Stolen Seasons VI
Sakura on the Wind
Lm. Samiko

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Months had passed, flowing by with as much peace as they normally did, which is to say, with very little. Sesshoumaru frowned slightly at the empty sleeve of his kosode, which had been spattered with blood from several of Naraku's creatures. It would have to be cleaned. A tiresome, if simple, business, but one he would not delegate. Caring for one's own equipment was a lesson his father had drummed into him in the first year of his training.

A stream no more than a mile distant offered the required water, though the youkai found the sakura trees there almost as annoying as the stains, for the flurry of white and pink petals clung to his hair and clothing. With a slight huff, he removed his heko obi, armor, boots, and swords, laying them far enough to be safe from the damp yet within easy reach. The kosode and juban followed, his single hand untying the knots with a dexterity that had taken weeks to master. Freed from the confines of the cloth, Sesshoumaru stretched, reveling in the feel of the cool twilight air against his skin, moving the stump of his arm that it might not forget how to do so. It was not a sight he would allow anyone to see--the sign of his failure, the impairment of his power. He did not often care to face it himself.

Sesshoumaru waded into the ankle-deep water, dipping the stained sleeve underneath the surface. Fortunately, tsukinowa silk cleaned easily. He might be tempted to just throw the thing away otherwise. Removing the cloth from the water, he inspected the fabric for futher stains, then leapt back to the bank, laying it out on the grass to dry. He supposed he could dry it himself, or light a fire in order to do so, but this was an opportunity not to be missed.

He retied his obi, tucking his swords into it, too well-trained to leave them behind. His hand reached deep into his fur, pleased at the feel of it, and without warning, he leapt into the air, ricocheting off the trees and into the field beyond. The speed with which he moved, the feel of the air against his face, playing with his hair, the scents of the fast-approaching night, the sound of the wind rushing past him, all served to intoxicate him with feelings and sensations he rarely indulged in.

He knew he had gone far from the stream when he suddenly realized there was an alien scent mixed with those the air brought him. Startled at his oblivion, he came to a complete halt in front of the human woman whose path kept crossing his own. She blinked at him with wide, dark eyes. Fighting to keep his voice even, he informed her, "You will tell no one of this, woman."

"What would I tell them?" she asked, her voice tinged with something he could not place. "That taiyoukai Sesshoumaru lets loose now and again? That he likes to run with the wind? That, every so often, even he wants to feel free?"

Part of her expression was bitterness... and somehow this realization surprised and calmed him. "You know of this," he stated.

A small, ironic smile crossed her face. "Yes. I know it. So many times I've wanted to turn my back, run away from all the difficult things I have to do, go back to the simple, uncomplicated life I had five years ago." She sighed. "But I can't. I have obligations, promises to fulfill. I have friends who rely on me. I escape now and then, but I know I can't keep running. I have to turn back."

"You have honor," Sesshoumaru replied. "This is remarkable in a human."

She laughed, a short, unhappy sound. "Sounds like something you'd say. But I have to admit, the older I get, the more I think I agree with you. Still, I'd point out that I think the same of youkai as well."

"Hnh." Sesshoumaru used the silence that followed to fully take in the woman's appearance. She wore the clothes he had given her to repay the gift of the 'stuffed animal': kosode and sashinuki in wine red tsukinowa silk, dark enough to hide stains and provide a modicum of camouflage. The kosode was worn long, to the knee, and tied with a short, simple heko obi. Its sleeves, though a full foot in width at the shoulder, tapered to fit beneath a pair of leather bracers, on which his kamon was inlaid in red and white shell. As was prudent, she kept her arrows in the matching case at her side and her bow attached to the odd yellow pack on her back. She seemed to have been wearing them long enough to become comfortable in them and somehow it pleased him that his payment was appreciated. Besides, it marked her as a human with more sense than he would have given her credit for.

"Woman," he remarked suddenly, causing her to blink at him. "You will run with me for a time."

"But I-- How-- Um--" she stuttered. Then, realizing what he meant, she turned a brilliant red.

"You will take hold of my fur," he ordered, amused at her hesitation and embarassment.

"Um, okay..." For a woman who was ordinarily one prone to rushing in where angels feared to tread, she seemed remarkably reluctant to approach him. Eventually, she was where he wished her to be: her hands clutched the fur near his shoulder and one end of it wrapped securely around her ankle, ensuring that should she be stupid enough to release her hold, she would not fall and break her neck. With no further word of warning, he took off, angling away from both the camp he sensed nearby and the stream where he had left his belongings.

A small gasp and a stronger grip was the woman's reaction, followed by a soft "oh." It would appear she knew better than to yelp in a youkai's ear. Sesshoumaru once again lost himself in the pleasure of the moment, immersing himself in the passing of the world around him, nearly forgetting the woman who accompanied him.

Which nearly caused him to falter and fall for the first time in a century when she shifted her grip. Her arms moved to grasp him around his shoulders, her hands locking at a spot low enough not to choke him--a product of long experience, he would later realize. At this moment, he was only conscious of the human warmth at his back and chest, the feel of her breath just below his ear, the feeling of trust and communion that somehow came through that simple human gesture.

"Thank you, Sesshoumaru," she whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Her arms tightened briefly, then relaxed. Sesshoumaru felt himself adjust to the sensation and continue on, leaping from tree to rock to earth, all probably much faster than anything she had ever experienced. They remained silent for the rest of the journey. The moon would be high over head when he finally returned her to the place he had found her and left, without words, to gather his things and return to his own place among these hills.

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Author's Notes

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kosode - literally 'short sleeves', which describes not only Sesshoumaru's top, but also Sango's kimono.

juban - the under-kimono

heko obi - the long, flowing style of obi that Sesshoumaru favors. I always wonder how on earth he ties the thing with one hand. The youkai is truly skilled.

tsukinowa silk - 'Tsukinowa' literally means 'ring around the moon'. It doesn't really exist; I made up a species of youkai moths that produce easy-to-clean, impossible-to-rip silk. After all, how in the hell else does Sesshoumaru keep that outfit so damn white!

sashinuki - the trousers Sesshoumaru (and now Kagome!) wears. Also known as 'nu-bakama'.

kamon - a samurai's heraldic crest. Sesshoumaru's is the three hexagon symbol on his kosode.

"You will take hold of my fur" - Jaken has been seen riding this way when Sesshoumaru needs to travel quickly, though he's usually a lot farther away. Funny how the thing seems to expand, ne?

All info on Sesshoumaru's clothing is from http/www.iz2.or.jp/english/fukusyoku/busou/28.htm .

I admit, I used this episode shamelessly to put Kagome into a sensible, if not exactly kosher, outfit and explain how in the hell Sesshoumaru can keep his clothes so damn clean. And to point out that he does not wear an effing haori (jacket).