The Hunt by LadyDaniTar

The Hunt

Kagome stared at the letter in her trembling hands as her pulse drummed in her ears. For one wild second, she wanted to tear it into confetti and scatter it out the nearest window, pretending she had never seen the words printed on that crisp white cardstock. But her eyes—traitorous things—slid down to the number printed at the bottom.

That figure…it was more than tempting, it was life-changing. The sum alone could pay off the shrine’s debts, cover her brother’s first year of college, and maybe even secure the shrine’s upkeep for years to come. If she actually went through with The Hunt and ended up pregnant, then Souta could pursue his degree, his master’s, maybe even a doctorate, without their family ever having to worry about money again. Her mother could breathe easier. Grandpa could have his medicine without cutting corners. And Kagome could finally save, instead of watching every paycheck disappear before the month’s end.

It was a devil’s bargain, and she hated how much it called to her.

Money had been tight ever since her father’s passing ten years ago. Kagome hadn’t even had the chance to dream since she’d graduated high school and thrown herself straight into the workforce just to keep the lights on. Years later, after juggling jobs and exhaustion, she’d earned her associate’s degree in office administration. When Taisho Transports offered her a secretary position, she’d quit her convenience store job that same day. Better pay, insurance, commuter reimbursement—it had felt like winning the lottery.

The click of the front door jolted her back to the present as her mother’s gentle voice and her grandfather’s soft grumbling floated through the entryway. Heart lurching, Kagome folded the letter in a panic and shoved it into her purse, hiding it beneath her planner and wallet. As their voices grew closer, she plastered on a smile and hurried out to greet them, doing her best to ignore the secret now sitting at the bottom of her bag—one that could change all their lives forever.

The next morning, Kagome woke up late after a night spent tossing, turning, and mentally arguing with herself. She cursed under her breath as she rushed through her routine of brushing her teeth while buttoning her blouse and trying not to stab her eye with a mascara wand. Sneakers went on, pumps went into her tote, and she grabbed her purse before bolting out the door.

The ten-minute walk to the subway became a five-minute sprint. Her hair clung to her cheeks, and her heart raced as the screech of closing train doors filled the platform. “Wait!” she shouted, lunging forward. She squeezed through just in time, the metal doors pressing coldly against her back. Relief came in a shaky exhale. The car was packed, the air thick with cologne, coffee, and the hum of too many tired commuters. She clung to a pole and tried to calm her pounding heart.

By the time she reached her stop, she had regained enough composure to wipe the sweat from her forehead and fix her hair. Two blocks later, she pushed through the glass doors of Taisho Transports, a sleek tower of glass and steel that looked far too dignified for her current state. She dashed into the ground-floor restroom, swapped sneakers for black pumps, and smoothed down her plum pencil skirt. A few quick dabs of concealer and a deep breath later, she was Kagome Higurashi, a professional secretary again.

The elevator to the top floor was its own little world—quiet, sterile, and nerve-wracking. No music, no ads, no distractions. Just her reflection in cold steel walls and the growing awareness that she was about to face him. Working for a demon like Sesshoumaru Taisho came with rules that bordered on paranoia. No perfume. No scented lotion. No food at her desk. She’d learned the hard way on her first day, sent home within an hour to “decontaminate” before returning. The humiliation still made her cringe.

When the doors opened, the cool air of the executive floor swept over her like a gust from a snowfield. The office was minimalist perfection of white walls, polished marble, and a faint aroma of coffee and cedar. Her heels clicked softly as she made her way to her desk outside his office.

She’d barely logged into her computer when his voice sliced through the air.

“Higurashi, the last quarterly reports, on my desk within the hour.”

No intercom, no glance up. Just that commanding baritone that left no room for argument. Kagome muttered an internal yes, my lord and master, before answering aloud with a quick, “Of course, Mr. Taisho.”

The morning vanished in a blur of reports, emails, and urgent calls. When noon struck, Sesshoumaru stood, adjusted his immaculate charcoal-gray suit, and left for a lunch meeting without a word. His departure was like a release valve being pulled and the whole office exhaled. Kagome slumped in her chair, muscles aching from tension.

“Finally,” she groaned, her stomach growling in agreement.

Standing in a hurry, she hadn’t noticed the way her purse continued to wobble carelessly on the edge of her desk after she graded her wallet and made for the elevator. Once she was on her way down the bag fell to the floor. Its contents had spilled slightly, and at the threshold of her boss’s office lay a folded, familiar piece of paper.

A cafeteria sandwich and a latte later, she was practically humming by the time she got back into the elevator, rubbing her full stomach. The break had restored her sanity. She was even feeling optimistic, until she reached her desk. She didn’t even have time to sit when Sesshoumaru’s voice called out again.

“Higurashi. Come in here.”

Kagome was already silently cursing her luck.

His office was a tundra. Always cold enough to make her wonder if he refrigerated it out of spite. The space was bare—no décor, no warmth, just glass, mahogany, and that intimidating presence behind the desk. She sat in the only other chair in the room that was across from his desk.

“The quarterly reports,” he said without looking up, sliding the papers toward her. “You’ll find some discrepancies. Correct them by the end of the day.”

“Yes, Mr. Taisho,” she replied quickly, praying that was all.

But instead of dismissing her, he finally looked up and studied her with unnerving focus. His golden eyes gleamed under the recessed lighting, sharp and deadly as a blade.

“What do you know,” he said finally, “about The Hunt?”

And in that one cryptic question, the world she knew began to crumble.