Cloud Nine

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: Inuyasha is not mine.

Chapter Nine

The only time Rin was alone these days was when she was in the village. Sesshomaru never went with her into a village and always met her on her way out. What he did while he waited she never knew, or asked; talking was not something she was comfortable doing anymore with him. If she talked, she'd forget; and if she forgot, it would hurt when she remembered. So she lived in a dull misery all the time, existing from one village to the next in a dense fog, followed by the one she was trying to lose.

Sesshomaru didn't vary from his tactics today, but Jaken continued on oblivious until they reached the village square. The imp didn't know anything was wrong until they were surrounded by a gang of men with newly sharpened weapons. "Out of the way," Jaken yelled, waving the staff of two heads.

The men looked at one another but didn't move; one small demon wasn't going to deter them.

Rin stood still, her hands twitching. The blood rage was beginning to descend on her, something that came more easily every time she killed a man. Now there were ten, no thirteen, men waiting for her blade to usher them into hell. She drew her bow from over her shoulder and unsheathed her sword; that was reason enough for the men to charge.

She drew her sword back and was surprised when Jaken stepped in front of her, the staff of two-heads trained on the men coming at her from the front. A jet of fire issued from the staff and incinerated four men. Jaken laughed and spun around, aiming at everything and everyone in view. The attacking men watched in mounting horror as the imp charge at them, the staff igniting everything in its path. No one had a chance.

Rin stood in the aftermath, her hands clenched so tightly on her weapons they creaked on the pressure. Jaken was still laughing, unaware of the rage still coursing through her, the blood rage. When he finally turned to her, laughing and hopping from one foot to the other, he found her in a towering rage. She raised her sword and brought it down swiftly, striking the dirt a centimeter from where he stood; she swept his feet from under him with the bow and then wacked him on the head until he passed out. She stepped over her and ran from the village, the rage still boiling in her blood. She needed to hit something; she needed an outlet. She ran into Sesshomaru.

He gripped her by her shoulders, keeping her from running into his sharp armor. She tried to push him away but he only gripped her tighter, drawing blood as his nails sank into her skin; she tried to pull away again but his nails only sank deeper into her flesh. Adrenaline flooded her body as her pain receptors fired and she let the rage descend on her fully.

She fisted his kimono in her hands and pulled him close, bringing her knee up in one swift motion, but he blocked her, shifting slightly so she couldn't hit him in his tender region. So she drew her hands backed and tried to box his ears, but he blocked again, releasing his hold on her. She jumped back and looked at the blood as is seeped into her clothes, black on black. She drew her sword and rushed at him, striking here and there but never hitting him. She had no chance in actually hurting him, but she couldn't stop, not when the rage had descended. He retreated, the sword never in any danger of hitting him.

She stopped. She'd never get him, never hurt him; she wasn't fast enough, she wasn't strong enough; she was human. Disgust roiled through her and she turned the sword on herself.

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Sesshomaru's eyes widened as she plunged the sword toward her belly. He knocked the sword from her hand and attempted to grab her again but his hands closed on nothing. With a speed he hadn't known she possessed she had jumped back and pulled her knife, this time slashing down on her left wrist before he could stop her. He tore the knife from her right hand and covered her left wrist with his large hand, trying to stop the blood from pouring through the deep cut.

As the blood pooled up from under his fingers Rin stopped fighting and looked down at what she had done. She tried to pull away from him, but he gripped her wrist tighter, almost grinding the bones together and growled. She stopped immediately and looked up into his eyes, tears now flowing down her cheeks. "Let me go," she whispered.

What? What was she saying? She'd rather be dead, after all he'd done to keep her alive? He shook his head and tore a long piece from his kimono. He wrapped her wrist quickly and tightly, the white cloth blossoming with red flowers. Where was all this blood coming from? Why wasn't it stopping?

Now she was sobbing, deep cries shaking her body. The blood continued to flow, even with the heavy bandage. Why wasn't it stopping? Why wasn't she healing? He held her wrist tighter, but the blood continued to spill.

Her sobs suddenly stopped and he looked at her face, frightened of what he'd find; but the blood still coursed through the open wound, so her heart was still beating. Her face was drained of all color, her skin porcelain; her dark eyes were gazing at him with the love he knew she possessed, and she was once again the girl he'd watch grow into a woman. The corners of her mouth turned up and she used her right hand to brush her fingers along his jaw-line. She was leaving him, he could see it in her eyes; she was leaving him for somewhere she hoped he wouldn't follow. "Rin," he said.

Now her face lit up with a true smile. "I love you, my Lord," she said.

She closed her eyes and died.

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