Author's Note: This is the piece I have told a few of you about. It is Sesshoumaru's account of Eden, somewhat. I hope it answers most of your questions. This is not a one-shot; as 'Eden' progresses, so will this. I have already have a lot written out, but it is not the appropriate time to post it now. It skips around a bit, so feel free to send me a message if you're confused in any way.

I look forward to your feedback!

You were always the annoying one. Always the one that Father hated the most. You were always the one that got Inuyasha into trouble. Smoking cigarettes, ditching school, you were always the one blamed.

And why shouldn't you be? Because most often than not, it was you that was at fault. You were so small, you should have been so insignificant, but you always strived to be different, to be significant, even though you had no right.

Because next to Kikyou, everyone was insignificant. Next to Kikyou, even the most beautiful model looked like a dirty, age-old rock. Next to Kikyou, the kindest woman on the face of the planet looked like a shrew. Next to Kikyou, you were nothing.

Kikyou was the sun in the galaxy of our lives. No matter which way we turned, no matter how many times we looked away, everything always ended up revolving around Kikyou. And I don't think anyone could really help it. We all did it subconsciously, even Father to a certain extent.

Everyone did…except you.

You were always the odd one out, the one late for dinner, the one people dumped on our doorstep at an ungodly hour, passed out drunk.

You were the one who cared shit-all about what people around you were saying, you were the one who could express your opinion that shocked others into silence.

But I don't think you believed half of what you said. Probably because you were either drunk or getting drunk whenever you spoke.

I can remember the first time you infuriated me. Kikyou had to hold me for about an hour to calm me down.

But you know? It wasn't even what you did that made me so mad. It was the look on your face. It was what your eyes were telling me.

Throwing brown paint mixed with canine feces on my walls was annoying, at the least, because these things can be fixed. They were fixed. Father made you do it. And really, it was you and Inuyasha who got most of it on yourselves, anyway. Inuyasha probably convinced you to leave my belongings alone. Good thing, because I would have locked you in the outhouse until I thought it fit for you to come out. Which would probably be a long, long time.

But that was almost irrelevant. It was when I confronted you about it that made rage course through my veins.

You kept your head down, which fit you perfectly. But it was your eyes…your eyes that kept darting up to me, stealing glances, like you knew something that I didn't. Even when I grabbed your chin and made you look at me – you didn't. Your stare was just off the corner of my face, but the look on your face said it all.

You didn't care.

You thought it was funny.

I wanted to smack you so hard that you spun in circles and fainted of dizziness. I wanted to punch your eye, so that it would swell shut and turn purple.

But I didn't.

I said something to you, something that made you narrow your eyes at me, and I left. To Kikyou.

And she made it better.

Kikyou. Kikyou was the one that convinced me to convince Father to send you to AA meetings.

But you knew, and I did too, that she didn't have to do that. She could have gone to Father herself. He would have given his consent to her in a heartbeat. Or two.

Or maybe he wouldn't have.

Because we all knew he didn't give a shit about you. Do you remember how he would tut and turn his head whenever you were around? Do you remember that time he told me to sell you to a brothel when you were playing cards with Inuyasha?

I still ask myself, to this day, why he said yes. I didn't know why, so when I married you, I stopped the meetings.

Yes, maybe I did start to care for you as you grew; maybe I did start to see things from your point of view.

When Kikyou asked me to, I did take a look into your world.

And the worst part?

I wanted to stay in your world. Not with you, of course, but…I liked it. When I saw what you saw, I saw a lot of things. I saw colors in black and white pictures. I saw Kikyou crying when I stared at the ceiling. I saw the story of the two greatest lovers of all time in the falling of tears. Of your tears, of Inuyasha's tears, and of Kikyou's tears.

I heard the song of birds telling a story, I saw what the hawk dancing in the sky, his immeasurable domain.

And it changed me.

Suddenly, being on time didn't matter all that much. Yes, it was important, but there was always a few seconds to be with Kikyou.

Suddenly, perfection didn't have to be…perfect. The wrinkle in my shirt told the story of Kikyou and I in my room, after dinner.

But when she died, nothing mattered. It was as if our sun had gone out. We were all satellites, floating around with no purpose. Where to turn, who to speak to?

When Father sent Inuyasha away, and then died, there was no one.

Except for Kikyou, and you.

But then Kikyou died, by your hands.

And then there was just me and you.

Alone, avoiding each other.

You didn't speak. You didn't need to. Or maybe you did, and I should have asked you to.

But I didn't, and I don't regret it.

And then there was that day.

The day that everything changed.

The day that you punched me so hard that it was my eye that was swollen shut and purple the next day.

And it was only because I almost accidentally called you Kikyou. Really, I only got out the first syllable, but you snapped. I remember you tried to punch me again, one quick smack to the same side. But I was ready this time. You struggled, remember? You reminded me of a lioness. Did you have your teeth bared too? I don't remember. But I stopped you, stopped your struggles.

Up against the wall. Your wrists lost in my hands, up against the wall by your head. My knee between your legs. Both of us breathing hard, my eyes closed. Your eyes were probably open, glaring at my cheekbone or something. Or maybe not. Because I can still remember the shock of feeling your wet lips against my neck. I pulled away quick, because I didn't know what the fuck was going on.

Please, you said. Please what, I wondered in my head. I stared at you, and you stared right back at me. I still wonder how long we stood there like that, not knowing what to say, how to feel. Because we hadn't in a long, long, time. Felt, that is.

And you sighed, I remember. Exhaled softly into my face. And you tried to pull your wrists away. But I didn't let you go, because I wanted to know, please what?

You closed your eyes. I saw you swallow. And then tears fell out of your closed eyes.

Please what, I asked you.


Nothing. Of course it was nothing, because it was Kikyou, which was everything. I should have dropped it right there. I should have stepped up and backed away.

But back then, when you said nothing, it meant that it didn't matter. It meant that Kikyou didn't matter. To me, that is. But to me, it mattered the world.

So I let the rage consume me. Nothing what?! I shouted in your face. I let go of your wrists so I could raise my hand to slap you. But you flinched, and I liked that. So I did it again, and you flinched again.

I'm sorry, you mumbled, and that was it. The absolute turning point. I'm sorry she died. I'm sorry I killed her!

And then red filled my vision and my hand came down again and again, grabbed your hair and pulled you up when you fell down and tried to curl up to protect yourself.

Protect yourself against me.

Did I feel bad when I realized why you had curled up? No. No way.

You started to fight back when I twisted the front of your shirt in my fist, and couple buttons popped off. Landed another one right in the middle of my throat. It made me choke and gag. But I caught your foot before you could kick my head. And twisted.

The truth is, I wanted to break your foot. I wanted to twist your foot right off your leg. But you're not stupid. So you spun around with your ankle, your body hit the corner of my desk and crumpled to the floor. And your hair was tussled and your shirt was practically open.

And suddenly, I knew the perfect way. The perfect way to what, I didn't know, I still don't know. To punish you, maybe? To punish myself? God, I don't know. I just. I knew what I had to do. I picked you up quite bodily from the ground, dropped you on the desk you had just hit yourself on. I leaned over you, pressed my hand down on your hips so you couldn't go anywhere. Cupped your faced, touched your collarbone. You tried to sit up, fast, so fast, but I've always been faster than you. My hand on the junction of your shoulder and your neck, pushing you back down.

And your wild brown eyes finally settled on mine.

But it was just for a second, maybe less than that, before your eyes flickered away to the left or right.

It was in that moment that I realized that you can make me hard. And I wanted to tell you that, because I knew it would scare you. So I moved my body and positioned my mouth behind your ear, and rocked my hips once against yours. And I know you felt it, because I heard you gasp. I liked it. The sound of your fear. So I did it again. And you gasped again.

I pushed your shorts off with one hand. The beauty of elastic bands. You didn't wear bras then, I don't think. Or you did, and I don't remember taking it off.

You whispered my name, and my resolve was almost gone, because I didn't even know why I was doing this.

But then your hands touched my shoulders and stroked my hair and I knew that you needed this as much as I did.

You needed this feeling, this wild gasping of breath, hands everywhere.

You needed this punishment just as much as I did.

I fell to my knees, I remember, the only time I have done that in your presence. I moved down your body, threw your leg over my shoulder. Smirked when you choked out a scream of surprise and pleasure when my lips attached to your clit. Clenched your thighs against my head, lifted your hips up into my face. I slid a finger into your tight, tight hole, moved it around a little, and you groaned. You loved it, and you hated it, as you loved and you hated your life.

And we continued this dance, emotions blasting from our selves, bouncing on the walls, absorbing through our skin, my tongue in your pussy, small bites that made you tug on my hair, choke out groans and sobs alike, my finger pumping in and out, adding another as we went. But I stayed at two fingers, because you whimpered at three.

I remember the feel of you as you clenched around my fingers, arched your back, and looked up for a second to see you toss your head to the side and then brought my head back down and finished what I started and when you came, you screamed, your toes were probably curled, fingers clutching uselessly at themselves, clenching and unclenching as the aftershocks of the orgasm swept over you.

I was already on my knees, and it didn't seem fair that I should be on my knees and you shouldn't. I grabbed your ankle and pulled you quite unceremoniously from my desk, and you landed in a tumble of arms and I know you tried to crawl away then, too, but I didn't want that. I was on my knees, and you should be too. But you couldn't hold up your body for long; I could imagine shocks of exhaustion coursing through your body. And thinking about it made me tired, too, so I collapsed on my side just as you did.

It was amusing to me how you curled your naked body away from me, drew your knees to your chin, wrapped your arms around you legs.

But I didn't want you to protect yourself, because your punishment was far from over. So I pulled you apart, spooned you, I think.

And the look on your face.

The hurt in your face.

And your hurt fueled my hurt, gave me strength to whisper things in your ear, gave me the strength of make you cry, again.

Tears coming out in a steady stream out of your closed eyes.

Look at me! And you did, surprisingly, shockingly.

And so I stared down, looked into the depths, and I knew that things will never be the same.

I looked into them, and for once in my life, I saw emptiness.

Your eyes, Kagome.


After that night, I tried to forget about you. Yes, we lived in the same house, but it was big, and we didn't have to see each other so often. But then, it seemed like you were everywhere, every corner I turned, you were there too, doing god knows what. We'd always cross each other on the stairs, and it was so awkward.

So to keep our distance, I locked myself in my study, my only sanctuary. I didn't even come out into the hall to go to my bedroom. Instead, I used the hidden panel to cross the tunnel to go into my room.

But our hiding from each other couldn't hide the truth, no matter how hard we tried. Perhaps I should have tried harder, I recognize that now. Perhaps I should have acted accordingly. But I didn't, and it was our ruination.

Jaken was so scared that day, jumpy and sweaty. And he should have been, too, because I was ready to beat him to a pulp and throw him out of my company when his shaking hands laid down the newspaper in front of me.

My eyes flickered down, and the headline screamed at my face, hurting my eyes.


What? Just-what??

And I scanned over the article-how did this get out?!

Kagome Higurashi, longtime resident of the prestigious Taisho family, was photographed engaging in sexual activity with the only other resident of the mansion, Mr. Sesshoumaru Taisho, heir and owner of Taisho, Inc.! Sources say…

'It's wrong!' says Mrs. Shigamoto, spouse of Mr. Shigamoto, owner of Shinwa, Lt., 'they're not even married! And rumor goes that Kikyou Higurashi, Kagome's sister and recently deceased, was a longtime love interest of Mr. Sesshoumaru!' Her face, as she speaks, is scandalized…

Another very reliable source insists that Kagome Higurashi is pregnant by Mr. Sesshoumaru Taisho, owner of Taisho, Inc…

Oh, god.

I called Jaken to me at once, demanded an explanation. It was good (for his sake) that he already had an answer waiting for me.

It was the gardener, Sir.

My eyes clouded over at the mention of it. How dare he. Deal with it, Jaken.

And he did, the pathetic creature. A week after I fired him, he was found dead in his measly little home. To other people, it looked as if he had hung himself.

But it was my doing, just like everything is my doing.

You knew that, however much you tried to ignore it. I knew you'd come to me, demanding an explanation. I was a little shocked; it took you three weeks to approach me about it.

You didn't have to kill him. You'd already fired him, why cause more damage?

I stared at you, and you stared at the quill and ink on my desk.

Did you even see what he leaked, Kagome?

Your cheeks turned pink, didn't they? Of course you saw what he leaked. You didn't have to say a word. What are you going to do about what everyone already knows?

You asked me that, but now that I think about it, I think you already knew what we had to do. I could hardly get rid of our society.

We are going to prove them right. We're getting married, Kagome. Congratulations.

Fuck you, and you left.

I think that was the first time the feeling of defeat began to surface, but I squashed it down. Failure was something I could not afford.

We needed to cover this up, and you were going to help me, whether you wanted to or not.

I think, in the depths of your sould, you knew this. You knew that it was the only way out. You must have thought of all the alternatives I thought of, for I deducted quickly that you and I were not so different. I'd have to point that out to you some day, I mused.

I called Jaken and told him to begin the preparations for a quick, shotgun wedding. This could not wait.

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