Sesshoumaru hummed in low appreciative tones as he watched his ward twirl before him, showing off the new yukata he had brought her for the coming summer months. The lavender and white silks had been a gift from his mother, which mimicked her own ornate kimono.
As Jaken continued to chirrup approvingly to the young girl, sputtering some nonsense or another, the winds shifted, bringing the sharp scent of salt and electricity to the daiyoukai’s nose. Golden eyes lifted towards the hill that bordered the western edge of the village, his curiosity peaked. Instructing Jaken to keep watch over Rin, Sesshoumaru let his nose lead him towards what the villagers still called InuYasha’s Forest.
He was suddenly forced to stop at the edge of Goshinboku’s clearing when an arrow embedded itself into the tree next to him, showers of pink sparks flying. Sesshoumaru eyed the miko, whom already had another arrow nocked and pointed at him. A fine eyebrow lifted in question. Now that he was here, he found himself hard pressed not to breathe through his mouth as the stench of her anger choked the air around them.