A/N: Do you like Samurai? I like Samurai. Also, obligatory warning for fairly non-descriptive childbirth ahead.

1740

To a youkai, two centuries was nothing.

To humans, it was several lifetimes.

Once the Shogun came into power, Sesshoumaru had been called to be a Daimyo. The man was a powerful youkai, and while it wasn't that he thought he couldn't win against him, it more so that he was too lazy to pick a fight. And so, Sesshoumaru had never contested the appointment, falling into power over the Western Lands.

It wasn't terrible, and the Shogun let him keep to himself, for the most part.

And he waited. For what exactly, he was still trying to figure it out, but he waited.

For a sign from the Kami-sama. For a sign from his Father. Even for a sign from Rin.

And he kept waiting, for two hundred years.

It was like looking into the past. The boy looked exactly the same, and it was remarkable.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, I do apologize for my sudden arrival," he said, his forehead pressed into the ground, "I would have thought that Tokugawa-sama would have informed you of my hire."

Yoshimune most certainly had not, but Sesshoumaru only sighed at the thought. Usually, he ignored the Shogunate, but this particular man had tried at length to become friends with him. It was tiring.

"If I displease you in anyway," the boy continued with, "then all I ask of you is to spare my life, and merely send me back."

A bold request, considering the honor code of the samurai. "That won't be necessary." The boy faltered in his bow slightly, seemingly surprised, not the he blamed him. "The Eastern Wing is yours."

He moved to turn from him, prompting the boy to jolt to his feet. "An entire wing, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

The boy was as green as the grass around them, and Sesshoumaru found it the slightest bit amusing. "Would you rather a closet? They might say terrible things about me, but I am not a bad host. Especially towards help hired by Tokugawa-san." Even the name tasted ill in his mouth.

"I… I am aware that you likely have no need of me, Sesshoumaru-sama," the boy replied, "but I swear upon the Gods, I will do my best!"

Gods above, even his personality was the same. Such insufferable, infallible positivity. It was clear now that Tokugawa-san was teasing him. He could just imagine the oily smirk plastered across the old snake's face. Sesshoumaru wouldn't forget this.

"I look forward to it, Kohaku-san," he said, in a rare, rare show of friendship- not that the boy would understand. And then he turned, to leave him in the courtyard alone. He still could hear the boy's surprised gasp, followed by an exclamation, wondering how he had known his proper name.

Rin would have been amused.

This time around, the boy was Kohaku Hayashida-san. Despite the name change though, he was exactly the same. Barely over twenty-five, he held the boyish charm that had captured Rin the first time around. And Kami-sama above, Sesshoumaru couldn't bring himself to hate him. The friendship formed between the two of them in his past life, had stuck it seemed.

Kohaku was surprised to be asked to share tea with him, and visibly nervous to sit by his side.

And Sesshoumaru-sama had to remember that, even if he knew him, the boy didn't. And because of that, he had to tread lightly. As he learned more about the boy, he learned of the subtle differences.

He had no sister named Sango, but he had grown up training as a taijiya. And this Kohaku, liked tea, specifically a neutral green brew, sweetened with a tiny bit of honey.

"And then my father decided to become a samurai. Ironic, right? But I supposed that he felt it was better to work for a youkai, than to be eaten by one," Kohaku said, as he enjoyed his tea.

"And is that what you think we do?" Sesshoumaru asked casually, "Eat people?"

The boy turned red. "N-no, not at all, Sesshoumaru-sama. What I meant to say is-"

"It was a joke." And it was, even if Kohaku was scared horrifically by it. "Joking aside," he continued with, "The position of a samurai is an honorable one. Far more preferable to being a taijiya."

At that, Kohaku scratched his head. "Eh, I guess. Once upon a time, samurai were feared. Now, we're basically businessmen, acting on behalf of the shogunate. It's not as though I'm unhappy about it, but… I mean… I feel like I'm itching to do something else."

That intrigued Sesshoumaru. It seemed that despite his gravitation towards something else, he'd always fall on a similar path. "I knew the samurai of old," Sesshoumaru told him. "They speak of honor, but they never talk about the short life-span. Many didn't live to be old. I wouldn't consider it a fair trade-off."

Kohaku considered this, leaning back against the wall of the engawa. "I suppose that I wouldn't want my life cut short. I have so much left to do."

Sesshoumaru wondered how the boy would feel, if he learned that his past self had lived well into his eighties. Instead, he said, "Most humans don't think like that. It does you well."

"You know Sesshoumaru-sama, for a youkai who's so well known for hating my kind, you've been particularly friendly to me." The boy meant it with good humor, but Sesshoumaru supposed that he hadn't really realized the ease that had spread between them almost immediately. "There's something about you though," Kohaku continued with. "I don't know what it is, but it's like I'm speaking with an old friend."

Sesshoumaru finished his tea quietly. "They say that youkai only grow old and bitter, never able to learn anything new."

"And is that true, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"I used to think so. Apparently I was wrong."

And with that, he stood and left Kohaku alone.

Before Rin, having to share his space with a human for any length of time, would have irritated him beyond mention. But Kohaku had been living in the Western Palace for nearly a year now, and Sesshoumaru hadn't grown tired of him.

Except for this particular day.

Kohaku had always been a rather cheerful young man, but there was something off about him, and Sesshoumaru couldn't place a finger on it.

"Eh? You don't remember Sesshoumaru-sama? My family is paying me a visit today."

He blinked. Sesshoumaru had completely forgotten about it, because it had nothing to do with him. Kohaku had promised that they wouldn't stay for long, and Sesshoumaru had (against his better judgment), agreed to it.

He hadn't realized that so much time had already passed.

"Are you so happy to see your family?" he asked the boy.

"Wouldn't you be?" But Sesshoumaru didn't answer, and Kohaku considered him for a moment. "Or are youkai not familial beings? In any case, it's not so much my family. When my father wrote to me, he said that my betrothed was coming as well."

That made Sesshoumaru's heart skip a beat.

"Betrothed?" he asked, part of himself curious. The other part was kicking himself, hard.

At that, Kohaku flushed red. "I suppose that I've really never talked about her. Honestly, I do everything to not think of her, otherwise I miss her terribly."

"So you are close, then? To this girl?"

At that, Kohaku smiled fondly. "My father made the match, but we've known each other since we were children. My precious little Rin-chan."

It was like ice water had been dumped over him.

Of course. Of course, of course, of course.

What a fool to think he was, to escape such a thing. This Kohaku was just like the last, so naturally, Rin would be part of the picture.

Hadn't he waited for this day? Hadn't he waited two centuries?

The Kohaku of the past had made him promise.

Don't let her go.

But this Kohaku was different, and he liked this boy. He liked his genial, friendliness, and he wanted him to be happy. And his Rin, made him happy.

It would be better to let them be.

Chichiue said that the Kami-sama were merciful, but this is a Gods-damn prank.

The girl that stood before him, wasn't the subservient wife of a samurai that he had come to know within the court. The girl that climbed down from the carriage was wearing pants, and if the other ladies had seen such a thing, there would have been a lot to say.

But Kohaku's family didn't seem to mind her lack of kimono, or the fact that she was definitely wearing a male haori. Her hair was tied up into a simple knot, forgoing any adornments. But despite her attire and lack of overall decorum, she was the same, exactly the same.

And it hurt.

Kohaku whisked her straight into his arms, and she laughed.

That hurt too.

For the first time since Kohaku had come to stay with him, he wanted to command him to leave. But he wouldn't, because his old and withered heart had enjoyed the stupid boy's company. He had promised that they wouldn't stay long.

He could do this. It was an easier mantra to say, than to execute, but if he reminded himself that the boy deserved happiness, it softened the blow the tiniest of bits. He's always been the good one.

Rin pulled away from the boy, turning to him though. And she didn't bow, she smirked. "So you're Sesshoumaru-sama, eh? Kohaku-kun writes to me about you constantly, I'll have you know." Kohaku moved to protest, but she swatted at him lightheartedly. "Honestly, I thought you'd be more handsome." And with that, she linked her arm through the boy's, and turned to lead him away.

And for the first time in his life, Sesshoumaru had nothing to say in return.

True to Kohaku's word, his family left after two days.

Rin stayed behind, much to his aggravation. But as the days wore on, he found her presence bearable, partially because she seemed to only have eyes for Kohaku.

It was better this way. Kohaku was the good and safe choice, and he would love her until the end of time. Hell, he had loved her across time. His father was wrong, he had no one, because surely she was for Kohaku instead.

One night, they sat out on the engawa, enjoying sake together.

"Kohaku always spoils the fun," Rin whined.

"Early to bed, early to rise," Sesshoumaru said to her, hiding the smallest hint of a smile behind his cup.

"Is that some old youkai prophecy?" she asked, completely serious.

"It's common sense," he replied.

She glared at him, throwing down the rest of her cup. It wasn't the first time that they had shared sake together, and he knew that she could drink any man under the table, while managing to keep her wits about her. He had long since figured out that Kohaku turned in early on nights like this, because the boy couldn't hold his liquor, and Rin was the teasing type.

"Say Sesshoumaru-sama, can I ask you a strange question?" she asked that night. He grunted noncommittally, refilling her cup. She moved to return the gesture, filling his. "Should I marry Kohaku-kun?"

He hadn't expected such a question, and he found himself gripping his cup a lot harder than intended. "I'm not sure that my opinion is what matters," he finally replied.

At that, Rin sighed, leaning against the outer wall of the house. "For most women, they don't get a say, you know? Their fathers pick a man, and that's that. Many don't even see them until the day they are married. I'm lucky, I suppose. My father knows that I love Kohaku-kun, so he's the one that he picked."

"Then what is the problem?" Sesshoumaru asked her.

"There isn't one," she replied. "There isn't one, and that's the problem. I'm destined to live a disgustingly happy life, with a disgustingly perfect husband. We'll have stupidly perfect children, and we'll live until we're stupidly old, and still stupidly in love."

Sesshoumaru was almost certain that it was partially the alcohol that was talking, so he decided this would be the last cup for the night, covertly sliding the bottle away from them.

"Kohaku-san is one of the good ones," he finally said. How many times would he tell her such a thing? "How often is it, that a woman gets to marry someone as such?"

"Once in a lifetime, I suppose," was her wistful response.

Two life-times, in her case. She couldn't fathom her luck.

"It's ironic, though," she continued with.

"What is?"

"You," she said with a small laugh. "Talking about Kohaku-kun, like he's the only good man in the world. Where does that place you?"

At that, he looked at her, and she looked back to him. And Rin smiled, this knowing smile, and it unnerved him. Finally, he finished the rest of his sake and said, "I believe that is enough for tonight, Rin-san."

"You should just call me Rin," she said, as she stood.

"Kohaku-san doesn't even call you that," Sesshoumaru said to her quietly.

"You aren't Kohaku-kun," she said to him, a wistful smile on her face, and suddenly everything seemed too familiar. But before he could say anything, she turned from him. "Good night, Sesshoumaru-sama."

The next day, Sesshoumaru-sama asked Kohaku when they had planned the wedding for. The boy told him that there wasn't a date yet, as nothing seemed convenient. Sesshoumaru told him to do it as soon as possible, and that he would allow for them to use his home.

It was the first time that the boy had ever hugged him.

It was also the first time time that he wasn't completely repulsed.

Just like her last wedding, this one wasn't a grand affair.

And just like last time, it suited them.

As time wore on, the Shogunate became unstable, and war came to the Western Plains.

"You don't have to go," Sesshoumaru said to Kohaku.

But the boy said nothing, as he hoisted himself onto his horse. "Sesshoumaru-sama," he finally said, "Originally, I was hired to protect your honor. But it has been five years, since I've come to live here, and these lands are now my home as well. It isn't about you any longer, it's about everything that I love. I must protect it."

He wanted to tell the boy that he was stupid, that he should do the protecting, because out of the two of them, he was far less fragile. But Kohaku was stubborn too, at times, because he had learned from the best. Sesshoumaru knew that his words would fall on deaf ears.

"Have you at least said goodbye to Rin?" he finally asked.

And judging by the regretful smile that fell across Kohaku's face, the answer was no. "I've written her two letters," he said. "The first is somewhere where she will find it."

"And the second?"

Kohaku shifted slightly, pulling parchment from his breastplate. "I leave it with you, Sesshoumaru-sama. If I don't come back… please give this to her."

"You will come back," Sesshoumaru said to him. He wouldn't allow it, this child to not come back to Rin. But Kohaku only closed his eyes a sighed, thinking for a moment. Then, he hitched the reins of his horse, moving to turn away. "Kohaku!"

It was beneath Sesshoumaru to plead, but he ran after the stupid boy.

He ran, until he knew it didn't matter anymore.

"Did you know about this?" Rin asked him quietly.

"I tried to stop him," he said to her, leaning against the door frame of her and Kohaku's room. He had never stepped foot here before, and it felt wrong, like he was intruding. Rin didn't seem to care. "I knew nothing, until it was too late."

"Samurai are wistful when you are young," she said woefully. "But the older you become, the more you realize how stupid children are."

"Children aren't stupid," Sesshoumaru chided. Centuries ago, he would have agreed with her, but by this point in life, he had watched several of them grow up. Children were inquisitive creatures, and often times, held more wisdom than a full-grown adult.

"You don't seem the type to be fond of them," she mused. "I suppose one shouldn't judge a book by its cover." Then she paused, reaching out to touch Kohaku's letter once more. "Tell me, Sesshoumaru-sama- How would you feel about being called Sesshoumaru Oji-san?"

This time, he didn't freeze.

This time, he felt anger.

Kohaku would never come back.

And Sesshoumaru had known, he had known. The moment that his horse had crested the horizon, and the boy disappeared from his sight, he had known that it would be the last time he ever saw him.

He didn't give Rin the letter, despite that.

And she held onto whatever strand of hope that she had left. And as the weeks passed, her belly swelled with the child inside. He hadn't ever seen her pregnant before, only visiting in the aftermath.

It suited her, even if she lacked the glow that was so often associated with carrying a child.

She was near her due date, when the notice came.

He stared at the parchment in his hand sadly, despite having expected it. And then came Rin, waddling slowly around the corner, prepared to give him a weary smile. But then she saw his face, and his lips pulled into a tight frown.

Rin gasped, pulling her hands to her lips, trying to hold back a sob. "Sesshoumaru-sama, tell me no," she said, going to him.

"Rin-"

"Tell me that he's coming home!"

And he couldn't, he couldn't find the words. He had never been able to lie to her. And so she hit him, her tiny hand curled into a tiny fist of rage, beating on his chest. She knew that it wouldn't hurt him, and she knew that it wasn't his fault.

But he let her be angry, if only for the moment.

Because afterwards, she fell against him, crying. "Stupid!" she sobbed. "Why must he be so stupid."

He had never seen Rin cry as an adult.

And he never wanted to see it again.

Over his long life, Sesshoumaru had experienced a vast number of things, but he never thought that he would ever witness childbirth firsthand.

Rin had insisted that she travel with him to retrieve her husband's remains, and every logical part of him had screamed that it was a terrible idea. Rin shouldn't be traveling, so close to the end of her pregnancy. He had been about to tell her as such, but he saw the look in her eye, and he knew that it would have been pointless.

She would have followed him regardless, and at least this way, she was safe.

Of course, that was the case, until her water broke, and she went into labor.

And because the Kami-sama were cruel, cruel beings, there wasn't a human village remotely near, and it wasn't safe to move her. So instead, they had hunkered down into a cave for the night, intent on making the best of the worst possible situation, of his entire life.

Rin could do this, she had done this. She had birthed four healthy children, in a previous life. But then that pang of fear fluttered through him, and he remembered that while she was Rin, she also wasn't her.

"My mother once told me that childbirth was the most amazing experience in the world," she said lightly, trying to make a joke. She leaned against the cave wall, sweat beading along her brow, grimacing as a contraction rolled through her. "I'm absolutely certain that she was lying."

It wasn't often that Sesshoumaru-sama didn't know what to do. He had heard Rin give birth before. He remembered some of the things that Kagome had told the girl, and some of the aftercare, in regards to the pup.

But the rest of it was an absolutely mystery.

"Hey, Sesshoumaru-sama," Rin managed to breathe, "You wouldn't have happened to ever… you know, helped a woman out with this before? Have any little pups out there, that you might have sired?"

Where it any other situation, such an accusation might have been funny.

"I will admit to you Rin… I have no idea what to do."

Rin laughed, throwing her head back at the absurdity of it all. "Ah well, you're in luck. My mother at least explained it to me. I'll need your help though. Do me a favor and take a look?"

Sesshoumaru, who was busy trimming his claws as a distraction, turned even paler than he thought was possible. "Look where."

"Oh you know," she started with, and then finished with a vague hand gesture down there.

Oh no, no, no. And she must have seen the slight panic on his face, because she immediately followed up with, "I don't care if you see it, what I care about is delivering a child safely. My stupid husband went to war, and because he's now dead, we're stuck out here in the middle who who knows where, and now you're going to have to look at you know what. So really, if anything, blame Kohaku- Ahhhh."

Before she could complain again, he did as he was told, trying to remain clinical about the situation. It was easier than he would have thought. And everything looked okay, as far as he could tell.

"Rin-"

"Just shut up," she snapped, "I'm trying to concentrate here."

And again, Sesshoumaru did as he was told. The only good advice that Kagome had ever given to him was to shut up, and let a pregnant woman do her thing. Rin had done her own thing for months, and this time seemed to be no exception.

As time wore on, she only yelled louder, cursing Kohaku to the seven hells. And then, something changed, and Rin got quiet for a moment. "Sesshoumaru," she gasped, forgetting all about honorifics and propriety, but he supposed that it wasn't important at that particular moment.

"Rin-"

"I think it's time."

"Time-" Oh. Oh.

"Gods above, why do women willingly do this," she grunted, shifted her position slightly. Instead of leaning against the wall, she was half kneeling, half crouching, insisting that it felt easier this was. As if bearing a child was easy.

"Alright," she said, mustering up the calmest tone she could manage. Sesshoumaru was actually impressed, because the entire room was a massive assault against his senses at the moment. "Just know that I apologize for hurting your ears."

His ears had been ringing for hours, but it was perhaps, not the best time to mention it. And Rin did her damnedest to accommodate him, which was absolutely ridiculous, because she was the one having a child.

The baby was slick in his hands, as he helped guide it, and when it wailed, it was a welcome shrill, despite the harm it caused him. Because the child was alive and healthy. And once again, Sesshoumaru was the first to see it.

This time, a girl.

He pulled his haori off with ease, and Rin started tiredly, but he shushed her. Swaddling the child up, he passed it over to her, and she wearily took her, laying the girl across her chest. And when she went to feed her, he started to look away, causing Rin to laugh, her voice hoarse.

"You've literally seen everything at this point, Sesshoumaru-sama. It's not as if it matters. Come and look."

So instead, he leaned closer to her, watching with curious interest, because this was something new to him.

"You have terrible timing, kid," she sighed quietly.

"Kohaku-san would be proud," Sesshoumaru said quietly.

"He had a name picked out and everything," she whispered. "Of course, it was a male name, because he was convinced this little one would be a boy."

"He would have loved a girl, just the same." Because of Rin's four previous children, Hana had been the undisputed favorite.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, would you name her?"

"Rin-san, I-"

"Please." It was a plead, a tired and exhausted one, but she would keep insisting, he already knew it. "I wouldn't have been able to do this without you." It was then that he realized that she wasn't just talking about the birth, but rather everything that had happened, since Kohaku had so foolishly left.

And so, his lips quirked into the tiniest of grins.

"You should name her Sango-chan."

"Sango-chan," Rin whispered affectionately. "I don't know why, but it seems perfect."

Perfect, indeed.

Kohaku's family had pleaded with her to move back. Rin had refused.

Her own family had requested for her to come home as well. Rin also refused them.

When Sesshoumaru asked her for a reason years later, she only shrugged at him, leaning against the engawa. They were sharing sake again, something that wasn't a common occurrence at this point, but a once-in-awhile indulgence.

"Why should I leave the place, where I have my best memories?" she asked him pleasantly. "Besides, Kohaku-kun would have probably wanted me to stay here."

He still had not given her the letter. He didn't know why, but there had never been a time that felt right. Not after they had burned Kohaku's remains. Or when even when Sango-chan started walking.

Without a word, he stood, startling Rin, and told her that he would be right back. It was right where he had tucked it away, and despite being a tad dusty, it had faded with age. When he sat back down next to Rin, she regarded him curiously.

"When Kohaku-san took his leave, he left behind a letter."

"Yes, upon my nightstand. I remember being quite angry about it."

"Not that letter," he said, holding out his hand. "He left this one with me. In the event of his death, I was to give it to you."

She stared at it dumbly. "Sesshoumaru-sama, that was nearly a decade ago."

"I admit, that there never seemed to be a right time."

But Rin didn't seem angry as she broke open the seal, unfolding it. And then she laughed. "Are you sure that he said to give this to me?"

"I might be old, Rin-san, but don't forget."

"This letter is addressed to you though."

At that, he paused, his sake cup frozen before his lips. Reaching out, took it from her, handling the paper with care, as if it'd burn him. A ridiculous notion, but he couldn't fathom why the boy would address him.

To Sesshoumaru-sama,

Despite everything that others have said about you, I truly believe that you are a good man. Please take care of Rin. She's quite fond of you.

Hayashida Kohaku

It was like a punch to the gut. What was it he had thought all those years ago? That despite taking a different path, the boy had somehow gravitated back towards something familiar. And Rin had done exactly the same thing, staying by his side.

He looked to her again, as she sipped her sake. "Had you truly never read that?"

"I, unlike some, value the privacy of others."

She gave him a shrewd look, that morphed into an amused smile. "He was right you know, I am quite fond of you. I even let you name my child. And I suppose that you have taken quite good care of me."

"Nonsense, you take care of yourself. It just happens to be under my roof."

"Yes well, I don't plan on leaving this roof either."

Silence fell over them, and he moved to pour her one more drink. She did the same. "Sesshoumaru-sama, when I die, will you remember me?" The first time she had asked this, she had been a child, and the answer had come immediately.

But he had failed her in the end, and she had died bitter and angry.

"Always, Rin," he said.

"Well then, let's toast to that."

They lifted their cups and clinked them together. And Sesshoumaru smiled.