Kiss-Fist Means 'I Love You' by cakeiton


I don’t own anything Inuyasha.

A/N: You know what I don’t need right now? Another WIP… I’m terrible. Sorry if there are errors, will edit later.


Every night was the same dream.

It might have been a different time of day, or a different car, or a different road, but the dream always ended the same.

Tonight, he was driving the old coupe he owned when they had started dating. It was silver at some point in its life, but the night Sesshomaru had picked her up for their second date it was more of a lackluster gray. He had cleaned the interior and now, in his dream, he could smell the overly floral air freshener.

She was smiling, laughing at something he might have said or at one of her internal jokes, and was older than when they had first met. Her belly was swollen from their growing child, her more mature eyes sparkled with hope, and Sesshomaru knew how the dream would end. He tried to scream against it, to change the scene and make it different. He did not want to see it again.

But, as always, there was the blinding light, the screeching of grinding metal and locked tires, and the smell of that cheap air freshener burning in flames. Then, there was the pain.

Sesshomaru jolted awake, cold sweat dripping off his brow and the whole left side of his body burning. This had become standard. He did not need to look at the clock to know it was about four in the morning. He did not need to reach over to his wife’s side of the bed to know that she wasn’t there. Not that he could easily do so anymore anyways.

Wincing, he tried to turn towards the nightstand to find the small orange bottle, careful not to knock it over and spill its contents. He had thrown the cap across the room two days ago, frustrated at trying to get passed the child-proof top with only one hand. His brain was foggy from lack of sleep and an abundance of pain, but managed to dry swallow two pills before lying in the dark and waited for them to work

It had been six weeks since the accident that left him disabled and their house too quiet. Six weeks of nightmares and pain and pity from others. Pity only made it worse. Deep down he knew everyone meant well, but he felt there wasn’t anything anyone could do but feel sorry for him. What good would anyone be? What good could he be now?

Sesshomaru gripped his sheets and felt his missing arm tingle. He tried to take his attention off of the phantom ache by letting his mind linger on the more painful memory of loss instead.

In his mind’s eye he could see her, running to him from their room with a positive pregnancy test, her smile bright and tears streaming down her sweet face.

‘You’re going to be a Dad!’ she had squealed before running into his arms.

Both of them.

Sesshoumaru growled and reached for his phone. Before, it was kept on a charging station in the kitchen. She had hated phones in bed at night. During one of more energetic pregnancy mood swings, she had forbidden them from their room. He had abhorred the restriction originally. Now, it broke his heart to disobey her. However, he needed to be easy to reach.

Just in case.

Unlocking his phone, Sesshomaru awkwardly sat up and began to swipe away useless notifications. More people reaching out. More emails from support groups and professionals who must have received his information from the hospital. He sneered and felt a small, cathartic relief with each dismissal. They wanted him to heal. He was not ready.

Then, a melodic chirping of the Calendar app blipped at him, reminding him that today would not be like every other day since he had been discharged from the hospital for himself. Today would be very different and his stomach twisted from what he could only label as fear.

He would be allowed to see his daughter today.

The breath stilled in his throat and every part of him froze. He had seen her through the glass of the observation area of the NICU. When he was able to walk, his left side bandaged from surgery and relentlessly throbbing, Sesshomaru dragged himself along with the nurse. She was trying to give gentle warnings and reassurances, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing just how small and frail their baby was.

A heavy dread shot up from his weakened knees, reaching up from inside him to grab onto his collarbone and dragged him down. He allowed it, feeling the numbness and bitter cold envelop him entirely. The nurse was calling for help to get him back to his feet, but he could not really hear it. He could only see the tiny infant; a tuft of dark brown hair- her dark brown hair- and countless tubes that kept her alive. He could only hear his wife’s voice endlessly listing baby names.

After a few very intense weeks, with several close calls of losing the child as well, she was stable enough for Sesshomaru to actually visit.

He stared at his phone, his mind lost in thought, and was unsure if he would be able to.


The early morning became early afternoon too quickly. Sesshomaru sat on their couch, and waited for his ride to the hospital. His legs bounced, and the jarring motion made his head and healing shoulder pound, but he couldn’t stop himself. Adrenaline raced through him as he thought about having to make the decision three weeks ago between the possibility of losing his wife or the possibility of losing both wife and child.

After three weeks of holding on, his wife’s health began to decline. The trauma of the accident and the stress of carrying a 23-week old fetus had been too much strain. They could deliver the baby and try to save her afterwards or try to induce a coma and use her as an incubator. It was a fucking horrible choice. Both options were incredibly unfair. He could feel nothing but pain and anger and hopelessness when the doctor pressured him for an answer. He knew why, time was short and they needed to act quickly. Sesshomaru still resented him for it.

In the end, she didn’t make it. The baby had. Barely.

Three weeks of fearing a phone call and keeping his cell by the bed drained him of almost anything left, but the child’s condition had improved dramatically. Finally, the prognosis was something other than, ‘We will do everything we can.’ Now, after a short car ride, he was here to face his new reality.

Sesshomaru was led into the room with the rows of incubators. It was almost too warm and smelled of disinfectant. Breathing machines and beeping monitors sang a slow, morose rhythm that was inescapable. The sterile environment was not welcoming and he felt his hesitation grow.

His guide said something he did not catch. “I’m sorry?” Sesshomaru asked.

“I said,” the hospital attendant replied gently, “She is the one on the end of this aisle and to the right. There should be a chair waiting. Just let us know if you need anything.”

Instantly, he thought of the one thing he needed if he was to get through this, but she was gone and her legacy was just there- at the end of this aisle and to the right. He swallowed a hard lump and forced a step forward.

The baby had been silent since birth, too weak to even cry much. There had been a few close calls, what the staff had called “touch-and-go’s”, but they all assured him that she was strong. He had to be strong too now, and forced himself to take another step.

First, he saw that same tuft of dark brown hair. Then, pale wrinkled skin. The child’s eyes were closed and she seemed unaffected by the myriad of instruments emitting from her to keep her alive.

The chair they sat him in was hard, but he barely noticed. Sesshomaru thought he would not be able to look at her, that it would hurt too much and that he would feel too hopeless. Now, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Tentatively, he reached in through the small opening, His large hand could almost encompass her whole body. He shook, afraid of this delicate thing in front of him, and placed the tip of his pinky against her tiny palm.

“Hello,” Sesshomaru said, unable to think of anything else.

She laid there, unresponsive, as the machines kept their steady beat around them.

It’s okay,” he said, his voice a little raspy from disuse. He cleared his throat and added gently, “You don’t have to respond. You take all the time you need.”

He stared at the impossibly small baby girl even as his vision became blurry from unshed tears, the tip of his finger dwarfing her doll-like hand. He watched her thin chest move up and down. Up and down. Up, down, and not giving up.

Finally, one tear fell, leaving a cool trail down his heated cheek. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

Then, he felt her frail fingers squeeze his own. It was faint, like a butterfly flutter of pressure, but unmistakable. Surprised, a gasp of a chuckle escaped him.

“That’s good,” he encouraged, trying to keep his voice calm though something quickly blossomed in him. “Well done. That’s very good.”

Easily, his lips stretched in a smile that he wouldn’t be able to suppress if he tried.

His daughter held on to his finger well past visiting hours. There had been someone who requested him to leave, but he ignored them. They were not important. Only she was important.

Late into the evening when he finally acquiesced to the increasingly nervous nurses, Sesshomaru stepped out into the cool air and breathed deep. His back ached from the cheap, hard chair and shoulder protested every small movement, and he didn’t care.

Sesshomaru pulled out his phone, punched in a couple of commands, then held it to his tear-stained cheek.

Their little girl was so strong, so he would be too.

“Inuyasha,” Sesshomaru called to his shocked half-brother when he answered the other end. “I think I will require your assistance. When can you come over?”

A/N: I PROMISE IT WON’T BE THIS ANGSTY THE WHOLE TIME! The story will go uphill pretty much the whole time. Cross my heart.


INUYASHA © Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan • Yomiuri TV • Sunrise 2000
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