Author's Notes: I am still very new when it comes to Inuyasha so forgive me if this is out of character or reveals or goes against something already established. This was inspired mainly by the Manga. And for those for who forgot the Tatrimokke is a demon who comforts the souls of children until they can pass on. Since in the Manga Rin died, I can only assume Sesshoumaru's healing sword somehow kept Rin's soul from passing on. Put two and two together and you get this…enjoy!
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
Tatrimokke
By: Lady Erised
Her weight against my arm was nonexistent but I miss it. Every time she comes, quiet and unassuming as she does, and rests against me I secretly marvel at how delicate she is. A small creature like snow or rain contained: beautiful, possessive and fleeting. By now I've traced each contour and curve her small body and have foresworn it to memory. I know her scent, her feel and her sounds by heart and find myself accosted by the memory of them when deprived too long of her.
And I know this is not love. I could never, never love something so weak and fragile. That is my brother's domain, my father's weakness. Let them have their ephemeral dreams; and their vain imaginings and anything could be shared with these weak humans. I will not sully myself that way.
I shake myself to remove these thoughts from my head. They aren't healthy. My arm aches. It lacks her comfort.
I look up, to watch her as she plays. The light has long since fled but my Rin- a pause to correct myself- but Rin has become accustomed to the night. She's now among the flowers, avoiding Jaken as she goes, gathering a bouquet she'll later present to me. I'll nod and turn away; never taking them from her but knowing that will not deter her. It never does. It's an odd thing to be sure with my -no- this girl. Children, even of my kind, are hungry for affection, for bodily contact, for a small, physical assurance that they are loved and acknowledge. Rin seeks no such contact, even though she desires it.
I see her longing sometimes, through half-hidden glances and her silences. She was quiet when I met her, and despite the wealth of energy she has now, sometimes that strange, mute girl will return. She'll wander a distance away from me, alone in her thoughts and lost her memory.
I wonder if she knows she is the creature that haunts demons.
Rin drops her flowers suddenly as if she hears something but she doesn't look to me. She has turned her back on me to follow it.
"Jaken…" I begin, moving to stand. For a moment, I'm concerned, even though I know it can't be Naraku or any other danger. I would have known it.
Jaken is calling to Rin to return: cursing her and threatening her but Rin, as always, ignores him. She's transfixed.
Then I hear it, or rather, I recognize what it is.
It's dull at first, and humble. It had been so ordinary that I had dismissed it as one of the sounds of night. Now I hear it for what it is: a lullaby but it is not meant for me or my kind but for Rin's.
For the souls of lost children bound for heaven.
"Rin." I whisper, standing steady and haughtily. I have called, Rin will come.
But she doesn't. She's looking quietly up as the Piper comes into view, and the song takes on its meaning. She's transfixed by the Tatrimokke.
The demon stops playing for a moment to consider Rin. It seems to recognize her, and even though its closed eyes never move, I can feel them upon me.
You took her from me, it accuses, you stole her from me.
"You're right." I mutter, stepping forward a pace. I raise my voice above the whisper, adding an edge of ice to the end of my words. "Rin. Come."
"You heard Master Sesshoumaru, Rin." Jaken hisses, moving his staff from his shoulder to his arms: sensing my intentions. I will battle if I have too.
I took her from death once, I won't concede now. I raise my hand just slightly: readying my light whip against this demon. Inwardly, my better judgment is dissecting this scene for what it is: a petty display of ownership. So be it.
The Tatrimokke has raised the pipe to its lips once more and begun to play. From out of the blackness of the night, small orbs of light come to play: each light representing the soul of children taken from life.
My Rin's hands fold around her stomach, to where the remains of a wolf bite are etched into her skin. She has never seemed to notice them until now and now that she has: her face brightens and a smile blossoms on her lips.
It reminds me of a smile I received once: from a filthy silent child who seemed to understand a secret I was not privy too.
That spurs me into action. It happens very quickly.
A flick of my wrist, and the crack of the whip that destroys the stillness of the night and scares the children. The Tatrimokke rears back, removing the pipe from its lips in surprise.
Rin makes a sound of outrage and fear: I do not think she understands what it is happening. She is angry that the serenity caused by the Tatrimokke's song has been interrupted by something, and takes a few, hurried steps to catch up with it.
She has forgotten about me.
Again, I flick the whip and again the demon retreats. Rin makes another cry, and jumps a little as if she means to sprout wings and fly to meet it.
I'm on my knees behind her, with my arm around her before she descends. Pressed against my body, she weights almost nothing but her little heart- the heart I gave life to- is pounding in her chest. Her whole body is tensed, and unsure of itself. I tighten my grip around her a little, and gradually I feel her little muscles ease, and her heart slow.
The Tatrimokke pauses and considers us both with its dim, all-seeing eyes. I hear its voice in my head again.
You stole her. She does not belong to you. You cannot have her forever.
It is a long time before I can answer.
"Yes." I tell it, "I know."
The answer seems to satisfy the Piper. It lingers for a moment longer, with its eyes never leaving Rin's. I know it is telling her something but what I cannot know.
I do not let her go until the demon has returned to the blackness of the night. As her feet met the soft grass, she does not meet my eyes. She does not say a word. She merely walks back to where she dropped the flowers, squats to pick them up and returns to her gathering.
I wonder if she knows…