Discomfort Washes Away Doubt
For the first time in years, Sesshomaru found himself at a loss.
Vague hopes that Rin would return to finish the onslaught she'd started were dashed after seconds bled into minutes and blurred by the hour. Only the winds, the ocean, and the disinterested night sky were to bear witness to the burdens laden on his shoulders. Tattered ribbons of self-control binding him to the cliff's edge. He couldn't stray further from where he was, for it would leave him too far should she be thrown into danger. Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to be in her presence with the weight of her threats and betrayal scarring his love for her.
How could she threaten me?
Admittedly, it should have been laughable. He was a daiyōkai with centuries of experience in combat and held the ability to heal himself at will. To fear a human would have been ridiculous. However, the power Rin held over him was a force he could not fight off with claw or blade. If harm were to come to her or if her life were to be lost to him, then he would mourn.
Deeply.
Without end.
For as much as her treachery cut him, memories of her love soothed the wound's burn and drew him closer into her ambience in spite of the gap she set between them. He clenched his jaw, teeth gritting and fangs elongating as he cursed her tepidly. A fragment of his pride wished for him to be spiteful. This palace, whilst part of his father's legacy, served as a glorified reminder of all that he was denied. Let it fall into disarray for all that he cared — his life was his own, and he'd only returned at the demand of his birthright, at the behest of his companion who'd then become his wife, and at his mother's insistence.
What would it matter if it were to fall? Surely, they would be able to handle the resulting chaos on their own. He was unneeded. The thought was a sharp, biting one and left him hollow rather than fulfilled. If he were to leave and abandon them all as they were, then how could he ever look Rin in the eye. She was forgiving, but even she had her limits. Never again would she accept him into her arms and her heart. Their bed would remain cold, and she would turn away from him, to live and to raise their daughters alone just as Inuyasha had been by his own mother.
The acidic taste of failure burned through the fragments of pettiness. Sesshomaru almost winced not only at how fleeting the thought was, but also at how real it nearly felt. He was hardly so cowardly as to run from his responsibilities. His actions. But the night was burning past him, and he wondered why he was here instead of tangled in the arms of his wife. Her scathing glare vividly emerged in response and embittered his resolve once more.
It had all started with Rin's deceit, he tried to remind himself.
If she had been as upfront with him from the beginning as she promised to be, then perhaps none of this would have happened. After all they had done and said to each other, how could she find it in herself not to trust him?
He was a father protecting his child.
The corner of Sesshomaru's lips twitched as he recalled the pointed gesture to her stomach. His refusal to come to his father's aid to protect his half-brother and the human princess who'd been the mother. How his father's energy petered out to nothingness as his life ended, and all he could do was watch from afar.
Wonder how the great Inu no Taishō could fall so far. First glimpses of the woman and his half-brother, ostracized from the court of which they were part due to her connections, but arguably happy. His brother, blissful in his ignorance, donning the cloth that his father had painstakingly tailored to Sesshomaru's confusion.
Faint memories of his mother applying soothing salves to wounds which would not heal after his father's numerous battles with fire rats to take their pelts. A measure of his love and affection for the hanyō child who could never understand the depths of suffering that his very existence caused. Sesshomaru's fingers trembled as he thought back to his younger brother kicking around a ball while his mother looked on. Her delicate features, the gentle smile she wore when he tried to entertain her with his antics. Dark eyes flicked up to the distance, and Sesshomaru wondered if, at the time, she could see him as easily as he could her.
Her gaze lingered long after Inuyasha called for her attention. Her eyes, glistening obsidian jewels, glazed over with tears as they fell to the top of his half-brother's head. Arms gathered around him, her sleeves enveloping his small form as she held him tight.
You used his mother's image to trick him.
The Mu-on'na couldn't replicate the look that woman had. Human though she may have been, she was wise and confident in herself. Enough that his mother brought missives of her words. Questions of whether he was faring well and hopes that he would continue to be in good health.
Nothing short of disgust roiled in his chest then, and he cast the words aside. Regrettably refusing to see his mother as long as she continued to entertain his father's wishes for the woman to be taken care of. His mother brushed off his threats, treating him as no more than a petulant child. Centuries had passed, but he continuously felt her influence in one way or another. It was only when he needed his power to be recognized that she appeared before him again.
Had he missed her then?
Even with all of her posturing and secrets, she seldom was terrible to him. In her own way, she might have been loving. Their bond had been strong throughout the centuries no matter the distance between them.
Sesshomaru closed his eyes, and the salty breeze swept through his hair, reminding him of the day he stared at his father's back for what would have been the last time.
Had he missed his father when he met his demise?
You were wrong.
Rin's voice washed over him, gelid and terse.
It was typical of her to point out his mistakes. So often did she correct him or try to rationalize with him over one matter or another. To bow her head and say nothing was not her way, and he appreciated her counsel. But those words were an affront to which he refused to give a second thought.
I don't want to do this without you.
His breathing hitched, eyelids falling until he could only view half the world while the other half was shrouded in darkness.
What was he doing here?
Uprooting his feet was a troublesome affair, but worthwhile when the memory of her warning replayed in his mind. The terrifying thought of returning to their home — to their quarters — and finding her gone. Because she would leave. If she felt it in herself that she had to go, she would disappear. Wouldn't she?
Never did he expect her to threaten harm upon him, yet she had.
What was to stop her from leaving him as well?
A-Un listened to them both, but he favored Rin greatly. If she were to leave, he could hardly order her to return. She would never listen to him as a mere servant or soldier would at his command. And he would never raise a hand to her.
No matter how she vexed him, that would forever be true.
The gnarled root he'd unearthed was weeping dirt, the insects hiding beneath it crying as he flew past, and he stalked up the hillside's incline to avoid the patrolling soldiers. The lattice frame flew to the side with a loud snap echoing through the halls. He cared little for it though, stepping inside and navigating the halls, quick to avoid the few souls still wandering the corridors. As he passed, his face was striped with the moonlight diffusing through the shoji.
Despite walking with purpose, he was puzzled as to what he would say once he laid eyes on her. Pride would never allow him to beg and to plead for her to see reason and stay. Nor would it command her and risk losing not only her respect but also her affections. However, what other options were there?
Frustration cinched his chest and curled in tight coils around his heart as her voice came to mind.
Set aside your prejudice, learn from your mistakes, and be better for it.
Prejudice. He almost wanted to laugh. Any yōkai would agree that hanyō were beneath them. It was simply a fact. They were inconsequentially burdened by their human blood and could not reach the heights of a full-blooded yōkai, let alone a daiyōkai. Humans died easily, they were fragile and relatively weak. Hanyō were diluted with that infernal blood and would distinctly lead less profound lives, never reaching the true potential of their demon heritage all the while being condemned to the fragility of humanity.
Never one without the other.
How else could such an existence be perceived aside from pitiful?
No union between a human and yōkai ended without tragedy.
His eyes widened slightly, steps slowing to a light click of the heel.
No union between a human and yōkai.
His daughters, his beloved wife. They were hanyō and human respectively. Would they too succumb? He glowered defiantly at the thought, staring into the shadows deepening the end of the corridor where the shoji gave way to wooden walls.
Rin wasn't weak. She wouldn't yield to a fate as grim as that. And their daughters would be protected, he would see to it.
Sesshomaru, did you think yourself a god? That life and death were yours to command as long as Tenseiga was at your side? You had to be taught a lesson. The grief and sadness of losing a loved one, and the fear of powerlessness to return them to life.
The memory of her lying there motionless. Still as death, but appearing to be sleeping. There was nothing he could do, and if not for his mother's love as well as her insatiable curiosity, Rin's life would have ended there. She couldn't be returned to life for a third time. If something were to go awry with the birthing, she would either die or be left wounded at the heart. She needed help. To feel such pain time and again, it would only worsen her condition. Loosen her hold on the trust they shared. Would she come to him then if she were at her lowest, or would she turn away from him?
I'm frightened, Sesshomaru.
His hands fell open at his sides, sleeves falling over them. Fear. Beneath the anger, the sorrow, the despair, she was trying to tell him that she was afraid.
I am scared more than you know.
Why didn't he listen?
Questions of where she was filled his mind. Stale trails of her scent permeated the corridors for she often traversed the palace, crossing paths with others both in familiar haunts and in search of new ones. Fresher trails lingered outside of her study, and his heart skipped a beat when he slid the door open. The candle long extinguished, a ghostly silver hue was cast over the chest of scrolls adorned with his father's sigil. Two scents were felt heavily as he stepped inside — Rin's and his mother's. The latter's stronger, and to his chagrin, he noticed a scroll still undone on Rin's desk. His mother's calligraphy, not a drop of ink wasted, greeted him with a message.
Pride isn't the absence of shame but its source.
Sesshomaru's brow furrowed as he swiped up the scroll, half-tempted to burn it through with his poison until his gaze swept over the words yet again. Shame. He didn't feel shame whatsoever .
Little brother.
Inuyasha's eyes came to mind. Stricken, wide, unrelenting despite the fear he must have felt in the face of such overwhelming power. Resolved to protect his companion with all that he had no matter how inferior. Those eyes, which once were innocent and loving, never once glanced upon him with such joy. His brother had always harbored distrust toward him.
You justified your actions against him.
His father. His loss. It was to defend Inuyasha and his mother, but his brother had never even met the man who saved him. All he had was a sword, a robe, a broken lineage, a world that looked down upon him —
And a brother who rejected him simply for existing.
Sesshomaru's hand tightened around the scroll's knobs as he sank down beside the pillow covered in Rin's scent. He could imagine her bent over the scrolls as she read account after account. Worrying herself to pieces only to connect them again and to move on as she always had.
Unrelenting, stubborn, and alone.
He should have been beside her, answered the questions she had to the best of his ability, and held her for the ones he could not.
She didn't trust me, but what reason did I give her to do so?
Regret was a feeling Sesshomaru was not accustomed to. He hated it. The twisting, meandering thralls of guilt crushing his heart in its grasp, trying to find fault in others yet only being able to see the error of his own ways. Rin had tried to speak to him, had lingered in her own mind in hopes of discovering the best way to convince him — out of fear of his reaction.
Had he only proven her right?
I know you. You despise hanyō.
The scroll was placed on the desk. His hands resting on his knees as he reminisced . Children were never a topic they would broach. Rin was happy to look after the children on the palace grounds. She was beloved by those in the village where she was raised, and others flocked to her once their fears were assuaged in realizing that she was a friend and not a demon's subject. Had there been a time where she tried to speak to him about it? Would he have been receptive?
His happiness was set in facets, but the most relevant one was heavily tied to hers. Their marriage had been a turning point in his lengthy existence. He would never regret having her as his bride and resolved to make her happy for the rest of her days.
And yet I was the cause of her tears - her distress - her pain.
Rin.
She had never spoken to him about children in fear of this, and inadvertently, when the opportunity arose, she tried to explain, but he turned her away.
Turned his back on her.
I am an exception then.
Her words whispered close to his ear, and he opened his eyes, glancing toward the pillow beside him and faltering on the flowers embroidered in its soft fabric.
No, you are the reason.
Sesshomaru tied up the scroll his mother had written and rose. His strides about the grounds were deliberate. Heartbeat deafening as he prayed to the gods that his wife hadn't left him in the dead of night. Attendants and personnel close to their quarters promptly dismissed themselves upon seeing him, likely feeling the refusal of their presence as he approached. Standing outside of their room, his hand hovered near the wooden door pull adorned with Rin's craftsmanship. His knuckle brushed against the grain tenderly before he hooked his fingers in and slid it open.
The room was fairly dark. If not for his vision, he wouldn't have been able to see Rin's form curled beneath their comforter. She didn't look up when he entered, though he felt the slight twitch of wakefulness in her spirit as the door shut behind him. The scroll in hand was pressed firmly to his palm as he noticed her essence level out — wary, but waiting. His footsteps were slow as he went to the chests tucked in the corner of the room where the stands for his armor and swords were located. Bakusaiga was silent, but Tenseiga pulsed dully, beckoning him in a saddened, melodic ring, uncannily similar to the tune of Rin's songs. Sesshomaru's lips quirked as he brushed his knuckles against the sword's hilt.
Even the blade bequeathed to him by his father adored his wife more than it did him.
He could hardly blame it. Rin took care of Tenseiga more than he had in the past, and refused to leave it behind, whether for his sake or for respect of the sword's meaning. The scroll was tucked away in one of the lower drawers, a shuffling clunk echoing as the doors were removed and items were reassorted to make space for it. A mental note to have words with his mother at a later date were set aside at the weight of the situation at hand.
He drew in a deep breath then exhaled through his nose, the rush of warm hair cooled along his upper lip, loud in the room's stillness. "Rin…"
Though she didn't respond, he felt the twinge in her energy and raised his gaze to the faint moonlight filtering dustily through the slats of the window.
"We need to talk. Properly."
"Is that not what we did before?"
Her voice wasn't rough with sleep, but it was scratchy, and somewhat thin, as if she'd been crying. Discomfort twisted Sesshomaru's stomach into knots as he went to sit at the edge of their futon. Rin's back was still to him, the pillows laden with her hair still damp from the bath. His eyes softened at the scent of sweetened blossoms, tart with brackish tears. Urges to null his concerns and gather her in his arms, gifting apologies in gentle squeezes and presence, were set aside. Rin wouldn't receive him as he was now. She hardly deigned to look at him.
"No," Sesshomaru admitted, recalling the argument in keen detail. Every infraction on his part and every plea from her lips. "Not in the slightest."
When she didn't raise her head, he resolved to stay. Knees set beneath him and back straight, hands resting in his lap as he listened to her uneven breaths. He wanted to lay by her side. Assure her that he was there with her, but he couldn't accept things to remain as they were.
It hardly mattered how much time she needed. He would wait to rectify his wrongs if it would mean bringing her smile back to him.
Slowly, Rin sat up. Her hair slipped over her shoulders as she twisted about in the comforter to face forward. Not quite looking at him but not turned away either. Her hands fidgeted in the soft stuffing at the outer edges of the blanket as if she were unsure of what to do with them. His heart quivered in understanding. He'd seen the gesture before he left for a skirmish or during tense moments in councils. Beneath the table, away from the prying eyes of others, his hand would brush hers, and she'd calm.
Turning her hand palm-ward up to hold his own, a quick glance speaking of her gratitude.
Do you want me to hold you now, Rin?
He could barely see her eyes past her hair's veil, but he knew the expression she wore from the sullen aura she emanated.
And not once did she deserve to endure such feelings of defeat.
"… Am I not meant to be hurt by your words, Rin?" He asked, careful to keep the contempt from his voice. It was hardly deserved, but he was eager to know. "Your anger?"
Rin inhaled deeply. "… Hurting you wasn't my intention."
"You threatened to take my children and you away from me," Sesshomaru softened his voice when he noticed the twitch in her shoulders. "… Children I was not told existed."
"Sesshomaru," Rin stated. The call was firm in spite of her breath catching. "I am not ashamed that you are their father. But If I were to look at you, claim to love you without acknowledging your wrongdoings, is that truly love? Or blind adoration?"
She turned her head toward him now. Her brown eyes, reddened and puffy from tears but compelling. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. For her to accept him, all of him, was an action that he had not known was possible. There was much he hid from her out of sake of keeping appearances, but she was adept at finding her way past his walls. Vulnerability was a peril akin to death. Yet every time she managed to crumble his callous demeanor, he felt not a single risk. There were some who would compliment him and voice empty promises for hopes of his aid. She who was closest to him knew more of him than anyone yet asked for nothing until now:
His understanding.
"Would loving me be enough to set your hate aside? Would they be enough?"
"Yes," Sesshomaru enunciated, repulsed by the desperation for her to comprehend. To end this. Hadn't she shed enough tears? "Do you not understand?"
"How could I?!" They both seemed taken aback by her voice cracking as it raised. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover it, fingers pressed to her cheek. Sesshomaru turned his head away from her, unable to bear hearing her frenzied voice. "… We never talked about this."
No, they hadn't. And he knew why. Rin knew him well and anticipated his reactions, or she perhaps was fearful of them. His constant bickering with Inuyasha might have only cemented such a belief. She had made a choice, but once their children had come to her knowledge, had that choice been taken from her? Did his absence lead to her being hasty, or had they both been led astray?
This hadn't started with Rin's deceit at all.
No, it had been him.
The weight of the realization prompted him to close his eyes, but he couldn't block out the regret. It was his weight to bear. He drove her away and placed blame upon her head by turning his back to her. She was fearful and needed him as her husband, but he could hardly rise to meet her needs due to his own pride blinding him to what was between them. Every tear she shed was by his own hand. How could he have —
"Stop it."
Sesshomaru's breath caught in his throat as his head was pillowed against a familiar warmth. Blossoms and tears, honeysuckle and the musty scent of books— it enveloped him just as comfortably as Rin's arms did. He hardly noticed when she entered his space, and from the tight squeeze, he only just realized dully that he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. Knelt before him, she held him to her stomach and combed her fingers through his hair. This wasn't a reprieve, but it was care.
"You don't have to forgive me," Rin murmured as she sat back on her legs, guiding him forward into a tighter embrace.
How could she care so deeply?
His hand flattened against the small of her back. "I am the one who should ask for mercy," he sighed after a few moments of silence.
He'd had enough time to think of this: where the line was drawn, who his anger was directed towards, and the image of silver and red in mind was steadily erased — replaced by one much older whose back he'd gleaned most his life.
"I meant what I told you. My anger does not dwell with… Inuyasha…"
Rin squeezed him, cutting off his words. "Sesshomaru, you don't have to…"
He pressed his hand to her back. "Rin," he said softly, his voice softening to a whisper. "… Please."
Her hold on him loosened, and as she pulled back from him, her fingers slipped from his hair, touching the marks upon his cheeks gently.
"… Okay."
She didn't smile. An understanding shone in her eyes as he sighed and leant into her touch, letting her hold his face lightly between her palms.
"… When I was a boy, I idolized my father… but he left. Time and time again, he was away and I would wait for his return. Gifts at the ready, drawings, letters, and activities for us to do together. I was told it was unbecoming of a boy to do such a thing, and my father had more important matters to handle. My attempts were often tarnished or ridiculed by others before he could see, so I refrained."
He recalled the torn pieces outlined with drawings of smiling figures, burnt to a crisp in the torch's flames. The sneering faces which looked down upon him later on quivering before him at the sheer force of his power.
"I grew bitter. My father was away so often, it felt as though he cared little for me although I had achieved much. Tenseiga felt like an insult. I became the perfect son, as my tutors and elders molded me to be, but he couldn't give me what I deserved… what I felt I deserved at the time…"
Sesshomaru, do you have someone to protect?
He hardly felt he needed it. His father cared too deeply for others and it would lead to his end. It had led to his end. If he could gain strength to surpass his father without caring for anyone, then did that not mean he learned from him?
"When he died for Inuyasha and his mother, all I could see was the man that had abandoned me, who chose to die for them rather than live for me."
It was selfish, juvenile, cold, and empty. His hand pressed to Rin's back and brought her closer to him as if he could drown out the memory in her embrace.
"Inuyasha was my father's chosen son, his favored child. Directing my anger toward him was easier because, at the very least, he still lived."
Rin's fingers threaded in the strands of hair slipping past his ears and tipped his head back with a gentle press of her palms to her jaw.
"Yet, it was unfulfilling.." She whispered, drawing the words from the depths of his heart. "Because he wasn't born guilty of what your father had done. Or the pain you endured."
Sesshomaru was almost taken aback by how acutely she summed it. Though, he should have hardly been surprised, something tremored inside. His hands found purchase on her sides, and she allowed the hold.
"He was free from it all. The duties of a lord's son, the pain of losing a father — he had done nothing but exist, and yet I despised him all the same."
What worth could he possibly have to their lord father? He was weak, small, and insignificant.
No longer.
"His mother asked of my wellbeing til the day she died, but I hated the humans my father strove to protect. She only served as a reminder."
"Izayoi knew you…?"
"My mother told me often of her missives, and I refused to speak of her any longer. When we arrived at my mother's palace that day, it was the first time we'd spoken in centuries."
He still clearly remembered that day. He turned his back on his mother as well. It was no wonder she hadn't come to his aid when he was in pain or close to death. Though, he hardly thought he needed her. It certainly made sense.
"In the courts, hanyō are beneath daiyōkai. They are tainted, and because of my father's exploits, no matter how well-meaning, it only serves as a cautionary tale. To take a human as one's bride or husband would only doom them to death."
"And yet you have…" Rin said breathily, her voice spurred Sesshomaru to glance up at her.
He had.
In a way that he had never thought possible, he understood his father well.
"You were the first human I allowed close to me. No… The first being."
And he'd come so close to losing her on more than one occasion.
Rin smiled, a merciful sadness to her eyes. "Even if we never married and only remained as friends, I wouldn't have abandoned you.."
Your threats.
They were not empty words. She always spoke with intent.
Disappointment flickered across his face. Her sigh fanned across the bridge of his nose as she leant forward, resting her forehead against his own.
"Sesshomaru… my words, they were true. I would not want to do this without you... But try to understand me…"
Her eyes shuttered, glazed over with tears. Panic throbbed in his chest, and he pressed his forehead to her own. The slight widening of her eyes and appreciation in the gentle curve of her smile was worth the pain.
"While you are their father, I am their mother, and if something goes awry — I may not be the only one who perishes."
Sesshomaru clutched the back of her yukata tightly. "You will not—"
Her eyes twitched at the corners, bidding him to silence. Despite the quiet refusal, she touched his cheek gently and combed his hair behind his ear, tracing the points idly.
"You have done terrible things, Sesshomaru. That I can't deny," she said, thoughtful and repentant. "But it isn't my place to forgive you. I love you and your faults."
Her hands drew away from his face, trailing down the length of his arms to her back where she unhinged his claws from her yukata. For a moment, Sesshomaru forgot how to breathe when she laid his hand flat against her stomach then pressed each finger to her skin.
"This child — these children — may resent us for what makes us imperfect, but I will still love them."
He drew his gaze from her stomach to her eyes. "You question whether I will…"
Rin sighed. "I only wish to hear you," she said."You mean what you say, and you say what you mean — to me, you've never spoken a lie. Do not start now."
The air felt calmer and quieter as she waited for him. Her words plunged deep into his heart. This was her reconciliation, her demand, her choice.
If he refused, then she would be lost to him.
They all would.
Is this it, father? Is this the choice you had to make all those years ago?
"The three of you will survive this, and remain in this Sesshomaru's protection and heart for all time," he said firmly. Rin's expression softened, and she ran her fingers over the back of his own. "Do you doubt your place, Rin?"
She smiled sweetly, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Never."
Author's Note
This chapter was perhaps the hardest to write simply because the conflicting emotions could be understood on both sides. As the writer, being divulged information of how Sesshomaru felt coupled with how Rin felt made for their altercation to be a mixed bag. There are points on both sides and halving the chapters between one and the other allowed for both sides to be shown. I feel that at the end of this, they've come to a shaky compromise. Their children are going to be born and for them ( Sesshomaru and Rin ) to stay together, they have to learn to look past their prejudices and misgivings for the children's sake. Which is in an incredibly difficult thing to do when their feelings for a reason or another are justified in their own mind.
I might write a few more things after this and before the birth of the girls. Because there are some things to touch on in relation to Sesshomaru's relationship with Inuyasha, Tōga, and Inukimi while Rin has her own issues to battle with people to support her ( Kaede, Kagome, Sango, etc. ). All in all, I'm really happy that this was seen through to fruition and I'm excited for the future of this series and also tackling some of the projects that I have in the works to bring this story together.
I would also like to thank ladiekoro on Twitter for being the first reader and editor of this fic. Without their help, this wouldn't have been possible as quickly as it was.
Anyroad, that was a little long-winded but I want to say - to you, the reader, thank you for reading Talking to the Moon.
I hope you had as much enjoyment out of this as I did and to see you in future projects.
As always, if you wish to see more of my updates and writing process - find me on Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and Pillowfort at unlockthelore. I also write original fiction on Tapas.
With that being said, see you next time.