Sesshoumaru stepped out onto the platform steps of his, his ex's stairway. The day had waned and became much cooler. The crisp air tore at his sensitive skin; the pale color tinged a light crimson almost immediately after the first gust stroked at his cheek. He cursed this human weakness as he waltzed down the entranceway and onto the passing street to go back up town to his own, much classier, penthouse apartment. Sesshoumaru was a man with a confident arrogance that could not be dominated. His silver clad head was always held high while dull golden eyes peered down his nose with a consistently characterized boredom mocking the existence of all others. Pride was not as important to this male, for it was more to the point of honor. He would not lower himself to congregate in groups like all the rest of his inadequate, pathetic species, no matter what race. Yes- he was meant to stroll haughtily down the cement sidewalk that he noticed was, as always, stained from its once pristine cream color diminishing to a worn grey.
Passer-bys turned their heads as their eyes obsessed with following the practically glowing form of the man as he moved with a grace all women would scream for. But it held a unique masculine quality. His long alabaster hair whipped in the wind trailing behind his retreating form. Men in the food stands snickered as he passed with whispered words passing back and forth between them and their fellow companions.
"Fag," "Freak," and the occasional "Are you sure that's a guy?"
These were heard by Sesshoumaru, all thanks to his exemplary hearing and the blowing wind, as he continued his walk to the center of town, but he did not even turn his head or eyes from the path set ahead of him. That would mean he was bothered by their comments and wanted to frame them with guilt by their false accusations. But that would be dipping to their level. The level of the ordinary, simple folk that thrived on their cheap ramen and cropped cotton clothing, he was not ordinary. Truly it was ghastly in the ways people dressed these days. Most of it was completely indecent and Yura was guilty of this fact as well. Her constant belief that the short dresses and nauseatingly low necklines that left very little to be imagined gave her the attention she was begging for. Of course it did, a man would have to be blind to not be attracted by her body, except for the one she wanted...needed.
Sesshoumaru was honestly put off by this display. The dappled cover up, painted bright lips, heavily coated lids with thick, dark lines, and how could he forget the ungodly long lashes no doubt fake with the piece of goop always present in the corner of her eye. The clothing she bought was made from some of the best, most expensive material, but the product of such quality was…completely shit. It was too tight in the bust and hips. The attire made her slightly curvy stomach, due to the little blip of fat below her belly button show even more profusely.
But only Sesshoumaru noticed this flaw, all eyes were located at the twin pair of also fake breasts that practically exploded from the v-neck shirts she insisted upon wearing. The cleavage was deep and these fleshy appendages were usually pleasing when he felt the need to coddle them. But this was only to persuade and twist her into accomplishing his almost sadistic desires that were always to her disappointment not in the bedroom. It was a childhood fetish he supposed that he gained literal pleasure from the embarrassment of others. Being one of such class and proper upstanding that it was only natural seeing as he could not, would not exact mistakes that he derived comical satisfaction from these mishaps of others.
This Sesshoumaru preferred natural beauty. Faint, light lines of make-up, perhaps a light, but enhancing shade that would bring out the rose bud lips. And they would be soft as would the skin surrounding them, if not even more so. So many lovers had an adequate texture to the outward appearance of their mouths, but the surrounding area was rough and overlooked. Ah yes, a pet peeve one could say. Her clothes would cover, but not conceal the overall splendor of her curves. Only he, as her lover, was meant to see the depth of that physical beauty not the prying eyes of perverted strangers. The howling wind braced his chest and broad shoulders as he went. His head tipped forward the slightest bit to ease the bite on his cheek bones and slender nose.
His angled tawny eyes shined with a menial amount of saline from the full-on force of this natural demon of earth. His hands though gloved in a soft brown leather were shoved in his pockets in as elegant a manner as this simple gesture could become. His round tip, also brown leather, Italian shoes were diminutive in their noise upon the freezing pavement. Soon narrowed eyes caught sight of the burgundy carpet that covered the light and dark grey checkered stone steps of his building. Bounding up the eight or so steps, with a nod to the ever-present doorman, Sesshoumaru stepped inside the nearly silent as always atmosphere of the apartment complex.
The doorman bowed in response with a "Good evening, Takarashi-sama."
The building, the one he's specifically chosen, was constructed completely of grey, white, and black color schemes. From the stone entranceway to every room in the interior which included the basement. Sesshoumaru flipped a stray lock back over his shoulder as it had been attracted to his front by the fiendish winds. As the strand flew over to his back it shined with metallic brilliance when caught in the lights trapped in metal suspended in the high ceiling towering above. A few choice paintings of, he must admit, somewhat exemplary taste, hung in the corridors adding a splash of color along the maze of the monotonous color scheme. But that was how he liked it. The building contrasted from the speckled hues of the world outside of this structure. It did not even try to correspond or even try to belong with the natural color and many varying scales of tints of the earth. No- it stood alone in its presence and absence of color, standing alone in the cruel and coy weather of Tokyo.
Stepping from the elevator, Sesshoumaru glanced at his doorway, one of two on the entire top floor. The entire two towers of the establishment which were already cut in half were then once again split into fourths. These were neither cheap nor easy to acquire, unless you are the Takarashi heir. There lying on the ground, with her back against the pale grey door was his girl, yes his little girl, Rin. He'd taken to her like no other. Her jubilantly smiling face was one of the only whom he gave the decency of acknowledging. Those who were of the perverted sense believed him to be a pedophile and that this was the reason for his rapt attention spoiled upon the child. But truthfully, it was because he felt a connection to her.
Sesshoumaru had been walking, never bothering to dirty himself or rarely in a taxi, in a particularly lower part of the Tokyo downtown district. He never worried himself with common gangs and the like. His childhood was spent mostly in his father's mountain keep training in arts such as kendo and judo while strengthening his mind as well. The girl had been sitting in the alleyway, her ribs easily seen protruding harshly from her tinted blue, almost a sullied grey, skin beneath the torn clothes she'd obviously worn for quite some length of time.
Normally he would have sneered at the creature and continued on, but there was something. In her eyes was a hopelessly lost look, despite the small smile she showed him when she lifted her head as he paused in his step.
In that one look it stated clearly, "I'm going to die, but I'm not going to mourn my misfortune for there is no one I am leaving behind to be sad."
Sesshoumaru, mouth the tiniest millimeter agape, could practically see the mirror image of his face when he would look in the mirror. Yes, he had family, his father, half-brother, and step mother, but not the one he yearned for. His mother had escaped this hell of a life his father spurned them with as a brutal look burned in his eyes. His mother had gotten away, but in the most unworthy and at the cost of her very essence. Suicide- and he never forgave her for leaving him behind, but he swore that as she watched him from heaven, tears no doubt running down her young, rosy cheeks that he was succeed. He would break away from his father and be his own for the sake of them both.
But the girl at the time mute, had only sat there before flitting her eyes from him and the further down the street in the direction he'd been previously moving. Her eyes reveled in a silent question as to why he was still there, looking at her with a hardened sympathy, but a reserved softness hidden beneath. At that moment he had stooped for the first time in his short years to drag the starving youth into his arms not caring for the contamination of his expensive Armani or the fact of how much it would cost to remove the stains.
Now he saw her lying once more in a similar position, but her healthily pudgy stomach was visible from beneath her light pink sweater, her favorite that she loved. His recently fired nanny had been verbally and even at uncommon intervals physically abusing her. Hamasaki Kagura was her name, yet another wench seeking his favor. She was the second, younger daughter of the Hamasaki Medical Corporation, an ally of his company. Kagura believed that if she could befriend and have the child fall for her false terms of loving care would ensure her a spot in his life and fortune. But when Sesshoumaru walked in, early from work one day, because he wanted to take her to the pediatrician personally for her check up, he'd heard the stern scolding and stinging slap.
The condensation in his ward's eyes was all he needed. His ire had already been tested that day from a particularly stressed day at work. So he twisted Kagura's arm behind her back before grabbing the small silver cell phone from his pocket. Dialing the local police service he accused and sentenced the bitch for child abuse. And now he had little trust for any who came to fill the position and was highly critical of those scantily clad women that filed into his apartment seeking to work for him. Or more like sleep with him. He would not have his girl influenced by their revealing fashion sense. She adored and idolized him, it was quite obvious, and any woman he approved of would become one as well. He had noticed that while with Kagura, Rin had worn more summer dresses stopping at mid-calf even though it was late fall. Shortly afterwards she had profusely apposed them for something more adequately covering and sheltering from the wintry cold.
His heavy and extensive work schedule kept him late from home. Many times he would come home and find her as such waiting for him because she forgot her own key once again. Rin never wished to inconvenience anyone, so therefore never returned to the front desk to ask for a lock smith to be called. She could have been in the door within the hour because of his name being on the name list of the order placement and would be the preferred customer to accommodate. But this wasn't her way...perhaps this was what he appreciated? Her lack of similarity to almost every other being on the planet, she was so much like his mother it almost hurt sometimes to look at her. The child had grown to understand that on the 'black day' as she called it or the anniversary of his mother's death, to leave him be, in his office to work. Sesshoumaru would work profusely and not stop for the following day and night, burying himself to shoulder the pain of remembrance more easily.
Takarashi set his briefcase upon the floor by the door where it wouldn't get in the way or be knocked over. His lifted his little princess into his arms, her long black hair falling shortly over his shoulder. It was per usual tied back in a half pony tail to the side of her head. The few freckles on her cheeks brought out her apple cheek bones and small nose. Her normally warm chocolate brown eyes that shined for him were now shut from his gaze. Rin was easily won over, innocent to the truth of this modern age. And Sesshoumaru felt the need to protect her and the beauty of her purity. For that was a treasure in this day and was meant to be revered. Rin was safely tucked in his arm, his other now de-gloved hand unlocking the door with the key taken from the inside back of his brown leather jacket that hung just below his hips.
Grabbing his briefcase, the pair settled into the spacious room they both learned to call home.
Now- these are shorter chapters, I know. I'm keeping my limit per chap at 1000-2000 words. However, my update schedule is Mon, Wed, and Fri. All readers from BLOM now know what I have been up to and why I haven't been updating...blush Whoops?
