Sesshomaru's first method of business come Monday morning was to tell her that -Monday through Friday, from the moment she opened her eyes until midnight- she belonged to him and only him.
The weekend had gone a long way in vanquishing the comical, villainous visions she'd been suffering last Friday. No longer did she see dark, mauve stripes and overwhelming beige fur hovering at his left, and so when he was snapping at her— pacing the length of his office like a drill Sergeant— she didn't feel that same crushing desolation. She'd conquered worse than a demanding boss, and nothing felt bad enough to overshadow the malicious glee that rolled like fog within her chest when they slapped Old Myouga's rent money on the counter on their way to work that morning.
So she took his attitude in stride, grinding her teeth to trap the curses that threatened to stick in his back like knives.
At the very least, there was plenty for her to do. His schedule was a mess, a sign that his previous helper was overwhelmed by the job, and she tried not to be irritated with her predecessor. If the tear stains warping the ink were anything to go on, she'd been berated and abused far past her limit.
Sango tried not to think about how long it would be before she ran out screaming. Besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to. One o'clock alone had three hour-long meetings with people who sounded too important to blow off.
Sesshomaru took his lunch at one.
"Mikadzuki san." Earlier, he'd demanded that she refer to him 'as respectfully as her common brain could manage', and so it brought her great joy to defy that. She climbed out of her chair and padded into his office, pen and planner in hand. There were half a dozen books stacked around him in neat little piles and she didn't doubt that there was a method to his pillars. "How do you feel about lunch meetings?"
"Despise them," he said shortly.
She wanted to ask if he'd make an exception, but – judging by the impatient, unyielding scowl he'd rewarded her with – she was sure she knew the answer.
"Noted."
Sango sank into her chair—so far the best part of her job—and got to work, calling and emailing and schmoozing until—finally—she'd gotten the schedule all ironed out. It was no surprise that such a feat didn't award her so much as a thank you. From there, she was tasked with fetching him a coffee—decaf or God help them all—returning said coffee because he decided he didn't actually like vanilla and he wanted it black instead, and, finally, ordering his lunch to his office.
Even though he'd made her go through the trouble of bullying the lady at Chez Marie into getting him a table.
By the time two o'clock came around, and Sesshomaru grudgingly released her for lunch, Sango could understand why his last assistant had run out screaming.
"He's impossible!" Sango raged. She'd settled on dropping into a nearby cafe for lunch with Kagome, spending what was leftover from the 'sign on bonus' she'd been given Friday. "It's like he thinks I'm a slave!"
Kagome looked just as haunted. She held her coffee between trembling fingers, gazing beyond Sango as if reliving every moment. "I've organized one section six times today so far. Every time I get it all neat, he comes up behind me and tears it apart, looking for something that isn't there." She took a small sip from her coffee as she considered it. "He's a monster."
It was comforting knowing that she wasn't the only one struggling right now. Misery loved company. "Promise me we can have wine tonight?" Sesshomaru was a tyrant, and she could think of no better reward in the face of his vicious reign. "Like... a bottle each."
Kagome nodded vigorously, letting her head bounce back and forth like a bobblehead. "I spent the weekend looking into animation studios nearby. There might be a few taking in newcomers—." It sounded like loads of background work and coloring. "But we need a recently updated portfolio. They'll be starting their recruiting in three months."
Three months. Sango was about to cry that she didn't have three months in her when her new company cell chimed with a text—bullet points more than full-fledged ideas—and she was once again reminded of just how cold Sesshomaru was.
She was starting to wonder if he was as intelligent as those awards behind his desk implied.
Tokyo Prep Collect Rin
What did that even mean? She tried reminding him that she'd only been on lunch for ten minutes, but he'd only responded with one word.
Now.
Rude. Inconsiderate. Dismissive— she could go on forever about her disdain for him, but it would get her nowhere.
Can I have an inkling ofa clue what's going on? At least?
She nearly snapped her phone in half when the response was simply; are you dumb? Kagome must have seen unemployment flashing in her friend's eyes because she took the phone and started responding in her stead.
"His daughter got in trouble at school again and he needs you to pick her up and watch over her for the day." She grimaced at the phone. "And find her a tutor for the next week. He says he'll pick her up from our apartment after he finishes up with work."
Her ability to garner all of that from; suspended. Needs tutor. Collect later- was one of many reasons that Sango loved and valued her dear friend. She was patient when Sango was ready to burn something down, and sometimes that insistence on being 'ladylike' was infectious.
When you said you owned me, I didn't think I had to take that literally.
And sometimes it wasn't.
Sango ordered a car from the app on her shiny new phone, wondering why their gadgets were so high tech when both InuYasha and Sesshomaru insisted on doing everything by hand. Kagome suspected that they were ancient. Sango suspected they were dumb.
"I'll see you tonight?" Sango spoke around burning mouthfuls of her coffee, accepting the loss of her lunch with grace. "I'll have our wine cold."
xXx
Tokyo Preparatory School for Girls was much too perfect for whatever thing Sesshomaru could have sired. This was the kind of school she'd dreamed of attending when she was still too young to understand just how financially impossible this kind of thing was.
Pristine glass cases filled to bursting with trophies, photos, and awards lined the walls in sets of threes. The dark wood of the front desk was carefully polished, and Sango was having a hard time keeping from ogling the entryway. Even though the walls had fallen victim to a failed attempt at a 'fun', abstract kind of design that bled onto the floors, this place had been exactly what she'd wanted for herself as a child.
She'd come when the halls beyond the double doors separating children from the outside world were packed to bursting. Giggling and whispering made the halls too loud and too cramped, and suddenly, she was over her longing. A school for gifted young girls was still a school for young girls, and it was easy to see that she'd missed nothing in going to public school.
However, as she neared the principal's office, the girls' whispering began to reach her ears.
"... that's a different lady than last time."
"... duh! Rin's papa doesn't have time for her, so he sends his girlfriends to pick her up."
"... mama says that she'll have to go to public school for middle school because she's a wild animal."
She resented the idea of ever being mistaken for a being that considered Sesshomaru attractive in any capacity—sure she would rather die an old maid before she stooped so low—and stepped into the reception area.
"You're Papa's new assistant, right?" A girl uncurled from her place on one of the chairs in the waiting room, a sadness Sango couldn't understand making her big brown eyes look watery and hopeless. When Sango nodded, she bit down on her lip—as if it were all she could do to keep from crying—and clenched the straps of her book bag. "I'm Rin."
"Hello, Rin." Sango extended her hand to the child, deciding that now was as good of a time as any to try and figure out her motives. Mischief, for mischief's sake, was one thing, but she'd never seen a child so terribly sad in her entire life. Guilty? Yes. Apprehensive? Definitely. But this sorrow radiated beyond this act; she wished she could wipe it away. "Anything to say for yourself?"
Rin was shuffling her feet and twisting the straps on her bag—anything to avoid looking up.
"I thought if I got expelled he'd have to come by." Her voice was small, hidden behind lips that didn't want to part. "I thought he might come have a talk with me, and then we could bond and—." Her eyes filled with tears, and the girl Sango expected to find dissolved, showing only the child that lived behind the image. "But he didn't come."
Sango felt a familiar tightening in her chest, a feeling that threatened to make her tear up over a child she'd just met. Resolutely, she shoved her hands in her pockets, knowing she shouldn't touch her, but still wanting to wrap her in her arms and not let go.
"Why did you think that would work?"
"I saw it in a movie."
Sango worked her lips into a thin, unbreakable line, trying not to laugh at the seriousness in her little voice.
"I'm sure that's hard." She cleared her throat a few times, thinking that Sesshomaru should mind what she watched from that point on and trying desperately to keep her sternness. "But causing trouble may not be the best way to go."
Rin nodded once, shrinking further in on herself when the door to the principal's office swung open.
They set to scolding her immediately, referring to her as a problem child and a menace. From their admonishment, she gathered that the girl was not Sesshomaru's blood-related daughter, which explained her being fully human, and that instead, she was simply a very lucky orphan.
He didn't bother with her one way or another, and—when she began to crave attention beyond anything she could control—he'd simply started sending an assistant in his stead in an attempt to curb the behavior. But she was eight at the oldest, and so she'd thrown caution to the wind and acted outlandishly.
"This is her third warning." The teacher, Hojo, insisted almost shrilly. His face was red beneath the neon paint he'd yet to fully scrub off. "There should be no more chances."
That didn't sit right with her. She didn't understand how adults could know the problem yet still assign grand and terrible consequences to a kid.
Rin was no bigger than an eight-year old, no wiser than an eight-year old. To expel her and tarnish her record when she still thought a man in red squeezed through her window once a year to bring gifts just seemed cruel.
"Our school is a place for the exceptional." Her teacher looked almost desperate to convince them to side with him, and Rin shrank further into her seat when the administration looked just about willing to. "We are looking to nurture young minds and polish gems. If her goals are more—." He grappled for a way to express the venom that built up behind his lips in a child-friendly manner, " self-serving then she'd simply be happier elsewhere."
"If you don't mind my asking," Sango shifted forwards, no longer willing to sit quietly. A school for the exceptional. A place for the gifted. They went on and on as if Rin weren't even there, and Sango could only wonder how long those sent before had allowed this kind of talk to continue. "How did you get covered in paint?"
They had photos of Rin's rig. Strings and cardboard had been set up in hidden crooks and crannies, set to pop or drop when the strings were tripped.
"Quite clever." Sango insisted. "It was a poor use of her skills, but children make bad decisions. This won't be the last time Rin gets in trouble, but can you truly try and tell me she's not gifted?"
They glanced between one another, their lips suddenly sealed, before finally, reluctantly, conceding. She was still suspended for a full week, but Sango considered suspension to be better than expulsion.
"I know I shouldn't be proud," Rin muttered once they were back in the car. "But that took all morning, and I'm glad it worked."
Not expelled, just suspended.
I'll find her a tutor for the next seven days once I get her some lunch
She was using Rin as a scapegoat for her own rumbling stomach. He'd interrupted her meager meal, and now he'd pay for it double.
Calls have been forwarded to this number. Watch over Rin until I come for her later.
The coherency in that message was enough to give Sango a bit of hope. How grand would it be if today was only a test and then tomorrow would be a real first day? She entertained ideas of mutual respect and inside jokes, but those dreams were inevitably dashed when she asked when 'later' was, and the message went unanswered.
xXx
Entertaining a child was outside of Sango's skill set.
Rin was frustratingly clever and somehow managed to get into everything. If Sango thought dealing with Sesshomaru was difficult, Rin existed solely to test that belief. She dug through Sango's things, questioning every brush and phallic-shaped hand massager she came across.
"I don't get it —." Her little voice was ringing in Sango's ears, and she was about a moment away from having her wait on the balcony for her father when Rin opened the refrigerator and asked, "Is this a happy bottle of wine or a sad one?"
When Sango answered honestly, frustrated, Rin sat on the couch, turned the TV down, and didn't say another word until her stomach warbled again.
"Papa probably won't come until late," Rin warned her, but she didn't seem to mind. It was clear she relished the time she spent next to Sango, standing on old phone books and peeling potatoes. "He always works until way after my bedtime on Mondays because he says that people are stupid and make too much trouble over the weekends."
That may have been the only thing he'd ever said that made any sense.
"So how about… a bath after dinner, and then we'll get you a blanket so you can try to get some sleep?"
Rin passed Sango the potatoes, watching her chop them into bite-sized chunks with the smallest smile on her face. "It's okay! I don't have to go to sleep—." Her words came in an excited rush, and she ran off to grab something from her bag. "Papa and my uncle and my grandpa drink all the time on the weekends." She cast the phone into Sango's hands, showing her photo after photo of adults clinking glasses and downing mugs of frothy beer.
"Papa says that 'modern' people baby their children, and I am not a baby."
Sango glanced between the girl and her phone a half dozen times before returning to her potatoes. "You're still taking a bath. All that mischief-making made you sweaty."
Kagome was as hesitant as Sango was about drinking with their tiny spectator nearby, but when Sesshomaru didn't send a text prohibiting it, they overcame it. Before long they were singing along to whatever songs Rin put on Kagome's laptop, storyboarding and giggling, and it felt like old times until there was a hard knock on the door.
Rin was busy putting digital stickers on the selfie the two of them had taken, and Sango was sure nothing could ruin the bliss that had taken root in her bones. Not even the judgmental glare that Sesshomaru was aiming her way–the one that made her feel like she was on fire. She handed him Rin's things, buzzing around her home like a bee to avoid having to deal with him staring her down. At least if she was darting about, he had to work for it.
"Your behavior was unacceptable, Rin." The smile she'd been wearing faded, and then her shoulders were drooping. She looked too small, too sad, and Sango wished there was some way she could save her from this. "You may not share my blood, but you do share my name, and you will not conduct yourself in this manner again." Every word bit into her skin, slicing deeper as he towered over the girl under his care. "Am I understood?"
Rin's response, "Yes, Sir," came loud and clear, and Sango was forced to watch her follow behind him, head bowed and eyes full of tears.
"Goodbye, Miss. Sango. Thank you for everything."
Sesshomaru awarded her no such thanks, and when Kagome shut the door behind them, Sango took a long drink from her bottle and swore to forget him.
xXx