In the deepest part of his soul, secrets whisper under the cover of darkness.

Rin's hand is still in his, the guileless trust she's always had wrapping him in the minutiae of things so long forsaken that it's a wonder he can recognize them now, when he feels eyes on his back.

And without looking, he knows they're turquoise.

"Come."

There's a tentative step, then the crunching of fallen leaves.

Silence.

Sesshoumaru looks back over his shoulder and waits.

Another step, another crunch, and then a hesitant hand takes his empty sleeve.

Those turquoise eyes glance up at him, hopeful.