Chapter Text
Chapter One Hundred One: Beneath the Covers
Sesshōmaru – POV
He made sure to get her back to the bedroom before Kimi noticed.
It wasn’t that he feared his mother—he didn’t fear anything. But he had no interest in subjecting Kagome to another round of maternal lectures disguised as protective scoldings. Not after nearly two days of unconsciousness, a flooded youki system, and more miso than any demon lord could stomach in one sitting.
So he’d walked her back himself.
Guided her with a steady palm on her back. Let her lean into him when her knees wobbled, though she tried to pretend they weren’t. She was prideful, his mate. Even now. Especially now. There was something sacred in watching her try to move like she hadn’t just been leveled by her own power.
When they reached his door, he opened it quietly, ushered her in with a hand to the small of her back, and closed it softly behind them.
Only to be greeted immediately by a low, content growl. Then another. Two black-furred hellhounds slithered out from beneath the bed like shadows come alive—paws silent, eyes glowing faintly, ears perked. One licked her hand. The other promptly rolled onto its back and demanded belly rubs like a creature that had never once tasted blood.
Kagome froze. Then smiled.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “You let them sleep under the bed?”
He sighed.
“They refused to leave. The small one bit Verran when he attempted to coax it outside.”
She giggled and collapsed onto the bed, pulling the covers up over her lap while the hounds promptly climbed in around her like living pillows.
Sesshōmaru watched in quiet fascination as one draped its head on her thigh while the other flopped across her feet and sighed like a bored cat.
“They’ve imprinted,” he murmured. “Charming.”
“I love them,” she said immediately, stroking their fur with dreamy fingers. “They’re warm.”
“Hn.”
He moved to his side of the bed and shrugged off his outer robe. She had already begun tucking herself beneath the covers, nestling deeper, looking far too pleased for someone who’d just spent nearly two days on the edge of spiritual combustion.
And then—her voice, soft. Hesitant.
“What happened?”
He paused. Not because he didn’t know what to say. But because he was debating how much to say.
Her face was tilted toward him now, eyes open in the darkness, reflecting what little moonlight spilled in from the windows. She looked so small again. Not fragile—never fragile—but young. Mortal. Tired.
There was fear there, buried under the curiosity. But not of him. Of herself. Of what was growing in her. Of what her body had done without permission.
So he sat beside her, reached out, and gently ran a claw through the hair behind her ear before he answered.
“You now have a healer,” he said quietly. “She arrived yesterday. You will meet her in the morning.”
Kagome nodded once, and waited.
He sighed.
“And…she confirmed that your reiki and the pup’s youki were at odds. That the child had not yet learned how to tolerate both. It...acted out. The result was what you experienced. An internal conflict.”
Kagome blinked. “So I almost died because the baby…didn’t know how to coexist with me?”
Sesshōmaru narrowed his eyes. “You did not almost die. You were exhausted. Your body did what it needed to protect you.”
He watched her process that. She nodded slowly again. Stared at the ceiling for a long beat.
“And how long do I have left?” she whispered.
He stilled.
She was sharper than she looked.
“…We believe,” he said carefully, “that demon pregnancies normally last ten weeks.”
She slowly turned her head toward him.
“And?”
“…You are left with five weeks. Give or take.”
Her mouth parted in a small “oh.”
And then—
She blinked.
“Wait.”
He waited.
“Are you telling me I’m due in five weeks?!”
One of the hellhounds yawned. Sesshōmaru considered the animal’s wisdom.
“Yes.”
A beat passed.
“ Are you kidding me?! ”
“No.”
“ Five ?! Sesshōmaru—I haven’t even told my family! I haven’t even figured out how to raise a baby! What am I supposed to—what if I—what if we—”
He kissed her. Softly. Just once. His palm sliding to cup the side of her jaw.
“It will be fine,” he murmured when she stilled. “This is not chaos. It is a process. And we are in it together.”
Her lips trembled. “But what if I mess it up?”
“You will.”
She stared.
He smirked faintly.
“We all do. And yet, we continue.”
He reached over and touched her belly, gently.
“This one is strong. As are you. And we will prepare.”
Kagome took a deep breath. Then another.
And finally…
She sank into the pillows and mumbled under her breath, “Five weeks. Shit.”
He leaned down and kissed her temple.
“Go to sleep, little priestess. We’ll conquer tomorrow when it arrives.”
And when her breathing evened out, and the hellhounds curled tighter around her like living guards, Sesshōmaru leaned against the headboard, arms folded behind his head, and watched his mate sleep.
He himself did not sleep. There was no need.
Not when her body was still recovering. Not when her reiki and the pup’s youki had only just struck their first tenuous peace. Not when two hellhounds had, apparently, claimed his mate as their own nesting den and were now practically smothering her with protective weight. One lay draped over her legs, the other curled at her back with its snout tucked beneath her arm, huffing softly each time she exhaled.
Sesshōmaru sat against the headboard, one arm behind his neck, the other resting atop the coverlet near her waist, fingers lightly tracing idle patterns just above her hip. She stirred now and then—unsettled dreams, he suspected—but never fully woke.
And still…he watched. Her breathing remained steady. Her pulse, slow but firm. And her scent—gods, her scent—no longer sharp with pain or confusion, but softened with rest and the faintest trace of lingering miso from her midnight raid.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Let the silence stretch. But his mind refused stillness.
If the healer’s estimate was accurate—and it was—it left them with little time.
Five weeks. Perhaps less. Five weeks to prepare not only the household, the delivery, and the resources—but her.
And, he thought grimly, her family.
Sesshōmaru opened his eyes again, golden gaze drifting to the low flicker of the lamp across the room. It cast a quiet glow, soft enough not to disturb her, but strong enough for him to clearly see the subtle tension still lingering in her brow.
He had hoped to wait longer. To establish stability before inviting more unknowns into the already volatile equation. But that was no longer a luxury they could afford.
Her family had not been informed. They did not know she was safe. They did not know she was pregnant.
And while Kagome had willingly stepped into his world, she had not severed ties with hers. Nor would he ask it. It had never been a requirement. And now, with time rushing forward like a wave on stone, it would be an insult not to extend the proper respect to those who had raised her.
His jaw tightened.
He would not spring a child upon them as if they were afterthoughts. He would do this correctly. Honorably. As her mate. As her protector. As the soon-to-be father of their child.
Sesshōmaru exhaled once through his nose. Resolved.
By tomorrow, he would send correspondence. Discreet, but urgent. He would ask her who should be contacted, and how. Whether it was a phone call, a visit, or a formal letter carried on youki and name.
And then…he would meet them. Personally. Not with guards or pomp, but with humility and clarity—because despite what any bloodline dictated, they were her family. And she would never be made to feel ashamed of them in his presence.
He glanced down at her once more, eyes softening.
She’d curled slightly onto her side now, hand unconsciously reaching out for the space he had left beside her. Her fingers twitched when they touched only empty linen. One of the hellhounds nosed her palm, and she stilled.
Sesshōmaru allowed himself a faint smile.
Perhaps this was what Kimi had known before he had. That family was not forged only through mating marks and bloodlines, but through devotion. Through effort. Through care. And Kagome? She was giving him everything.
The very least he could do was make sure her people knew she was protected. Wanted. Cherished. Even if that meant a formal meeting with a grandfather who still dusted shrines and thought this was all some kind of supernatural fever dream. Even if it meant a brother who probably would threatened to beat him with a frying pan.
He would face it all. For her. And for the pup that now grew inside her.
Sesshōmaru leaned forward and gently moved the strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. She sighed in her sleep and leaned into his touch.
His chest tightened.
Yes. He would make the arrangements.
At first light.
And perhaps…he would bring a gift.