The LESS THAN THREE Series:
A collection of one-shots on love and technology.
Romance just got a lot less romantic.
MISS DIAGNOSED
(Less Than Three # 4)
By Keelah
Miss Diagnosed
A Sesshomaru-Kagome One-Shot
In which Kagome is diagnosed with a deadly illness.
By a technologically impaired daiyoukai.
He was no expert on technology.
Lord Sesshomaru knew this well. Though he'd remained well-read and knowledgeable in modern practices of business, economics and finance… he must admit there were aspects of the current era that he was not as knowledgeable in. Computers and tablets and (actually very brainless) smart phones were well beyond his expertise.
But that did not matter.
He needed not be a tech-savvy engineer, nor a medically trained doctor, to comprehend the dreadful and agonizing implication of the seemingly harmless device in his hand. He brought it to his nose and caught a whiff of a strange, tangy odor that was unpleasant to his strong sense of smell but was definitely Kagome's DNA. Sesshomaru examined the highly advanced piece of medical technology, loathing but slightly in awe of the modern mechanism that estimated the remaining span of a human life, all within that small, unassuming strip. No apparent suspicious features coated its surface. He sniffed, touched… gave a cautious lick…
Nothing.
Nothing to indicate or imply dreadful news, except for the small, gray screen on one side.
The small, digital characters seemed innocuous and harmless, as though it meant no ill-will as it passively displayed his own mate's impending demise.
[ 5 weeks + ]
He knew.
He knew what it meant.
It was a ticking time bomb.
Kagome only had five weeks left to live.
The air in his lungs seemed to escape him.
He should have known – should have found out sooner. She'd been acting strange as of late. The nausea. The lack of appetite. Her moments of near-fainting, the days where she grew easily tired, more so than an average human's. He hadn't brought himself to suspect anything amiss because Kagome had always been so… alive. So healthy. So bright. Until a couple weeks ago, there was nothing about her that suggested that light would ever burn out. He saw her every day and shared their bed every night, but never, not once, did he sense or smell anything that suggested her fragile and very human body was slowly, painfully breaking down.
But the signs have been there all along, and a flood of self-loathing surged through him for missing it.
She'd been sick, terribly sick, terrifyingly sick, this last week. Cold sweat, pale skin, trembling limbs… and the way her stomach couldn't keep anything in. Stomach flu, she'd said. It'll pass, she'd said.
What an amazing liar she must have been, he thought bitterly, that he believed her.
She'd been hiding her secret all this time.
For years he'd denied the possibility of it – of her delicate and painfully mortal body reaching its demise. The undeniable and inevitable expiry date of her life, so achingly momentary compared to his endless, tortured, lonely lifetime, had always been in the back of his mind. Sometimes faded, but never truly forgotten. He'd dreaded but refused to face the possibility of her leaving him, especially when he'd spent half a millennium waiting for her to spark to life. It was an unthinkable kind of torture, he thought, to have lived his life waiting for her sweet, momentary, fleeting lifetime and then continue on his endless existence devoid of her.
He just thought he'd have more time.
Indeed, half a millennium of waiting did not produce fruitless results – he'd been searching, studying, researching. He'd planned to keep her with him, to lengthen her heartbeats, to pull from every spell and power and old knowledge he knew to make sure her life wasn't as fleeting and fragile as he feared. And he was close. So close.
But he needed just a little more time.
Yet he'd seen the evidence himself in the last few days – her body was weak and struggling. Her immune system was deteriorating. Her limbs shook with frailty and tired easily.
Kagome was dying.
His long, clawed fingers tightened lethally around the offending device. His shoulders were taut stiff, rigid with a fierce denial of the situation. No. No, it was wrong. Kagome was fine. Kagome was going to be fine, she was – Dread and anger and disbelief washed over Sesshomaru, though underlining beneath each sensation was one thicker and more suffocating than all the rest – anguish.
As he stood there, alone in the empty bathroom of their master bedroom, the sudden lack of his mate's presence in the house felt overwhelming and pervasive. He felt her absence harder now that it threatened to stretch for the rest of his lifetime. Only one word screamed from the very depths of his being.
No.
He watched her silently from the couch, narrowed, vigilant eyes trained on the woman who fluttered about the large kitchen, elbows deep in wasted flour, attempting to conjure something close to edible. His heart, supposedly wrought of steel and ice, churned in muted pain as he watched her light, bright and burning and full of life. How could he face darkness again? Alone? Without the foolish little human?
It was inconceivable.
He could bear it no longer, could stand the distance between them no longer, not when he knew these moments between them were numbered. Time had once again played its cruel trick on their fates, and they, once again, fell as helpless pawns to its manipulative, ruthless fingers, threatening to tear what they had fought and waited for, for so long.
Sesshomaru jolted out of his seat and marched into the kitchen.
Kagome jumped in surprise when he tore the sack of flour from her hands. He lifted the hefty bag and laid it on the counter. "I'll do it. What do you need?"
Her soft, little mouth gaped in surprise for a moment before recovering. "Oh. Okay. Well, the recipe says three cups of flour… but, I mean, I'm feeling a little hungry, aren't you? We could make it four cups, I'm sure it won't make a difference…"
Other than making an incredibly dense and undercooked cake.
He took the measuring cup from her hands. "Alright. What else?"
She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at the recipe she's printed out, as if she was actually bothering to read the instructions, which this Sesshomaru knew from experience that she was most certainly not.
"You can measure the rest of the ingredients? And I guess we just dump everything the bowl and… mix."
She turned to reach the cupboards above her head. Lightning fast, Sesshomaru stretched to open the cabinets and grab the large stainless bowl. "I got it," he murmured, ignoring her stunned surprise, as he laid the bowl on the counter and laid a gentle had to her back. "Don't strain yourself."
"It's up to my eye-level," she remarked dryly. "I'm not exactly going to tear a muscle."
A long, exasperated sigh escaped him. "What else?"
"Eggs. We need eggs. I should run to the mart quickly to buy some, oh, and milk!"
"No," Sesshomaru snapped. "No running."
He grabbed her wrist before she could slip free and steered her to a seat with gentle, guiding hands. "I'll do it."
"I can do it."
"Miko. Sit down."
She frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Everything.
"You're being strange. More than usual. Did you have a fight with the computer again?"
"Of course not."
Kagome huffed exasperatedly, and moved to stand. "Sesshomaru, we don't have time for this. I'm hungry, we need eggs, and I—"
She wavered. For the slightest, smallest moment, she wavered. But it was enough for him to catch it. The fleeting flash of blurriness in her eyes, the soft, unsteady sway to her right, her light fingers tightening around the counter's edge. He was beside her in a flash, palms cradling her face, alert, panicked, desperate eyes searching hers.
"Are you hurt?"
"What?"
"Are you in pain?"
"What, no—I just got a little dizzy—"
"Sit down. I'll fetch a doctor.."
"But—!"
He leaned over and pressed his lips against her forehead. His heart pounded in alarm. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose her now.
"I will not allow anything to harm you, Miko."
She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him away, flustered, befuddled. "Why are you being so overprotect—?"
Then, she froze.
Her eyes, wide as a deer caught in glaring headlights, slowly crawled up to meet his. Her voice was faint, disbelieving, and slightly unsteady.
"You know."
Now it was Sesshomaru's turn to freeze.
"You know, don't you?"
His lips pursed into a tight, unyielding line.
"How did you find out?"
How did he find out? This Sesshomaru had a better question. He grabbed her shoulders – firmly, but gently, as though he cherished but feared shattering the invaluable glass between his hands – and sat her down on the kitchen stool. He leaned forward, hands on either side of the counter behind her, forcing her eyes to meet his.
His voice was low, trembling, barely constraining the hundred different sentiments tremulous underneath.
"Why," he muttered, "why have you kept this from me?"
He'd been wondering for a while.
Though her movements were slower than usual, Kagome still flew about restlessly, without a care in the world, as though nothing was amiss. But it was all a façade, he knew. She was gravely, deathly ill. Why had she kept her illness from him? At first, a knee-jerk instinctive shot of anger flashed through him, enraged at her secrecy over something as life-changing, as world-shattering as this. But the anger was quickly curbed by memories of him softly chiding her for her weakness, her humanness, back in the feudal era and sometimes even now.
A thick blanket of guilt and shame came over him – he had never meant those remarks as a criticism to her. His loathing of her fragility was a testament to his own self-frustration – he'd come to love her frailty, her delicateness, but grew frustrated with himself more and more when he couldn't protect her from it. When she bled and bruised and fell ill, and he could do nothing.
She shifted, uncomfortable.
"I wasn't keeping it from you. I just wanted to think of, you know, a good way to tell you."
To break it to him gently. But there was no gentle way to break the news that your life and love had only weeks to live. The reminder of that prospect gave another shot of fear through his bones.
"You should have told me. Right away. You are my mate, miko, we deal with this together!"
Her eyes softened. "Really?"
"Of course," he spat incredulously, horrified she would even ask.
"It's just, I wasn't sure, you know, how you would react…"
Sesshomaru shook his head. Their hours together were numbered and here she was, doubting his devotion for her. It was his fault; he knew he was to blame. He grabbed both sides of her face again and bore his eyes into hers, leaving no room for doubt, for they had no time for uncertainty now. "Kagome," he whispered. "I know… I know I am not a man of many words."
She stared. Not quite comprehending. "Right. No, you aren't."
"So I… I apologize. For not telling you enough."
"Telling me…?"
His eyes bore into hers, making sure she understood every word, every breath out of his mouth.
"This Sesshomaru loves you, miko. You must know that."
Her eyes fluttered. A slow, sweet smile. "I love you, too." She reached to run a thumb across his brow, smoothing the worried, panicked lines on his forehead. "Don't worry. We have time to get used to the idea."
His arms tightened around her.
"This is too soon," he growled, angry at the universe for tearing her away so quickly. "It's all happening so fast."
"…I guess... Well, I mean, to be honest, I was beginning to wonder if you were firing blanks, but—"
"—I will not allow anything to harm you. Not even this."
She paused.
The smile on her face turned befuddled.
"That's… very protective of you. But there's no need to worry–"
No.
The word rang in his mind, strong and hard as steel. Cold hard determination tautened his shoulders and thinned his lips into a firm line.
No.
He would not lose her.
Not to this.
Chronic illnesses, deadly diseases be damned.
No human phenomenon would dare challenge this Sesshomaru's claim on the miko, damn it.
He would find some way to save her. He had to. His plan all along had been to find a way to match her lifetime to his – no matter if the method be ancient, feudal or modern – and the alternative… The alternative, he had never doubted in his mind.
He would match her lifetime to his.
Or, if he failed, match his lifetime to hers.
For he'd already lived his entire life without her. He knew what it was like and had no desire to live through it once more.
But for now… for now he would have to deal with this… this illness, whatever she had, whatever was killing her.
"I will rescue you from this, Kagome."
"…Oh?"
"No harm will come to you."
"That's… you're being very sweet, Sesshomaru. A little overkill, as always, but…"
"I'll get rid of this abomination."
All smiles and soft eyes faded.
"Excuse me?"
"This Sesshomaru will not allow anything to take you away from him."
"Wait, just hold on, I don't–"
"We'll get rid of it."
A gasp. It sounded a little horrified, but – no, it was disbelief and shock, an incredulity at his determination to save her from her fated demise. How could she expect any less from the Lord of the Western Lands? Did she think he would let her die so easily from a mere humanly disease?
"Are you serious?" she shrieked.
"It's for the best."
His miko gaped at him.
"What—? You—…!?"
"I will make sure that you—"
"…YOU DON'T WANT THE BABY?!"
…
…
…
The ba—…?
Sesshomaru blinked.
"—the what?"
The End.
…
…
…
Or not quite. ;)
Sesshomaru glared at the offending, cunning device on the counter, seemingly innocent, but malicious and conniving and utterly devilish beneath the lying exterior. That stupid, misleading, deceptive little—
"It's a what?"
"A pregnancy test."
"And you did what?"
"Peed on it."
He suddenly remembered all the different ways he'd set on "examining" the devil-sent object.
He sniffed, touched… gave a cautious lick…
Oh, god damn it.
The REAL End.
Giggled? Broke into a tiny, little smile?
Leave a review & tell me your favorite parts!
Entirely grateful for your feedback,
Keelah
Check out other one-shots in the LESS THAN THREE Series for more of Lord Sesshomaru's technological misfortunes!
The LESS THAN THREE Series:
A collection of one-shots on love and technology.
Romance just got a lot less romantic.
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