The sky rumbled, and heavy rain bounced off the beaten slates that covered the half decaying rooftops. A storm smothered the setting sun, graying the world around his sullen estate. The trees stood as if charcoal against the deep blue sky. Drops of rain beat against the ancient manor like hammers, creating an atmosphere that mirrored the youkai's current state of mind.
The demon lord always liked to be in control - and for once, he isn't. There was a feeling of devastation gnawing in his heart; Rin's tearful face replaying in his mind like an old, broken record. Her words were sincere and heartfelt and it made him happy - relieved, but it also made him feel a level of dismay.
Why?
The desolation he felt as soon as she left his presence was all consuming. His mind wanted to become an icy wasteland, the wind howled in his soul and wrapped icy tentacles around his heart so tightly it almost stopped beating. His mouth felt dry as he let out a shaky breath, his weary eyes gazing at nothingness in deep thought. He could feel the pulse pounding in his temples as the foreboding silence rang loud in his mind. Fragments of thought, splinters of words, and droplets of silence spun into a kaleidoscopic jumble, shifted infinitesimally, and fell into a new pattern.
Was it because his lack of a response made her hurt?, he wasn't sure.
More importantly, he wasn't sure why he lacked a response. She never left his mind after all of those years apart; she was always there - mentally if not physically. It's just incomprehensible. He had secretly admired everything about her, from the way the breeze blew her hair to the soft lilt to her voice. She was unfailingly kind, always putting others first and herself last. She was his one stable force, his one stability in a world filled with chaos and he so desperately needed that in his life, and yet here he was, stunned at her confession.
His room was gold with beautiful murals on the wall, hand painted skillfully by someone who obviously knew what they were doing. The scene is of the old demon festivals held in honor of his father's legacies, crafted skillfully into the walls to tell the tale of his glory even in his slumber. By the flickering yellow of the nearby torch, the room was dark, the shapes of the furniture discernible but the colors were so muted that they are almost grey. Despite that, the walls were still are like nothing else - vibrant and strong - much like the man their stories told about. It was a magnificent sight to see, even with age creeping along the crevices and cracks on old wood and stone and the apparent smell of wet moss that lingered even this far into the mansion.
The demon lord wore a plain black, silk kimono - his obi loosely tied around his waist, paired with a textured gray hakama. It was an uncharacteristic attire for him as an adult having always been donned in his signature white hakama, but it carried the nostalgia of his long forgotten childhood. It was an old garment of his father's, tailored to fit his similar physique when he inherited the estate. As he sat at the corner of his huge bed, he absentmindedly dug his nails against the silken mattress. The comforter was thick and irresistibly soft like a billowing cloud, calling for his fatigued body to rest, but his stress left him on edge, his mind struggling to grasp unfamiliar emotions. His muscles slouched and his heart beat slowly.
Did his father ever felt this way too?, he wondered.
He had set his eyes dead ahead onto the covered windows, seemingly staring into nothingness, mesmerized by the way the torchlight played on the creases of the old, blackout curtain to create dappled shade. All the while, he kept replaying the previous events in his mind, pondering on questions he never once though to ask himself before.
How did he truly feel about his human ward?
He had always found excuses as to why he wanted to take her back, but beyond all pretenses, what was his real motive to wanting her near? Somewhere, deep inside, he recalled her bright smiles, her joyous, innocent laughter. He looked back to the days where he longed to see her after long months of travelling alone. In her embrace, it felt as it the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no rain. Sesshomaru's mind was at peace. In the most hidden parts of his heart, he knew - he's always known - he loved her. And this love was pure. Unselfish. Undemanding. Free. But what kind of love was it? Did he love her like his father loved Izayoi? Or perhaps he loved her the way his mother cared for him? He wasn't certain - Sesshomaru had been too unfamiliar with love in the centuries he's lived to differentiate one from the other, but despite that, knowing for certain she loved him back felt like bliss.
But... why then, did he feel a lack of resolve to accept her feelings completely?
A knock on the his door jolted the silver-haired daiyoukai back to reality. Without even waiting for his response, the big wooden double-doors that barred him from the desolate halls outside pushed open, and for a second, his heart was caught in his chest, half-hoping and half-fearing seeing his human ward peek through the slight gap, but alas, it wasn't her.
"Expecting someone else?"
Kagura's jet black hair was tucked in her everyday bun - the giant contrast of her dark locks against her pale skin made her look stunningly haunting. Unlike her usual attire, she forwent her usual kimono in lieu of simply her simple green kosode, her yellow obi tied stylishly on her waist. Without the loose fit of her everyday kimono, her feminine figure showed clearly through the thin layers of cloth that covered her curves. Pressing her body through the small slit she made through the old entryway, she entered his room with hesitation - uninterested in asking his permission or waiting for his invitation.
Typical.
By candlelight her bones looked sharp, yet her skin is mellow like a peach. In the dimness, her eyes turned from their dark red hue to almost black, each pupil quite undetectable.
Ignoring her question, he watched her silently as she pushed the old blocks of carved wood shut behind her, the memories of their previous... escapades flooding his mind. In that moment, the turmoil in his heart quieted themselves, as if waiting impatiently for something else to happen - forgetting in that very instance, Rin. The fuuji walked lightly towards his bed, her light footsteps making the wooden planks beneath her feet creak under the heavy carpet that draped upon the decrepit base flooring. Stopping short a few feet from where he sat, she crossed her arms across her chest, her right hand clutching that white, traditional wooden fan she favored so much loosely. Her sly smirk was the same as it's always been - impudent, cocky, and audacious. Whatever sullied her mood earlier had obviously been wiped off for the evening, and her presence, albeit unsolicited, felt strangely comforting.
"How long are you really intending to stay here? The imp had been talking about an uprising from remnants of the Southern Kingdoms that needs quelling pretty soon. Can't imagine you'd be taking her along for the ride, so what's your plan?"
Gold eyes eyed her coolly - his unruffled expression shielding away restlessness.
"We leave tomorrow."
"We? You seriously thinking of bringing her?"
The wind sorceress raised an eyebrow, regarding him in blatant disbelief - mild disappointment painting itself through a small frown on her lips. He didn't respond.
"Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but taking her would be much more than a hassle. If you really have to be attached to her by the hip, then let me handle the rebels alone. I can deal with low lives like them pretty easily without you having to be around. I was Naraku's right hand, at one point-"
She raised her free hand from her chest, waving at him dismissively as she continued their one-sided conversation - an arrogant act of informality that warranted an icy glare from the young lord.
"-so I'll head over and handle them myself first thing tomorrow. It shouldn't take too long. Besides-"
She began to turn around and trot back towards the door, "-I'm sure you have other business you'd rather attend to."
It was slight, but he caught it. Their eyes met in the middle of her last sentence, the gaze of her deep red eyes conveying so much than her words. In that second, he could see it clearly: the insatiable fire that burned within her, evident in the way her hand clenched tightly as it dropped to her leg, her knuckles white from the pressure of her ungodly grip. Her pupils dilated, her posture tightened. Her thoughts were like a strange, dark ocean to him, but he could almost taste her bitterness in the air as she dropped the words like a sharp blade aimed at his soul and for a very short moment, he caught the grimace at the corner of her lips; the familiar scorn of a broken heart, but the second he saw it all, they were gone - just as swiftly as they appeared.
"Kagura."
She didn't turn around or acknowledged him, and right there, the replay of the day's earlier events emerged in his mind at the most inconvenient of times. He could feel the familiar, ominous tension swarming the air, and before Sesshomaru even realized what he was doing, his grip had tightened over her small wrist, drawing her to a stop. She titled her small body to face him, her blood-red eyes returning his very own, piercing stare. There was static - that crackling in the air that's always happened whenever the two of them got within a foot of each other.
Her stoic mask, calm and collected just as his was, was placed neatly on her face, veiling the freezing hostility of the jealousy that reared its head just moments ago.
"What are you doing?"
Her voice gave nothing away - poised and composed, without a single crack to her typical smug tone. For a second, a heavy silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. The silence was a poison to them, for in that void of sound the shallowness of their conversation was laid bare.
As if on a trance, Sesshomaru voicelessly followed the instinct that pounded on his head, on a curious endeavor to find out some answers.
He had to know.
His anticipation was a nervous kind of energy. It tingled through him like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in his toes. Wordlessly, he took a few steps closer and in one, swift motion, he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. She smelt of fresh herbs and peppermint, indicating a bath not too long ago.
Why had he not been able to accept Rin?
Unlike their previous encounters, this kiss was different. Different from their typical fiery, passionate and demanding, this one was innocent, soft and slow. Recovering from her own surprise, the kaze youkai parted her own lips, savoring the moment she knew would never last. Their breaths mingled and the world fell away, the taste of her lips, he realized, was becoming both his salvation and torment. His free hand wrapped around her waist and hers locked around his neck pulling him down slightly - her fan still clutched tightly in an iron grip.
Kagura...
It was unlike in plays or stories. There were no fireworks for them, no music in the background, but even so, as he pulled away from his sudden, uncharacteristic assault on her heart, he found the disarming answer he was looking for. They stood there, eyes locked at each other - all charades and veneers aside - realizing the dawning truth of just what kind of alarming situation he had just fallen into.
He could see her clearly now; Kagura had a kind of understated beauty or perhaps it was her charm - her being so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. She was sarcastic, crude, impolite, and she hardly ever smiled - but when she did and when she laughed, he couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in her company was felt as if he too were someone - not just another figurehead in one, big political agenda, that he had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season. What drove others away and what inadvertently drew him closer was her inability to sugar coat anything. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her prideful face, her feelings were evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the curve of her full lips, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless red, an ocean of fire and ardor. As he looked into her eyes he felt like all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest flames, and in them he read clearly that she would fight to the very last blood for her life. She was not one to let the world break her. Sure she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion - the passion that made her even more beautiful.
He gingerly released his rigid grasp on her wrist, letting her hand drop back to her side as he turned around to walk back to the comforts of his bed, his impassive facade already drawn back on his expressions. He guarded his thoughts, never letting an unconsidered word escape his lips.
"I will handle the uprising myself tomorrow. There is no need for you to get involved. Inform Rin we will be postponing our travels until the rebels have been fully dealt with."
It took the fuuji longer to regain her composure, but she did so promptly, nonetheless. She scurried to the door, her hurried steps giving away her flustered reaction.
"I won't be babysitting her, if that's what you're asking."
And with that, she shut the door behind them, leaving the silver-haired lord to himself, alone with his newfound realizations.
And I suppose now I know.
He walked briskly yet gracefully towards the bright torch that illuminated the room. The air was still and the flames barely flickered. With each stride, his mind became more clear, more resolute, as if the growing physical distance between them had now become an emotional chasm. The sun had set and the windows - barred by old, dusty curtains that had hardly been opened for years - showed but a glimpse of the darkening skies outside as the evening progressed. Then, abruptly pausing to close his eyes and take in a deep breath of dewy air, he steeled himself to only think of his future from here on in. With a quick wave of his hand, the firelight dies, leaving behind a shimmer of smoke and ashes, drenching the room in complete darkness. He felt as if his insides were tearing, his pale skin looked even paler as blood drained from his face. His eyes were cold like ice and his features immobile. And there, standing in the pool of swirling blackness, he pondered at the dreadful fruit of his most recent experiment.
Kisses, to him, were usually inconsequential, but as the memory of both women's lips still lingered on his own, Sesshomaru was thankful for the pitch black twilight that obscured the vulnerability brought about his now dawning conclusions; Rin was his sun, bright and alluring - illuminating parts of him he had never known to exist, thawing the cold, frozen bits of his heart that had long been encased in a thick layer of ice. She was the spring that bloomed a meadow of daisies where it was once to dead to grow love, but Kagura - she was his moon, dark and mysterious. The one who sees and accepts the tainted parts of him - his darker, crueler reality. She was his solace, the one who accepts the shadows that plagued his past and the ones that will come in the future. She was his equal, someone who could stand by him and against him - cold, cunning, and daring.
He had fallen for them both.
A/N: It took so long to make an update. I've just been suuuuuuper busy IRL in the last year, I have had no time to come back, but rest assured, I will be here every now and then to post more updates. I have not dropped this project, just to get that out of the way! Thanks for all the people who continually wrote to me and PMed me, awaiting more of my work. You guys are the best!
