#shortfry

“I would not have picked those streamers, but it seems your choices have worked out.”

Kagome, perched precariously at the top of her ladder, turned and shot a venomous glare down at the source of that familiar, unwelcome voice. She was well-acquainted with its owner and his habit of spewing condescending, patronising quips—it belonged to Sesshōmaru, her boss, and his attitude was not what she needed at the moment.

Weighing her options, she decided that her best move would be to ignore him altogether, something that she did often in a desperate bid to preserve her sanity. She felt that her chosen theme of purple and gold was perfectly fine, thank you very much, and she certainly didn’t need his validation to feel good about her taste in Christmas decorations.

When she’d finished wrapping the streamers around the columns of the hall, she descended the ladder and found herself face-to-face with the man himself. She narrowed her eyes at him but held her tongue and brushed past, snubbing him thoroughly.

She heard him wander off to another corner of the room, stopping in front of the Christmas tree that she’d spent ages decking out with thoughtfully curated ornaments. Purple and gold tinsel curled around the fir tree, its branches heavy with hand-painted glass globes and twinkling lights. A violet moon crowned the top of the tree, emanating a soft purple glow.

“Your placement of tinsel is sloppy, but it yields a…” Sesshōmaru paused, as if searching for the right words. “Whimsical effect.”

Kagome grit her teeth and started fussing with the tablecloth. It had started from the moment she’d joined this company. As her supervisor, Sesshōmaru always had some sort of complaint about her work. She’d been a fresh graduate and an aspiring travel writer, and she had marked Sesshōmaru as her sworn enemy the very first time she’d turned in a draft and had him denounce it as “disorganised and lacking in insight.”

Come to think of it, she’d greeted him enthusiastically on the first day, politely requesting his guidance as she started on her writing career, only to be met with a bad omen—Sesshōmaru had pinned her a cool glare and declared, “We will see if you have any talent worth nurturing. If your work is not satisfactory, I will have you transferred to Koga’s department immediately.”

She supposed that her work must’ve been acceptable, since she’d avoided the cruel fate of becoming one of Koga’s subordinates. Within their office, Koga’s department had earned a notorious reputation as the place where inept writers’ careers went to die. He was especially incompetent, and most unfortunates who ended up there eventually developed the good sense to quit the company altogether, before their professional lives crashed and burned entirely under Koga’s clumsy guidance.

The mere memory had her balling her hands into fists, creating wrinkles in the snow-white tablecloth. She forced herself to relax her fingers and smoothed out the silky fabric. It’s Christmas Eve. I will not let him get to me!

Kagome was more than a little resentful about Sesshōmaru’s presence. She’d been happy enough that her coworkers had nominated her to plan the annual Christmas party until Sesshōmaru had been appointed by Naraku, the company’s director himself, to join in planning the festivities as well. Sesshōmaru’s sour expression matched hers when they found out that he was to be her partner. All thoughts of good cheer and Christmas spirit abruptly went out the window.

Sesshōmaru isn’t a party planner, she’d thought as she braced herself for the worst. He’s a party pooper.

As she’d feared, the Christmas party had rapidly become an ordeal as Sesshōmaru once again proved himself to be a demanding dictator rather than a helpful collaborator. His mouth did more work than his hands, and it felt as if he stood around offering unsolicited advice more than he participated in any actual planning. Whether it was food, decorations, or entertainment, he had something critical to say, no matter how little she wished to hear it.

Recalling his utter uselessness as a party planner only infuriated her further, so she turned her attention to more pleasant things. Kagome hurried over to the boxes of food stacked neatly by the door, as well as the small collection of food prepared by her coworkers. They’d had more than enough budget to hire a good catering service this year, but their office was a closely-knit bunch, and people had been more than happy to chip in with their own goodies for the Christmas dinner.

“I will assist.” Sesshōmaru had somehow deigned to make himself helpful and was carrying some of the food over to the table, completely unprompted. Kagome thought it was practically a Christmas miracle.

“Gee, thank you sir.” Kagome’s thanks lacked any form of sincerity, though she at least tried to hold back the snark in her voice. As usual, Sesshōmaru was completely unfazed, ignoring her comment as he plated the food and set out cutlery with his usual efficiency.

Kagome left him to his tasks and turned to the homemade treats instead. Her coworkers had left boxes and trays, labelled with their names and the food they’d brought, stacking them high on a side table. Employees here came from diverse backgrounds, and there was a fascinating mix of sweet and savoury foods from all around the globe. Lan, who was from Hong Kong, had brought some fried sesame balls, while Lily and Leon, who were from Italy and Greece respectively, had made biscotti cegliese and stuffed grape leaves. 

For her own contribution, Kagome had brought an assortment of handmade wagashi. She loved sweets, and was pretty darn good at making them herself. She’d toiled for hours in the kitchen to perfect each daifuku and sakuramochi and was proud of her efforts. Setting out her sweets with a smile, she peered over at Sesshōmaru, who was working on the other end of the table. He caught her eye and came over, and she groaned internally as he passed a critical eye over her desserts.

“While your daifuku are unevenly sized, they do seem to be perfectly shaped.” Once again, Sesshōmaru offered unsolicited feedback. He looked over her shoulder. “An acceptable assortment of flavours, too.”

His nose wrinkled as he sniffed. “These must be filled with anko, of course. There’s also… strawberries, peaches, and… apples with cream? Somewhat unusual choices, but—”

“Sesshōmaru,” Kagome began, fighting to keep her tone as even and neutral as possible, even though annoyance simmered just beneath the surface. “It’s Christmas. Where’s your Christmas spirit? Could we leave out the criticism this one day of the year, please?”

“It… was not intended as criticism.” The words stuck in his throat, like they took effort, and for some reason, he refused to meet her gaze.

Kagome chanced a glance at Sesshōmaru out of the corner of her eye. Was she imagining it, or was there just the slightest hint of a rosy flush on the crests of those criminally high cheekbones? Why am I thinking about his cheekbones? And what is he talking about? He’s done nothing but offer criticism!

She gave an awkward cough to disperse the sudden tension in the room. “What did you bring?”

Kagome figured that Sesshōmaru would’ve brought something complicated and fancy. It was just like him, the uptight perfectionist, to show up the rest of the company without even meaning to do so. Maybe he’d bought something expensive and exotic. She remembered that Sesshōmaru had gotten himself into a lengthy debate with Lily about the best choice of filling for sfogliatelle before, so perhaps they’d see some of that delicious, flaky pastry that was such a pain to make—

She gaped in wonder as her usually unruffled boss visibly tensed, his shoulders stiffening, his downturned lips pressed into a thin, grim line. He pointed at a large lunch box and Kagome peered over to see… lumps of coal?

“Sesshōmaru…” She felt dubious about the contents of the box. “What are these?”

“Fried chicken. It is traditional,” he declared, though Kagome felt his tone wasn’t quite as imperious as usual. “Fried chicken is immensely popular at Christmastime—”

“Ha!” Her triumphant shout cut short his explanations.

“So…” Kagome could barely speak over her sudden fit of giggles. “So there are things you can’t do well after all!”

Ignoring his look of offence, she clutched the table as she laughed without restraint. The charred, blackened lumps sitting sadly in their box couldn’t pass for fried chicken at all. She pitied the people who’d no doubt feel compelled to try it out of politeness or morbid curiosity. The fact that Sesshōmaru appeared to be hopeless at cooking was utterly strange to her—it was such a human weakness for the man who always seemed so inhuman in his strengths.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to savour your delicate choice of seasoning over the strong flavours of—of charcoal!” She gasped.

“Are you quite finished?” Sesshōmaru’s tone was frosty, and he stood stiff as a board with arms crossed over his chest while he waited for Kagome to regain her composure. Displeased as he looked, he did not reprimand her.

She refused to apologise for her outburst, but she did bite her lip to hold back the next wave of laughter.

“Of course there are things I cannot do well.” The twitching of his jaw told Kagome that it pained him greatly to admit it. “I have flaws. Just the same as you.”

It was such an unusual confession from her haughty, arrogant boss that it took her a while to recover. “Well, maybe next time you should remember that before you tell me I’m a bad writer,” she quipped, just to break the silence.

Sesshōmaru’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head as he contemplated her words. “I do not think of you as a bad writer, Kagome. On the contrary, you have been an asset to our department.”

Her jaw dropped. “I—excuse me?” Kagome cast a furtive eye to the nearby bottles of champagne, wondering if Sesshōmaru had been sneaking a drink… or five. Nope. Still full. The champagne was untouched, so miraculously, Sesshōmaru’s words were offered while sober.

“Did I not tell you that your last draft was exciting and would be published on our landing page?”

“You—you did,” Kagome recalled. “But you told me that it was unstructured and contained too much word rep!”

Sesshōmaru sighed, pushing a hand through silver bangs. “Your work could certainly be improved if you worked on the structure and eliminated repetition.”

Kagome narrowed her eyes at him. “You do know that you’re a master of backhanded compliments though, right?” 

She’d focussed so much on his habit of criticising—well, everything, that she’d overlooked any praise that he offered. Knowing that he thought of her as a good writer was a groundbreaking revelation that she struggled mightily to process. She assumed that any compliments he offered were perfunctory, meant to cushion the blow of his endless complaints. Then again, Sesshōmaru didn’t care what others thought, nor was he in the habit of sparing anybody’s feelings.

“I… have been told as much.” He finally conceded. Noting Kagome’s slack-jawed expression, he added, “You are a selective listener. I assume you also missed it when I said I recommended you for a promotion?”

“I—I suppose so.” She stuttered. “Wait, what?”

“Hey, Kagome!”

Their exchange was interrupted by Koga, who had crossed through the double doors and made a beeline for her immediately. The overly friendly department head inserted himself between her and Sesshōmaru, making himself a part of a conversation he had no business being involved with.

Kagome plastered a smile over her face as she greeted the department head. “Hi Koga. Looking forward to Christmas?”

Before she could silently plead for Sesshōmaru’s help, he had wandered off to greet Tsukuyomaru, who was strolling in with the rest of his department. While Koga nattered on about nothing in particular, Kagome found herself lost in thought about Sesshōmaru. How many other compliments did I miss, she wondered. Perhaps another weakness of his would be that he’s bad with praise?

Regardless, it felt good to be recognised for her effort and skill. That was what mattered to her. Kagome caught herself feeling a little guilty that she might’ve misunderstood what could’ve been well-intentioned comments from Sesshōmaru. His delivery needed work, but perhaps the sincerity and goodwill had been there all along.

She didn’t have an opportunity to speak to him until after dinner, when everyone else had gathered into their usual groups with alcohol to accompany gossip and laughter. Instead of mingling, Sesshōmaru sipped his champagne in a corner of the room, boredom clear on his face.

“Do you have plans for Christmas day?” Kagome asked.

He raised an eyebrow, lifting his lips from the champagne glass. “I plan on spending time with my daughter. We will be having… a tea party.”

“A tea party? Your daughter?” Kagome choked, completely taken aback. It was too much new information all at once. How had she worked with this man for two years and not realised he had a daughter? “What’s her name? How—how old is she?”

“Adoptive daughter,” he clarified, reading her questioning look with remarkable accuracy. “And Rin turns eleven tomorrow.”

“What does she like?” Kagome was seized by a thoroughly insane idea. “Oh! Will you be needing a cake?”

Sesshōmaru looked nonplussed by the sudden barrage of questions and he answered haltingly. “‘Cute’ animals. The colour orange. Flowers.” He winced at the last word.

“What is it about flowers?” Kagome asked, not missing his exasperation.

“Rin enjoys… flower crowns.” Sesshōmaru pinched the bridge of his nose. “She also enjoys putting them on me.”

Kagome giggled at the mental image, the thought of her arrogant boss’ head weighed down by sweet-smelling flowers. That he indulged his daughter’s whims told her that he obviously had a soft spot for the child, yet another of the few weaknesses he had.

“Strawberries.” He added, recalling Rin’s fondness for the fruit.

“That’s perfect! I can make a Christmas cake for her. It’s just the best with fresh cream and strawberries.”

“You don’t have to—” He began, but Kagome held up a hand to stop his protests.

“I want to. I’ve got the ingredients ready at home. And I wanted to… thank you. For the recommendation.” She fidgeted, feeling it was a little strange to be doing something nice for her absolute demon of a boss. However, Kagome was open to new beginnings. It was Christmas, after all. She could manage a little forgiveness.

Sesshōmaru’s golden eyes widened. “Think nothing of it. It was the least I could do, given your talent and hard work.”

“It’s settled then!” Kagome clapped her hands together with a sense of finality. “I’ll have the cake ready for you and your daughter tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Sesshōmaru.”

Sesshōmaru’s usually stoic features cracked into a rare smile, his lips lifting just barely at the corners, golden gaze softening.

Coming Home

Grey clouds roamed high above to lounge against an equally colourless sky. It was turning out to be one of those overcast days where everything seemed all too bright. The ones that would cause eyes to squint from the sharpness of a diffuse glow, etching a claim on exposed retinas not hidden behind shades. Tall buildings blended into the obtrusive glare of a nearly-white background. Newly fallen snow dusted streets and crevices like powdered icing, only tasteless and bland instead of sweet.   

But none of that mattered to him, this washout of a palette. 

A moment was taken to inhale a deep, cleansing breath of the chilled atmosphere, relieving the stench of recycled air from a fourteen-hour flight. He was never particularly fond of the winter months, or any other season. Yet there was now a subtle appreciation for the muting of the senses when the weather dropped, and all else faded.

-X-

She knew she shouldn’t have been so ambitious. Had known it was a terrible idea from the start. But stubbornness had sat deftly upon her left shoulder, whispering ‘it will work, trust me’. It had been the catalyst to the catastrophe that was happening right before her very eyes. 

But as she watched with helpless horror, any pitiful prayer to the God of Mayhem to have mercy was quickly dashed aside. 

Because it was already too late. 

The house of cards had come crashing down. 

The Tower of Pisa had finally tipped over. 

Olympus has fallen. 

Now she stood defeated, staring at the crumpled boxes strewn across wet pavement. 

“I told you it would take two trips.”

With a sliver of hope that nothing was broken, she precariously manoeuvred the remaining cardboard boxes in one arm using her hip as leverage, while the other hand carefully fished out a large set of keys. Unlocking the glass double doors, she pivoted her back to push against the entrance, shooting a wry look over to her amused co-worker. 

“All hail Sally, the mighty Oracle!” she bellowed in a poor imitation of renaissance speech, “Now give me a hand with those.”

Laughing good-heartedly, Sally simply shook her head at the theatrics before bending down to grab the fallen boxes, slightly surprised it was heavier than expected. “Honestly, Kagome, how much of this stuff do we even need? There’s like, four boxes!”

Kagome gave a nonchalant shrug as they both entered the darkened room, flipping the lights on once their cargo had been set in a row on the largest table. “Enough to cheer this place up.”

As Kagome dove into opening each box to display the contents, Sally gave an assessing once-over of their workplace. 

It was a mid-sized café situated in the financial district of the downtown core, tucked into the side of a large office building at street level. Unlike the corporate franchise giants of Tim Hortons or Starbucks, Java Jolt was independently owned by a sagely brother-sister duo. Chocolate leather seats comprised the comfy booths that lined the walls, each centred with a sleek marble table. The walls were coated in the soft cream shade of Benjamin Moore’s Navajo White. Dark brown trims raised the elegance while providing a practicality to high-trafficked areas and hiding scuff marks. The counter and kitchen equipment all matched in commercial-grade polished steel. Frosted glass and crystal sconces lay the finishing touches to the upscale parlour. Overall, it was exactly what one would expect from an establishment catered to the corporate elites. 

Perhaps Kagome was right. Though nice, this place was borderline boring. “As long as we don’t get into too much trouble with Matt. Remember what happened last year?”

“Psh, we just won’t use fake snow this time,” Kagome dismissed while digging through the contents in concentration, “And besides, he’ll be gone for the next two weeks. Plenty of time for us to take it all down and clean up before he gets back and yell at us.” 

Sally peered into what seemed like bottomless pits of things that glittered, shined, and shimmered. How did so much stuff managed to fit into only four boxes?  There seemed to even be a fake tree in there! 

Glancing at the clock reading 4:54 AM, Sally groaned internally, now knowing that Kagome hadn’t called to simply ask for a ride into work, and why she had chosen to come in an hour and a half before opening. She could already see her lazy morning vanishing, chased away by pure ambition. Too late now to back out.

“Alright,” she conceded, knowing there’s no way to divert Kagome’s current trajectory. It was the younger girl’s favourite holiday, after all. “What are we starting with first?” 

Beaming, Kagome held up a tangled mess of wires and bulbs. “Let there be light!” 

It was going to be a long, long morning.

-X-

It had taken two pre-opening sessions to get most of the decorations set up around the café. 

Colourful lights now lined the windows, creating an inviting glow for passers-by. A miniature evergreen with polyester pine needles stood by the pick-up counter, stuffed with gold and silver ornament balls and its own set of mini string lights. Bouquets of silk hollies were nestled neatly at each booth on the wall ledge as to not take up table space. Tinsel and garlands were strung along the bakery display. The entire place had been transformed. It now resembled a shop in the Christmas Market down by the distillery. 

But, it wasn’t done. She wasn’t done.

“Why are you putting pigeons on the window?”

Kagome turned from where she stood on the step stool, blinking owlishly at Sally’s questioning gaze. Silence stretched. She glanced back at the two picture cut outs that had just been taped up. Reaching out a hand, she traced their outlines; one bird shaded in a deep violet, the other in a light pink. A soft smile crested her lips. “They’re turtle doves. In love.”

“They look like pigeons,” Sally replied, unconvinced. “But my question still stands; why are you putting them on the window?”

Kagome turned to see the twenty-eight year-old woman standing there with a finger to her chin, caramel-haired ponytail falling over a shoulder, head slightly tilted, contemplating. 

Her smile brightened, the imagery inducing a comforting familiarity. “Because it’s the second day of Christmas.” 

“That makes sense now,” Sally nodded, making her way over to clear a few mugs from a vacant table. “I was wondering why there was a plush duck sitting in the tree since yesterday.”

Kagome laughed then, climbing back down from the step stool. “That’s a partridge!”

-X-

He wasn’t sure why he had opted to take a cab today. 

Walking would have gotten him to the destination faster.

A sourly glance was aimed at the taxi’s digital timer before swivelling back to the standstill traffic. For a city of this size, he couldn’t fathom why anyone had thought it would be a good idea to close off an entire lane, on a two-lane roadway shared with streetcars that ran on above-ground tracks, and during rush hour. It had to have been a massive oversight of city planners. No civil engineer in their right mind would have rubberstamped this web of snail-paced excuse for transportation in the municipality’s busiest areas. And no proficient project manager would have decided that this would be the best time for traffic-halting construction work to commence. A bunch of incompetents. 

A loud honk and a string of foreign curses streaming from the driver’s mouth brought him out of his inner scrutiny, the cab coming to a complete stop mere inches from tapping the bumper of the car ahead. They had only travelled half a block before becoming gridlocked. 

This was a colossal waste of time. 

Grabbing hold of his briefcase and handing over a fifty-dollar bill, he swung open the door and exited, not sparing a second glance to the cabbie utter his thanks for the overpayment on a twenty-dollar ride. 

The rush hour frenzy was in full effect. Businessmen and pedestrians milled about in swarms of black and grey. It wasn’t much different from back home. Humans were all the same. They were all dressed for the season – bundled up in pea coats made of wool or down-filled puffer jackets, boot-covered feet causing mini splatters of melted snow as they hurried to their destinations. 

Eyeing the brownish slush that had once been white, he frowned as the cold and wet began soaking into his leather shoes. Perhaps he should have just stayed in the cab and endured the two-hour ride back to the hotel that was only six blocks away. If only he could still fly without being detected. Today’s enhanced technology and CCTV would make it near impossible to do so in such a congested area without triggering a UFO sighting. Pushing away the thought of the past versus the present, he made his way along the sidewalk, blending in like everyone else. 

The smells of the city was a pungent spike that stabbed his senses. Unlike his arrival on that quiet Sunday morning, the scent of fresh snow had melted away to a saturation of damp and mildew. 

Grimacing, he sped up the pace, but a sliver of a long-buried scent stopped him dead in his tracks.

Honeysuckle and jasmine.

Dipped in rich, dark coffee.

-X-

A reason for why Christmas was one of her favourite North American holidays was the sheer joy and happiness that exuded from everyone, even the grumpiest of grouches. The other reason was the slowing down of the city. People seemed to rush around less, a simmering of the pulse to something less manic. The city toned down, and so did the customers. It was a welcomed break from the daily 9AM line-ups and 3PM refuel. Not that she didn’t like her current job, holidays just gave her a bit of a breather. 

Like today, just five days away from Christmas, the café was quiet except for the few patrons typing away on their laptops, blind and deaf to the world around them, likely to try and meet any last-minute deadlines for whatever assignment they were furiously working on. Kagome watched them idly from her seat at the front counter, occasionally checking on the coffee machine and cleaning non-existent spills here and there to kill the time. Sally had already flown home for the holidays, leaving Kagome the only one manning the day shift. 

Opening the calendar on her phone, she double checked her itinerary, eager for her turn to visit home after Christmas Day when Sally is back on shift. 

Just a few more days.

When the bells that she had hung up over the front door chimed in a delicate tone to indicate a customer had entered, she pocketed her phone and looked up with a smile, only to freeze at the tall figure standing before her. 

It can’t be. 

She had to have been daydreaming, a broken film reel stuck on scenes scanning through her mind, damaged from years of replaying those same images whenever reality felt like slipping.

But she wasn’t dreaming this time. 

She was not imagining it. 

Though his face was unmarked and she felt no aural buzz against her skin, she recognized those gilded eyes and platinum hair from anywhere. 

He was real. In the flesh.

Sesshomaru.

-X-

“Miko.” 

The moment stood still, suspended in time as all at once, all those years of wondering of what had happened to her friends in the past flashed through her mind. She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes, threatening to release like a damn and flood the gates. 

But she held back, locked those gates and reinforced them, blinking away the threat of tears.

“No one has called me that in a long time now.” Her lips were trembling as she fought to settle her nerves, still shocked at seeing him here, in her time, dressed in a modern black coat and dark slacks.

“How are you here?” He spoke in the same baritone that echoed from a distant memory, stepping towards the counter where she stood behind. The underlying question was clear in his golden gaze. Why are you still alive. How are you still alive.

She was curious too. About what had happened in the past 500 years. What she had missed. The lives of her friends. There were many, many things she wanted to know, words stringing together like those tangled Christmas lights, on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to know everything. 

Kagome plastered on a hopeful smile, “Do you have time for a coffee?”

-X-

After a few awkward pauses stemming from Kagome still trying to process what was happening, they had settled into a companionable conversation. She had seated them at a booth closer to the front counter so she could easily hop in and out, in case another customer had to order. Sesshomaru wasn’t much a coffee drinker, but luckily they had several blends of exotic teas that we acquiesced to. 

Before long, an hour had passed, and the daylight darkened into night. She had told him of her true origins; of falling down the well all those years ago, of what had catapulted her into the journey to collect the jewel shards, of her disappearance back to her own time after the defeat of Naraku and a wish had been made to rid the jewel forever. And though she did most of the talking, he was forthcoming with answering her questions too – about the lives of her friends. About their deaths. 

“I’m glad Sango and Miroku were able to get married and settle down to have kids.” Kagome smiled, a stray tear trailing down her cheek as her gaze drifted to the turtle doves on the window. “I’m glad they no longer had to fight.”

Sesshomaru handed her a napkin. “Your companions lived happy lives.”

Grateful, she dabbed away the wetness in her eyes. But she wasn’t ready to ask about the others. About her best friend that she had come to love in a completely different, platonic way. About the kit that she loved like her own. Not yet. “And what about you? What have you been up to all these years?”

His eyes met hers then, knew that she was only distracting from what she truly wanted to know. “Rebuilding.”

He regaled the tale of the fall of the Western Lands. Of how things had changed over the centuries; the disruption of men and technology and science. Of the burning of his domain and years that it had taken to rebuild and overcome. To reinforce, to adapt. To Change. 

She was curious if he had ever started a family of his own. 

He told her no. 

“Why not?” she asked. “Didn’t you ever love someone?” 

Long fingers reached for his cup, sharp nose inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine, a scent that had nothing to do with the tea he was drinking. It was a scent from his long lost past that was now as bright as he ever remembered, all emanating from the being sitting across from him awaiting his every word; the woman with dark, midnight hair and glistening sapphire eyes. 

A woman who had been lost to time, and found again.

-X-

Their conversations had continued over the next couple of days. Sesshomaru would stop by in the afternoon when the café was practically empty, sitting at the same booth from their first meeting in the modern era. Kagome would bring over two cups of tea and some pastries. He would only drink the tea, but she had enjoyed having something to nibble on while they talked. 

He had told her of his current ventures, of why he was in Toronto to attend a week-long national conference to represent his company. She had told him of her being in the last year of obtaining a master’s degree in social work at the local university while juggling with part time work at the café. 

“Why not pursue your degree in Tokyo?” he asked. 

Kagome chewed the edge of her plush lips, and he noticed her eyes dipping, downcast as her shoulder slumped. “I guess… I just needed a change of scenery.” 

Staying in Tokyo would have been closer to home, to her family. 

To the well. 

But she just couldn’t. She didn’t tell him of all the years she’d spent trying to pull herself out from a mountain of grief of losing her friends. Of a whole life she had known on the other side that was lost to her, that the well and the shrine grounds was a constant reminder of something so close yet so far out of reach.  

She couldn’t tell him, but when her gaze rose to meet his, she knew she didn’t have to. 

His amber eyes reflected the warmth streaming in from the afternoon sun. He wasn’t what she remembered him to be. He was…softer. The edges rounded out. 

Kagome smiled, and took another bite of her butter tart.  

-X-

It was Christmas Eve, and like most stores, the café was closing early. 

“When are you leaving?” she asked from where she was bent over with a rag, wiping down the empty tables.

“Tomorrow evening.”

Straightening, Kagome walked over to their regular booth and sat down across from him in her usual seat. The rag twisted within her hands, hidden beneath the polished table. She glanced around the coffee shop, eyes everywhere except on him. 

Reds and greens and yellows and blues dotted the window, each little bulb emitting a glow that no longer gave a sense of warmth when she looked at it. Her gaze turned towards the miniature tree where the ornaments now seemed too glaringly shiny. The tinsel around the bakery display was beginning to look tacky, bits and pieces flaking off from getting caught on customer’s sleeves lean against the display. She eyed hollies by the booth. Threads of fake silk stuck out, the plastic berries collecting a tiny layer of dust. 

None of it felt the same. None of it was real.

Not the fake turtle doves in conjured love by the window. 

Not the lonesome partridge stuck into the plastic tree. 

“Are you coming back to Toronto?” she asked almost too quietly, still not able to meet his eyes.

There was a moment of quiet. A hesitation.

“No.” 

-X-

Splashing water on her face, she stared into the mirror of the dimly lit bathroom, noticing the puffiness ringing each eye. After getting back to her apartment after work last night, she had cried herself to sleep. She wasn’t all too surprised at why though. Sudden bouts of nostalgia and waterworks were no stranger to her over the last eight years. 

And yet, something was different this time. 

Perhaps it was because of the easy companionship she had found in Sesshomaru, the fact that he was someone who knew her; in the flesh and not in her dreams. 

That fact that he was real. And not another reassembled figment of her memory.

The fact that she would probably never see him again.  

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s time to let go, Kagome,”

Drying her face with a towel, she made her way back out front to close up shop, fully intent on not dwelling in the past on Christmas Day. It was supposed to be cheerful and bright, so she will try her best to do just that.

But as she rounded the corridor to the front, once again, she was frozen in place at the sight before her. 

“Sesshomaru,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to crack. “Wh-what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to miss your flight?”

Her eyes were wide, breath held as though afraid to breathe, afraid to move as he approached in measured steps, coming to stop just inches away. 

“Kagome,” he spoke, and she could feel his breath fan across her cheeks at soft sound of her name. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, and felt her world spinning when a warm hand cupped her cheek. “Come home with me.”

And before she had a chance to respond, before she could even register the words, she felt his lips brush against hers, petal light, lifting an invisible heaviness that she hadn’t even realized was there. Unconsciously she leaned in closer, a tingle of a dormant aura tickling the edge of her peripheral senses. 

It had been a long, long time since she had felt the familiar wave of youki caress her skin, waking her own reiki from its eternal sleep. 

It was liberating, she felt…alive. 

And just as she was about to be lost in the sensation of their entwining power, he moved away, just barely, breaking off the chaste kiss. 

Sapphire blue met sunset gold, speaking volumes as he held her close. 

She smiled, genuinely, radiantly. “Yes.”