from the village and in the more dense area of the forest. She dropped her heavily yellow bag to dig further down inside of it causing the demon to wonder exactly how much she managed to cram down into its interior. She pulled out a small book before opening it up quickly when she saw she had his attention. He blinked as she held out a familiar rectangle shaped piece of paper.

"I-I hope you don't mind, but I had your picture lamented. It doesn't hurt it or anything; It will take a lot more for it to be damaged and will make it last longer through the years."

Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes as he grabbed the old picture from her hands. He had never bothered to ask for the picture back after it being found; mostly because he knew if it landed back into his hands, he wouldn't stop himself from looking back into the past. While he was a well educated man, he didn't know what 'lamented' meant; but as he looked at the photo, he could see the differences. While the picture still had its worn out crease folds, the yellow tint, and torn edges, it felt a lot more stiffer and durable with a more glossy appearance. After absently rubbing his thumb across the smooth surface, he decided it wasn't that bad of a change. He felt his eyes immediately trail over the slowly fading colors of the image. The dull ache in his chest made him hold his breath as the blurred out face of the woman was replaced with vivid details that slowly caused his vision obscured.

Kagome started to return her books back to the proper order inside her bag, trying to ignore the fogged over gaze that he had slipped into. In a way, she knew what it was like to lose a loved one; she had lost her father when she was little after all. However, it was when she was small so it didn't really take effect that much on her considering her memories were few and far between for her dad. It had been a task to send the picture through the well paired with a letter asking her mother to fix the photograph since she could no longer cross through to her home. If she hadn't had the image lamented, it probably wouldn't have lasted another decade with all the battles Sesshomaru goes through. She wasn't sure how it had made it this long in its current condition; the Lord of the West must have really been taking care of it.

"You have my gratitude, Miko."

If it had not been for the deep baritone of his voice, she doubted she would have caught his quiet words. She smiled as she looked up at him. She hadn't expected to be thanked, at least not that way. Maybe a nod of the head, but not actually being thanked verbally. She felt her smile fade slightly as she looked down at her bag.

"Can I ask you a question?" The words was coming out of her mouth before she could stop them making her pale. Sesshomaru's only movement was to look away from the photo. Kagome sighed as she gripped her bag straps in a failed attempt to calm her nerves. "How did the photo get taken? The technology to create images like that hasn't even been invented yet, at least to my knowledge." Her question sounded innocent enough, but it could still manage to hit a sore spot.