A/N – "I am not her, Sesshoumaru-sama. I cannot be what she was to you." A Reincarnated!Rin fic.
Disclaimer – I don't own Inuyasha, any of the canon characters, settings or situations. No money was made in the making of this fic.

Ordinary World

It was very late.

Shivering, she thrust her hands deeper into her pockets, huddling into her jacket. She walked with her eyes and ears wide open, searching for anything unusual or out of place; old habits die hard, and a childhood spent living hand-to-mouth on the streets had left its mark.

That desperate, feral girl is gone, she told herself grimly. She'd escaped her past and made a new life, but some part of her had always known that she could not run forever. As she hurried up the steps to her apartment block she could feel her instincts prickling, and it made her fingers clumsy as she fumbled with her keys at her door.

When she finally closed her apartment door behind her she sighed, feeling herself relax at last, and tossed her bag and keys on the coffee table –

And then she felt the electrifying thrill of his presence.

The lights were out, but the reflection from the countless neon lights and signs outside was enough to provide dim illumination. In the half-darkness she saw a pale glimmering figure unfold, ghostly white and blood-dark crimson, and she stared at him, her breath caught in her throat.

"Sesshoumaru-sama," she whispered.

He stood up, his hair and robes glimmering. "You should not be out so late." And he drew closer, moving with that ancient, unearthly grace. "Rin."

She stood very still as he approached, her heart hammering – with nervousness? anticipation? – so loudly she knew that he could hear it. When he was close enough to reach out and touch, he stopped, bent down to her, and drew in her scent.

"You smell of another man," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear.

When she was young, she would sit with him in the evenings, curled up in his lap, tangling his silken white hair with her own. She would breathe in his rich, musky scent, knowing that it was rubbing off on her, marking her as his. It had made her feel safe, then, and loved; she had half imagined that she marked him as well, her own scent rubbing off on him.

As she grew older, the scent-marking became less innocent. They had twined around each other possessively, mouthing, licking, biting; she had scratched her fingers down his back, often drawing blood.

But it had been ten years since she'd walked away from him, scrubbing every inch of her body until she was sure she'd washed away his possession. She smelled of perfume, now, of scented soap and shampoos, of man-made clothes and human sweat –

And, yes, of another man.

"My fiancé," she said, as steadily as she could. "We are going to be married."

His eyes darkened, the only outward sign of his reaction. She had once memorised every nuance of his expression and body language; she recognised his displeasure, had to stop herself from trying to appease him.

"And where is he?" Sesshoumaru asked. "This fiancé of yours. Should he not be by your side, keeping you from harm?"

"The only danger I face at the moment is you, Sesshoumaru-sama," she retorted.

He flinched.

She had trusted him with the wary innocence of a feral street-rat. It had been weeks before she stopped waking at the slightest sound, and months before she would allow herself to curl up beside him and relax. He had waited her out with inhuman patience, until eventually she had given him her entire heart and soul.

He had told her that she could do whatever she wished, but when she'd tried to leave he'd tried to stop her. He'd slammed his fist into the door, slamming it shut before she could haul it open, and his acid-green poison had leaked from his claws, corroding the thick lacquered wood. She'd seen possessive violence in his eyes, directed at her –

And then as she watched, terrified, he reined it in.

Withdrew.

And allowed her to flee.

"I cannot be what she was to you," Rin said tiredly. "I am not her."

"I know, Rin. I told you, long ago – I do not wish you to be her."

"Sesshoumaru-sama." Reaching out to him, she took his hand in hers, lifted it to her cheek. It was an unthinkable intimacy, born of their long history and the remnants of what they had once had. "But you still saw her when you looked at me. Jun – my fiancé – sees me."

And with that simple, harsh truth, she knew that she had won.

He untangled his hand from hers and stepped away. She closed her eyes, drew in a long, shuddering breath. When she opened them again, he was gone.

When Jun returned home more than an hour later, she greeted him with a warm smile and a kiss. His hair was short and mussed, not silken white, and he smelled of cotton shirts and aftershave, not ozone and musk. He was entirely human, completely ordinary, and he knew nothing of youkai or her childhood or whoever she may have been in her past life.

But he loved her, and she him.

And that was enough.

FIN