Mine, In All the Ways (Sesshōmaru x Reader)
Summary: You didn’t mean to fall into the past.
And you definitely didn’t mean to save a strange little girl in the woods, or earn the interest of a cold, impossibly powerful daiyōkai with a sharp tongue and a sharper sword. But fate doesn’t ask for permission.
Now, you’re stuck in feudal Japan. Sarcastic, stubborn, and somehow always managing to catch Sesshōmaru’s attention (and occasionally his temper). What starts as begrudging tolerance slowly turns into something neither of you dare to name: stolen glances, heated arguments, near-deaths, and quiet nights under the stars. You challenge him. He unsettles you. But when you're kidnapped and nearly forced into marriage, it’s Sesshōmaru who tears the world apart to find you.
So did your ribs, your wrists, and somehow even your pride.
You sat slumped against the cold stone wall of what looked like a ceremonial dressing room, your hands still tied at the wrists with coarse rope. The skin beneath the bindings had long since turned raw. A beautiful kimono hung nearby, pale silk embroidered with lilies and cranes — meant for a wedding.
To a man you hadn’t so much as looked at before he ordered his soldiers to drag you from a roadside village. Apparently, being “the demon lord’s woman” made you either a useful bargaining tool or a tempting prize. You hadn’t yet decided which option insulted you more.
You let your head fall back against the wall and exhaled slowly through your nose, jaw tight.
“Great,” you muttered to the empty room, voice thick with dry sarcasm. “This is exactly how I pictured dying in feudal Japan. Not in battle. Not defending a small child or saving the world. Nope. Forced marriage and bruised ribs. Classic.”
The high walls didn’t answer, but your words echoed faintly off the polished wood. No reply. No sympathy. Just the weight of your own bitter humor in a room dressed like a coffin.
You shifted your legs beneath you, and pain flared along your side. It was deep and hot. You winced, teeth clenching. That had to be cracked. Or at least spectacularly bruised.
“Okay,” you whispered, “so maybe taunting the guy who ordered me chained up wasn’t the smartest move.”
But seriously — what did they expect you to do? Flutter your lashes? Swoon? Cry?
You handled fear the way you always had with biting sarcasm and bad timing. It was the only armor you’d ever really known. Even now, aching and trapped and furious. Your mouth was the one thing they hadn’t managed to tie up.
Still, the silence pressed in like a weight on your chest, growing heavier with every heartbeat.
Your eyes drifted closed for a moment. You tried — really tried not to think about Sesshōmaru. About whether he knew. Whether he was already searching. Whether he was angry.
No. Don’t go there. You couldn’t afford to go soft now. Not when this entire situation was balancing on a razor’s edge.
But the thought still slipped in anyway:
You didn’t want to believe it, but—
Your body stiffened instantly, instincts sparking to life. Footsteps, heavy and slow, crossed the wooden threshold. One of the guards—tall, broad, and utterly unpleasant stepped into view. He was holding a bowl of food like it offended him. He tossed it near your feet, some of the rice scattering across the floor like ashes.
You looked up at him, your face bruised but your pride very much intact. Then, with the best sweet smile you could muster through a split lip, you tilted your head.
“Can you feed me?” you asked innocently. “My wrists are a bit… occupied.”
The man glared, unmoved. His nostrils flared slightly—disgust, maybe. Or anger. He muttered something under his breath as he turned, but you caught it anyway.
“…arrogant women… demon filth…”
The door snapped shut behind him.
You sat still for a moment, letting the silence settle once more. Then you exhaled, slow and tired, and leaned your head back against the wall again.
“Honestly,” you said to the ceiling, “where’s a murderously possessive daiyōkai when you need one?”
The silence didn’t answer you.
But far from here, past forests and rivers —Sesshōmaru had already stopped moving.
He had caught your scent.
And someone, somewhere, was about to regret laying even a single hand on you.
______________________________________________________________________
You weren’t trying to save anyone.
You were just walking. Walking and complaining about how damp the forest was. How you’d definitely wandered off the main road and how—once again — you had absolutely no idea how you’d time-traveled into feudal Japan in the first place.
You were about two seconds from yelling at the sky when you heard it.
High-pitched. Terrified. Child.
You froze. That was… not background forest noise.
Another scream. This time followed by snarling.
You bolted in the direction of the noise, heart pounding, shoving branches out of your way. The underbrush snagged your clothes, mud squelched under your shoes, and you had absolutely no plan other than Run faster.
You burst into a small clearing—and chaos.
A girl no older than ten was backed up against a tree, clutching a bundle of herbs to her chest. Two boar demons—huge, ugly things with tusks longer than your arms—snorted and pawed at the earth in front of her.
You did the dumbest thing imaginable.
“HEY!” you screamed, hurling it with all the fury of someone who’d had a very weird week.
It smacked one of the demons square in the face.
Including your common sense.
The boar demon slowly turned its head toward you. The girl gasped.
“Oh god,” you whispered. “Oh no. I am so stupid.”
The demon roared and charged.
You stood frozen, heart in your throat. You didn’t even have time to scream.
Something sliced through the air. A blur of white. The demon’s head hit the ground with a wet thud, still mid-snarl.
The second demon didn’t even try to run. It barely managed a squeal before it was sliced in half by a glowing blade.
And suddenly, the clearing was still.
You were breathing hard, eyes widend from shock. Meanwhile your arm still half-lifted from throwing the rock.
Standing in front of the child now was a tall figure draped in silver and white. He wasn’t human. You didn’t need a history degree to tell that.
Armor gleamed on his shoulders. Silver hair tumbled down his back like it didn’t know what gravity was. His face was... unreal. Beautiful and cold and somehow worse than monstrous because he didn’t look like a monster.
He looked like something ancient and bored and very used to people dying when he walked into a room.
Your brain clicked into panic mode.
You blurted out the only thing that came to mind:
“Who the hell wears armor this dramatic just to walk in the woods?”
His head turned slightly toward you. He hadn’t even looked at you until now.
His eyes: golden, inhuman dragged over you from head to toe.
“...Okay, yeah, that was maybe not the smartest opener,” you muttered.
He took one step toward you.
You instinctively stepped back, raising your hands like that would do anything. “Look, I don’t know what kind of forest fashion police you are, but I didn’t mean to interrupt your murder party, okay?”
The little girl peeked out from behind him and gave you a wide-eyed look. “You saved me.”
You waved awkwardly. “Uh. Kinda. I mean, technically he did, I just threw a rock.”
The man—not a man, something else stared at you with the expression of someone deciding whether you were an insect or just something very dumb.
“You are human,” he said at last. His voice was cool and absolutely judgmental.
You raised an eyebrow. “And you’re observant. Great. Should we both say the obvious out loud or...?”
The girl giggled quietly. He didn’t react.
Then, without a word, he turned away from you and walked off into the mist, the girl trailing at his heels.
You stood there for a few seconds: stunned.
“Okay,” you said slowly. “Well. That happened.”
The girl looked back once as they disappeared into the trees. She waved.
You waved back, still in a daze.
What the hell just happened?
You had no idea who that was. Just some random hot, terrifying murder elf with a sword made of glowing vengeance.
Absolutely nothing ominous about that at all.
__________________________________________________________________________
Back in the present — tied up, bruised, and waiting for someone to rescue you. You remember that day, and you almost laugh.
You never did figure out who he was that day in the forest.
Just some icy, terrifying, ridiculously beautiful warrior with murder in his eyes and grace in his sword. You hadn’t known his name. Not yet. Only that he hadn’t killed you, even though he probably could have with a blink.
You’d hear it whispered in passing from villagers. You’d feel it when his eyes found yours across a battlefield. And then, eventually, you’d ask him outright.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
And in that deadpan, regal voice, he’d say:
You’d stared. “...Okay, but like, do you have a shorter version? A nickname? A syllable I can yell when you’re being impossible?”
He’d blinked at you. “No.”
So, of course, you’d started calling him “Sessh.”
Later, when the sarcasm turned into banter, and banter into tension, and tension into something else, you’d sometimes circle back to that first meeting.
“You were foolish,” he’d say.
“You were dramatic,” you’d counter.
And somehow, that became the beginning of everything.
Now your cheek was swollen. Your ribs ached with every breath. You were bound in a ceremonial room like some fragile gift wrapped for slaughter.
And Sesshōmaru wasn’t here.
You closed your eyes, trying to shut out the pain. Trying not to think about the dull ache blooming in your chest — fear. The fear that maybe this time, you’d pushed your luck too far.
You’d always made enemies. You were sarcastic, loud, modern. You didn’t bow. You didn’t grovel. You made comments.
So when some petty, power-drunk warlord found out that the cold-hearted Lord of the West had a human consort, what did he do?
Or a way to die painfully, depending on the response.
You weren’t sure which you were more worried about.
Because if Sesshōmaru came, he wouldn’t talk.
You shifted, the ropes biting into your skin. Your body was exhausted, but your mind kept spinning, fast and sharp.
You remembered, vividly, the second conversation you’d ever had with him.
__________________________________________________________________________
The mist hung thick in the forest, every step muffled by fallen leaves and damp earth. You moved cautiously, senses on edge. Not just because of the unknown dangers, but because of who you might run into.
And sure enough, there he was.
Tall, silent, and just as cold as before. His silver hair catching the pale light filtering through the trees.
You squared your shoulders and met his golden gaze with your own.
“You again,” you said, voice a mix of sarcasm and tired resolve. “You’re really making this whole feudal Japan thing a nightmare.”
“Your presence here disrupts the natural order.”
“And what, you want me to just disappear? Sorry, but I’m trying to find a way back to my time.”
Sesshōmaru’s gaze flickered with interest, though his face remained impassive.
“You seek to undo your intrusion?”
“Exactly. I’m not some lost damsel waiting for rescue,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m here for a reason. And until I figure it out, I’m not just going to roll over and accept whatever fate you demons have planned.”
A faint smile—almost imperceptible—touched his lips.
“Your determination is... unexpected.”
He stepped closer, the air around him growing colder, but you didn’t back down.
“Tell me,” he said, voice low, “will your purpose keep you alive? Or will it lead you to ruin?”
You met his challenge head-on.
“Maybe a little of both.”
Sesshōmaru’s eyes lingered on you, as if weighing your soul.
“Foolishness and bravery often walk the same path.”
“Good thing I’m not afraid to walk alone.”
For a long moment, the forest was still except for your breathing.
Then, as if breaking a spell, Sesshōmaru turned, stepping back into the mist.
“Perhaps your path and mine will cross again.”
You called after him, voice lighter now.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sessh.”
__________________________________________________________________________
You shifted against the cold stone wall, the ropes biting into your wrists but your mind drifting elsewhere—because, really, what else could you do?
You thought about Sesshōmaru.
Specifically, about how much he absolutely hated being called “Sessh.”
It wasn’t just a mild annoyance. No, it was a full-on, glare-from-the-depths-of-hell kind of hatred.
You smirked despite the pain.
You’d asked once—maybe twice, or a dozen times—why he didn’t want you to call him that.
His answer, always the same, always dead serious:
“I do not have a nickname. Do not call me that.”
“Too long? Too formal? Not fancy enough for you, Your Highness?”
Every time, he’d fix you with that icy glare, voice low and dangerous:
You of course, never stopped.
Maybe because it made the cold, distant demon lord look almost... human.
Or maybe because a little rebellion was exactly what kept you sane.
You let out a quiet breath, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.
“Yeah, Sessh,” you whispered to the empty room. “I’m definitely not stopping.”
The silence that answered you felt less empty now.
Because somewhere out there, you knew he was already coming.
And no matter how many times he told you to stop, some things—like calling him Sessh—were just too stubborn to change.
_________________________________________________________________________
The silk kimono rested heavily in your lap, its smooth fabric almost too delicate to touch given your battered, bruised body. Pale cream silk embroidered with delicate lilies and cranes, the kind of beauty reserved for weddings. And here you were, trapped in this room, forced into the role of bride for a man you barely knew.
Two women, stern and efficient, moved around you with practiced hands. Their faces were tight with duty and impatience, their fingers rough as they tugged and pulled at the layers of fabric.
“Soon, you will be the bride,” one of them said sharply, tightening the obi around your waist with a precise, almost ruthless grip.
You fought the urge to retort, to tell them exactly where they could shove their wedding plans. But your wrists, still raw from the ropes, ached sharply, and every breath you took was a reminder of how fragile your situation truly was.
The second woman, colder than the first, brushed your hair back with an expert but unfeeling touch, twisting it into a neat bun.
“Do not resist,” she warned, her voice low and sharp as a blade. “Your lord’s patience wears thin.”
You closed your eyes for a brief moment, fighting to steady your breathing. The faint scent of incense and polished wood filled the room, an eerie contrast to the knot of dread tightening your chest.
And then, something in the way the woman said “lord”—and “patience”—cut through the haze of pain and fear like a shard of ice.
Your breath caught. That word — patience — it triggered something buried deep in your mind.
___________________________________________________________________________
You found yourself sitting beside Sesshōmaru beneath the vast, fading sky. The first stars timidly pierced the twilight, their soft glow flickering through the thick canopy of ancient trees. Around you, the forest held its breath. The rustling of leaves whispered and the cool air smelled faintly of moss and earth.
Sesshōmaru’s presence was beside you. Silent and commanding, like the very mountain itself. The faint gleam of his silver hair caught the last light of day, and his golden eyes, normally sharp and distant, were fixed thoughtfully on the horizon.
You shifted slightly, nerves stirring but curiosity stronger. After a long moment, you finally dared to break the silence.
“Sesshōmaru,” you began, your voice careful, tentative, “have you ever… truly loved someone?”
His eyes flicked to you, calm but unreadable, like a still lake hiding untold depths.
“Loved?” he repeated, voice low and deliberate as if weighing the word carefully. “Love is a complicated thing.”
You smiled softly, wanting to coax more from him, gently pushing the fragile door open.
“I mean… someone you trust with your life. Someone whose happiness matters more than your own. Have you ever felt that?”
Sesshōmaru’s gaze darkened briefly — just for a heartbeat — before his usual composed mask returned.
“If I found my mate,” he said quietly, “I would marry her. Not lightly, but with full intent and unwavering commitment.”
The weight behind his words surprised you. His voice was steady, but beneath it lingered a rare vulnerability that softened his usual cold demeanor.
You blinked, heart fluttering with a mix of awe and something warmer. “And what… what does marriage mean to you?”
He turned fully to you now, eyes locking with yours, fierce and sincere.
“It is a pact,” Sesshōmaru said slowly, “a declaration of what is sacred. When I speak of marriage, I speak of a binding—one forged with intent, sealed by honor, and meant to last forever.”
You let those words sink in, studying the sharp angles of his face. The hard lines shaped by centuries of solitude and battle. But in this quiet moment, you saw something new: the softening of his jaw, the faint flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.
“And… what if that pact was between us?” Your voice barely escaped your lips, trembling slightly with hope and uncertainty.
His gaze sharpened instantly, unwavering and intense. The gold of his eyes burned bright in the dim light.
“If you are mine,” Sesshōmaru said, his voice lowering with solemn weight, “I will honor you above all else. There will be no other.”
He paused, the gravity of his vow hanging between you like an unbreakable chain.
“To marry is to stake my life’s purpose upon yours. It is not a decision made lightly.”
The silence deepened, filled only by the quiet chorus of the forest settling into night. You swallowed hard, the promise settling in your chest like a beating heart—powerful, terrifying, but utterly real.
You stayed silent for a moment, letting his words wash over you. The night seemed to grow heavier, filled with unspoken feelings.
“I never thought someone like you would… say something like that,” you finally whispered, surprised by the softness in your own voice.
Sesshōmaru’s gaze didn’t waver. “Few see beyond the surface.”
You glanced away, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the weight of the conversation. “Maybe I’m not like most people.”
He gave a rare, slight nod—acknowledgment without words.
“What happens if you never find your mate?” you asked, daring to break the silence again.
His eyes darkened just a fraction. “Then I remain alone. But I do not seek just anyone. The bond must be worthy of the vow.”
You frowned slightly, feeling that you only grasped part of what he meant.
“But how do you actually know?” you asked, voice soft but curious. “I mean, is there some… sign? Something you notice that makes it clear? Like a smell or a feeling? Or maybe something only demons can sense?”
Sesshōmaru’s golden eyes darkened as he considered your question. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slowly shifted his gaze upward toward the deepening night sky, where stars began to sprinkle the heavens like scattered jewels.
You followed his eyes, your own softening as you watched the quiet beauty above.
After a long pause, Sesshōmaru’s voice broke the silence.
“There are many signs,” he said thoughtfully, “a scent that clings to your mind long after the presence has passed… a quiet strength in someone that steadies even the fiercest storms within your soul… a pull you cannot ignore, no matter how far you try to run.”
You looked back at him, searching for more—hoping for something clearer, something you could understand.
He met your gaze then, his expression unreadable, but the intensity of his eyes seemed to carry more than words.
You felt your breath catch. There was something in the way he looked at you now, a flicker of something unspoken. He didn’t say he’d found those signs in you, but the way his eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, made your heart pound in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
For a moment, the world around you slipped away. The whisper of the trees, the distant call of a night bird, even the cool brush of the wind seemed to hush in reverence to the quiet connection blooming between you.
Sesshōmaru’s gaze stayed, intense and enigmatic before he slowly turned away. His face settling back into that familiar mask of calm indifference.
But the air still hummed with something neither of you dared name yet.
_______________________________________________________________________
The silence stretched between you, thick and alive, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. You felt the weight of Sesshōmaru’s gaze lingering on you again. Not with judgment, but with something far more complex, something raw and unguarded that few had ever seen.
Your heart beat faster, a sudden warmth blossoming in your chest that had nothing to do with the cooling night air. You looked away first, your eyes tracing the shimmering constellations overhead, as if searching the stars for answers you couldn’t find in his words.
“I don’t really understand it,” you admitted quietly, voice barely more than a whisper. “This whole idea of… fate, connection, binding forever. It sounds beautiful, but also… terrifying.”
Sesshōmaru’s eyes returned to you, softening just enough to betray the fierce pride he usually wore like armor.
“Terrifying,” he agreed, his voice low. “Because it asks you to give everything—your life, your soul—without hesitation.”
You shivered, though not from cold. The thought of surrendering so completely was daunting, yet something about his steady presence made it feel… possible.
“You make it sound like a promise,” you said slowly. “Not just an agreement or a contract.”
He inclined his head slightly, his expression solemn. “It is a promise. One that binds not only two souls but their very existence. To break it is to shatter the foundation of what we are.”
You swallowed hard, feeling the gravity settle over you like a cloak.
“And what if you’re scared?” you asked, daring to speak the question that had been gnawing at your thoughts. “What if loving someone—giving yourself to them—is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do?”
Sesshōmaru’s gaze held yours. “Then that fear becomes the test of the bond’s strength. True connection does not erase fear. It demands courage to face it.”
A slow smile touched your lips, bittersweet and full of hope.
“Maybe that’s why I’m still here. Still trying to figure it out.”
For the first time, Sesshōmaru’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile—an echo of warmth reserved only for you.
“Perhaps,” he said quietly, “we both are.”
The night deepened, wrapping you in its embrace, but in that moment, neither of you felt alone.
________________________________________________________________________
“There is another sign,” he said quietly after a while. “When the moon is full, the bond between mates strengthens. The one who has found their mate emits a scent—powerful and unmistakable. It calls to the other, drawing them closer, as if the world itself conspires to unite what is meant to be.”
You blinked, imagining the strange, almost magical pull he described.
“So, it’s like the moon awakens something inside you?”
He nodded, his voice low and steady. “Yes. A deep longing, a desire to be near, to become one.”
You looked away, cheeks flushing at the thought.
Sesshōmaru’s rare smirk was almost invisible. “It is.”
You both fell silent, the night wrapping around you like a quiet promise.
___________________________________________________________________________
Then, abruptly, the scene shifted.
Back in the cramped room where you were held captive, the sharp scent of oils and powders filled the air, mingling with the faint, bitter sting of bruises and fear.
Your wrists still ached where the coarse ropes had chafed your skin raw, but now your captors busied themselves with the cruel task of preparing you for the wedding. They applied layers of makeup to your bruised face. Pale foundation to mask the discoloration, rouge to color your cheeks, lips painted a shade you barely recognized as yours.
You stared at your reflection in the cracked, dusty mirror—a painted mask of calm concealing the whirlwind of dread and fury inside.
Outside, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder.
The man who was to be your fake husband entered with a sneer that made your skin crawl. His eyes gleamed with greed and entitlement, as if you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed.
“You’ll wear the kimono well,” he said, his voice thick with false sweetness. “Soon, you’ll belong to me.”
You forced a bitter, sarcastic smile, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Sesshōmaru, you thought desperately. Where are you? Hurry. Please.
The weight of his words pressed down on you like a stone, suffocating and heavy. But beneath it all, a fierce ember of hope blazed bright and unyielding, because you knew. Somehow, you wouldn’t have to face this nightmare alone.
___________________________________________________________________________
The heavy, oppressive silence hanging in the room was shattered like fragile glass by a low, primal roar that echoed through the hallways. A sound that seemed to shake the very stones beneath your feet. It was a roar full of ancient power, filled with unyielding fury and an unbreakable claim.
Before you could even catch your breath the sharp voices of the approaching soldiers cut through the air like arrows:
“The Demon Lord is here! Sesshōmaru has come!”
The men who had been so confident just moments ago suddenly froze. Their smug expressions drained away, replaced by wide-eyed panic. They exchanged quick, desperate glances, their earlier arrogance dissolving in the presence of a force they clearly feared.
Your pulse hammered in your chest as the room thickened with the scent of Sesshōmaru’s arrival. A fierce, commanding presence that felt almost tangible. It wrapped around you like a protective cloak.
Then, with a violent crash that sent shards of wood and paper fluttering through the air like wounded birds, the fragile paper screen was torn apart.
Sesshōmaru stood in the doorway, a towering figure wrapped in flowing white fur that seemed to ripple like a living storm. His armor caught the flickering light with deadly precision.But it was his eyes—golden and blazing with an unrelenting fire—that held the room captive.
His gaze swept over the trembling men, narrowing into lethal slits as if his mere look could slice through steel.
His voice came low and heavy with centuries of command:
“If you have dared to touch what belongs to me…”
He took a single step forward, the sound of his boots steady and ominous against the floor.
“I will kill every last one of you.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than any weapon.
You swallowed hard but forced yourself to sit straighter, meeting his fierce gaze with a spark of your own stubbornness.
“Well,” you said, your voice rough from bruises but sharp and defiant, a teasing smirk playing on your lips despite everything, “looks like my possessive demon will have to kill you all for touching me.”
Sesshōmaru’s eyes flicked to you—there was a flicker of something almost tender, an unspoken bond glimmering beneath the cold surface—before snapping back to the trembling men.
With a fluid, almost predatory grace, he drew his sword. The blade gleamed like moonlight sharp and deadly.
Outside, the sounds of battle crashed louder—the furious clash of steel, shouted commands, and the frantic pounding of hooves.
But inside the room, time seemed to slow as Sesshōmaru became an unstoppable force.
__________________________________________________________________________
The moment Sesshōmaru’s blade sliced through the air, the room erupted into chaos. Steel clashed against steel, but none could match his cold, deadly precision. Each strike was flawless, a whirlwind of lethal grace and unrelenting power.
Men fell before him like brittle leaves in a storm, their desperate screams swallowed by the roar of his fury. The air grew thick with the scent of blood and smoke as Sesshōmaru moved through the room like a force of nature.
Your heart pounded in your chest, every bruise and ache forgotten beneath the surge of adrenaline. You watched him—your demon lord, fierce and unyielding—silently vowing to protect you.
When the last enemy crumpled to the ground, Sesshōmaru turned to you, his golden eyes softened with a rare, fierce tenderness. Without hesitation, he knelt and lifted you into his arms, careful despite his overwhelming strength.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice a low promise against the chaos that still lingered.
You rested your head against his broad chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the armor. The world outside the room seemed distant, irrelevant.
Sesshōmaru carried you effortlessly, every step sure and purposeful as he moved away from the ruins of captivity. No one would dare stop him—not now, not ever.
___________________________________________________________________________
Sesshōmaru’s arms cradled you firmly as he carried you away from the ruins of captivity. Each step steady, yet his grip never loosened. The faint ache in your ribs flared with the movement, but you refused to show weakness—not when he was so close.
“So,” you began, voice light but edged with sarcasm, “you’re finally here. Took your sweet time, didn’t it?”
His golden eyes flickered to you. “I arrived when I deemed necessary.”
You smirked, shifting slightly in his arms to catch his gaze. “That’s demon lord speak for ‘I was dragging my feet.’”
Sesshōmaru’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle tension in the set of his jaw. “Your wounds concern me more than your wit.”
“Concern?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds more like a begrudging annoyance to me.”
A shadow of something—something unreadable—passed through his eyes before he looked away, focusing on the path ahead. “I do not tolerate carelessness.”
You let out a soft laugh, breath warm against his armor. “I’m stubborn, not careless. And maybe I don’t need you fussing over me.”
The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken words. Sesshōmaru’s grip tightened imperceptibly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You belong where you are protected.”
You caught the hesitation there. The glimmer of emotion buried beneath his cold exterior. Yet you held your ground, meeting his look steadily.
“Protected?” you mused. “Sounds a lot like possession to me.”
He said nothing, but the tightening of his lips was answer enough.
Sesshōmaru’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer, the cold mask faltering just enough to reveal something fierce and protective beneath.
“You need to rest,” he said quietly but commanding.
You blinked, surprised by the softness coming through his words. “Rest? After all this? I’m fine.”
He tightened his hold slightly, shifting you to settle you more comfortably against his chest. “You are bruised. Your body demands it, whether you admit it or not.”
You met his gaze, defiance was showing in your eyes. “I don’t like being babied.”
“I do not babble,” Sesshōmaru replied with a faint edge, though the concern in his voice was unmistakable. “Sleep. Now.”
There was no room for argument in his tone, and despite your stubbornness, you felt the pull of exhaustion creeping in. The ache in your ribs and the dull throb in your cheek whispered the truth you tried to deny.
You sighed, letting your head rest lightly against his shoulder. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”
Sesshōmaru’s lips twitched before he lifted his gaze to the darkening sky beyond.
“Good. You will be of no use if you are weak.”
The quiet between you settled like a soft blanket, heavy with things left unsaid but understood. You didn’t press, and he didn’t speak more—not yet.
For now, the only thing that mattered was that you were safe in his arms. And that, somehow, that was enough.
__________________________________________________________________________
The world blurred softly as you drifted into uneasy sleep, cradled in Sesshōmaru’s arms. When you next opened your eyes, the room was dimly lit by flickering candles, their warm glow casting long shadows on the walls. The dull ache in your body had softened, though a lingering pain reminded you of the violence you’d endured.
Sesshōmaru sat beside you, silent and watchful. His expression unreadable but undeniably vigilant.
Your wrists were no longer bound; bandages wrapped neatly around them and your ribs were gently supported. The bruises across your skin still marred their surface, but the sharp sting had faded.
You shifted slightly, feeling the exhaustion tugging at you still.
“I’m still tired,” you admitted, voice soft but stubborn.
Sesshōmaru’s golden eyes moved toward you. “You will remain here until you regain your strength.”
You frowned, attempting to sit up, but he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, pressing you back gently but firmly.
“That is not a request,” he said, voice low and unwavering.
You stared at him, surprised by the absolute authority in his tone. “I’m not a child, Sesshōmaru.”
He didn’t flinch. “Nor am I one to entertain foolishness when it endangers you.”
The weight of his words settled between you.
You sighed, the fight draining from you faster than you expected. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
Sesshōmaru’s gaze softened just a fraction, and for a moment, the cold, imperious demon lord was replaced by someone fiercely protective and quietly concerned.
You smirked, despite yourself. “Noted.”
He stood, turning away to tend to other matters, but his voice carried over his shoulder.
“I will not allow you to leave my side.”
And with that, the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air—you were his to protect, and he would settle for nothing less than your safety.
___________________________________________________________________________
Weeks Later – In the Forest
It had been nearly a month since your rescue. The bruises were gone, the cuts had faded, and your pride—though dented—had fully mended.
Life within Sesshōmaru’s stronghold had become... strangely peaceful. You’d healed, trained with Rin, and teased Jaken into several tantrums. You never mentioned the night Sesshōmaru carried you out of the fire-lit carnage, nor the strange look in his eyes as he told you not to leave his side.
But you’d stayed, hadn’t you?
Still, even the grand halls of a demon lord’s castle couldn’t hold you forever.
So, with a basket under your arm and a vague excuse about mushrooms and “stew emergencies,” you slipped into the woods. The autumn breeze brushed through your hair. The forest golden and quiet beneath a crisp blue sky. You’d just meant to be gone an hour. Maybe two.
But time, in the woods, had a way of slipping.
By the time you blinked up at the darkening canopy, the sun had disappeared entirely. Crickets chirped. Fog rolled low along the mossy floor. And the moon—full, impossibly bright—rose above the trees like a silver eye watching everything.
You exhaled slowly and adjusted your basket.
“Right. Time to head back before someone panics and unleashes unholy retribution on the nearest living thing.”
________________________________________________________________________
The moon hung full and luminous in the night sky, casting the forest in silver light. Sesshōmaru stood alone on the high balcony of his fortress, arms folded in his sleeves, unmoving as a marble statue. Below, the world sprawled wide—woods stretching into shadows, rivers glinting like slivers of glass. The night was quiet.
But not as it had always been. This was different. Richer. Sharper. Threaded with something deeper—something ancient. It slid through the air like silk and hit him with force, piercing through the walls of the fortress as if distance meant nothing.
His body reacted before his thoughts did. Muscles tensed. Breathing slowed. The beast beneath his skin stirred awake—snarling, clawing, impatient.
She was in the woods. Alone. At night.
And it was the full moon.
He turned his face slightly into the breeze, letting the scent flood his senses. It curled around him—warm, wild, and unmistakably hers.
The word echoed through him, low and primal.
He had suspected before—quietly, privately, in the way she disarmed him with her sarcasm and smile, in the way she stood fearless even when wounded. But tonight…
Tonight, there was no doubt. Her scent—sweet with adrenaline, laced with the faintest spike of unease—called to him. Every instinct screamed to find her. Protect her. Claim her.
Without a word, he leapt from the balcony, his white haori billowing behind him like stormclouds as he vanished into the forest.
__________________________________________________________________________
The night had grown too quiet.
Leaves crunched underfoot as you tried not to panic. The trees looked different under moonlight, haunting and tall, as though they'd rearranged themselves just to confuse you. You hugged your basket of foraged mushrooms tighter, muttering to yourself.
“Okay, okay. It’s just a forest. I’ve seen worse. I literally got kidnapped. This is child’s play.”
But still—you glanced up.
The full moon stared down at you, cold and bright.
And that’s when you felt it. A presence.
The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Your skin flushed with goosebumps. Something in the air shifted—like the moment right before a storm breaks.
You hadn’t even heard him approach. He emerged from between the trees like a shadow given form, silent and controlled… but not quite calm.
His eyes were glowing faintly under the moonlight, locked on you with unsettling intensity.
“Sesshōmaru,” you repeated, breath catching. “I was just heading back. I swear.”
He didn’t answer right away. He was too busy inhaling—subtle, but unmistakable. As if scent alone told him more than words ever could.
“You should not have left the grounds tonight,” he said, voice low and darker than usual.
You raised a brow, a shaky smile playing on your lips. “What, afraid I’d trip on a rock and ruin your precious moss collection?”
Still, he said nothing. Just moved closer. Deliberate. Focused.
You caught the faintest flicker of something strange in his expression—something raw.
Your hand gripped the basket tighter.
Then he moved. Not fast—but fluid. Intentional.
He reached out and gently pried the basket from your fingers, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud, mushrooms spilling like forgotten thoughts.
“Sesshōmaru—?” you began again, but his hand was already threading into your hair.
He leaned in, face lowering until his nose brushed against your temple, your hair, the curve of your jaw. Inhaling deeply.
Like he was memorizing you.
You barely dared to breathe.
His voice, when it came, was a rough whisper.
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
“Yours?” you echoed, voice low and trembling despite your best effort. “What… what does that mean?”
He stayed close—forehead nearly resting against yours, the fingers in your hair tightening slightly.
“Mate,” he said, so softly it was almost reverent. “Your scent. It has changed.”
You blinked, stunned. “Changed?”
“It’s stronger. Calling to me.” His breath ghosted across your cheek. “The full moon brings clarity. You are meant for me.”
You felt the world narrow to the space between your bodies. The moon. The trees. The wind. None of it mattered now.
“But… how do you know?” you whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.
He finally pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His expression unreadable—but something ancient burned beneath it.
“Because I can no longer breathe without needing you near.”
The confession slipped from him like a truth too long buried.
You stared at him—this proud, cold demon lord who barely tolerated most company—claiming you like it was etched into his soul.
Didn’t laugh or tease or deflect.
You just… stood there, trembling under the weight of what was unspoken.
And for the first time, you understood what he meant by mate.
________________________________________________________________________________
You stood in the quiet woods, the world still, moonlight washing everything in silver and shadow. The basket lay forgotten at your feet, and Sesshōmaru—this proud, ancient creature—looked at you like you were something sacred.
His eyes lingered on your face, flicking briefly to your lips, then to your neck, where your pulse fluttered beneath your skin.
The space between you hummed.
“You… want to bite me?” you asked, half disbelieving, your voice barely more than breath. There was no fear in your tone—just a quiet, stunned awe.
Sesshōmaru’s hand found your waist, steady and firm, drawing you closer until your bodies nearly touched. His other hand remained tangled gently in your hair, angling your face up toward his.
“I would not harm you,” he said, voice like silk drawn over a blade. “This is not a wound. It is a vow.”
Your breath hitched as you met his eyes—glowing, wild with restraint, and something else… something that felt like longing.
“A mark,” he murmured, brushing his lips near the shell of your ear. “A symbol to any who would dare take you again. That you are mine.”
The word trembled in the air between you.
You swallowed hard. “So… what happens if you do?”
He was silent for a moment. Then—
“It binds us. In the old ways. The instinct of the mate bond, once awakened, must be honored. To ignore it would be to suffer.”
“Suffer?” you echoed, trying to focus with your heart pounding.
“I need you close,” he admitted. The quiet intensity of his voice made your knees weaken. “Every hour I’ve been apart from you, my blood has burned.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You tilted your head slightly—offering.
It was not a grand gesture. Not a surrender. But something quieter, and deeper.
Sesshōmaru’s breath stilled.
Then, wordlessly, reverently, he leaned down.
His fangs brushed your skin where your neck met your shoulder. Your hands gripped his sleeves as he held you steady, mouth hovering for one last moment of hesitation.
You gasped, clinging to him as his fangs sank into your skin—not cruelly, not viciously—but with terrifying purpose. Pain bloomed, but it was fleeting, swallowed by a strange warmth that pulsed through your chest and down your limbs.
He growled low in his throat, something deep and ancient and possessive, his arm tightening around you as if he couldn’t stand the thought of letting go.
When he finally pulled back, he licked the wound—slow, deliberate—his gaze locked on yours. Your breath trembled against his lips.
A faint crescent-shaped mark, faintly glowing, now sat on your skin—like moonlight kissed into flesh.
“I have claimed what is mine,” he said softly.
You shivered—not from cold, but from the weight of it.
And yet, you couldn’t stop the smirk that curved your lips as you whispered, “Took you long enough, Sessh.”
His jaw flexed—but there was no anger in his eyes. Only fire. Only you.
___________________________________________________________________________
The warmth of Sesshōmaru’s body pressed against yours, a powerful contrast to the cool night air. His breath still ghosted over your skin where he had bitten you—tender now, reverent, almost like an apology for the sharpness of it. But it didn’t feel like pain anymore.
You leaned into him without thinking, your hands curled into the fabric of his haori. Your heart thundered in your chest—not in fear, but in something else entirely. Something raw and strange and dangerously intimate.
“I can feel it,” you whispered, fingertips brushing the place where his teeth had claimed you. “It’s still warm.”
Sesshōmaru’s eyes darkened, glowing slightly in the silver moonlight. His hand slid down your back, not quite possessive—but it lingered like it needed to be there.
“It will remain,” he murmured. “A permanent mark. Not only on your skin, but in your scent.”
You blinked up at him. “My scent?”
He nodded, his nostrils flaring faintly as if to prove the point. “It’s changed. The moment I bit you... it shifted. It is unmistakable now. To other demons, to me—there is no hiding it.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but then his gaze dropped—slowly—to your collarbone. You followed it, and—
A pale crescent mark had begun to bloom just beneath the surface of your skin. Not angry or inflamed, but glowing softly, like moonlight stitched into your flesh. It shimmered faintly with every breath you took.
Your eyes widened. “Is that...”
“Yes,” he said simply. “The bond.”
You touched it gently, as if testing its reality. It didn’t hurt. It pulsed faintly under your fingers—warm, alive. Connected.
“What does it mean now?” you asked quietly.
Sesshōmaru stepped closer, his voice a low, restrained growl. “It means I will never allow distance between us again. That no one will ever dare lay a hand on you without facing death.”
You didn’t speak for a moment.
Not because you were afraid.
But because you could feel it too. The hum beneath your skin. The ache of closeness that somehow wasn’t close enough. The way your pulse jumped every time his scent filled your lungs. It was more than attraction. More than protection.
You watched his jaw clench, his breath quicken—subtle, but there. He was standing still, but it felt like he was at war with himself.
“Are you… okay?” you asked cautiously.
Sesshōmaru met your eyes with something fierce and conflicted behind his usually impassive gaze.
“You smell like mine,” he said, his voice taut. “And it drives me mad.”
“And yet,” he added, tilting his head slightly, “I would not touch you further unless you asked me to.”
You stared at him, stunned by both the intensity and the restraint.
“And if I did?” you asked softly.
He exhaled once, sharply, nostrils flaring.
“Then I would not stop until the whole world knew to whom you belonged.”
But then a playful spark flickered behind your gaze. You raised an eyebrow.
“Well,” you said, fingers brushing the edge of his armor, “that sounds both incredibly romantic and mildly terrifying.”
His lips curled—just slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“Good,” he said. “Then you understand.”
Still drawn together by a bond too fresh to define, he leaned in once more, inhaling deeply at the crown of your head, his lips brushing your hair as he whispered, low and reverent:
“You will sleep beside me tonight. For your safety.”
You rolled your eyes faintly. “For my scent, you mean.”
His silence was answer enough.
But as he gently picked up the fallen basket with one hand and laced his fingers through yours with the other—leading you back to the castle—you didn’t pull away.
Because something in your soul had already accepted the truth.
And some part of you had always known.
__________________________________________________________________________
The castle was quiet as he led you through its halls, your hand still resting in his. His grip never loosened, but it wasn’t tight. Not commanding. Just there—grounding, steady, warm in a way that caught you off guard.
You didn’t ask where he was taking you. You already knew.
When you reached his private chambers, Sesshōmaru opened the door silently. The space inside was wide and spare, but elegant. Moonlight filtered through rice paper screens, pooling in silver on the floor. You hesitated at the threshold for just a moment.
“This is not an invitation,” he said behind you. “It is necessity.”
You raised a brow, letting your fingers trail over the fresh mark at your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
His golden eyes locked on yours. “You smell like fire and warmth and mine,” he said evenly. “I cannot ignore it. Neither can you.”
Your throat tightened. You stepped inside.
He followed, quiet as breath, and only when the door slid shut behind you did you feel the weight of the bond surge again between you—like a live wire under your skin. You could feel his awareness of you. The way his eyes tracked your every movement. How his body radiated heat, though he hadn’t touched you again.
You stood in the center of the room for a moment, arms crossed.
“You’re restless,” you said.
“You are glowing,” he replied simply, as if that explained everything.
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
“The mark,” he said, motioning with his eyes toward your collarbone. You glanced down. The crescent mark pulsed faintly, the same silvery-blue as the moon outside.
You stepped toward the mirror and caught your breath. It was glowing—gently, not like a wound, but like moonlight had been stitched into your skin. Subtle, but alive. Beautiful, in a haunting way.
“It reacts to you,” Sesshōmaru said behind you.
“And you?” you asked, half-teasing, half-breathless.
He didn’t answer. Instead, you felt the heat of his body as he stepped behind you, close but not quite touching. His voice brushed your ear like velvet:
“I feel your nearness like a hunger.”
He reached out, slow and deliberate, and his claws gently brushed a loose strand of hair from your neck, careful not to touch the mark itself.
“I want you close because my instincts demand it. But more than that…” he paused, jaw tightening, “…I want you close.”
Your eyes fluttered shut.
This was no longer about instincts. Not entirely.
“You’re holding back,” you whispered.
He exhaled, and you felt his breath on your shoulder.
“If I didn’t,” he said lowly, “you wouldn’t sleep tonight.”
Your breath hitched, and he finally—finally—rested his hand on your waist. Gentle. Solid.
“Your scent,“ he said, voice quiet, low, strained. “It clouds my judgment.” You turned to face him slowly. “Is that… a bad thing?”
Sesshōmaru didn’t answer. He just looked at you — like he was memorizing the shape of you, the sound of your breath, the way your skin caught the moonlight.
You crossed your arms lightly. “So what happens now? You growl at anyone who gets near me and I glow like a firefly every time you breathe in?”
“I marked you,” he said quietly. “But I should not have tasted you.”
Your breath caught. “Why?”
“Because now I want more,” he said, almost to himself. “And I cannot… think clearly when you are near.”
He was still holding your waist. Pushing you closer to him. So close, you could feel the heat radiating off him. The way his body trembled, just slightly — like it was taking everything in him not to touch you.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” you echoed, voice soft.
His eyes dropped to your lips.
You opened your mouth to say something — you didn’t even know what — but before a single word could leave you, he moved.
His hand cupped your jaw, gentle but possessive, and his mouth met yours in a kiss that stole your breath and seared down your spine. There was no hesitation in it — just raw need and something deeper, something that curled like fire low in your belly.
You gasped softly against him, and that was all it took — his other hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
But then — almost as suddenly as it began — he pulled back. Barely. His breath came fast, ragged. His forehead pressed against yours.
“I shouldn’t,” he growled under his breath, claws flexing against your hip.
“Then don’t,” you whispered, lips still tingling.
“I can’t—” His voice broke off. He squeezed his eyes shut, like he was fighting something inside himself. “Your scent… it’s driving me mad.”
Your hand found his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart under your palm.
“You’re losing control,” you said softly.
He opened his eyes — and the look in them wasn’t cold. It was wild. Unrestrained. Needing.
You raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
The smallest growl rumbled in his throat. Then he took a long, shuddering breath and stepped back — only barely.
________________________________________________________________________
The silence between you stretched long and heavy.
You could still feel the press of his lips, the trembling in his hands, the heat that had seared through your skin when his mouth had claimed yours — brief, hungry, and pulled away too fast.
He stood a few paces away, his back to you, chest rising and falling with effort. Like the very act of keeping his distance was shredding him from the inside out.
And you understood it now. The way his eyes darkened when you got too close. The way his voice went hoarse around your name. The mark that now glowed faintly against your skin — a claim, a promise.
You’d been dancing on the edge of this for weeks. Pretending the pull between you wasn’t real. But it was. And now that you’d felt the depth of his longing — the ache just beneath his skin — you couldn’t ignore your own any longer.
You stepped forward, slowly.
“Sesshōmaru,” you said gently.
“I should not—” he began, but his voice cracked around the words. “I cannot… I have never—”
You closed the space between you, reaching out and brushing your fingers against his hand.
“Then let yourself,” you whispered. “Just this once.”
He turned — slowly, as if afraid he’d break the moment by breathing wrong — and when his golden eyes met yours, they were no longer cold.
Still, he hesitated. His claws flexed at his sides. “You don’t understand what you’re offering.”
He caught you in his arms so fast you barely registered the motion — one hand buried in your hair, the other firm at your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as his mouth crushed yours. This kiss wasn’t careful. It wasn’t composed.
It was need. Raw, consuming, and centuries in the making.
Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his haori, and he groaned low in his throat as you kissed him back — with everything you had. All the fear, all the longing, all the impossible emotions that had tangled between you from the moment you first crossed paths.
He backed you into the wall, lips never leaving yours, and the growl in his chest deepened when you whimpered softly under his touch. His claws skimmed your sides with maddening gentleness — he was still holding back.
You cupped his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze.
“Sesshōmaru,” you breathed, voice shaking, “you don’t have to control it. Not with me.”
Then his mouth was on your neck, kissing the place where his mark burned warm against your skin. You gasped as his tongue traced the line of it, and when his fangs sank in — slowly, reverently — your knees nearly gave out.
Held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.
When he pulled back, the mark had changed — glowing deeper, richer, thrumming with you both.
And the look in his eyes?
“You are mine,” he said hoarsely, forehead resting against yours. “In scent, in soul… in blood.”
You smiled, breathless. “Finally figured it out, huh?”
He growled softly — and kissed you again.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Only fire. And the ancient, silent vow of a daiyōkai who had finally stopped running from the truth in his chest.
________________________________________________________________________
The soft glow of dawn filtered gently through the translucent shoji screens, bathing the room in a warm, pale light. You lay nestled against Sesshōmaru’s broad chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing anchor in the stillness.
Your body was heavy with exhaustion, but the quiet calm around you was a balm — the kind of peace you hadn’t known for weeks.
His arm was draped protectively over your waist, holding you close but without restraint. The faint pulse of the mark on your neck throbbed softly, a subtle reminder of last night’s irrevocable change.
You lifted your head slightly, watching the play of early sunlight on his sharp features. His eyes were closed, eyelashes casting shadows against his pale skin, and the tension you’d seen in him before was gone, replaced by something quieter… softer.
A breath escaped you — half a sigh, half a question.
“Sesshōmaru,” you whispered.
His eyes fluttered open, golden irises slowly focusing on you. The raw intensity from last night was softened by something gentle, almost hesitant.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice low and rough from sleep.
You shifted to look up at him, tracing the line of his jaw with your eyes. “You didn’t leave.”
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I will not leave you. Not while you are weak.”
You let out a humorless laugh, but it wasn’t bitter — more a release. “Weak is a generous word for how I’m feeling.”
His hand moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing lightly over your skin. “You must rest. You have lost much strength.”
“And you don’t think I’m going to sneak away the moment you look the other way?”
His gaze darkened slightly, sharp and unreadable. “I would stop you.”
You smirked, teasing despite the weariness. “You make it sound like it’s not a question.”
“It is not,” Sesshōmaru repeated, voice firmer now.
You smiled softly, resting your head back against his chest. “Good. Because I don’t want to go anywhere just yet.”
His hand settled on your hip, thumb tracing slow, soothing circles. The silence between you was comfortable now — filled with unspoken promises and the kind of closeness that didn’t need words.
After a moment, you dared to ask, voice barely more than a murmur. “Do you think… things will ever be the same? Between us?”
His breath caught slightly. “No.”
He continued, voice low and steady, “It will be something different. Stronger. More… binding.”
Your fingers curled around his wrist, steadying yourself. “And does that frighten you?”
For a heartbeat, Sesshōmaru said nothing. Then, quietly, “No. It is a necessary change. One I have been avoiding… until now.”
You swallowed, heart pounding with a mix of hope and uncertainty.
“Then we’re both learning,” you whispered.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “Yes. Together.”
As sunlight crept further into the room, washing away the shadows of night, you felt it — a new beginning woven in the quiet, in the trust building between you.
And for the first time, the future didn’t seem so uncertain.
__________________________________________________________________________
The bond between you and Sesshōmaru was no longer something distant or abstract. It had begun to change you both in ways neither of you expected.
For you, the world itself felt subtly altered. Your dreams grew more vivid—filled with glimpses of distant places, flickers of Sesshōmaru’s memories, moments you had never lived but now felt intimately familiar. Sometimes, waking felt like crossing a threshold between two lives: one in the modern world you once knew, and another deeply intertwined with a timeless, ancient existence.
Physically, your body seemed to respond differently. Bruises healed faster, and fatigue faded more quickly, as if the bond offered a quiet, unspoken healing. But it wasn’t just your body—your emotions felt sharper, deeper. You found yourself more patient, but also more fiercely protective of the few moments of peace you shared with him.
Sesshōmaru, meanwhile, bore changes not so easily seen.
His usual calm was tinged with a restlessness you hadn’t seen before. He moved with the same deliberate grace, but occasionally his eyes would darken—not with anger, but something more like... uncertainty.
When you touched his hand, however briefly, you noticed the slight tremor beneath his stoic exterior—a crack in his armor. The bond, invisible but powerful, pulled at him too, weaving itself through his very being.
One evening, while you sat beside him watching the stars, Sesshōmaru spoke quietly, almost as if confessing to himself.
“This connection,” he began, voice low and rough with rare vulnerability, “it unsettles the order I have built around myself. It stirs emotions I long believed buried.”
You looked at him, surprised. “Like what?”
He hesitated, then met your gaze steadily. “Compassion. Patience. A desire... not just to protect, but to understand.”
You smiled softly. “Sounds like it’s changing you.”
“It is,” he admitted. “But not in ways I regret. This bond—though unexpected—has sharpened my sense of purpose, tethered me to something beyond solitude and power.”
Your heart tightened at the thought of the proud demon, whose life was forged in loneliness, admitting to such things.
“And you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “How do you bear this change?”
You thought for a moment, then answered honestly. “I’m scared sometimes. But I also feel... stronger. Like I’m part of something I didn’t believe was real.”
Sesshōmaru nodded slowly. “Then we face it together.”
The weight of those words settled over you both, heavy with promise and uncertainty.
You reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek—a rare softness in your touch.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” you whispered.
“Nor do I,” Sesshōmaru replied, his voice steady. “But whatever it is, we will face it side by side.”
In that quiet moment, the world around you felt still and whole—two souls, changed and changing, bound by a force deeper than time or fate.
