Reaching For Silence, an inuyasha fanfic

Reaching for Silence

Author's Note: Because Rin is not a muppet (you may quote me on that), I offer this, a dark version of a oneshot written for the livejournal community mfsanctuary's "Nightmare" prompt. It's my first/only Sesshomaru/Rin story where she's a kid…and (hence) there's no sex.

Darkness settled over the small campsite like rich, ebony fur on this moonless night. The embers of a small fire barely broke the blackness, throwing their tiny flickers of light over the sleeping face of Rin and the curled back of Jaken opposite her. Sesshomaru, his back against a spreading oak some distance away, needed neither the fire's warmth nor its aid in distinguishing the small, resting figures in the dark. His half-open eyes blazed with a radiant gold that easily outshone the glowing coals and challenged their heat with a molten power that burned from within.

He had opened his eyes at the sound of whimpers coming from his young charge. Both of his followers were creatures of unnecessary and sometimes imposing sound, both in wakefulness and sleep. Though he considered the spoken word frequently superfluous and often excessive, he was readily able to ignore the constant background chatter of his vassal and his ward. In fact, though he still pondered the wisdom of his decision to revive Rin after the wolves had rent her frail, mortal body, he was not one to question but to act. What was, was. He suffered her repetitive demands for his attention as well as Jaken's unremitting provocations of her, and when their words and their bickering grew too cloying or shrill, a simple command, a wave, or a glance was generally all that was needed to restore the silence he required. Physical confrontation was always an option as well, though the wasted energy of kicking Jaken irritated him even as it brought some gratification. By contrast, he never struck Rin; but then, he never touched her at all if he could avoid it, either in anger or calm.

But this night he felt inexplicably moved by her small sounds in sleep. Her emotions were plain in her slumber, and nightmares were, he knew, a human malady from which the child regularly suffered. They were not his responsibility, hence not his concern. Their manifestation in whimpers and whines had become a familiar nightly hum to Sesshomaru, no more silenceable than Jaken's snoring if he did not wish to expend the energy of active intervention by waking them up. And he never did.

This night brought an exception to that resolution. Sesshomaru could not say why, but, then, his actions did not require justification. He felt inspired to move to the child's side, so he did so, in swift silence. Such was the way of the inuyokai's life. He acted as he felt driven, and he trusted in his instincts and his power. Standing over the girl, he watched now from closer proximity to see her body's minute jerks and spasms as the dream took her. Visions he had had, but never these illusory night-fantasies that he had come to know from Rin as another human curse.

He had no difficulty guessing the outlines of what Rin faced at that moment in her troubled sleep-life. The one time he had asked her to explain them, she had brought forth a wide variety of images: the wolf attack, taunting by the people of her village, unrelenting hunger, irremediable loneliness, even unexperienced atrocities such as entrapment in a burning hut or Naraku's demons ripping out her throat with savage glee. He had listened patiently, and with distaste. Their lives short and meaningless, weak and confused, humans suffered not only in their waking hours but even when unconscious. Rin's descriptions of her nightmares lent additional credence to his conviction in yokai superiority.

Sesshomaru gracefully folded his legs beneath him and sat at the girl's side. He blinked his tawny eyes and continued to watch her. Despite his resistance to finding purpose in aspects of life that were better lived without analysis, he could not seem to help engaging in this strange voyeurism. And, at least at this moment, the observation was not about disgust. He wondered idly if he might control these nightmares as he confidently handled so much in his life. True, Tenseiga's blow over Rin's body had seemed, at first, to rob him of power, to demonstrate his surrender of self-control into his Father's hands. That he did not rid himself of the valueless chit upon first opportunity advanced this unease. Here, then, was an occasion to alleviate that small disquiet in his otherwise serene mind. One swift slash with his claws and the child would cease to live, cease to dream, and cease to concern him.

He reached out his elegant fingers, then paused. He set his hand lightly atop her head and willed the nightmare to end. The child grew instantly still, then sighed softly. Her body relaxed further as the moments passed, her breathing becoming soft and even. Sesshomaru released contact, rose, and walked back to the oak. The unrest within him, like Rin's nightmare, had passed. For this night.