Chapter 13: The Unlikely Witness
The warmth was the first thing Koga registered. A solid, lingering heat along his back and legs, distinct from the usual wolf-pelt insulation. Then came the scent—frost and bloom, now deeply woven with his own musk, with sweat, with sex. Memory flooded back, vivid and physical.
Sesshomaru was still asleep.
Koga lay perfectly still, not daring to breathe too deep. The daiyoukai was curled against him, one arm slung possessively over Koga’s waist, his face buried in the space between Koga’s shoulder blades. His silver hair fanned out, tangled with Koga’s own, a shimmering knot on the rumpled fur. His breathing was slow, even, a silent rhythm Koga had never imagined he’d learn.
He looked… peaceful. The perpetual ice of his expression had melted in sleep, leaving his features soft, unguarded. The sight did something dangerous to Koga’s insides, a warm, unwelcome squeeze beneath his sternum.
He was so absorbed in the foreign sensation that the grating shift of stone at the cave entrance barely registered. Then the hide curtain was shoved aside, letting in a slice of pale, misty dawn.
Inuyasha stood frozen in the entryway, a sack of supplies dangling from one hand. His ears were flat against his skull. His golden eyes, wide as full moons, scanned the dim interior—the discarded clothing, the empty sake bottle, the two figures wound together on the floor.
Koga’s body moved before his mind fully caught up. In a fluid, careful motion, he extracted himself from Sesshomaru’s hold. The arm around his waist tightened for a confused second before relaxing, Sesshomaru making a faint, displeased sound in his throat but not waking.
Koga rose, naked, and placed himself between Inuyasha and the sleeping form on the fur. He met the half-demon’s stunned gaze and slowly, deliberately, brought a clawed finger to his own lips.
Silence.
The command was in his eyes, in the set of his jaw. Inuyasha’s mouth opened, shut, opened again. A ripple of something—disgust, outrage, pure shock—passed over his face.
Koga jerked his head sharply toward the world outside the cave. Move.
He didn’t wait to see if Inuyasha obeyed. He snatched his trousers from the floor, pulled them on, and strode past the rigid half-demon, out into the cool, damp morning air. The mist clung to the pine needles, soaking his bare feet and chest. A moment later, he heard the crunch of gravel behind him.
He turned. Inuyasha had dropped the supply sack. His hand was on Tessaiga’s hilt.
“What. The. Hell.” Inuyasha’s voice was low, strained, each word punched out like a physical blow.
“Keep your voice down,” Koga said, crossing his arms over his chest. The posture was defensive, and he hated it.
“You keep your voice down! What is he doing here? Like… like that?” Inuyasha gestured wildly back toward the cave, his expression twisting. “Are you out of your damn mind? That’s Sesshomaru.”
“I know who he is.”
“He’d rip your throat out for looking at him wrong!”
“He didn’t.” Koga’s reply was flat. Final.
Inuyasha stared at him, his nose twitching as he caught the full, combined scent wafting from Koga and the den. His face paled. “Oh. Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. You… and him? You stink of him, wolf. All over you.”
A hot flare of pride, fierce and stupid, shot through Koga. “So what if I do?”
“So what?” Inuyasha barked a disbelieving laugh. “Since when? How? Why would you even…?” He dragged a hand down his face. “Does Kagome know?”
“Why would she?” Koga snapped, the name hitting a nerve he thought had calloused over. “It’s not her business. And it’s sure as hell not yours.”
“He’s my brother!”
“And he’s a grown daiyoukai who can sleep wherever he wants.” Koga took a step forward, his amber eyes glinting. “He’s here by choice. Got it? No one’s got a sword to his throat. He stayed.”
Inuyasha looked genuinely shaken, his grip on Tessaiga loosening. The confusion in his eyes was real. Sesshomaru didn’t stay. Sesshomaru departed. He left scented trails of dismissal and indifference. He did not sleep wrapped around a wolf chieftain in a dank cave.
“But… why you?” Inuyasha finally asked, the anger leaching out, replaced by sheer, bewildered curiosity.
Koga looked away, toward the cave mouth. The truth was a tangled knot in his gut—pride, want, fear, that terrifying tenderness. He couldn’t unravel it for himself, let alone for Inuyasha.
“Don’t know,” he muttered, and it was the most honest thing he’d said all morning. “It just is. Now take your supplies and go. He’s tired.”
The casual mention of Sesshomaru’s state, the implied intimacy of knowing it, hung in the air. Inuyasha’s ears flicked. He looked from Koga’s guarded face back to the silent cave, his own conflict clear. Loyalty, disgust, a bizarre thread of concern.
“He hurts you, it’s your own stupid fault,” Inuyasha grumbled finally, bending to scoop up the dropped sack. He hesitated, his back to Koga. “And… if you hurt him… I’ll kick your ass myself. Brother or not.”
It wasn’t a blessing. It was a ragged acknowledgment. A line drawn in the dirt of their old rivalry, new and unfamiliar territory on the other side.
Inuyasha stalked off without another word, disappearing into the mist-wreathed trees. Koga didn’t move until the sound of his footsteps faded completely.
The quiet of the mountainside rushed back in. Birdsong. The drip of moisture from branches. The heavy, waiting silence from the den behind him.
He turned and went inside. The air was still thick with them. Sesshomaru had shifted in his absence. He was now lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, the lines of his body a pale contrast against the dark fur. Awake.
Golden eyes slid open, regarding Koga from beneath the crook of his elbow. There was no sleep-softness there now. Just cool, appraising clarity.
“Inuyasha,” Sesshomaru stated, his voice a morning-rough murmur.
“Yeah,” Koga said, stopping at the edge of the fur. “Brought supplies. Saw. He left.”
“You sent him away.”
“I told him it wasn’t his business.” Koga’s voice was gruff. He waited for the question, the judgment, the cold retreat.
Sesshomaru was silent for a long moment. Then he lowered his arm, his gaze traveling over Koga’s bare torso, the tense set of his shoulders.
“You are standing guard,” he observed, a faint, unreadable edge in his tone.
Koga hadn’t realized it, but he was. His body was still angled toward the entrance, his muscles coiled. He forced himself to relax, to sit down on the fur. The warmth where Sesshomaru had lain was fading.
“He was surprised,” Koga offered, as if that explained everything.
“Hn.” Sesshomaru continued to watch him, a puzzle being turned over in his mind. “And you?”
Koga met his look. “What about me?”
“Are you surprised?”
The question hung in the space between them, filled with the echoes of the night before and the confrontation just passed. Koga looked at the powerful being beside him, at the marks he knew were under his own hands and mouth, at the impossible reality of his presence.
“Yeah,” Koga admitted, the word quiet. “Every damn minute.”
A flicker, almost imperceptible, crossed Sesshomaru’s face. Something that might have been understanding. Or satisfaction. He didn’t look away.
Outside, the world was waking up. In here, the fragile new thing they’d made held its breath, waiting to see what they would do with the daylight.