Author's Note: A drabble involving Rin and Sesshoumaru-sam, inspiring by Memoirs of a Geisha.

Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended,

That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream."

-Midsummer's Night Dream

Happily Ever After

By: Lady Erised

He calls. And because he calls, and he is Sesshoumaru-sama, and you are who you are and not someone else, you answer. The days of when that was reverse, when you called and he came are over. It was a passing of the time. Now you wait for his wish.

And he does call, often. It is always quiet, erratic and nerve-racking in the sense you never know how or in what manner Sesshoumaru will receive you. But he calls, and you go. This is the way of things.

Today he has sent a maid to bring you. She is young; about the age you were when first you stumbled across the Youkai lord, and human. Beautiful too, in that otherworldly sense of grace and beauty, children seem to possess. She has sage-like eyes, and a round, trusting face. Eager to please, soft of step and softer of word and action; she moves like air, or wind.

You've watched her often, from behind your curtain of black hair, fine robes, and countless diversions Sesshoumaru afforded you and you become aware. You become aware of your age. Of the way the body you possess now bends and curves in ways a child's body does not. You become aware of the way your eyes collect lines around its corners: small signs of age and mortality, hardly noticeable to human eye.

But it is not a human's eye you seek to please. It is Sesshoumaru-sama.

The maid appears in your room, bowing and meek. She bids you come, then goes to your rooms; fetching the kimono he told you to wear. It's smooth and fine; yellow and mint green with a bird of pinks, reds and oranges emblazoned into the back. You fold yourself into it, allowing the girl to arrange the robes. You inhale sharply as she wraps the purple obi about your waist. You glance down at her, wondering.

Was I ever that small?

Was I ever that eager to please him?

And was there ever a time I thought he could love me as dearly as I loved him?

And you did love him. Once, and strongly, you loved him. You think perhaps you still love him, and you probably do. He is a part of your life. He is your life. He's your sun, moon, meal ticket and board.

Sesshoumaru is sitting in the garden. His eyes are closed, as he reclines against the trunk of the massive tree; his mantle sprayed about him cushioning his slender frame. He looks older, somehow, even though no wrinkle or imperfection has touched his features. You see his chest rise and fall with each labor breath he takes. He shifts his head slowly, purposefully and raises his chin, as he smells you approach.

His eyes open then just as you kneel before him. For a moment, he seems disgusted- perhaps pained, as he watches you. You are not what he was wanting. But you are what he cannot be without. He motions you to sit beside him. You obey. As you sit beside him, your thigh brushes his- an accident, and his back stiffens. He inclines his head closer to you, catching the scent of jasmine and you and quietly thanks you for your clumsiness.

Then, neither of you speak as you sit in the garden, staring towards space and time and Sakura blossoms. You watch as the flowers bloom and sway in the wind. And he pretends not to watch you. Not to stare at you with a darkness and steadiness of gaze that is not lust nor disgust but something deeper and perhaps crueler. Love.
Denied by choice.

He does not touch you.

Though he longs too.

He wishes to reach across pride, and right and wrong and reasons and normalcy and hold you now, not as he did once when you were a child and he cradled you to protect you but rather hold you as one would a wife.

But he cannot. He is Sesshoumaru.

You are Rin. Human.

So instead he sits beside you in silence in a garden. He keeps you preserved and painted like a mural because he cannot bear to be without you. You, his work of art, his vision. He will continue to paint you and adorn you with colors and calligraphy as long as your body continues to proceed pass without his consent. You age, and he hates you for it. You are Rin, and he cannot hate you. But he will not betray himself to take you as lover, as wife, as equal.

Yet he cannot bear to be without you. You cannot live without him. This is not some romantic statement, you think, as you have thought often during these mute viewings. But rather a kind of bitter truth. He provides for you, feeds you, attends to your needs, and in return you belong to him: another work of art in his palace. He has long since sent away the suitors who would have taken you to happiness and life: both Youkai and human alike. And you long since ceased to think of lives outside this world of art and beauty.

So you sit beside the man you do not love but need.

While he sits beside the woman he needs but cannot love.