A/N: Once again, thanks to all those who reviewed. It proves there is
someone out there.
A Warning: This chapter is a tad angsty. Some Sess fans may have a problem with it. Don't mistake me, I like Sesshomaru, which is probably why I enjoy torturing him. If all goes as planned, I think that this is as dark as it gets.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. . .you know, if anyone hasn't figured this out by now, they're probably no going to.
Synthetic Emotions
Sesshomaru regarded his reflection in the full-length mirror, turning to examine himself from every angle. His mistress was becoming fidgety and withdrawn. He knew from experience what that meant. It meant he was about to be sold. Again. Not that he cared, but he was concerned academically. He rarely stayed with the same owner more than two or three years, and never longer than five. After more than sixty years and twenty masters, he could not help but wonder if this was due to some flaw in him. Every time he bent his facilities to that question, he came to the same conclusion: the fault was not with him, but the humans who expected warmth from their youkai.
If his current mistress was opting to sell him, as so many had in the past, then at least his appearance tonight would have nothing to do with it. He knew the woman's taste very well. He knew she would be fond of the sight of him as he was now, with his long platinum hair falling straight and unbound, swept back behind his pointed ears to better reveal the elegant lines of his face. He wore black leather pants--the things seemed to be a fetish with this particular mistress--which clung to his legs in smooth, oily plains, and rose low on his hips so both the contours of his obliques and the narrow trail of fine silver hair trailing down from his navel were clearly visible, drawing attention to one of his more widely appreciated attributes. His shirt was unbuttoned, made of metallic black fabric so sheer that the play of muscles in his back, arms, and shoulders need not be left to the imagination. The color of his clothing made him look paler than he really was, and he would have appeared washed out were the effect less striking.
He looked like a whore.
The thought was unbecoming, but the conclusion not inapt. His mistress enjoyed showing him off in this sort of attire. Sesshomaru almost suspected she was trying to rub in his position in the world. . .which was, admittedly, often flat on his back. If she expected to get a rise out of him, however, she was sadly misguided. He had endured this sort of treatment before, and likely would again. The fact was if he were capable, he probably would have found her behavior amusing. He was a youkai, and youkai did not experience feelings. He could not 'feel' demeaned or embarrassed by their ploys. He could not 'feel' anything. Not in the way these sorry, deluded souls craved. He was insulted that they expected it from him.
He heard his current mistress coming long before she knocked on the door to his room. She leaned in to peek at him. He studied her in turn, mostly waiting to see what would happen next. The woman looked thirty-ish, but if Sesshomaru were to venture and estimate, it would be fifteen years higher. Dye kept her feathery hair raven black, and in addition to the skillful use of various powders and creams, several costly medical procedures had gone into maintaining her appearance. Her dusky violet eyes were lined with dark paint, and clumps of mascara could be seen in her lashes. 'She would probably be counted a beauty,' Sesshomaru mused as he studied her, watching him, 'but her beauty is as much artifice as mine.' And only somewhat less convincing.
Minutes ticked by, and finally the woman slunk into the room. She was elaborately dressed, her gown made of many layers of purple, black and white. The topmost tier of fabric was black taffeta, with long dagged sleeves that nearly hid her fingertips. Perhaps she intended her appearance to be fragile. She succeeded in looking brittle, like a dried flower.
"You look good," the woman said. She was unsettled. Sesshomaru could hear it in the quaver of her voice, the irregular patter of her heart. He could smell it as a bitter, anxious tang in the air.
"Madame," he acknowledged, turning to face her fully. 'Will it be tonight? Will she tell me, or just abandon me? Will I go to auction?' The youkai had asked himself these questions before.
"Is that all you'll say to me?" his mistress asked. "'Madame.'" She made her tone scornful.
'Tonight,' Sesshomaru predicted. 'She'll tell me, then get rid of me as quickly as possible.'
"What would you have me say?" the youkai asked coolly.
"I will not tell you," she said. "I will not give you words to feed back to me." Her voice was more calm than he expected, more resigned. She approached him slowly, her high heels clicking against the paneled floor. Fair, slender hands reached out to grab hold of the youkai's collar, and she pulled herself roughly against his chest. She gazed up at him, her almond shaped eyes hooded, her painted nails tracing patterns along his collarbone. Sesshomaru did not know her game, but he was familiar with his cards. He leaned forward, meaning to deliver a light kiss to her lips, but she shoved him away. "I've had enough of you," she declared, primly straightening her rumpled dress.
'I wonder if she's satisfied with her little outburst,' he thought.
"You are not a man," the woman said.
"No, Madame," the youkai agreed, "I am not."
"You are nothing but a toy," she pressed. "I don't need toys."
'So, it's to be now.' Sesshomaru waited for her to finish.
"As of tomorrow, you are no longer mine," she continued. "I need a man, and you aren't even a convincing copy."
'Am I to be offended by this?' The youkai saw no reason to be and chose to remain silent.
"You'll be going to my sister as a gift. She might find a use for you. Her husband is gone most of the time, and with that daughter of hers. . ." his mistress shook herself distastefully. "You'll go to her in the morning."
'Why are you telling me this, Madame?'
"I'll be better off without you," the woman concluded. She stood before him, beaming with confidence and success. As though he would care that she could throw him away. As though he'd be hurt by her giving him away like a hand-me down sweater. She just didn't understand, did she?
He would show her.
In one fluid motion, Sesshomaru stepped into her, sliding one arm around her body while his other hand cupped her cheek. She tensed in his grasp, and the already unsteady beat of her heart lurched. Her body temperature dropped, and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Good, she was beginning to understand. He dipped his head and nuzzled the woman's ear, then laid an open mouthed kiss on the artery in her throat. His teeth grazed her skin, fangs scratching ever so lightly over pulse point.
His mistress let out a gasp, and the youkai knew that the reality of their situation had finally dawned on her. If not for the innate codes in every domestic youkai, he could kill her. He could kill her, and feel nothing, the same as he felt nothing when he served her.
After a moment, he released her. The woman staggered back, her eyes no longer heavy, but wide and staring. Her breath was ragged. Her smell was rank with fear. All her earlier confidence was shattered. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting as she searched for an escape. Sesshomaru made no move to stop her as she fled, leaving the youkai alone with his reflection.
Sesshomaru sighed, turning to once again regard himself critically. After a moment he shook his head, then went to his wardrobe to find something else to wear.
*~*~*
(A/N: I was thinking of ending this chapter here, but decided I just couldn't completely exclude Inuyasha and Kagome.)
*~*~*
Inuyasha followed his new mistress at a respectable distance; not because he respected her, but desiring privacy. In truth, the hanyou had taken a number of shocks today, starting with waking up to find more than five decades had passed him by, and ending with the revelation that Kikyo had not only shut him down, but interrupted one of his necessary circuits as well. The latter was adding insult to injury, but he couldn't help but wonder why. Why would Kikyo have deactivated him in the first place? It made no sense, and the only person who might have been able to enlighten him was dead.
That particular bit of information was almost more than he could process. Kikyo, dead. His Kikyo, dead. He couldn't bring himself to think about it, but he couldn't stop the thought from floating to the surface again and again, no matter how he tried to keep it down. He was supposed to protect his owner, a fact which was written indelibly in his code. He was meant to protect Kikyo, and she was dead.
Now he had this girl instead. She smelled enough like Kikyo that when he'd come to with most of his senses distorted, he mistook one for the other. Kagome was not Kikyo, though. Among other things, Kikyo had realized the difference between a real, living, animate being, and a stupid locomotorized doll. This girl, though. . . She didn't seem to care that there was a difference, which was idiocy to the very root. As a result, she was keeping him so that he wouldn't be dismantled.
To think old Kaede had believed he wouldn't be able to hear their conversation through the paper-thin walls of an apartment.
Inuyasha felt his systems charge at the thought of being dismantled, as though he was preparing for a fight, even though there was no threat to his charge or himself. He could almost think that the feeling might be fear. He did not want to be taken apart. He did not want to have his memory taken from him, to have a new emotion simulator installed. He did not want to think of someone else being assembled out of his components. If he survived, then he would have this girl to thank for it. He should be grateful.
Youkai could not be grateful. 'And neither can I,' he reaffirmed silently.
"Inuyasha," Kagome said, interrupting his spinning thoughts.
"What?" he asked gruffly.
"Why are you walking way back there? You could come up here and talk to me."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Maybe I want company," the girl snapped. "Maybe I don't feel comfortable with you stalking me like that."
Which reminded him, "You weren't really going to live by yourself, were you? You were going to buy a Companion. . . or a Security youkai at least, weren't you?"
"What makes you say that?" Kagome asked, seeming genuinely confused. "I have Shippo. I don't see why I 'need' another youkai. Not that I won't keep you or anything." The last was added hastily, as though she was afraid she'd offended him.
"Because it's. . . I mean, it's not. . ." Inuyasha struggled to find words for the reason and found that his vocabulary was lacking. " Because it's not safe," he finally managed to say. "Humans aren't strong enough to take care of themselves. That's why they made youkai, isn't it?"
"Human took care of themselves just fine for centuries before they made youkai," Kagome assured him with less sarcasm than she might have. Inuyasha knew how stupid he'd sounded. "Besides, why do you care?"
"Keh. I'm programmed to think of your safety. I don't care."
The girl eyed him skeptically. "But you can protect me now, so why do you care what I was going to do?"
'Damn.' She had a point. Inuyasha hated loosing arguments. Kikyo hadn't argued with him. Kikyo would have just told him what to do. Unwilling to give up, he lied. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to do anything else that stupid."
"I won't," the girl said placatingly. Why was she smiling? It was making him paranoid. There was no reason for her to be smiling. 'Humans are strange,' he told himself. 'Maybe she's just smiles all the time.' She hadn't been smiling before, but then, she'd sort of had reasons not to. Like having her life threatened.
"What's next?" the hanyou asked, changing the subject.
Kagome stopped smiling. "We're going ho--to my Mom's house. I 'wanted' to sleep in my own apartment tonight, but I didn't get the chance to finish moving."
"Oh," Inuyasha said, a little guilty. "Well don't worry about it. I'll help you finish moving tomorrow."
"Really?" She was smiling again.
"Well, I assume you want me to," Inuyasha said warily. "You own me. If you want me to help you move, I will."
"Oh." The smile vanished again, and the sad look in her eyes said that it wouldn't be back for a while.
'Damn.' Inuyasha felt another wave of guilt. Now he wanted Kagome's smile to come back.
*~*~*
A/N: That's all for today, folks. Come back later and we'll see if we can't squeeze a little fluff into the next chapter.
For those who noticed Sesshomaru seemed a little moody for a guy who doesn't have emotions; you're right, he did, didn't he.
Thanks for reading.
A Warning: This chapter is a tad angsty. Some Sess fans may have a problem with it. Don't mistake me, I like Sesshomaru, which is probably why I enjoy torturing him. If all goes as planned, I think that this is as dark as it gets.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. . .you know, if anyone hasn't figured this out by now, they're probably no going to.
Synthetic Emotions
Sesshomaru regarded his reflection in the full-length mirror, turning to examine himself from every angle. His mistress was becoming fidgety and withdrawn. He knew from experience what that meant. It meant he was about to be sold. Again. Not that he cared, but he was concerned academically. He rarely stayed with the same owner more than two or three years, and never longer than five. After more than sixty years and twenty masters, he could not help but wonder if this was due to some flaw in him. Every time he bent his facilities to that question, he came to the same conclusion: the fault was not with him, but the humans who expected warmth from their youkai.
If his current mistress was opting to sell him, as so many had in the past, then at least his appearance tonight would have nothing to do with it. He knew the woman's taste very well. He knew she would be fond of the sight of him as he was now, with his long platinum hair falling straight and unbound, swept back behind his pointed ears to better reveal the elegant lines of his face. He wore black leather pants--the things seemed to be a fetish with this particular mistress--which clung to his legs in smooth, oily plains, and rose low on his hips so both the contours of his obliques and the narrow trail of fine silver hair trailing down from his navel were clearly visible, drawing attention to one of his more widely appreciated attributes. His shirt was unbuttoned, made of metallic black fabric so sheer that the play of muscles in his back, arms, and shoulders need not be left to the imagination. The color of his clothing made him look paler than he really was, and he would have appeared washed out were the effect less striking.
He looked like a whore.
The thought was unbecoming, but the conclusion not inapt. His mistress enjoyed showing him off in this sort of attire. Sesshomaru almost suspected she was trying to rub in his position in the world. . .which was, admittedly, often flat on his back. If she expected to get a rise out of him, however, she was sadly misguided. He had endured this sort of treatment before, and likely would again. The fact was if he were capable, he probably would have found her behavior amusing. He was a youkai, and youkai did not experience feelings. He could not 'feel' demeaned or embarrassed by their ploys. He could not 'feel' anything. Not in the way these sorry, deluded souls craved. He was insulted that they expected it from him.
He heard his current mistress coming long before she knocked on the door to his room. She leaned in to peek at him. He studied her in turn, mostly waiting to see what would happen next. The woman looked thirty-ish, but if Sesshomaru were to venture and estimate, it would be fifteen years higher. Dye kept her feathery hair raven black, and in addition to the skillful use of various powders and creams, several costly medical procedures had gone into maintaining her appearance. Her dusky violet eyes were lined with dark paint, and clumps of mascara could be seen in her lashes. 'She would probably be counted a beauty,' Sesshomaru mused as he studied her, watching him, 'but her beauty is as much artifice as mine.' And only somewhat less convincing.
Minutes ticked by, and finally the woman slunk into the room. She was elaborately dressed, her gown made of many layers of purple, black and white. The topmost tier of fabric was black taffeta, with long dagged sleeves that nearly hid her fingertips. Perhaps she intended her appearance to be fragile. She succeeded in looking brittle, like a dried flower.
"You look good," the woman said. She was unsettled. Sesshomaru could hear it in the quaver of her voice, the irregular patter of her heart. He could smell it as a bitter, anxious tang in the air.
"Madame," he acknowledged, turning to face her fully. 'Will it be tonight? Will she tell me, or just abandon me? Will I go to auction?' The youkai had asked himself these questions before.
"Is that all you'll say to me?" his mistress asked. "'Madame.'" She made her tone scornful.
'Tonight,' Sesshomaru predicted. 'She'll tell me, then get rid of me as quickly as possible.'
"What would you have me say?" the youkai asked coolly.
"I will not tell you," she said. "I will not give you words to feed back to me." Her voice was more calm than he expected, more resigned. She approached him slowly, her high heels clicking against the paneled floor. Fair, slender hands reached out to grab hold of the youkai's collar, and she pulled herself roughly against his chest. She gazed up at him, her almond shaped eyes hooded, her painted nails tracing patterns along his collarbone. Sesshomaru did not know her game, but he was familiar with his cards. He leaned forward, meaning to deliver a light kiss to her lips, but she shoved him away. "I've had enough of you," she declared, primly straightening her rumpled dress.
'I wonder if she's satisfied with her little outburst,' he thought.
"You are not a man," the woman said.
"No, Madame," the youkai agreed, "I am not."
"You are nothing but a toy," she pressed. "I don't need toys."
'So, it's to be now.' Sesshomaru waited for her to finish.
"As of tomorrow, you are no longer mine," she continued. "I need a man, and you aren't even a convincing copy."
'Am I to be offended by this?' The youkai saw no reason to be and chose to remain silent.
"You'll be going to my sister as a gift. She might find a use for you. Her husband is gone most of the time, and with that daughter of hers. . ." his mistress shook herself distastefully. "You'll go to her in the morning."
'Why are you telling me this, Madame?'
"I'll be better off without you," the woman concluded. She stood before him, beaming with confidence and success. As though he would care that she could throw him away. As though he'd be hurt by her giving him away like a hand-me down sweater. She just didn't understand, did she?
He would show her.
In one fluid motion, Sesshomaru stepped into her, sliding one arm around her body while his other hand cupped her cheek. She tensed in his grasp, and the already unsteady beat of her heart lurched. Her body temperature dropped, and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Good, she was beginning to understand. He dipped his head and nuzzled the woman's ear, then laid an open mouthed kiss on the artery in her throat. His teeth grazed her skin, fangs scratching ever so lightly over pulse point.
His mistress let out a gasp, and the youkai knew that the reality of their situation had finally dawned on her. If not for the innate codes in every domestic youkai, he could kill her. He could kill her, and feel nothing, the same as he felt nothing when he served her.
After a moment, he released her. The woman staggered back, her eyes no longer heavy, but wide and staring. Her breath was ragged. Her smell was rank with fear. All her earlier confidence was shattered. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting as she searched for an escape. Sesshomaru made no move to stop her as she fled, leaving the youkai alone with his reflection.
Sesshomaru sighed, turning to once again regard himself critically. After a moment he shook his head, then went to his wardrobe to find something else to wear.
*~*~*
(A/N: I was thinking of ending this chapter here, but decided I just couldn't completely exclude Inuyasha and Kagome.)
*~*~*
Inuyasha followed his new mistress at a respectable distance; not because he respected her, but desiring privacy. In truth, the hanyou had taken a number of shocks today, starting with waking up to find more than five decades had passed him by, and ending with the revelation that Kikyo had not only shut him down, but interrupted one of his necessary circuits as well. The latter was adding insult to injury, but he couldn't help but wonder why. Why would Kikyo have deactivated him in the first place? It made no sense, and the only person who might have been able to enlighten him was dead.
That particular bit of information was almost more than he could process. Kikyo, dead. His Kikyo, dead. He couldn't bring himself to think about it, but he couldn't stop the thought from floating to the surface again and again, no matter how he tried to keep it down. He was supposed to protect his owner, a fact which was written indelibly in his code. He was meant to protect Kikyo, and she was dead.
Now he had this girl instead. She smelled enough like Kikyo that when he'd come to with most of his senses distorted, he mistook one for the other. Kagome was not Kikyo, though. Among other things, Kikyo had realized the difference between a real, living, animate being, and a stupid locomotorized doll. This girl, though. . . She didn't seem to care that there was a difference, which was idiocy to the very root. As a result, she was keeping him so that he wouldn't be dismantled.
To think old Kaede had believed he wouldn't be able to hear their conversation through the paper-thin walls of an apartment.
Inuyasha felt his systems charge at the thought of being dismantled, as though he was preparing for a fight, even though there was no threat to his charge or himself. He could almost think that the feeling might be fear. He did not want to be taken apart. He did not want to have his memory taken from him, to have a new emotion simulator installed. He did not want to think of someone else being assembled out of his components. If he survived, then he would have this girl to thank for it. He should be grateful.
Youkai could not be grateful. 'And neither can I,' he reaffirmed silently.
"Inuyasha," Kagome said, interrupting his spinning thoughts.
"What?" he asked gruffly.
"Why are you walking way back there? You could come up here and talk to me."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Maybe I want company," the girl snapped. "Maybe I don't feel comfortable with you stalking me like that."
Which reminded him, "You weren't really going to live by yourself, were you? You were going to buy a Companion. . . or a Security youkai at least, weren't you?"
"What makes you say that?" Kagome asked, seeming genuinely confused. "I have Shippo. I don't see why I 'need' another youkai. Not that I won't keep you or anything." The last was added hastily, as though she was afraid she'd offended him.
"Because it's. . . I mean, it's not. . ." Inuyasha struggled to find words for the reason and found that his vocabulary was lacking. " Because it's not safe," he finally managed to say. "Humans aren't strong enough to take care of themselves. That's why they made youkai, isn't it?"
"Human took care of themselves just fine for centuries before they made youkai," Kagome assured him with less sarcasm than she might have. Inuyasha knew how stupid he'd sounded. "Besides, why do you care?"
"Keh. I'm programmed to think of your safety. I don't care."
The girl eyed him skeptically. "But you can protect me now, so why do you care what I was going to do?"
'Damn.' She had a point. Inuyasha hated loosing arguments. Kikyo hadn't argued with him. Kikyo would have just told him what to do. Unwilling to give up, he lied. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to do anything else that stupid."
"I won't," the girl said placatingly. Why was she smiling? It was making him paranoid. There was no reason for her to be smiling. 'Humans are strange,' he told himself. 'Maybe she's just smiles all the time.' She hadn't been smiling before, but then, she'd sort of had reasons not to. Like having her life threatened.
"What's next?" the hanyou asked, changing the subject.
Kagome stopped smiling. "We're going ho--to my Mom's house. I 'wanted' to sleep in my own apartment tonight, but I didn't get the chance to finish moving."
"Oh," Inuyasha said, a little guilty. "Well don't worry about it. I'll help you finish moving tomorrow."
"Really?" She was smiling again.
"Well, I assume you want me to," Inuyasha said warily. "You own me. If you want me to help you move, I will."
"Oh." The smile vanished again, and the sad look in her eyes said that it wouldn't be back for a while.
'Damn.' Inuyasha felt another wave of guilt. Now he wanted Kagome's smile to come back.
*~*~*
A/N: That's all for today, folks. Come back later and we'll see if we can't squeeze a little fluff into the next chapter.
For those who noticed Sesshomaru seemed a little moody for a guy who doesn't have emotions; you're right, he did, didn't he.
Thanks for reading.