Title: Toransujenda
Rating: T
Warnings: Deals with Gender Identity Disorder/ Transgenderism
Summary: A series of flashbacks detail how Rin grew into the man he became.
DISCLAIMER: SEE PROFILE
A/N: First off, if you have problems with people who are transgender, I suggest you turn back now. This issue
isn't thrown into your face, here, but you'd have to be awfully shallow not to realize whats going on. You have
been warned. Inspiration for this came out of no where, I had to write it. Tell me what you think! Also, note that
the words 'Toransujenda' and 'Sukoshiba' came from Google Translate, as I do not know any Japanese outside of
common fandom words. 'Toransujenda' is supposed to mean 'Transgender' and 'Sukoshiba' is the combined words
'Sukoshi' and 'kiba' which are supposed to mean 'little fang'. ALSO, I am aware that Kabuki theater did not
originate until the 1600s. Just go with it.
Rin inspected the blade intently. It was finely crafted, and seemingly weightless in her hand. It gleamed a dark silver in the sun's glaring rays, and sang with the ferocity of Sesshomaru's power.
"It is infused with my yoki. It will protect you."
Rin sheathed Sukoshiba and smiled at her lord. "Thank you, Sesshomaru-sama."
The demon glanced away, determined not to make a big deal out of this. "Hn. Let's go."
Tucking the fang into her obi, Rin hurried after Sesshomaru.
It had been years ago, but he remembered the day as if he had just lived it. They were fine treasures, his lord's gifts, and the memories attached to them were of equal value. Placing the sword back into its chest, the man stood.
His tent was full of spoils he collected from his campaigns; foreign silks and trinkets. But none of those things were so worth his attention as the dark blade that no longer saw battle.
As he left the grounds with his other men, the sword hummed in longing to join its master's side.
Rin stretched her aching feet into the stream. The water was cool and soothed her swollen ankles. Sesshomaru lounged just behind her. It was a peaceful day.
"Am I improving at all?" She asked.
The demon didn't answer immediately, but Rin knew that if she were to turn around his face would be ever-so-slightly contorted in concentration. It had taken her a while, but she had learned to read him.
"Yes," He said finally. "You have improved greatly."
It was as close as he would ever come to admitting that he was proud of her, but Rin was not insulted. Instead, she let her chest swell with her own pride for just this moment.
The weariness after a grueling battle had set in to his bones, but the victory was a sound one. Removing his clothing methodically, the warrior stepped into the steaming bath and released a sigh of relief. His age was catching up, and it was beginning to show.
Outside, he could hear the low murmur of his men as they also settled down for the night. It would be another early day tomorrow, but with no fighting- they were picking up and moving on.
With the dawn another day would come, and he would move on.
"Lord Sesshomaru?" Rin called.
The daiyokai glanced at her. "What is it?" He asked, but Rin could tell his attention was elsewhere.
"Is Master Jaken going to be okay?"
Sukoshiba hummed at her side. Sesshomaru looked away.
"Only time will tell."
Folding the map, the warrior looked around to his companions.
"Its suicide," One said, rising slightly. "We would never make it past the walls! We haven't the men, nor the necessary supplies!"
Several nods went around the table.
"But we do," the warrior said in his quiet voice. "I have arranged for these forces to stand by. They are strong, able-bodied men, and their army is that of a great nation's in its stock. We will not lose."
The man who had opposed him narrowed his eyes. "Is that so? And why have we never heard of these troops before?"
He was awarded no response, however, just a smirk, and it sent shivers down their spines.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Rin turned to Sesshomaru. He nodded in appreciation.
"Very good."
The kill was clean, and the girl- woman, now- had broken no sweat.
"Thank you." She bowed.
Looking at the corpse one last time before she swept out of the clearing after her lord, Rin felt her lips curl around the edges.
She was indeed improving.
It had been ten long years of war, but the man was finally able to rest. He leaned back against the wall of the theater, watching the onna-kabuki. The dance being performed right now was slow and deliberate.
It reminded him of times long passed.
His dark blade was situated beside him, propped against the wall as if it, too, watched the performance of the beautiful woman on stage. Running a fingertip down the faded black sheath, his swording singing lowly in appreciation, he closed his eyes and let himself remember.
Sesshomaru frowned. "You do not like it?" He asked, no hint of emotion in his voice.
Rin mirrored his expression. "That isn't it, my lord. I think it is very beautiful."
Holding the kimono up, it shimmered in the light. Colors bounced around, painting the image of a calm lake at sunset. It was fine work, hand-painted and of quality material. "Yet you do not wish to wear it?"
Rin shook her head. "It would only be ruined," She reasoned. "Such would be a needless waste."
Setting the kimono back into its box, Sesshomaru silently agreed.
The prostitute gazed coyly up at the soldier. "Tea?" She inquired, her voice light and pleasing. He grunted, and she poured, flashing a bit of her wrist as she did so.
He eyed the pale expanse of skin hungrily, and, after accepting the drink, sent her away.
She huffed in anger, picking up the folds of her kimono as she walked away, in search of another patron to entertain. The bright colors of her clothes gleamed as she faded from sight.
It would do him no good to invite her to his room.
Peering at her lord, Rin pondered over how to voice her thoughts.
"What troubles you?" Sesshomaru asked, without turning to her. The road ahead twisted onwards, waves of heat rising from the ground, distorting her view.
"Perhaps," She started, speaking in a low, earnest voice, "My lord would try to know me by a different title."
Sesshomaru stopped and turned around to look at his ward. He took in the simple blue haori and hakama she wore, the sword at her side, and the roughened expression on her face, and he understood.
"As you wish," He said.
Running his hands over the bloodstained scrap of haori, the man recalled the death of his lord. It had been the hardest day of his life, but he had pushed on.
Noting how the sky was significantly brighter, he realized that he had spent another sleepless night submerged in his subconscious. Tucking the cloth back into place against his chest, he picked up his sword and carried on his way.