Notes: I wrote this inspired by one of oooranje_nlj's wonderful graffiti drawings. Follow this wonderful person on Instagram. I don't know who it is, but I know it's incredible.

Citric

Patience was never his virtue. Lying on her back, she continued with the endless and repetitive game of throwing a fruit into the air and then picking it up with one hand. Her mind was far away, the wrist movement was so repetitive that she didn't even need to pay attention to what she was doing. Hadn't known how long it had been, but the tingling of the arm that supported the back of her head made it seem like a few hours. In one of the rounds, the fruit launch was stronger and faster than expected. The yellow mass, slightly smaller than his fist, escaped the predicted path. The muffled sound of the encounter with the rice straw tatami felt like a hammer in Rin's head, a hook to reality. Turned to the right, watching the yellow ball create its own path in the room. She complained, lazily, when the yellow color was swallowed by the shadows. It took her a few minutes to overcome her laziness and get up. She fumbled through the straw reeds until she found what she was looking for behind one of the few pieces of furniture. She stretched her spine and arm to reach the fruit, it took more effort than she expected. She let out a satisfied moan when she succeeded, but was replaced by a grunt of pain when she shocked the top of the head in adornments from the furniture.

It didn't hurt that much, but it was enough to make the leather and wood chest tremble like an earthquake. She feared for the integrity of the mirror resting on the furniture, with her eyes closed, waited for the sound of the fall, but continued with the silence of the night. Opened one eye at a time to get the damage, was relieved that only the fabric covering the mirror had fallen on her lap. Stretched the fabric to secure it back in place, but gave up, her reflected figure drawing her attention. It took some more distance to see the full bust and face. Mesmerized by the mirror, she ran her fingers through the misaligned hair strands, happy to not receive complaints or reprimands from older women who said they wanted to teach him how to behave properly.

She had fun with that memory. In the last few hours, she would be scolded for still being awake; for spending fuel to light up your tedious and insignificant night; for wearing her hair down, even after she was married; for not cutting his hair the traditional way for an important figure's wife. But she was no longer among that type of person, or youkai. As always, she was given the opportunity to choose and she chose to distance herself from the inconvenient beings that tried to make her look more like a perfect bride and less like herself. She ran two fingers over the soft fabric next to her chest, she would be scolded for always being barefoot and for wear a kimono so misaligned. Always heard, that even alone in a dark and closed place, she could not be so out of alignment in her appearance. Did people care that much about appearance? How did they see their reflection in a lake or on a small mirror surface? Didn't it matter how other people saw your self? How did their wives and husbands see them? She brushed a handful of hair off her neck, busied herself with peeling off a few strands of damp skin. Did your husband care about her appearance? He should? She should? Offered a mischievous smile to reflect her, even with her unruly hair and disheveled clothes, she really liked what she saw.

It accommodated the hips better on the heels, the ankle bone gently touched the irregular and oily surface of the forgotten fruit. The touch served as a whistle in his memory. She squeezed the peel and with one hand and brought it close to her face. At other times, she would probably also be scolded for gathering nearly a dozen fruits in a basket and playing with one instead of eating. With her fingers, she squeezed the top of the surface until it broke the peel. The citrus smell invaded her nose, forcing the fruit skin to break and the bud made juice splash on her arm, face and neck, probably on the tatami straw too, the smell will stay for a few days, for sure. She tugged on the kimono sleeve trying to get rid of the stain on her lap and on the floor. The fruit got her attention again when she realized she lost the fight with spots. She chose a piece of the inner bud, the sour taste sliced through her mind like an arrow, but she got used to the acidity after the third or fourth piece.

After she finished her late-night snack, she remembered that she needed to cover the mirror, but she was captured when she realized her lips were swollen and tingling from citric acidity. She brought her face close to the reflected surface, painted a smile on her face while tracing her lip line with a finger, she had seen her lips like this before. The situation was quite different, but the weak, yellowish light was almost the same, the opening in her kimono, revealing her breast curve too. Regretted the absence of the company she had the other time. Almost laughed at the foolishness that asked himself a few minutes ago, Sesshoumaru cares about her, regardless of how she looks aesthetically. For the last time, she observed the lines of the curve of her neck and bust, but maybe he had some favoritism about some of the ways she offers her image. Especially with the yellow, flickering light of a flame.

She covered the mirror in a hurry and hurried to put out the weak flame when he heard, in the distance, Jaken's greetings and celebrations, typical of when Sesshoumaru return. In that second, she decided to play a prank, with pleasantly fun results. She pushed herself into the futon, hands on her stomach, eyes closed, pretending the innocence of a heavy sleep. Her mind reproduced the images that would correspond to the faint sounds, it was as if she were outside, seeing the poor kappa being ignored, scolded or chased away. She received the usual silence, broken by the slight dry and rhythmic sounds of her husband's march through the length of the engawa. Noticed the approach when the clanking of swords against armor could be heard, then the shouji's glide. Opening. Closing. She ignored the baritone pronunciation of her name, was engaged in her theatrical plan. Bothered by the silence and the absence of any movement, took a deep breath, pretending to sleep soundly and hoping that the inflating of her rib cage would open the slit in her kimono even more. She knew that her husband could see in the dark as well as in full sun.

She almost lose your character when her feel the extra weight on her body and hands resting on the right and left of head. She struggled to keep her eyes closed, anyway, she didn't need them open to notice the white strands falling off framing a face extremely close to hers. She couldn't help but turn her face to the side in response to the hot breath on her chin.

"You are pretending" It was the most obvious thing he has ever spoken.

"No, I'm not," she mumbled between sighs, it was impossible to keep the theater going while her husband runs a trail across her face and neck. She grunted when he walked away.

Her grimace at the ceiling did not last long, the metallic sound pulled her out of limbo. She stood up to help Sesshoumaru untie the locks on his armor. She noticed he was interested in one of the yellow fruits left in the basket, it looked so small in his hand. Rin blinked confusedly as he dropped the fruit indifferently and then concentrated on the curve of her neck, collarbone and breasts.

"What happened?" She almost lost her balance with the extra weight on her body.

"You smell like citrus"

E / N: If you are curious, the referred fruit is called hyuganatsu. I found on the internet that the year of discovery of this fruit does not match the anime period, but Rin could have discovered it earlier, we don't know. What I have to say about this is: hyuganatsu juice with vodka and honey must be delicious.

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