His Ritual by kaoruhana

His Ritual

A/N: SessKag Week 2021 Day 2 Prompts: Black, Malice, Mourning and Misfortune, Dignity and Formality

Cross-posted on AO3

Rated MA for implied Nudity

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Kagome watched him as he pushed open the large wooden gate and entered, making his way across their front yard.  Each step he took was measured and even, the geta he wore clacking as they hit stray pebbles on the path.  His black mourning kimono was such a stark contrast to his pale skin and silver hair, making the emotions present on his face more prominent.  

He was back from his visit.    

“Taken." She called, turning away from the sight, and making her way to where the retainer was standing guard near the house’s engawa. "Go inside, I’ll take it from here.”  

“The bathhouse water?”  The toad demon asked, pointing to the building set in the back right corner of the compound.  

“You’ve heated it enough haven’t you?”  She inquired as Sesshomaru’s geta sounded ever closer.  When Jaken nodded, she smiled at him.  “That should be enough for us then.  Tell the others to have some tea ready for us when we come in.  I don’t know about dinner yet.”  

The toad demon looked away, no doubt understanding why Sesshomaru-sama might avoid eating a meal today.  

He was always like this on this day, on the anniversary of Rin’s death.  

They’d already paid their respects this morning, him and Kagome both, but for Sesshomaru, this day was his day to spend by Rin’s graveside, cleaning the weeds and dirt from her tombstone, planting new flowers at the base, and spending hours talking to his departed daughter about all of the events and sights she was missing now that she was gone.  

Jaken and Kagome turned when they heard the clatter of the geta hitting the steps of the bathhouse knowing what it meant, and both a little surprised that Sesshomaru had already gone by them and approached the bathhouse.  

They looked at each other again.  Sesshomaru’s longtime retainer gave a nod to her, hurrying into the house to see to his tasks.  Kagome, meanwhile, rounded the house, feet tracking across the small pebbled path to the bathhouse, hearing a loud splash as she did so.  

Sesshomaru stood outside the building, near the bucket of cold water she had Jaken place there.  The bucket was now empty, its contents poured over his body.  Her mate stood there in the cold Spring sun, wet hair plastered to his forehead, black kimono sticking to his skin in areas.  He tilted his head to look up at Kagome when she approached.  

She said nothing, knowing better than to speak at the moment.  This was all part of Sesshomaru’s ritual, his way of mourning Rin, of centering himself after visits to her graveside.  

It was how he honored her after her passing, respecting the role Rin had played in his life.   

After a few moments of shared eye contact, Sesshomaru moved past her.  She shuddered as a few stray drops from his hair hit her as he walked by, the cold water so frigid it caused goosebumps to erupt on her skin.  Ignoring her, Sesshomaru made his way up the stairs of the bathhouse, and opened the door, letting himself into the steaming room.  

It didn’t close behind him.  

Instead, the open door served as an invitation for Kagome to join him when she wanted, to join him when she thought he was ready to welcome her presence and touch.  

It was always this way on this particular day.  

She gathered up his geta, the ones he had kicked off earlier, setting them properly to the side of the stairs.  She righted the bucket of cold water nearby and checked the area around the stairs to make sure it was not too wet.  

Then, and only then, did she climb the stairs to the bathhouse.  

She didn’t know much about this ritual of Sesshomaru’s, had never even seen someone perform the actions he did.  At least, not until InuKimi had explained it to her on one cold Autumn night over cups of warm sake and perfumed smoke.  

“It is the way we inu mourn.”  InuKimi had told her, taking a drag from her long pipe, and letting the fragrant smoke out.  “First, we visit the graveside of our pack member and spend the time telling our lost one about all they have missed.  Then, we come home and wash ourselves with cold water to rid us of the lingering sadness and despair, to purify us from that visit.  Finally, we bathe ourselves, reminding us of the present, the here and now, cleansing ourselves of all the emotions we have carried with us that day.”  

She had looked closely at Kagome on that cold Autumn night, eyes assessing, her stare seeming to see all the way into Kagome’s soul.  

“You should help him bathe one day, Miko Kagome.  It would be right… your right, as his mate.”  

InuKimi had never spoken more on that subject to her, but Kagome understood all the things her mother-in-law was telling her.  

And all of the things that she wasn’t.  

Let him mourn her the way he knows how, the way he wants to.  Let him have this moment.  And then, be there for him in a way that no else can.  

And so, every year, on this particular day, Kagome did just that.  

She and Jaken accompanied Sesshomaru to Rin’s gravesite.  There, they paid their respects to Rin, helping him clean her gravesite for a while before walking away, letting him have his moment with Rin.  

And they went home and waited for him to return to them. 

Some years, he arrived shortly after them, not having much to tell his beloved daughter.  Others, he came home as the twilight began to creep in, having spent most of the day at Rin’s side.  Most years though, he arrived sometime in the afternoon, after the lunch had been eaten, as the sun slowly began its descent in the sky.  

And every time, Kagome waited to hear the clacking of his geta on the pebbles in their walkway, had the bucket of cold water set just outside the bathhouse door for him, told Jaken to continue to heat the bathhouse water just for this moment.  

She cleared her head of all melancholy thoughts as she ascended the stairs, knowing that now was the time for her to be there for her mate in his time of grief.  As she neared the door, the heat from the bathhouse teased her.  She entered the steaming room, closing the door behind her, her eyes quickly finding Sesshomaru in the dim sunlight filtering in through the windows.  

His black kimono and nagajuban, and his fundoshi, lay in a wet heap on the floor to her right. She picked them up, placing them in an empty wooden bucket meant for soiled laundry.  Her hands then found her own obi, untying the knots of her own clothing.  She stripped herself of her own outfit, placing it with his in the bucket.  And only then, did she go join her mate.  

Sesshomaru sat on the stool, a washcloth in one hand already coated with rice bran.  She reached out for it, taking it from his loose hold.  Moving behind him, she kneeled, one hand pushing away his hair over a shoulder, the other pressing the cloth down on his shoulder blades.  Once that was done, she gently ran the cloth over his back in soothing circles, easing away some of the feelings and stress that always accompanied this day.  

She felt him relaxing with every stroke, every soothing press of cloth and exfoliant, his rigid posture softening.  She stopped, moving one hand forward, finding his left, entwining their fingers together.  

Her head came to rest where shoulder met neck, her lips laying a kiss there.  

“Please,” he uttered, his voice caked in emotion, “please continue.”  

Kagome pulled back, gathering more rice bran from a dish on a nearby ledge, moving the cloth over his arms, his legs, his thighs.  

There was nothing sexual or sensual about the act. 

Instead, all of her actions were merely about touch, about two people seeking the comfort that only skin on skin contact could bring them.  

Once finished, she pushed a bucket of lukewarm water towards him, a smaller bucket--a mug of sorts--accompanying it.  He washed himself, the movements slow and methodical, precise and calculated to ground him.  Two mugs of water to wash each arm, three over his head, soaking his already wet hair further to wash his back and chest.  Splashes of water to clean his lower half.  

When he finished, he filled the bucket again with water from a nearby cistern, and approached her. 

Kagome let him wash her, pouring the water over her body in the same, methodical, calculated way he had done earlier, knowing how much that action helped ground him, bring him back to the present. 

She glanced up at him after the last of the water was used, blue eyes blinking through wet strands of her thick, wavy black hair.  

“Sesshomaru?”  Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, one migrating to the base of his neck, and running through the hair found there.  

Her mate breathed deeply, closing his eyes, arms winding around hers, and tugging her closer.  He sank his face onto the shoulder, breathing in heaving lungfuls of her scent and air, as the emotions of the day finally found their release.  

It was cathartic.  

Eventually, she pulled him away, blue eyes shimmering.  

“Come,” she stated, sliding out of his loosening hold and entwining their left hands together again, “it’s getting cold, let’s sit in the bath.”  

They sat there for a while, the two of them together, Kagome’s back pressed to his chest, his head resting on hers, cocooned in the steaming heat of the tub of bath water.  With the heat surrounding them, and the comfort soaking into their bones from the moment, it was the perfect ending to a long, emotional day for Sesshomaru.  

He bent forward, his hair tickling her sides as he did so.  

“I would like some tea.”  He murmured.  “And then sleep.”  

She leaned back into his chest, one arm reaching out behind her to touch his face, turning her head slightly as she did so.  

“Tea it is then.”  She replied, leaning closer and brushing his lips with hers.  “And then sleep.”