Hey everyone! I'm back with a DOOZY of a chapter! 2,800 words?! This has to be a record at least for the last year or so on this fan fic! I'm excited you guys get to read a lot of juice today. It was FUN AND AWESOME to write. :)

Thanks for all your support on here and twitter guys! Ya'll are the best, seriously. And you know who you are! Been brewing some fanart if you want to check out my Twitter. More to come in the future! Find me, XeraQuick!

Love you guys, enjoy!

Chapter 40: Sanctity


Her eyes opened to soot and ash. Flakes of ominous gray veiling her cheeks and eyelashes.

"Where am I?" She spoke but didn't hear. The only proof of her inquiry locked between her mind and light expel of air from her lips, kicking up ash across the torched wood of a familiar shelter.

She sat up slowly in the mat, a cloak of white falling over her shoulder as she did so. A thin sheet, her only source of heat back then... when he was gone, anyway. It was ridden with dirt and ash, the occasional embroidery of a pastel flower emerging, like a diamond in the rough.

At the sight of the flower, she yelped and threw the blanket against the wall.

Not again, her consciousness resonated the old, rickety hut by the sea, Wake up. Wake up!

But as much as she commanded her mind, it wouldn't listen to her. Because deep down she knew, this would allow her to see him again.

A eulogy of respect, she called these visions, as they were so immensely painful, yet the only way she could vividly picture his face, his lean and lanky body, of when she last truly saw him alive. In a way, she wondered, would he still be the same as she had once remembered since she saw the personification of him not too long ago?

The wind creaked the edges of the tiny, four walls; the night as eerily quiet as it always was.

Rin glanced his mat. The empty one in the opposite corner that had been stagnant for weeks, maybe months. She had forgotten to mark the days on the wall this time around. All she knew, was that her loneliness was killing her slowly.

She stood first to her wobbly knees, then to her feet. Her arms and legs were quivering with fatigue from scavenging the day before, as their stores from Kohaku's last hunt had long been consumed.

That's how she knew something was wrong. He'd never let their supply run out before.

She lightly tread across the floor and inhaled the gritty air. She was taller now, able to touch the door post without jumping. It made no sense. Somehow she was still seventeen, and yet thrust back into the past, back to a moment in time that no longer belonged to her, to anyone; a melding of reality and subconscious that no one, she figured, truly understood.

Rin opened the flap to the outside, surveying the sea, the tide, and the watchful glow of moon hanging high over what was left of the fire she had made earlier that evening. She shivered violently as a burst of frost-ridden air extinguished the flames before her, flushed the hut, and burned her eyes.

Strange. Usually, it was warm.

Rin lifted her eyes, squinting through the cold air, knowing full well what she would see.

A dark figure stood at the edge of the clearing, just past the extinguished fire, in the shade of the looming trees. She couldn't see the figure entirely, but she knew who it was. He always visited her here.

"Kohaku," she mumbled. This is when he would step into the light of the moon and reveal himself. Wounded beyond measure, scathed to no end, and smiling warmly as he cried tears of blood. Her subconscious had a sick way of recollection.

But, he didn't. He didn't move at all. Was he even breathing?

Rin's breath caught at the bottom of her lungs as they twisted each other into obi knots. What could this mean?

This wasn't the same dream she always had.

"Kohaku?" she said again, a bit louder. But still, nothing. Her calm left her as she hesitantly stepped out into the billowing wind and rustling trees. Leaves scraped her feet—cuts accumulating along her ankles as she pooled her energy into crossing the clearing.

As she neared the figure, the night sky appeared to darken, making Kohaku's form even less visible the closer she drew.

As soon as she was within arm's distance, she reached for him.

Would he be whole, this time? Would he smile without tears? Would this dream end… happily?

As soon as she thought it, a blue fire ignited around Kohaku, shedding light onto his face.

Rin's heart nearly stopped beating as she realized. It wasn't Kohaku at all.

Long and dark, wavy bands of hair travessed down to his knees; dark cerulean and violet haori banded by cords of wealth; maleficent crimson irises, paired with a snake-like smirk.

"Naraku?!" she whispered with disbelief.

Why was he here?

Beneath the demon, on the ground, two bodies developed out of thin air. Rin's blood ran cold.

Kohaku and Izayoi-sama.

As the vomit reached her throat, Naraku's hands transforming into pointed, wooden scabers. Their speed escaped her vision in the blink of a second, and in the next—a painful wracking found her stomach.

Rin looked down hesitantly, knowing full well what she would see. A bloody circle enveloped her torn yukata—the same, pale gray one she had back when she lived by the sea with Kohaku—and the dark ruby wetness began to spread.

Curiously, she put her hands on the trunks of the wooden scabers, feeling the dampness of her own blood as it seeped into them.

Realization swept over her. This wasn't a dream.

She was going to die.

Rin wailed a horrific scream, and suddenly she was yanked backward by two, relentless arms.


Her mewlings were incessant, a chore to listen to. And they left him no room for sleep.

What was she dreaming?

He slowly opened his eyes and surveyed the length her. Curled into an almost fetal position, and shivering with cold, Rin was a pathetic sight, indeed. Whatever it was causing her to pass this night in such a horrid manner—it was insufferable.

Sesshoumaru slowly snaked his hand over the fledgling geisha and rested it on her wrist.

Cold as ice, and it shocked him. Were all humans so frail to not even be able to regulate their temperatures? He then tampered with the idea. Was she sick?

He had half a mind to encircle her, to offer the pathetic woman his warmth, but he growled at himself. Surely, not. Surely, humans would awaken from the cold before dying of it.

Sesshoumaru reluctantly closed his eyes once more, continuing the tireless task of enduring her light movements and her whimpers.

But when the howling shriek of what was akin to a dying lamb assaulted his ears, Sesshoumaru's eyes flew open.

Agonizing. It was agonizing.

Without a second thought, he forced his arm beneath her and pulled her into him.

She gasped for air, her nails scratching at his skin for just a moment, until she came to her senses. Slowly, her fingers dropped away from his forearm. The blunt and salty scent of her tears mixed with that of the bath oils coating the tresses of her hair. He inhaled deeply, enough to let out an irritated sigh.

As fast as her body relaxed in his arms, it tensed back to normal.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she whispered, still pitifully out of breath.

"You had a nightmare," he forced a reply.

"...And?" Her tone was filled more with surprise than condemnation—but the latter was definitely present.

Sesshoumaru could physically feel the walls of his pride reconstructing around the painful fact that he was all but embracing her. Why hadn't he merely awakened her?

Clearly, his confession earlier that evening had been a class act of manipulation. For his character, that was the most viable explanation. He wanted the heart of this mortal. Her devotion. He wanted control. So he said what was needed to get it from her.

But this? Was this something also needed?

"Don't be so conceited," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"What?" She sounded annoyed, and he chuckled at her challenge.

"Perhaps mere mortals like you cannot fathom such, but when you scream, the sound is amplified tenfold, and make for less than ideal sleeping conditions."

She stirred then, and when he opened his eyes, she was facing him. Her gaze met his briefly before it scoured other parts of the room for composure. She loved bluffing, he noticed, but her body language gave her away.

"I screamed?" she finally asked, a bit higher pitched than usual.

"Hmph." He felt the smirk snake into his cheek. "Horribly. As if you were being mauled."

Rin pursed her lips and nodded slightly, readjusting so his arm rested between her head and shoulder. Embarrassment flushed her face for a few seconds before she snickered.

"What?" he moreso demanded than asked.

"Such sensitive creatures, you demons," she said in a deeper voice, coupled with a smile.

He parted his lips, fondling his fangs with the tip of his tongue. "How bold of you."

"You have no room to talk," she replied, her brown eyes brightening from her brazen teasing. And it was brazen, indeed. Enough to mildly amuse him. Was this the real Rin? The one buried beneath responsibility and civic duty?

"With that mouth, you are certainly no geisha," he stated, listlessly. "It seems my father was wrong to invest in your future as such."

Her eyes dulled a bit and she turned to face the ceiling. Perhaps he had responded a bit too harshly. He refused to curse himself for it, but made a mental note.

Rin wiped the tears she seemed to have just realized were resting, suspended, along her jaw; the result of her nightmare. He waited, feeling the warmth of her neck's pulse along the groove of his elbow. For some reason, he didn't want to move it, even though he knew he should.

He didn't know exactly how, but he knew he was in dangerous territory.

"That's alright," she finally responded, pulling his attention back to her face. She smiled sadly. "I never wanted to be one in the first place."

Now that amused him. "And yet, if he had not forced our paths to converge, it would be your only choice—even now."

"Well, I don't exactly want this, either," she bit back, and he reluctantly let her. "And it's not my only choice. I've considered every escape."

He already knew this, and had nothing more to offer to the statement. How was he to respond to it? Suicide was something he couldn't even fathom, nor relate to. All it meant, was that Rin was far more broken than he liked to imagine; weak. Was he to blame?

Her lips dropped into a slight frown and her shoulder tensed, before she rolled onto her side, facing him again.

"Why haven't you moved? Or retaliated?" she asked.

Sesshoumaru sneered at her question. "Because I have foul intentions," he toyed with her. He anticipated the typical scent of fear to bloom from her, but to his surprise, nothing.

She merely shook her head. Ever so meekly, she whispered, "And yet you want to be my protector. My lover?"

A twinge of anger stretched through his veins. His mouth fell to a taut line and his eyes narrowed down upon her.

"What are you insinuating?"

"You're lying," she said without the slightest hesitation. She gulped and her eyes fell to his lips.

"Oh?" he growled.

"You are. Stop pretending," she pushed her hand against his chest and took in a deep breath. Even with her faltering bravery, no fear laced her scent. This perplexed him.

"I have a condition," she whispered, lifting her fingers to his chin… and surprisingly, he allowed it.

"A condition to what?" his voice dragged the words.

"If you kill Naraku, I will consider your proposal," she bargained. But at the mention of that cur's name, Sesshoumaru's whole body tensed. With the image of his enemy came the acknowledgment of his cause. And with the image of his father, came the ensuing, blood-curdling anger.

The tenderness of Rin's body left him and the sudden loss of heat grappled his temper, pulling him back into the fine threads of this moment—to her fear-stricken face. She had pulled away from him and was analyzing his every movement.

Sesshoumaru forced down his anger, that of which was most likely causing his eyes to redden and markings to elongate. Why she would mention Naraku above anything else, was beyond him. But he ignored it.

"I don't do ultimatums, especially not for 'considerations.' Naraku's life is mine, regardless. So, it seems you will soon have some things to consider."

Rin settled back onto his arm. She only stared down at his kimono sleeve for the longest time before she whispered, "He was the one behind all of their deaths… wasn't he?"

Sesshoumaru didn't respond. But he didn't have to. She already knew. It was evident by the tears swelling along her lashes. Was this the result of her nightmare?

Something clicked within him and he understood then, how he was to respond to her spiraling dismay; how to react when she told him she had considered taking her own life; how to confront her when she was on the brink of grief.

How befitting, that humans are more sensitive in all the ways that are detrimental to their own survival.

He threw his other arm over Rin's chilled body and pulled her into him, snaking his arms across her back and around her waist. He raveled his hand into her hair, and her face settled into the crook of his neck. Yet, he felt the terrible tension rise.

"Stop…," she mewled, though unconvincingly.

He ignored her false demand, but kept her peace by remaining still.

"This is my promise, and my word is law," he stated as tenderly as he could, his inner demon writhing with displeasure. He lifted her chin, eye to eye, forehead to forehead. Amidst her chilling beauty and his savage desires, Sesshoumaru assured her.

"I will keep you safe from the indecencies of this life." His voice was soft, but powerful. "From Naraku, from this world, and... from yourself."

Rin's hazel-laced eyes widened, boring into him.

"Death is inevitable," he stated, "but you will not yearn for it. I won't allow it."

Her body relaxed against him, as if it were exactly what she needed to hear before allowing herself to be comforted by his touch. Her hands gripped the chest of his kimono, and her tears fell. He took her face into his right hand, wiping away the stray streams that left behind rosy lines.

How humiliating, a voice rang in his head. The voice he came to know as his own since birth. And yet, a new voice emerged—one more confident, and more aware of his existence; of his purpose as the new ruler of the West.

This is what I want, it said. And I won't let anything threaten the sanctity of it.

Her eyes were just as vexed as he leaned down slowly, eventually... letting his lips brush hers. Sesshoumaru permitted Rin the final say, and she surprsingly obliged, turning his light affection into an intimate yearning. She pressed them further into his, her small movements as uneasy as the desire dripping from her scent—and he welcomed it.

He and Rin had already done this a handful of times. They had destroyed the parameters of intimacy before either of them had any understanding of such. And yet, this one disply… this one shared desire… it was an acceptance of companionship. An oath, much like the one his father forced upon them, except the only thing promised to either of them this time—was each other.

The space around their mouths grew hot with friction. Rin timidly moved her lips and face along his by an intangible, invisible rhythm that he created.

He wanted her. Badly.

He wanted to show her how vast the difference between his selfishness and his selflessness was. However, he knew better. He was far from gaining that trust, and her body was most likely still recovering from his previous assaults. Guilt filled his chest for a split second.

Decisively, he pulled away and analyzed the contortions of her eyebrows and lips, taking pleasure in how entranced she had been just moments before.

She woefully opened her eyes, and he pressed her face—once again—into the crook of his neck.

"Rest, and know that as long as I am here, you are safe…," he exhaled. "And your vengeance… our vengeance... is mine."


EEEEEP! I loved writing this! I hoped you loved reading it! It gave me all the FEELS. I think I'm high on emotions right now... hmmm. Anyway, love you guys! Please reviewwwww. :)

Working on book stuff while doing this fan fiction, I'll keep you updated! Much love, Xera