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Kagome clutched the green hanten around her shoulders, uncaring for the odd glances she received from some of the younger train passengers passing her as they noted her clothing. What did it matter that she wore it over a long sundress? She wanted to wear it today, to clutch the old, faded garment around her shoulders, to finger the faded seams and numerous patched stitches.
The train lumbered on, past Chiba, past Oamishirasato, past Ichinomiya until it reached the town of Isumi. She left it then, fingers still clutched to the hanten around her shoulders, her sundress swishing around her ankles, sandaled feet taking her towards a man wearing traditional clothing, long hair in a low ponytail, who leant against a pillar.
“Sesshomaru.”
She didn’t think the sama was necessary anymore, their relationship having changed enough that it no longer required it.
“Kagome.” He greeted, unfurling his hands from their crossed position, sleeves billowing once more to rest by his side. He extended a hand to her, and she took it, fingers slotting together.
He had missed this, in those five hundred years he had been waiting for her. He’d missed holding her hand, feeling the warmth of it in his, feeling her loving gaze directed at him.
He also missed seeing how lovely that hanten looked on her, the green one that he had first gifted to her so many many years ago.
“You are still wearing it.” He murmured; his words so similar to the ones he’d uttered ages ago in that grove they had built together.
She smiled, her free hand tugging at the hanten’s collar. “Yes.”
Golden eyes softened. He used the hand he was holding to pull her closer to his side, leading her out of the train station to the small parking lot out front. They made their way to Sesshomaru’s pick-up truck, climbing into it as he began to drive them to his home.
When he’d first given her the sheet of paper with his address, invited her for a visit, a date, their first real modern date, Kagome had been surprised. But she’d agreed and plans had been made.
It was so strange, she thought, to be able to visit him now, to see him in the modern world, and not have to wait in her hut or in the grove for him. He no longer had to flare his youki to announce his presence. Instead, he was only a phone call away.
Or in today’s case, a three-hour train ride away.
They lumbered their way past paved roads and a small town, down a dirt path with more bumps than she expected. They passed rural roads and landscapes—a field of corn in the distance, some hills looming before them, rows of rice paddies to her right. They turned onto a narrow dirt lane, winding their way past even more fields until they arrived at a lone house with a rickety iron gate that lay open.
Sesshomaru turned into the small driveway and parked his car.
Kagome stepped out into a wide courtyard taking in the house. It was traditional, just as she had expected of him, with a wide engawa running the length of the structure, curving around to lead to the back. A Shiba Inu came running out from the backyard to greet him.
Sesshomaru leant down to welcome it.
“Come, Yuki,” he stated fondly,” I want you to meet someone.”
He led the dog towards Kagome who waited, watching to see how Yuki would react to her presence. Yuki sniffed around her, nosing her hand once, then sat back, tongue lolling, completely accepting.
“You have a dog?” She asked as Sesshomaru scratched Yuki behind the ears before letting her go, the two of them watching her make her way out of the gate.
“Someone to keep me company when it gets lonely.” Sesshomaru told her, extending his hand again and leading her inside the house.
They ascended into the house proper, toeing off their shoes in the genkan, walking with bare feet on the soft tatami. He led her first towards the dining room, the shoji closed, but letting in warm, late Spring sunlight. Kagome removed her hanten, folding it carefully and setting it on the low dining table as Sesshomaru slipped into his kitchen.
He emerged carrying two trays laden with food. Steaming bowls of hot rice accompanied bamboo shoots decorated with soy sauce and mirin, chirashi-sushi next to it in its own bowl. And on a plate, set slightly apart from the rest of the meal was a sakura mochi, a leaf wrapped around it tightly.
“Did you make this?” She asked as he set the meal down in front of her. He didn’t answer, disappearing for a moment then coming back out with the tea—some warm sakurayu. Then, he took his own seat across from hers.
“Eat.” He told her pouring them both the tea. “You must be famished.”
They ate in mostly silence, Kagome peppering it with exclamations about taste and flavor.
She took slow sips of the sakurayu peeking at him over her cup, sharing smiles with him over the table.
And later, when she used her hands to pull apart the mochi, she couldn’t help but gush at the taste.
“You cooked all this for me?” She asked later as they stood side by side in his modest kitchen, cleaning the remnants of their meal.
“Five hundred years is a long time.” He answered, one wet hand reaching out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “It has given me time to learn many things.”
She smiled softly, one hand coming to rest on his cheek, fingering the stripes that laid invisible under his modern glamour.
“It is a long time.” She answered. “And I’m glad you learned so much. And now, you can teach it to me.”
His eyes closed, and he moved his face to lay a kiss on her hand. “I look forward to it, Kagome.”