When Zitan left, she declined Han's help with a smile and set off on her journey home alone. The instant she turned away, clear tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her dusty, grimy cheeks, leaving faint trails. She did not even wipe them away. Unwilling to let the two of them discover the humble affection she had so carefully concealed, she simply did her best to smile, squared her shoulders, and walked calmly away. But both the Silver-Haired Girl and Sesshomaru saw the scattered drops on the ground, which soon vanished into the air without a trace.
Han sighed softly. She understood Zitan's feelings, and she understood Sesshomaru's too. When she saw him willing to draw his sword for Zitan, she had realized that he was not oblivious. His willingness to save Zitan had delighted her. This was his tenderness, that faint tenderness hidden beneath solid ice, and this side of him made her own heart grow softer and warmer. Yet after slaying the Underworld Messenger, Sesshomaru still refused to spare Zitan so much as a glance or offer her any response. That was when Han understood his feelings. For some reason, she felt a small sense of relief... I don't like this side of myself... I should trust Sesshomaru. I should know that he will keep any promise he makes. I know we understand each other's feelings. And yet, for the first time, a little unease had crept into her heart...
Sesshomaru seemed to sense it and took the girl's slender fingers in his hand. Those soft, delicate fingertips, seemingly incapable of hurting anyone, could loose the fiercest arrows. Yet when she held someone's hand, they conveyed warmth and tenderness. The moment Sesshomaru clasped her hand, her feathery lashes trembled, and she instinctively looked