InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Summer Thunderstorms ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I do not own/have any rights of Inuyasha. Unfortunately.

 

 

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He sat alone at the bank of a stream, his silky white hair brushing past his cheeks as a breeze blew from the west. How long had he been coming here, staring at the water blankly? It was useless to keep track. He knew he would be coming here for a long time.

 

Then again, there were other options, weren't there? The sword sat at his waist, strangely enticing. Of course it had called to him many times: he couldn't justify it.

 

She would never have wanted him to.

 

Her.

 

He sighed softly. No matter what he did he couldn't get his mind to stop thinking of her. The first time he had seen her. The first time she had smiled at him. The first time she had said his name, overflowing with trust and devotion.

 

They used to reminisce on those days together, laughing about how much he had changed, how cold and broken he had once been.

 

It all changed when she continued to follow him around, her heart jovial and free from burden. He had envied her slightly - her innocence, that is. He had made more mistakes than he could begin to imagine, regardless of whether or not he ever admitted to them, and they had always weighed down his heart.

 

It wasn't until she warmed his soul did he finally admit to them all. She had held him one night, his head pressed to her chest, as he let silent tears stream from his eyes. It was the only time he had ever come close to weeping, and she knew she need not say anything to comfort him. He had so many regrets then. Things he wished he had done differently with his brother; things he wished he could have told him, taught him. For some reason this woman allowed the weight to finally leak from his soul. After that night he felt a thousand times freer.

 

From that day on he never left her side.

 

He smiled as he remembered the very essence that was her. Her shining chocolate eyes, her silky black hair, her innocent smile. True when he first met her she was merely a child, but as she blossomed and grew, his cold eyes grew softer. She would bring him a bracelet of flowers, or a wreath of dried leaves. He never wore the foolish tokens, but she never missed the hint of a smile that curled on the corner of his lips, nor did he neglect to carry the tokens in his pocket until they wilted or were ruined.

 

But she didn't need to know that.

 

 

The sky darkened for a moment and he glanced upward. Ominous clouds had covered the hot midday sun, the overcast surely portending an afternoon storm. He mentally shrugged; it wouldn't be the first time he sat here through a storm. He felt her the most here. At the edge of this tiny brook where two flowering dogwood trees bent across the water and intertwined.

 

They had sat here one afternoon years ago, her head leaning against his shoulder, his arm tucked securely around her waist. It still felt like yesterday to him.

 

 

“Those trees are like us, Sesshoumaru!” She said, breaking the comfortable silence.

 

He couldn't help but grin, slightly confused. “And how did you arrive at this conclusion?”

 

She giggled and nuzzled her face closer to his body. “They're like two lovers, forever intertwining and growing together. It was their destiny. But none of the other trees would have thought it possible, since they grew on two different sides of the stream.”

 

His tilted his head slightly and allowed her explanation to agree with him. Yes. Those trees really do resemble them. “Your logic continues to astonish me with each passing day.”

 

She wrapped an arm around his body and lightly brushed her lips against his cheek. “If only the tree on the left would allow the wind's gentle breezes to cause its leaves to dance and rustle more freely.”

 

He couldn't contain the small chuckle that escaped his lips. “What need does it have, when the tree on the right does enough dancing and rustling for the both of them?”

 

 

The trees were there now, both inert and unmoving in the now breezeless sky. He supposed it was fitting that her tree couldn't dance for him now, when he needed it most.

 

For months he sulked and pondered the reasons why his once loyal sword had failed him. He had tried countless times to revive her, but Tenseiga never spoke to him. He was never allowed to see the soul eaters that stole his love away from him. He cursed the gods; he cursed his father. Why would he be given this heavenly power then denied its use when he needed it more than anything in the world?

 

He glanced at it now, the blessed and cursed sword tucked in his belt. He had tried to destroy it after she had died. He had fallen to his knees, Toukijin clutched in between his shaking palms, Tenseiga standing innocently in the ground. He had been unable to follow through.

 

But then the wind stirred, and they both came to life. Bright green leaves and pink flowers twitching with excitement, seeming to sense the rain that would soon come, and impatient for the drink they would receive.

 

There were things to look forward to, he supposed. They had built their newly found life together; they had planned the path that would be their future. They had been able to walk that path peacefully for quite some time, unhindered and unopposed, whatever gods there were seemingly smiling upon the choices they had made.

 

The wind stirred again, this time a little more uncontrollably. The sky had darkened more and a rumbling could be heard in the distance. The breeze seemed to taunt him, calling her name. Rin. Rin.

 

A hint of pink to his left caught his eye and he turned to examine the small flower that had fallen from the tree. He picked it up tenderly, running his fingers over the smooth petals. Her skin had felt like these petals—silky, flawless, with a scent and taste more enticing than the sweetest of nectars. He would never be able to escape her memory.

 

There were signs of her everywhere; in everything he did, every sight he took in her influence was unmistakably present. He guessed that was the only way he survived. If nothing she had touched remained on this earth he would be a lost wanderer, homeless, for the only place that was home was in her arms.

 

The flower wasn't helping; it just made him miss her more. He scowled, tossing it aside and returning his gaze to the sky. The clouds were darker than before, and he could almost taste the electricity in the air. It wouldn't be long before the downpour began.

 

His ears twitched as he heard the padding of bare feet running on the grass. He barely had time to turn before he was tackled by a small tuft of white hair.

 

“Otou-san! Kazuki pulled out my braids!” the small bundle of warmth cried as she snuggled into her father's chest, tears streaming down her pink cheeks.

 

“I did not! Ren's lying, otou-san, I promise!” the culprit whined, throwing himself on his father unoccupied knee.

 

Sesshoumaru looked down at his small twin children and was unable to contain his smile. He lifted Ren's tiny chin and looked into her watery brown eyes. The same exact ones he had seen years before on the love of his life. Her cheeks were blotchy and her lips quivered. He turned to his son Kazuki, who desparately clung to his father's pant leg, hoping to escape punishment. Kazuki had Sesshoumaru's cold amber eyes, but Rin's delicate nose and mouth. They had both inherited his white hair, and each had a cute pair of fuzzy white ears perched on the top of their heads.

 

Did he actually once think that his brother Inuyasha's ears were despicable? Disgraceful? Now he couldn't imagine a more adorable or fitting thing—especially for his children.

 

“Kazuki,” his cold voice scolded. He need not say any more. Kazuki's eyes swelled with tears and he threw himself at his sister, apologizing profusely. Ren was always quick to forgive. She had the same pure heart as her mother.

 

Her mother. Rin.

 

Her presence really had not left. She lived on in the trees, the sunshine, their home, their children. He could see her in every flower bracelet Ren made for him; she glistened in the confidence of Kazuki's smile when he successfully caught a fish for the first time. He couldn't escape her.

 

He never wanted to.

 

A rumble of thunder came from far to the west. The trees continued to dance, but much more gently, in the wind.

 

She had been strong right up to the very end, the signs of her illness not noticed by the children. Of course, he had smelled it on her from the very beginning, but there was nothing he could do. Even his sister-in-law with her so-called “modern medicines” was unable to help Rin. Rin's smile never faded, however. She had reassured Sesshoumaru to the very last minute that she could barely feel the pain, and that she would never be far away from him, no matter how much of a distance it seemed.

 

He hadn't been able to comprehend before—what she had meant by that. How could she not be far away if she was dead? The first weeks were torture. Waking up alone, unable to open his eyes because he couldn't smell her next to him. He had been unable to look at his children, for fear of seeing too much of her in them. He dreaded smelling them, for so much of her was in their scent.

 

Now, for the first time in almost two years he began to understand.

 

He scooped each of his children up into his arms and held them close to his neck. Their children. Yes, he knew how he could be close to her while she was in the next world. Kazuki and Ren were his connection to her—to his Rin.

 

The gray that had once threatened the sky began to shift farther to the west, the clouds dissipating and allowing the sun's rays to break through.

 

“Come children. Kazuki, you can do the honor of hunting for dinner while I help your sister fix her hair,” he stood, placing his children at his feet.

 

Both squealed with delight and ran in front of him through the tall grass field, racing back toward their home in the distance.

 

The wind spoke to him again, whispering her name. Rin. Rin.

 

He smiled as it did so, his heart no longer feeling cursed with her memory. He knew the wind would continue to sing her name, no matter where he was, as long as he lived.