The Three Wish Bargain by Neutron

Chapter 1

It was a fateful day, the day that Sesshōmaru pursued the woman, a glint of murder in his eyes as he went. She was lovelier prey than most, he thought.

But he did not have time to think about such frivolous things. Not on the path he’d chosen, the one of conquest and death. He would be the greatest amongst warriors, the most powerful yōkai, paramount. And to run from him, rather than prostrate herself like all the others, was a grievous insult. One punishable by death.

“You cannot run from me,” the Lord Sesshōmaru drawled; he was closing in on her. Her legs would not carry her away from him, her voice would not placate him: not even an offer of herself would undo the insult of her flight.

And unfortunately, Kagome had realized the same thing. She would not be able to flee the violent lord. She would not be able to fight the violent lord. And even as she was quite a powerful witch, the yōki pulsing from her pursuer spoke to his supremacy. He would kill her for running, or he would enslave her for running; neither option looked all that promising, so she had to think fast.

Kagome slammed her feet into the ground, and turned to face her pursuer. He was tall, and he was handsome. His skin shimmered gold against the waning sunlight, and the crescent on his forehead sparkled like an amethyst. The hair that streamed behind him flowed like a moonlit river, gently reflecting all the colors of the rainbow as it moved. But his eyes, the ones made of molten amber, were frozen, as if they were the only part of him that was dead on his living body.

This would not be easy, and it would probably fail.

“Lord Sesshōmaru, you have shown your worth,” Kagome declared, her voice so steady that it did not betray her fear. “You have caught me,” Kagome bowed her head; these warrior types enjoyed being placated, even if it was superficial, “so now I offer you a choice.”

Sesshōmaru looked upon his quarry. A choice, she claimed. What sort of choice could a woman offer him? But, he was curious; this small and defiant woman had intrigued him.

“I will hear your plea,” Sesshōmaru answered, eyeing the woman carefully.

Perhaps it was her outward appearance that stayed Sesshōmaru’s hand; she had prismatic black hair that shone blue in the sunlight, and intelligent gray eyes. She was short, but with a build that declared her fitness (which she deftly exhibited in her sprint away from him). Sesshōmaru even appreciated her scent, which was floral and bright. But, more than all the other things, he appreciated the defiance she projected. Her posture was stiff, and tall, and her eyes did not waver as she gazed into his. If she feared him, it was well concealed.

“In exchange for sparing my life,” Kagome offered, never looking away from Sesshōmaru’s eyes, “I will grant you three wishes.”

“A witch.” Sesshōmaru was definitely intrigued. She was cunning, and perhaps desperate. But if she could offer this, her powers were great, and it entered them into a battle of wit instead of a battle of strength.

“I will accept this bargain,” Sesshōmaru said, and he lowered his hand and retracted the whip of light he’d prepared for the woman—the witch.

After all, Sesshōmaru sought supremacy in all spheres, including intellect.

Kagome nodded; the game was now afoot. His wishes could enslave her, if he worded them the right way. And perhaps he was not so honorable that he would heed the bargain, when she granted him the wishes he made. But those were risks she had to take, was willing to take. Because Sesshōmaru Taisho, while violent and uncaring in his conquests, was honorable. When enemies bested him in battle, he bowed his head and sought to rematch; he was never underhanded. So as long as he saw this contest in a similar light, Kagome could walk away without fear if she bested him.

“Then name your wishes three,” Kagome said, pulling out her wand to start the spell. Sesshōmaru raised his eyebrow only for a moment at her gestures, having determined, it seemed, that Kagome was as honorable as he. “But heed this warning: my magic will match your words, not your will.”

Sesshōmaru could not resist the smile that curled his lips. This witch was challenging him, without deceit. So that they would both know the game, so that they would both play the game.

“My stipulation,” Kagome continued, “is that you make all wishes at the same time. We both know that this is no ordinary bargain, and I would not have you exact revenge upon me for a poorly worded wish.”

“I accept this stipulation, though I will add one of my own. I should like to take the night to think on my wishes, and will return to this clearing at sunrise,” Sesshōmaru stated. “Meet me here then and I will make my wishes.”

Kagome flicked her wand to silence it, and stuck it into her dress. She then strolled to the golden-eyed yōkai whose gaze used to be full of ice, and bowed, surprised when Sesshōmaru not only bowed back, but also at the kindled fire in his eyes.

It was an interesting development, for both of them.

Sesshōmaru took to the sky, finding his way to his moonlit keep. When his servant Jaken came to take his armor and have it cleaned, Sesshōmaru resisted. Because, for some reason, he did not want to part with the floral scent of the witch, which he’d finally placed.

The witch smelled of evening primrose: small, and even thought to be a weed by some, but with the right nose, it was bright and beautiful. Its fragrance, like flowers bathed in lemon dew, only released when the flower bloomed. And it was a blossom, Sesshōmaru knew, which was only capable of blooming by moonlight.

“Odd,” Sesshōmaru murmured to himself, and he wandered to the veranda of the flying castle, to ponder upon the rising moon, what he would request of the witch the following day, and surprisingly to him, to ponder the witch herself.

Kagome let out the breath she’d been holding as Sesshōmaru took his leave. She wondered what the night would buy her in terms of preparation for the next day. Could she think quickly enough on her feet that she would be able to deliver on the words of his wishes without giving him the violence he so assuredly desired?

Human and demon lands alike had been bathed in blood that Sesshōmaru had spilt. His duels were legends in the making, and yet, the ruthlessness never seemed to abate. He had no desire to settle for what he had. When he sought supremacy, he would stop at nothing to attain it. And now, Kagome had made herself a possible tool of his conquest.

Would he weaponize her?

Kagome shuddered at the thought. But, something nagged at the edge of her mind: an image. Sesshōmaru’s head dipped in a respectful bow, and his eyes alight with fire.

For some reason, the instinctual fear she had felt as she fled had melted away when she faced him, replaced instead by that impish joy she always felt when the battle turned to one of minds. Could it be that Kagome’s bargain had found a crack in his formidable armor?

Sesshōmaru was by no means witless, but their playing field was now equal. And what originally was a hunt had evolved into a game. One that Kagome was looking forward to playing.

She had no use for running under the cover of night. She had no use for traps or tricks. Indeed, she wanted to win this fight with honor. Because even as he was bloodthirsty, even as he killed without regard for life, still did he do so with honor. And Kagome respected that.

But that did not mean, now that her life had been spared, that she did not intend to win the game as she must, and change Sesshōmaru’s fate if she could.

Besting Sesshōmaru.
Something about the thought of it brought a grin to her face. She had all night to prepare for their sunrise meeting. So Kagome looked up at the moon in the sky and pondered. Wits were her true prowess, and despite herself, she was looking forward to the sunrise.

“Odd,” Kagome whispered, as the moonlight danced in her eyes, and reminded her of the lush fur and flowing hair of the yōkai lord who bowed to her instead of taking her life.

As the first golden rays of sun shyly painted the clearing, Sesshōmaru descended from the sky. He had not slept the night before, but that was of no consequence to demons. He had been thinking about the witch. About lemon dew and primrose. About the fact that even as he constructed his three wishes, he could not help but be distracted at the thought of her rivers of shimmering onyx hair, of her comely face and her stormy eyes, of her figure that would bring immense pleasure to the intended father of her children…
to…

Then there she was, leaning against the very tree where she stopped her flight the day before. She was dressed as a witch, rather than as a peasant that morning, adorned all in (form-fitting) black with a pointed hat, tied with an orange bow. Her wand was out and eyes glimmered like thunderclouds as they looked upon Sesshōmaru.

“I have determined my wishes, witch,” Sesshōmaru said, and he found he did not like addressing her as such. “But first, may I ask you your name?”

Kagome started at his question. She had been up for many hours of the night, watching the river of stars traipse across the sky, thinking through what she thought Sesshōmaru might wish, and devising the twists her magic could play to undo the wishes’ lethal aims. But the river of stars too shone like the waterfall of his hair, and the amber sun peeking out from the horizon glittered like fire-lit eyes, and his height and countenance were such that all matters of night time lust could be sated… but she could not think of that, not now, not when he had asked her for her name.

“Kagome,” she said flatly.

“Kagome…” Sesshōmaru uttered; the name danced on his tongue, “The caged bird. Who is it that cages you, I wonder.”

Kagome stared, a bit flabbergasted, a bit intrigued. Asking her name, then knowing its meaning, was certainly unanticipated. And it served its purpose: it rattled her momentarily. It was a cunning way to begin their battle.

Kagome was impressed.

“Time to make your wishes, my Lord Sesshōmaru,” Kagome purred. She should not be as excited as she was about this moment, about this chance to match skills with the awe-inspiring daiyōkai standing before her. The one that sent tingles down her spine by simply speaking her name.

Sesshōmaru resisted the urge to take a step forward, to invade her space, to fill his senses with her scent of evening primrose that bloomed in the light of the moon. Because he wanted to see how she would turn his perfected wishes to her advantage.

“First,” Sesshōmaru started, “I wish for a sword unmatched by any other.”

That was the simplest wish. A weapon capable of matching himself, one that could strike fear into the hearts of any who were unfortunate enough to come upon him when he wielded it.

“Second,” Sesshōmaru continued, “I wish for a servant so faithful that they would deny me nothing.”

Jaken was sufficient for most needs, though even he seemed to have his limits, and Sesshōmaru wanted someone devoted enough that the price of their life was not too great to serve their master.

“And third,” Sesshōmaru had saved the last wish, the one he’d spent the majority of his night thinking about, “I wish for my ascendancy to be absolute, now and forever.”

Sesshōmaru had debated asking for absolute dominion, but… that would have been undeserved. He did not want to subjugate unquestioningly: he wanted all to recognize it. By his sword he would earn his place, and he knew—hoped—that it would start with his outwitting of Kagome, the evening primrose witch.

Kagome listened to each in turn, and held her tongue, held her smile. She closed her eyes and drew on her power, channeling it into her wand. It sent sparks into the air as she let Sesshōmaru’s wishes flow through her. His words were precise, but ultimately, Kagome would win the battle of wits.

With her first flick, she produced a katana. It was housed in a fine ebony sheath, lacquered black with frolicking white dogs running down its length. A sword unmatched by any other.

Then a second flick, Kagome stretched her aura through the lands, seeking something special, something particular, and when she felt it, she summoned Sesshōmaru’s ‘servant.’

And in a final flourish, Kagome let her want spark and sputter, and she uttered the words, “May you have a life of safety and peace".

“What?” Sesshōmaru looked to Kagome, his eyes now narrowed in disbelief and fury. “You… you tricked me.”

Sesshōmaru unsheathed his new katana and tried to plunge it through the witch’s bosom, only to find that instead of piercing her, it ran right through her, as if it were the ghost of a blade rather than real steel.

“What is this?!” Sesshōmaru howled; had he been outwitted? Undone by the witch?

“Your sword, my lord, is unmatched by any other,” Kagome explained. “It is called Tenseiga, and can revive any and all from death. The sword of heaven, it is called. And there exists no other sword like it in the world.” Kagome then summoned the second of her granted wishes, the body of a small girl adorned in a ratty kimono, scratches and bite-marks from the wolves that mauled her. “This child, Rin, brought you food and water when you were on the edge of death. She died for keeping silent when your wolf rivals demanded to know where you were healing. She will love you unquestioningly as your daughter, denying you nothing. Not out of fear, or even worship, but out of love.”

Sesshōmaru looked at the girl, who was as pale as his hair, enshrouded in the veil of death. At the sight of her, his new sword, Tenseiga, pulsed.

“And finally,” Kagome continued, “to absolutely ascend, you must reach Nirvana. You must let the petty battles and competitions of this world go. So… I removed those obstacles from your path.”

Kagome stepped to Sesshōmaru, whose eyes had not broken from the crumpled body of the girl at his feet.

“Now it is time for you to make your choice, my Lord,” Kagome whispered, which caused him to turn to her. “Do you take my wishes for the gifts that I have given you, or do you forsake them?”

Sesshōmaru stared into Kagome’s eyes, trying to make sense of how her wit had so easily defeated his. But, the playfulness he expected in them was earnestness, as if this battle was not to best him, but instead to help him.

He had not known that Rin had defended him to the death. He had searched for her after he healed, to thank her. But all traces of her were gone, nothing more than a memory on the wind.

If he unsheathed Tenseiga, and used it on Rin, did that mean that he’d truly accepted his defeat at the hands of this witch?—Kagome. Her name was Kagome.

He had never been defeated so absolutely.
She had not just defeated him with her wit: she had defeated him with her heart.
Had defeated him with his heart.

In one swift motion, Tenseiga cut through Rin’s body. Sesshōmaru watched as the color returned to her cheeks, watched as her eyes opened, watched as she looked at him with wonder and excitement. After helping the small child rise, Sesshōmaru turned his eyes back to the evening primrose witch, Kagome.

“I accept my defeat,” Sesshōmaru sighed, then bowed, low, before raising his head once more, “but I wonder…”

Sesshōmaru stepped toward her, invading her space now, but for an entirely different purpose. Her lips were full and bright, her eyes sparkled with intelligence even as they widened at his approach. Her scent overpowered his nose: this flower that bloomed under the light of the moon.

“You’ve forced me onto a new path for my life,” one more step closer, “Perhaps this path is one… that you would consider…” another step, and so close to her that her lovely face captured his entire field of view, he then extended his hand, “walking with me?”

Sesshōmaru’s eyes were molten fire. His lips were supple and his expression was ardent. He was not asking for a rematch; he was not taking revenge for his defeat. He was… asking her from his heart.

“Yes.” Kagome took his hand, and together with Rin, who bounded ahead of them both, they walked away from that clearing: the clever witch who tamed the bloodthirsty warrior, and the daiyōkai on his path toward enlightenment.