Disclaimer: InuYasha is the property of Rumiko Takahashi. I cannot claim ownership over these characters but I do manipulate for my own pleasure.
"Experience" by Emerson can be found in any collection of Emerson's essays. White Noise is copyrighted by Don DeLillo, 1984, 1985. Used without permission.
I really do suck at summaries and titles. If you have any suggestions or advice for how to write a title or a summary, I would be most grateful. Somehow, title creating never came up in any of my classes. So much for that.
Spoilers: None. Anime, only.
A/N: Constructed criticism is always welcome and always wanted. What can I say? I'm needy.
"'Either I'm taking something and I don't remember or I'm not taking something and I don't remember. My life is Either/or.'…
'Sounds like a boring life.'
'I hope it lasts forever.'"Don Delillo, White Noise
"I grieve that grief can teach me nothing."—Emerson, "Experience"
The consequence of adopting a human, of course, is the human's eventual death. They fade like a summer rose caught in a storm—all too brief a light. The youkai who decides to adopt the human must be comfortable with this idea and must learn to live with the only thing remaining: a few scattered memories and a severed connection.
So he cut the umbilical cord. One night, after a boar youkai attacked, and Rin was hurt, he deiced to leave her at a nearby village, in the care of a priestess. She was getting older—thirteen, a woman. What would he do when she became a woman? This question was one he did not want to face.
The responsibilities of a parent, not just a protector, never seemed more pressing until the morning she woke up and realized she was a woman. He smelt the change in the air and in her.
That was the first crack in the link. She could now have kids, repair her lost family by creating a new one—one that did not necessarily include him. Didn't humans often talk of love? Didn't families thrive on love? His half-brother's mate often claimed that the reason she stayed with that worthless half-breed was because of love. What did a full demon know of love? Was love like war—intimate and never ending? He often wondered these things as he let Rin sleep for the night. He looked up at the stars as if noticing them again for the first time. Rin often had that effect on him. Would she still care about the way a flower looked after a summer rain when she could begin a family?
Where would his sense of wonder go, if Rin left?
The years passed. Sesshoumaru checked on Rin, but with other youkai claiming that he was not worthy of his title, he spent much time in the Western Lands, squashing rebellions. He lost track. Years meant so little to him anyways.
One day, he arrived at the village, at her house. He stared, silently, at the door. He could smell food warming over a fire, cool earth, a man and a child. It seems that Rin took the chance to make a family for herself. Sesshoumaru almost smiled; Rin would have claimed that his lips were twitching and would have done a small dance of joy.
The second break appeared the day he stopped a bear youkai from ripping up a village in his lands. A human in the village had been sent out as a sacrifice, to appease the demon. Rin cut through his ropes as Sesshoumaru easily defeated the lesser youkai. Nothing seemed too strong anymore, not since Naraku died.
Nothing easily hurt him anymore.
Except for the sight of the young man presenting Rin with a flower, of his hand placing it behind her ear and lingering in her hair, his lips telling her how lovely she was.
And perhaps she was. He never really noticed.
Sesshoumaru felt stiff, but brittle, like a tree branch after too long of a brutal winter. Hard to bend, but easy to crack. His Rin was no longer his Rin. She belonged, for the moment, to the human boy whose hand still played with her hair. She smiled and blushed. Never had Sesshoumaru told her how she looked on a fall morning—crisp, soft, cool, fragile—easily broken, but the strangest combination of delicacy and strength.
He felt the weight of his years pressing on him with wolfish breath; dried blood, dead leaves, lost companions. Like Rin.
From that day, Rin changed. She spent a few moments every morning at a small pool of water arranging her hair, washing her face, taking care when she never took care before. He noticed the light in her eyes changing, like her scent. She was still Rin in many ways, but that boy's words had changed how she fit in his world.
The door of the hut opened before he even knocked. Rin filled the doorway, her belly extended with life. Black locks spilled out of a bun and her eyes shined with a light he hadn't seen in years.
"Sesshoumaru-sama," she greeted, almost emotionless. Perhaps she had learned that from him "What may I do for you, my lord?" She called him by his title less frequently as she aged. As they become closer, he told himself.
"May I come in?" He was surprised he had asked, but then again, he had always asked with Rin, as if somehow afraid to trespass on what he had given her. She looked sturdy—hands calloused and skin stretched. But her face glowed.
He didn't want to know what put that light there. He was sure it wasn't him.
The house was small, but comfortable. He could smell the food cooking.
"Where's Jaken?" she asked.
"He's dead."
"I'm sorry," she said after a pause. He said nothing in reply, but could smell her sorrow. Despite their arguments, she obviously cared about that toad. He ran a critical eye over everything in home, making sure that his Rin had everything she needed. He did not bother to question why now, after he had abandoned her—no, not abandoned. He made sure she was placed in proper hands because he was not fit to be more than a protector.
"This Sesshoumaru would like to know how Rin is doing," he finally said. Rin smiled faintly and made an offer of tea. Refused, of course.
"Rin is fine, even though Sesshoumaru-sama left her without saying good-bye." There was a trace of bitterness in her voice. He turned his gaze onto her. He would not back away, this time. Inwardly, he flinched.
"Does he treat you well?"
"Yes."
"Rin….would you like to come with me again?" he wanted to ask. The words nearly escaped his lips. But they died in his throat like so many others that he wanted to say to her.
There is no more grief left in me, he thought. Only a collection of regrets which show me nothing. Cold and heavy, like wet clothes in a foggy evening, they followed him, linking together like a chain. Regrets, especially about Rin and for Rin.
I could have treated her better.
I could have left her with that half-breed and his miko.
I could have kept her.
I could have told her that I loved her.
I could have……the line which made the heavy days bearable.
The question came unbidden: "Do you regret it?"
"Regret what?"
"Regret your time with this Sesshoumaru." A genuine smile crossed her face. She simply glowed, much like his half-brother's mate when she had carried pups. Perhaps all mothers glow.
"No, never."
"Why?"
"What is there to regret?"
Silence.
"I never gave you a chance to be a child."
"I never asked you to."
"I never made sure you were educated properly."
"But you taught me how to forage, how to hunt. How to avoid poisons, how to protect myself. You taught me to live in a world where death always walks. How to live when everyone else was telling me to die. You gave me my life so that I could have a family."
"I am your family." His words hit her like a wet blanket. She blinked. The only sound was the snapping of the wood in the fireplace.
"You were devoted to me. But I don't think it was meant to last. You marry, raise a family and—"
"I will die? Yes, I know. Sounds terrible, but this life is all I have." Again, silence. He didn't remember the last time they both spoke this many words. Between them always stretched a silence he was not sure he knew how to bridge, or if he wanted to.
"I don't want to give it up." She answered his unspoken question. Sesshoumaru turned his gaze away. She knew what he wanted, what he needed.
"It is good to see you, but this Sesshoumaru must leave." He had said too much.
I could have kept her…
He watched the monk offer incense at the grave from a hill, away from the large group. Her children and grandchildren, he supposed.
He never did visit her again after that day. He didn't want to disturb her new, constructed life—one in which he did not fit. Nor did he trust himself; trust himself not to grab her and flee, to return to his life what was his.
This is what it means to be a full youkai, Lord of the Western Lands—cold, alone, and surrounded only by memories of war, violence, and one small girl not smart enough to be scared of him. He grieved, silently, that he had not learned much from his time with her. The summer nights no longer held his interest; nothing did.
She had no regrets, but he carried enough for the both of them.