InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ In a Different Light ❯ A Solitary Figure ( Chapter 1 )

In a Different Light

Chapter 1: A Solitary Figure

The Lord of the Western Lands was troubled.

Doubt, suspicion, regret and, perhaps . . . just perhaps, a tad of fear plagued his soul as the fire of their campsite began to dwindle and fade, the roaring blaze now reduced to glowing red embers and gray, smoldering ash. He sighed inwardly and shifted in his seat beneath the boughs of a magnolia tree.

Rin had not returned yet, and the full moon hung low on the horizon, providing a ghostly illumination to the surrounding lands and forest, dark shadows from the overlying trees shrouding his features, and that of his two companions-Ah-Un and Jakken-in a velvety, midnight cloak. Jakken had propped himself against an opposing tree, the Staff of Heads clasped firmly in his slumbering grasp, and Ah-Un had curled up beside the campfire, its two heads resting peacefully on the forest floor. But, despite the quiet, Sesshomaru felt ill at ease.

Rin had changed. Right before his golden eyes, right beneath his canine nose, she had developed from a, rather, chatty and bothersome child to an enchanting young woman. In fact, when he looked at her now, he had a hard time reconciling the rambunctious youth she used to be with the woman whose face allowed him little in the way of rest. She was . . . captivating.

Of course, the change had been a gradual one. The most noticeable change came in her height. In the beginning she was literally knee-high to him, just a few inches taller than Jakken. Then she grew to his mid-thigh, the span of her arms still unable to embrace him in a proper hug. From his thigh she sprouted to his hip, then his waist, then just below his chest. At that point, she could reach all the way around him with her thin arms and awkward hands, but did so on increasingly few occasions. Also, at that point, she began to develop more feminine attributes.

Her hair grew longer and sleeker. Her face thinned and her hips broadened. And a slight swell could be noticed in her chest area . . . It was also the first time she'd gone into heat, and he'd purposely distanced himself from her . . . Her scent had changed from something overly sweet and flowery to something more musky and subdued-from a field of scattered wildflowers blowing in the breeze to a single bloom, burgeoning in the midday sun.

He inhaled deeply, recalling the first time he'd caught whiff of her altered scent . . . Roses... no not roses, plural; rose, singular. No one smelled exactly the way she did . . . Human, demon or otherwise. Rin was one of a kind, and she did not leave him unaffected.

Though he had a very tight rein on his own passions, his own desires, Rin had been a slave to her emotions and raging hormones. In those days, the demon lord reasoned, she was a greater aggravation to Jakken than when they'd first acquired her. She was either weeping and whining, disgusted by her own reflection, refusing to let anyone come anywhere near her room, whether to call her down for her meals or to attempt to clean her chamber because, in her words, she was too ugly to be seen. Or she was gruff and disgruntled, easily angered by the simplest things.

Her ponytail now stuck up at an odd angle, and she couldn't get it to lie down, so she stopped wearing the ponytail, altogether, and stopped combing her hair for nearly a month. Her clothes also became a problem. Her kimonos would no longer fit properly, no matter how she pulled and pinned them, so she'd rip them to shreds and demand that Jakken go get her new ones. And the new ones would always be the wrong color or the wrong pattern, or too short or too long, and she'd throw an equally intense fit, insisting that Jakken hated her and wanted her to look like some sort of troll.

And meals were no different. If she wasn't screaming and throwing dishes because her soup was too cold or her fish was too dry, she was scowling over Jakken's shoulder as he prepared her food, making sure he added the proper amount seasoning and didn't overcook or undercook the rice or meat entree. On one occasion, he'd had to intervene and reprimand her for scalding the little imp with a pot of boiling, hot soup. When he'd asked her why she'd done such a thing, she'd replied, "He knows I HATE onions." Apparently, she'd told him not to put onions in the soup, and he'd done so any way.

He chuckled lightly to himself. Thank the gods those days are over.

She was such a mess back then-awkward and clumsy, her hands and feet too large for such a tiny frame. She was constantly tripping and falling, and bumping into things, breaking things. Black eyes and bruises, bumps on the head, cuts and contusions, skinned knees and scraped elbows . . . How humans ever survived into maturity was far beyond him.

But they did. And she had.

She now came up to his shoulder, and her violent mood swings had ceased. She was pleasant and jovial, her girlish giggle replaced by a more throaty trill. Her face had further thinned out and her body had completely filled in, giving her the hourglass figure commonly associated with feminine beauty. And her hair now fell just below her waist in soft, sleek waves, the black of her bangs providing a startling, but not unpleasant, contrast against the pale ivory of her skin . . .. She was . . .

He narrowed his gaze and tensed his jaw.

She was . . . not for him, he finally decided.

She was a human, after all. And humans belonged with humans. It was pointless and potentially dangerous, to go against the natural order of things . . . Not that he shied away from danger. Danger was one of his favorite pastimes-facing down demon hordes, crushing coup attempts and mass rebellions, defending his borders from feral predators and potential invaders. And dismembering the occasional opponent who thought they could best him in battle. Yes, he enjoyed the adrenalin rush he got when facing down a particularly fierce foe, and the look of fear on his opponent's face when he finally realized this was the one fight he wouldn't be able to walk away from.

He smiled smugly to himself. Danger was practically a part of his daily life, and he, himself, was considered to be one of the most dangerous demons in all the lands. But there were many types of danger-peril, hazard, risk, distress. And while it would be considered . . . cowardly to back down to certain types of danger, facing off against other types would be considered foolhardy.

Jakken stirred in his sleep and mumbled something unintelligible before falling onto his side and cuddling up closer to the Staff of Heads.

Sesshomaru decided to move to a quieter, more secluded area to further mull over his thoughts. He encountered a fallen tree trunk less than fifty feet from their established campsite. He took a seat and resumed his musings.

Yes, his father had undertaken such a foolhardy endeavor, going against the natural order of things, choosing to take a human noble woman as his mate . . . Izayoi, InuYasha's mother. And what were the fruits of his labor? His death, her death and endless torment for their ill-begotten, half-breed son.

She had weakened his father, scattered his thoughts and loyalties, making it impossible to protect his territories and retain the respect owed to him by his demon peers. He'd given everything up for her, his human bride, and what did he get in return? Death, destruction and disgrace . . . Disgrace that he, himself, was still trying to live down.

He tucked his right hand beneath his left shoulder and frowned.

He'd never been so . . . disappointed in anyone in his life. His father, Lord Toga, InuTaisho of all Japan, led astray by a simple, human female. Laid low by love. Decimated by desire. Weakened by one, worthless woman. And wasn't Rin exactly the same?

He felt a slight twinge in his chest, a dull ache, a minute contraction.

"No," he audibly voiced. She was not the same. Rin was one of a kind.

She didn't make him weak; she made him feel . . . calm . . . peaceful, tranquil . . . centered. Yes, he decided. She made him feel centered. He knew who he was when she was around. He knew what was expected of him and what she expected from him. He didn't feel so lost and adrift, compelled to wander and roam in search of . . . whatever-Tessaiga, Totosai, Kaijinbo, Tokijin, Naraku . . . They were actually just distractions. Ways to fill up his days. Ways to break up his sleepless nights. Ways to occupy his mind while his body craved physical contact and his heart ached for companionship.

He scoffed at his own admittance. He, the Lord of the Western Lands, lonely?

And, yet, since his father's death, he had noticed a certain . . . hollowness to his existence. A lack of focus, purpose and meaning. No friends, no respectable family, no foreseeable future beyond the immediate . . . Not that any of those things were of great importance, but . . .

It was senseless to dwell on the past. Especially when he had so much current business plaguing his mind.

Rin . . . had been another distraction. A temporary focus in his ever-shifting stream of consciousness. A minor amusement amidst the doldrums of daily existence. True, it was Tenseiga that had initially prompted him to revive her, but it was his curiosity that led him to allow her to tag along with Jakken and he . . . Why had his father found them so fascinating? And what prompted his brother to keep company with, not one, but two human females?

There had to be something there that he was missing. Something that they knew that he didn't. Something he couldn't learn through observation and could only understand through experience. And what an experience it had been.

A slight smile curled his lips.

It would have been so simple in those first days to abandon her along the wayside, leaving her in one of the many villages they had passed through. He had little attachment to the child, and at times her presence could be quite trying and annoying, for Jakken more so than for him. But soon he became accustomed to her little quirks-the incessant giggling, the compulsive flower-gathering and chatter. She never hesitated to speak her mind and was quite fearless even in those days. And he never tired of the constant challenges she presented to Jakken, be they verbal or physical. "What good are you to Lord Sesshomaru?" she'd ask.

What good, indeed? He mused with a dry laugh. How many times had he left Rin in his care to come back and find her missing, abducted or wandering around lost in the woods? Though with time and additional training, Sesshomaru could say without a shadow of doubt that Jakken had become a more dutiful servant under Rin's watchful eye.

Yes, it seemed she always had his best interests in mind. And perhaps now, it was time he considered her best interests.

Wandering around the countryside with three demons was certainly no type of life for a young woman. What she needed was certainty, stability, a place she could always call home. And, in theory, he could provide, had provided that. He did have the castle, and they had stayed there for several years after the defeat of Naraku. Rin was comfortable in the castle. She knew her way around the grounds, she was friendly with all the servants, and she was perfectly safe staying there.

The only reason she wasn't there now was because he'd insisted on taking her with them on their annual border patrol. True, it would have been easier and more efficient to make the journey without her, but she enjoyed the outdoors, and he, for his part, was . . . unwilling to be without her company for such an extended period of time. A thorough patrol of the borders could take months, three months to be exact, and the thought of traveling so extensively with only Jakken by his side was . . . less than pleasant. He . . . needed to see her. He needed to hear her voice and smell her scent, to see her smile and hear her laugh. He needed to know that she was well, and she was well cared for. He needed . . .

A phantom pain crept up his left shoulder where his left arm used to be. He rubbed the stub and frowned. It was amazing how much pain something could cause simply by not being there.

He sighed inwardly. He wasn't sure when, he wasn't sure why, and he wasn't sure how... but he'd become quite attached to Rin's presence. He needed her. And he'd always thought that she needed him, too . . . until today.

He had made a . . . he didn't want to say "mistake" because the Lord of the Western Lands was not given to making mistakes. He had made a miscalculation.

In the castle when Rin went into heat, or had her "time of the month," as she called it, he simply left the grounds for a few days till she came back to herself. But while they were traveling, it was she that disappeared into a nearby village till her cycle had run its course. It was a slightly awkward time for the both of them, but she recognized the necessity of the separation. Yes, he had a tight rein on his desires, but even the strongest bonds had their breaking points, and as she had grown older, her scent had grown stronger, more alluring, more insistent. And any actions taken during that point in time would be irreversible . . . Not that he had an aversion to mating with Rin . . . But to use her in such a fashion when he had no definite intentions towards her, would be dishonorable.

There were other women in the world for such things.

And he should know. He'd encountered enough of them. Flirting and fawning, panting and pawing, lust in their eyes and power on their minds. Yes, he'd encountered quite a few of that type in his long life, and he'd used them accordingly.

But Rin wasn't that type of woman, and he refused to show her that side of himself. She seemed to think better of him than that, and he wasn't in the habit of disappointing her. But she had, somewhat, disappointed him.

It had been five days, this being the fifth day, and he had been quite anxious for her return, so they could continue with their travels and return to the castle before the onset of the cold season. She'd taken several things with her to the village, so he thought it would be prudent to wait for her on the outskirts of town, in order to assist her with her baggage. But while he was waiting, something caught his attention-singing, a woman's song, Rin's song. He thought there could be little harm in seeking her out, so he did, sticking to the treetops and observing from above. He found her near the opposite end of town, entertaining a small crowd of children in the fields.

As the adults and older children of the village harvested and gleaned, she sang to the younger children to keep them out from under foot. They ran around her in dizzying circles as she tried to grab them and get them to settle down. But, after a few moments of wrestling and resistance, the children relented and settled down into a semicircle in front of her. She sang to them and soothed them, pulling one of the smaller girls into her lap, so she could braid her hair.

Sesshomaru found himself quite pleased at the sight. The way she handled them, the way she commanded their attention and demanded their respect. The way she coddled the youngest one and cajoled the other ones . . . She had the makings of an excellent mother. She was gentle and caring and attentive. Leery without being overprotective. Strict without being severe. Lenient without appearing weak-willed. Any child left in her care would doubtless flourish and succeed at every ambition.

But the singing soon ended, the braiding was done, and parents began to call their children home as they finished their work in the fields. Rin smiled and waved as she watched them go, and was about to go herself when a young male from the village approached her.

The demon lord focused his eyes on the human male. He appeared to be around Rin's age and, judging by the coarse cotton of his clothes, was nothing more than a commoner, a worker, a peasant. His body was covered in sweat and dirt from the fields and his short hair was pulled into high ponytail at the top of his head. Sesshomaru supposed that by human standards the young male could be considered . . . attractive, and Rin didn't seem to mind the obvious attention he was paying her. She seemed a little nervous and, perhaps, a little surprised by his overt interest, and while she wasn't inviting him to come any closer, she wasn't walking away either.

He wished that she would walk away. But instead she stayed and continued to converse with the boy. They spoke of mundane things-his name, her name, the weather . . . "You're new to the village, aren't you?" the boy had asked.

Sesshomaru listened as Rin explained that she was just passing through and probably wouldn't be coming back this way ever again.

"That's a shame you can't stick around longer," the boy said. "We'll be having our harvest festival soon. There'll be dancing and feasting and music. Everyone always has a really good time."

"I can't stay," she said.

"Well, that's really too bad," he said. "Especially with you being such an excellent singer. I'm sure everyone would've liked to hear you sing."

She declined with a smile.

He edged a little closer, spoke a little lower, eyed her more intently. "Would it help if I extended you a personal invitation?"

Rin blushed, and at that point Sesshomaru turned away.

He tore threw the trees and returned to the campsite to wait for her. He was still waiting for her, and was still quite . . . confused by what he'd witnessed between Rin and the peasant.

Of course, he was angry. The nerve of that boy. Propositioning her like that. Leering at her. Ogling her. The impudence, the audacity, the . . .

He drew in a deep breath and pushed it out, forcing back the crashing waves of ire that threatened to drown him, consume him, swallowing him into the bleak, black abyss. Yes, the boy had been audacious. But Rin had been . . . He mentally choked on the words as his mind processed the mental images.

Yes, the boy had been audacious. But Rin had been . . . receptive . . . to his advances. She had enjoyed his attention. She blushed at his flattery. She . . .

The dull ache returned to his chest.

She was not his, and he had no right to feel this way. If she . . . if she chose a human mate, why should he be surprised? She was human, after all, simply following the natural order of things.

And if leaving him, living in a village, being mated to some inane boy, made her happy, who was he to stand in her way?

Who was he to deny her happiness? Had he ever denied her anything? Would he start now?

"No," he whispered to the wind. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved to be happy. But didn't he make her happy? Wasn't she happy with him? And Jakken and Ah-Un and the castle? Didn't she like her room? And her trinkets and her kimonos? Didn't she like the garden and the stable and the bath house? Didn't she like the servants and Jakken and Ah-Un? Didn't she like . . . him?

The ache in his chest spread and deepened.

Of course, she wasn't a child any more. She no longer tagged after him everywhere he went. She no longer sat still singing for his return. She no longer picked him flowers or tried to braid his hair. She no longer came to his chambers crying because she'd had a bad dream and wanted to sleep with him. She no longer hugged his legs or kissed his cheek or . . . anything. In fact, she was quite careful to keep her distance from him, now. Even when there was no reason to be so cautious.

Perhaps now that she was older, she realized what he was and what vile, disgusting and despicable creatures demons were. Destroyers of villages, eaters of souls, the bane of humanity. Perhaps she now despised him and the predicament he'd placed her in . . . A human child brought up among demons.

And perhaps she was justified in those feelings.

But he had revived her, he had protected her, he had given her everything she could have possibly wanted. And now she wanted to abandon him, to cast him off as a serpent would cast off its outgrown skin?

After everything he'd done for her, after everything he'd given her. After all the battles and rescues. After all the clothing and campfires. The castle, the servants, the porcelain dolls and golden combs. The finest silks, the rarest spices, the best of the best and she would still rebuke him? She would leave him? Abandon him? Desert him? And for a human, no less.

A low growl worked its way up from the back of his throat. The nerve of him, of them, of her!

His hand clenched into a tight fist, his claws digging deep into the flesh of his palm, spilling crimson drops of blood onto the dying grass below.

It wasn't fair! He saw her first. He knew her first. He loved her first. He . . . He what?

His hand relaxed and the wounds instantly healed.

He loved her first? He loved her? Is that what this was? Is that what he was feeling? Love?

He laughed dryly to himself. Perhaps she had weakened him, after all.

To get so angry over something so simple . . . She was talking to a boy. That didn't mean anything. It was only natural that the boy was attracted to her, and for her part, she responded in the only way she knew how . . . with modesty. And even if she was interested in him that was her right. Contrary to his previous assertions, she didn't owe him anything. She'd never asked him for anything . . . except his company and approval. And he wanted her approval. Everything he did for her, he did of his own free will. He did it to keep her safe. He did it to see her smile. He did it to hear her laugh and to make her happy. He did it because he loved her.

A wry smile crossed his lips. So much for avoiding foolhardy enterprises . . .

The phantom pain resurfaced in his left shoulder. He sought to soothe the ache in his missing limb, increasing the pressure he applied with his right hand.

But, what if she didn't return? Maybe not tonight, but some other night? What if she really decided that she wanted to leave? That she wanted her own life away from him? What if she didn't, couldn't return his feelings? What if . . .

"My lord?"

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he hadn't heard her coming. "Rin . . ."