In Requiem by Drosselmeyer

Chapter 1

The sound of rain woke him.

When he opened his eyes, all was still but for the sound of precipitation against his window, and he made his way out of bed, forsaking his clothes as he went to it to look out over the city. Lights littered the darkness, scattered fractals reflecting in the droplets on floor-to-ceiling glass.


He turned, her breathy, sleep-filled voice as foreign to him as they were to this side of the world. “Yes?”

The woman in his bed blinked, adjusting her sight to the darkness. “Is everything alright?”

For a suspended moment, he watched her, eyes skating over skin and curves he never would have expected to see. “Yes.”

And with that, he turned back to the window.

There was a sigh—which was not so surprising—and he heard the rustle of sheets and slide of her body over expensive percale as she moved to join him.

He wasn’t sure if he was glad or wished she hadn’t.

There wasn’t time to think much about it. Within seconds, she had made her way beside him, as naked as he as she stood, not quite touching him in front of that glass. He allowed himself a slanted glance, taking note of how her previously straightened hair now curled around her collarbone and shoulder. But, he supposed, working up a sweat could do that.

“It’s so different from back then.”


A wry smile pulled at her lips. “You never were one much for words.”

He arched his brow, looking down. Perhaps rather predictably, she just smiled wider.

“You’re kind of proving my point.”

She had him there. But, despite her perspicacity and the reluctant respect he had given it centuries before, it was too on the mark—too knowing of things he had long put to rest.

It was…unnerving.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Very unnerving.

“No.” And with that lie, he moved away.

It did not seem to bother her. As he returned to his bed, lighting a candle on his bedside table for a smattering of light, she remained by the window, looking out over the city, and he let her do as she wished, making himself comfortable once again to ready for sleep.

She looked back over her shoulder, blue eyes shining in the dark.

“What is it, Miko?”

Another smile—different this time. Deliberate, bold…


He held her gaze.

Time stretched between them, and in that space, there were moments and centuries, memories and possibilities. She wasn’t like he remembered her, and he doubted he was entirely as she remembered him. Years ago, he certainly would not have carried a miko into his bed after drinking wine with one, intent on making her scream. But he did and he had, and now she stood there backlit by New York and the rain, looking at him with thinly veiled desire from beneath sooty lashes.

He could blame the wine. Yes, he could do that.

If she knew his thoughts, she didn’t let on. She simply watched him for a moment more before dropping her eyes and wandering toward the decanter display and lifting heavy crystal to pour a stiff three fingers of scotch.

The candle warmed her skin.

He didn’t look away. The sight was pleasant. Arousing. And as she lifted the tumbler to her lips, the alcohol washing away whatever tinge was left of her lipstick, the light flickered and skipped over dips and hollows, leaving shadows in secretive places.

Previously secret. He was acquainted with them now.

“I used to watch you, you know.” She was peeking at him over the rim of her glass, a mixture of amusement and seduction lurking in those blue depths. “Before. When you’d show up.”

Leaning back against his headboard, he closed his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” The sound of the tumbler settling against wood reached his ears, followed by her footsteps. “Never thought we’d end up here.”

Eyes still closed, he felt one leg slide over his lap, the other finding its place against his opposite thigh, and she sank down against him, the heat of her stirring his desire as she leaned forward and tipped his face.


Shuddering, she bent closer, and he could taste the alcohol where her lips touched his. “Say it again.”

He did.

There was no decision to make after that. She kissed him long and hard, breasts pushed up against his chest as her hands tangled in his hair, and he leaned into her, pulling her closer, letting the tapered points of his claws only just graze her skin.

“More.” She threw her arms around his neck, crushing her mouth to his while grinding against his length. “More.”

He flipped her onto her back.

The rain began to pick up as she opened her legs, eyes hooded and heavy as she lay waiting on his bed. If her scent and actions hadn’t already made clear what she wanted, the slickness waiting for him would have been more than enough.

“Have the years broken your inhibitions, Miko?” Instead of entering her, he slid down between her thighs and used his thumbs to press her apart, letting his tongue flick out to taste.

Her breath hitched. “I prefer to think of it as experience gained.”

Experience. The word rolled around his head, and he leaned in, sucking gently at that swollen, exposed nub, and the strangled sound she made thrilled his blood even as her human taste provoked conflict within.

Memory, a legacy long forgotten—perhaps they did live in him.


Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, fading into soft, staccato breaths as her hand found its way back to his hair. She grabbed a fistful as she began to roll her hips against his face, and he dipped his tongue inside of her, curling upward, stroking.


Yes.”  With a light yank, she held him closer, her movement quickening. “That. Please, Sesshoumaru.”

The rain suddenly became a downpour, its clatter against the window like tiny rocks ricocheting off glass as she moaned his name, and memory spun backward.

A well. A jewel. A tomb.


And now, the past—here.

“Are you alright?”

Thunder chose that moment to crack, and his eyes widened for a moment before he schooled his expression and simply said, “Yes.”

Just that word again. Nothing more. Nothing less. But as things stood, the miko had always been one to see.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Locked onto her face, he looked right through her. Stared.

A shared pain entered her eyes. “It’s okay.”

Without another word, she tugged, silent as she encouraged him to join her, and he moved as if he were on automatic, barely noticing as she guided him to lay on her chest.

He just did, letting her put her arms around him.

“I get it, you know.”

The words trying to work past his throat were too difficult to speak out loud as she pulled the comforter over them. So, he didn’t, and before he knew it, pink-tipped fingernails were combing through his hair.

He closed his eyes, listened to her heart beating.

“Everything that happened back then was a lot.” Gently, she scratched at his scalp, moving a wayward lock behind his ear. “I didn’t think I’d find anyone again either.”

Lightning lit up the night, and he opened his eyes, looking at the window and waiting for it to happen again.

“When I first saw you on that street, I wasn’t sure if you were real.”

He closed his eyes again. Is that what this was? Disbelief settling in? Before he could contemplate it, his arm looped around her.

“And I think you’ve lost more than me.”


The memories struck.

Yes, he had lost.

Her blood rushing under his ear, he remembered as he listened. His daughter, the imp. A wind witch…

The hand in his hair trailed lightly down his back. “I’m so sorry.”

…his mother, father. The brother he had scorned.

“I miss them too.”

His chest felt tight.

Before he could take a breath, the miko shifted, moving them both until they shared the same pillow. And when he let himself settle in and looked at her face, there was only understanding.

Beneath the blankets, her fingers laced through his. “I can make breakfast.” she whispered.

A light kiss touched his lips, and Sesshoumaru finally breathed, closing his eyes. “Yes.”


A/N: Special thanks to Lady Goshawk for her input on this fic. Thank you for reading.


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