Tensaiga brings back souls but does not heal skin. Sesshomaru runs claws over her knots that linger-so many- faded with years, or maybe balms. He doesn't shiver like her, but his ear-tips burn sweet when Rin's thighs open to his fingers, and his lids drop low and his nostrils flare at the scent, and before he's even thought about it there's a tongue on each forgotten little scar put there by another pack's teeth so many years ago. Rin gasps, giggles, when his mouth finds the tender tissue on her hip-ripped apart, once, coming apart now, again.
"Only you, you know," she tells him, one leg draping over his neck, as he searches.