Dying to Live

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

Note 1: Hi, dear readers! Thank you for the wait, and I'm so happy to finally have a chapter for you all. Things still aren't very settled down, but it's looking like it might be a new normal for me. Good news is that I'm finding moments to carve out time to write again, hooray!

As it happens, I think I can say this chapter has benefited from the wait. It went through several planning and re-planning phases and is much more pensive and supportive of the character development I was searching for than what I originally thought it would be. I'm very happy with it now, and I hope you enjoy it too, as we take another dive into Sesshomaru's thoughts.

Hugs, Origamikungfu.

:::

To Sesshomaru, dreams were still very odd.

When he thought about it, as an Inudaiyoukai, he had never slept much at all. Certainly, he had rested from time to time, usually after sustaining injuries, but sleep like that was different.

When he had been a youkai, he had also shared his mind with another force. He had always known that his demonic nature was what would set him apart and made him special and more powerful than lesser demons and certainly other creatures, including humans. And though Sesshomaru could maintain a humanoid appearance from birth, there was never a moment he doubted whether he was a superior being, particularly compared with the humans, though he had the ability to resemble them in some ways.

That he was different and better, and therefore would lead an exceptional life, was something Sesshomaru had always known. In fact, it was impossible not to know that; whenever he felt his beast lurking beneath the surface of his tightly focused, trained psyche, as a Lord of the land, Sesshomaru was always reminded that he could let his beast destroy the world.

However, of course, he never gave into base instincts like that. It was not at all in his controlled, normally calculated nature to do so.

More than that though, Sesshomaru never went a day without realizing he had been bred for greatness.

With a mother and father like his, when one considered their lineage, no one would have expected anything less from a demon like Sesshomaru.

However, even as a youth, the rightful Lord of the West had worked for it too.

From a young age, it was impressed upon him, the scion of his clan, that he would not and could not squander what he had been given. He studied long hours, day after day for years, until his mind and also his sense of reason and logic were second to none.

Sesshomaru believed he had done everything right.

Even when his father had fallen in love with the human and sired a hanyou, besmirching his honor before the rest of their kind and the world at large, Sesshomaru had known he himself had already done everything necessary to maintain his own place. When everything had crumbled around him, he knew he had what it took to rise again on his own merits. For Sesshomaru, it had even been a clear choice: he had easily decided not to try to seize his father's position as the Inu no Taisho. The position itself had been tainted for him, in spite of whatever those like his mother had said to convince him otherwise.

His opinions did align with those of the clan in some ways though. He agreed that his father's blunders could be proven meaningless: Sesshomaru had surpassed his father already long before that, and he would have no issue showing that to everyone in his own distinct way.

In Sesshomaru's own opinion, he had succeeded too. He had become the perfect predator his father never could be. He had no need for family or a wife. He had no need for courtly connections or worldly goods like alcohol, jewels or land.

He had the hunger to dominate and control whatever land suited him to claim, and that was all that mattered. He had no interest in the diplomatic power struggles that had simultaneously hampered his father and enthralled his mother. Rather, Sesshomaru passed his own judgments and vanquished pretenders to the clan lands mainly by himself and on his own directorates.

While for some lesser demons that may have eventually proved exhausting, for the most part, Sesshomaru had found no need for even rest or sleep to distract him from his purpose. To add to this, his ruthless reputation was always impeccable while his character was always unapproachable and aloof, assuring that after a while he was seldom bothered by any creature with a brain, no matter where he went.

And so the Great Lord Sesshomaru certainly never believed he would ever have any want nor need nor interest in either sleep or dreams.

At least that's what he had thought, before his perfectly controlled life had been turned perfectly upside down.

::

As Sesshomaru laid down in his bed that night, he had actually been surprised to feel the crinkling of his tired spine relaxing against the flat cave floor beneath his bedroll.

He had trained Rin from the early afternoon until well past dark that evening. He had even abandoned part of his morning routine early in order to take lunch earlier than normal, as at Rin's behest, they had planned to start their training earlier than normal that day and go longer than normal as well. So as soon as Rin finished warming the leftovers she had set aside for lunch and pre-preparing dinner for the others for later, she and Sesshomaru had gone out to their training spot together.

Rin's skills had been advancing exponentially in the past few days. Since they had gotten over their initial challenges in Sesshomaru finding the right way to instruct her, it looked like Rin actually had something of a natural aptitude for the naginata. Becoming more fluid and quick in her motions, she had begun to put more force behind her strikes. Beyond that, what she had picked up in technique had begun to make up for her disparity in strength against her instructor. Once or twice Sesshomaru had even almost lost his grip on this weapon's stock, though of course he had not mentioned it to Rin; he could not let her get over confident before she had begun to master even the weakest of her skills.

So to his unexpected satisfaction, Sesshomaru actually had found their training session that day to be even a decent challenge for himself. By the time they both decided that the almost-full moon wasn't quite bright enough by which to continue sparing, even the kitsune and the slayer's dirty looks as Rin and Sesshomaru came back to the cave could not quite dampen Sesshomaru's unusually good mood. Instead, the former demon lord sauntered by easily and went straight to grab a bowl for dinner.

Dinner had been modest, as Rin had prepared something that would keep well until they were ready to eat. Still, not particularly interested in food in general, Sesshomaru could appreciate the lightness of their fare. Millet, broth with spring onions, and dried, flaked fish were easy to eat quickly, and he was able to unroll and lay down on his bedroll soon after. He needed to be up early to train and take another stab at getting higher with his tree climbing after all.

His eyes were starting to get heavy when the only disturbance had occurred: the slayer had taken up with a coughing fit that had gone on for several long minutes. As the others were still finishing their dinner across the fire, Sesshomaru had heard Rin quickly reacting with soothing comments and offers of water.

Though Sesshomaru supposed he should have been more concerned about the slayer's health after the monk had just been forced to retreat due to illness himself, he couldn't really find the energy for it. Sesshomaru was still not too keen to dwell long on Rin's closeness with slayer; he barely wanted to acknowledge how or why the easiness of their relationship got under his skin let alone wonder about the other man's health. However, because Sesshomaru continued to view the affinity between the slayer and Rin a necessary evil to his greater scale plans, he suffered out the sounds of Rin's concerned attentions showering over the taijya by quietly rolling away from the commotion in his bedroll. He did his best to focus his thoughts elsewhere, and wound up focusing in on a particularly rigorous naginata sequence from his youth he suddenly found himself pleased to call up from memory.

Perhaps, I can use a few of these combinations to push Rin tomorrow, he thought, as he allowed his subconscious to catalog and file away the parts of the exercise he recalled as most useful. Thankfully, before long, Sesshomaru's thoughts grew foggy, and he felt the throb of his pulse dissipate within the relaxed heat of the blankets surrounding him.

In what seemed like a moment later, he found himself somewhere he had not been in quite some time.

It was almost as if he had been transported, but in some part of his sleeping mind he knew he hadn't moved. Still his surroundings seemed so real, so current. It struck Sesshomaru as incredible - it was as if no time had passed in this place where, around him warm, golden light refracted off of gleaming, polished marble.

He knew immediately that he was in his mother's Western Sky Palace.

Despite the presence of so much sunlight streaming through, the high ceilinged hall was always cool and airy as it had ever been. In a move that was second nature, he approached and stepped up onto the platform and came around to the thin cushion positioned in front of the study desk he had used in his youth.

His hands reached for and flipped the tails of his outer garments, as had been his custom to achieve a seated position in the long ho jackets–

– Ho jackets? He had not worn the long, antiquated jackets made of rough spun silk, the kind finished with a mandarin-style clasped collar, since his first 30 winters.

He watched in fascination as he resettled his sleeves, not so voluminous as those of the haori jackets he'd favored since hitting maturity. The bright grass green hue of the fabric was familiar in his distant memory though, and suddenly he recognized the feel of the strap of the dreadful kanmuri hat perched on his head. He had grown to revile the stiff, woven black hat that affixed to his head with a red string in his adolescence. His mother, always one for appearances, insisted that he wear it, though by his 30th year he had managed to keep trading down until he had one with the shortest plume before he got rid of it all together from his ensemble right after his Coming of Age ceremony.

Sesshomaru glanced at the slender size of his wrists, as he set about spreading his inkblot, pulling near and readying his ink stone and brush, and spreading out a few scrolls of historical texts, which at a few glimpses were vaguely familiar.

How odd yet mundane, he mused, trying to process what he was experiencing, when it hit him. The former demon apparently had not noticed himself crossing into sleep again: this had to be a dream, evidently based on some memory from his youth, judging by the slightness of his body, his clothes and the setting.

For a bit he just observed, at once strangely one with the young Sesshomaru in the grass-green silks and yet somehow also more or less an observer in the third person. Time passed as his younger self's eyes scanned through scroll after scroll in front of him in a clearly determined manner.

As Sesshomaru watched he looked for clues of how old he was here. He had been a bit small for his age for a number of years into his adolescence. He had tended toward being "reedy" and "delicate", in the words of his martial arts and combat masters, descriptors which had secretly grated on Sesshomaru's nerves as he matured. Not one for words even since childhood though, he eventually discovered how to show his temper in focused bursts of perfectionism when he sparred and in his intellectual studies. Given the late maturation of his body, his voice changed late as well, reinforcing his interest in action over words.

As he looked closer though, he guessed that he might have been a little older here, perhaps in his mid twenties. Those awkward days of puberty were likely behind him at this point. However, finally coming into his adult body had only exacerbated his impatience for his 30th year and his Coming of Age ceremony, which his parents held late; a fact his mother had loudly lamented to him over the years, as she had apparently intended the delays would allow time for Sesshomaru to finish his studies, thereby softening his character with intellectualism and giving a chance for another Inu Clan family to produce a demoness "worthy" of her son.

Of course neither of those had happened, and so it was at last on Sesshomaru's 30th birthday when his parents gifted him his first set of armor and a particularly rare and ancient scroll, a dusty, slightly disintegrating familial treatise on leadership. Only a minute into adulthood, Sesshomaru could still remember how he had seethed as a clan elder shaved away the last hairs of his forelock in conclusion of the asinine ceremony. That was when Sesshomaru first really realized his parents had never thought to ask if he would want a sword of his own let alone much else about how he really wanted to do things now that he would be an "adult". So the very next day, blood still boiling, Sesshomaru seized his rightful spot on the Inu-no-Taisho's war council, wearing a set of clothes he specifically chose himself. Since he hadn't been given one of his own yet, strapped at his side had been a particularly heavy, vicious, demonic sword that he had instantly requisitioned from his mother's family armory.

From there he hadn't looked back on showing the world what he could do on his own, and he didn't need anyone and any kind of help to get what he wanted.

While the memory of those cold, old feelings still echoed around in his head so many years later, the young Sesshomaru in his dream opened and closed scrolls. Over what felt like hours, he read and reserved certain scrolls into one pile. Others, he sent back with the short-statured servants of his mother's household, all of whom were dressed in the standard uniform of the time: violet-colored front closing shirts that looked more like early forms of haori; navy, straight legged hakama; and perched between pointed dog ears, modest black pointed eboshi hats of the kind that Jaken had held onto in his wardrobe over the centuries. With pronounced Shiba inu looking features and white fur covered faces, hands and feet also reminiscent of arctic foxes, the servants returned with more scrolls.

Judging from what Sesshomaru could catch of the text as he watched the dream flow on, he was researching an old battle, and an obscure one at that. A battle between ogre clans from a few centuries before, apparently poorly documented and referenced only sparingly through different demonic historical accounts. It was likely an assignment he had received, but he still didn't directly recall this memory. Though if it had happened, this so far strangely uneventful occasion apparently was well-recorded somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Perhaps, Sesshomaru thought, this was not necessarily a memory but for once some sedately repetitive task his mind had invented from recollections of his past, as he drifted through sleep.

Finding the dream innocuous enough, he had just begun to lose interest, may have even slipped momentarily back into the darkness of slumber.

However, a moment later a new distinct feeling came across the dream connection, barely there like an echo from far away; like a knee-jerk reaction, Sesshomaru's attention was called back from the darkness before he even knew what he had sensed.

His younger self sitting at the desk had already raised his head from his work; his expression was characteristically placid, but knowing himself he saw it in his own young eyes: active and interpretive, listening and watching. He couldn't help but watch further now, suddenly alert again to what was about to happen in the dream.

A reverberation in his chest was the first sensation, reminiscent though so much weaker, of how he often first sensed the auras of other demons even from afar. Despite his human body he could still feel it though. His heart clenched, as he had thirsted to feel again like this; what he felt at that moment though was still a poor substitute, as he somehow knew the feeling wasn't real. It was just a weak memory of something he had sensed already very long ago.

Even so, the smell that followed a moment later came through the dream powerfully.

The well-worn aroma of still green stemmed, early summer cypress, warm blood, and mud fresh from the battlefield crashed over him like a wave. It abruptly filled Sesshomaru's mind, as if he had only last smelled it the day before, though he knew very well he hadn't.

While Sesshomaru watching dream practically felt his heart stop involuntarily with the immediate recognition of whose scent this was, his younger self instead casually lowered his head back to work. Rather he looked almost bored, and as he reloaded his brush with black ink, it was clear that he was more interested in his essay assignment than the visitor he was about to receive.

That was when, just a moment before he found himself about to relive it, that Sesshomaru realized precisely that this was a memory, and one that he had very much remembered and worked forcefully to forget so many years before.

"Sesshomaru, my boy!" a few minutes later, the familiar, genial male voice burst loudly through the cavernous, warmly lit hall.

Sesshomaru watched the brush in his young hand slip, making an errant mark across the text he had just penned to his essay. Without looking up, he instantly placed his pen down and reached for a cloth to try to soak back the rogue stroke.

Looking back on it, Sesshomaru had eventually realized there were those who had found his father's robustness charming. Yet for Sesshomaru, even when he knew the older youkai was near, he had always never felt quite prepared for the sheer volume, both auditory and character-wise, at which his father somehow always arrived.

Now, watching the dream, Sesshomaru saw as his father's ever-dirt covered boots drew up to the view in front of the platform on which his desk sat. Already, he felt his stomach sinking in ways he couldn't have ever predicted. When this particular conversation had passed, it was very obvious that this young Sesshomaru had not yet had reason to really seriously question the extent of the invincibility of himself let alone his one-time incredibly powerful father.

His father paused expectantly, but when Sesshomaru did not speak, he continued on loudly: "I was in the area, and I realized it had been a bit since I visited you, Son. I see your studies seem to carry on smoothly. My steward, Taka, lets me know in letters that this seems to be the bulk of what you do alongside your combat training. Your mother and I are proud, but you should take some time out for other things while these years of your youth still afford it."

Up on the platform, the young Sesshomaru focused on his brushwork for another moment. At last, he carefully placed the brush down before his eyes traveled to his father.

There, Touga stood. Voluminous, wild white hair was pulled back high on his head, while his silks still held the fresh scent of dust and the forest. In the hall, the older demon's golden eyes were filled with sunlight and excitement, clearly bright and interested as he looked out upon his son over his sharp indigo face markings. His father's presence was heart-achingly alive and vibrant as if not a day had passed from that very moment. Then from where he observed, Sesshomaru felt an unexpected wince of pain - a momentary intrusion from a different memory - a cold winter night, when the last ounces of his father's lifeblood had poured heavily out onto perfectly frozen, white snow.

Carefully, Sesshomaru ignored the pain and forced himself to focus again on the scene in front of him, though the pain it brought was a different, of a more surprising sort than even the thought of his father's final night…

Young Sesshomaru's mouth opened, his expression flat and plain as a mask as ever: "Hai, Otou-sama. It's my understanding that you and mother wish for me to prolong my studies during these years. My tutors say that my analyses have exhausted the core historical texts of our kind, but I aim to prove them wrong by incorporating references to the more ancient and obscure martial histories. Since my tutors can't offer me much more, this will prepare me better for the day I join you on the battlefield in a few short years."

His father took a short pace at the foot of his son's desk. He had listened quietly, but hm'd cryptically when Sesshomaru had finished. "I see. I have no doubt that you have surpassed most of your teachers, Sesshomaru, but I am curious about one. Rohan-sensei: Myoga recommended I send him to add to your studies. How are things with him? Taka says he hasn't received any statuses on your lessons from him," his father explained, looking up at his son.

Sesshomaru replied calmly, though he could clearly remember already being able to predict his father's reaction. "I dismissed him," he replied easily of the ancient flea demon, who had tried to teach him "culture studies".

"Nande?" his father stopped mid-pace. The look in his eyes had sharpened as his gaze fixed questioningly on his son. "Sesshomaru, what do you mean? Why?"

The young Sesshomaru had picked up his grinder and began to prepare more ink for his essay, as he spoke: "I did not see the point. He mainly wanted to discuss ningen literary achievements. I already completed my studies of contemporary youkai literature despite its lack of relevance to my future. I could not see how Rohan-sensei's lessons could provide anything further."

Touga sighed, "Sesshomaru, while I know you have completed contemporary studies of our own cultural achievements already years ago, of course your mother and I have talked with you recently enough that we're concerned your preparations for social matters are possibly lacking. We have started to hope that you would take more of a focus on cultural pursuits. I considered that at least Rohan-sensei's experiences would be something new to you, or perhaps you might have an appreciation for the kind of knowledge Rohan-sensei has been able to acquire. There aren't many who have been able to get their hands on copies of the ningen texts, let alone read them still at this point in their history."

"I concede that this may be the case, but I still don't see what point these particular studies will serve for me," Sesshomaru answered again, looking up at his father once more. Meanwhile, he had brought his freshly made ink to the correct concentration. The mineral-bite of the pigments blended with his father's earthy scent.

"On the contrary I think you do, and you will understand soon enough if not now," Touga said, fixing his son with a frown. "There are other things in life than dominating on the battlefield, son. Your mother and I have chosen to delay your Coming of Age for each of our own reasons, but we have agreed that you would benefit from the delay. Sesshomaru, once you enter society, it's going to take different skills to claim and maintain relationships, such as with a wife and the vassal you choose as your right-hand man."

"Now does your mother know you released Rohan-sensei? I know she has her own goals for you, but she had agreed that your cultural studies could resume," his father finished.

"Yes, and she agreed to release him when I described the lessons to her," Sesshomaru said simply; it had been an easy conversation with her, as after all, his mother's family values were what had inspired Sesshomaru's hard commitment to utility in his studies and general comport anyway.

His father maintained a firm but calm expression, though Sesshomaru couldn't help but notice the way his left fist clenched, an almost imperceptible squeeze at his side.

"Then, I would like to have a word with her. Do you know where I can find her?" his father questioned again, as he looked ready to go wherever was indicated right then.

Sesshomaru had picked up his brush and deftly pulled it through a small pot of water before draining the cleansed bristles. Carefully, he straightened the hairs between his fingers. "She's out," he glanced back at his father.

"Where?" Touga asked. His voice had now gotten a bit louder than normal; it seemed to happen often that his parents were traveling on opposite-seeming paths.

"A court function in her relative's lands," Sesshomaru replied honestly. Though he knew the kind of reaction this would get, he generally saw no point in being dishonest about things; lies commonly only exacerbated and prolonged the inevitable anyway, and Sesshomaru found such nuisances unworthy of his time.

His father's brow creased at hearing this. "If there was a court function, then why are you not with her, Sesshomaru?" he asked automatically.

"Mother requested that I join her party, just as you requested that she do, but I declined and told her I refused to go," Sesshomaru replied. He kept his account succinct - he knew his own mind well enough even by that age that he saw no need to hide behind excuses.

"Sesshomaru, we have spoken of this time and again…" his father started. His tone had darkened considerably since his arrival, but Sesshomaru had told himself that he refused to be cowed any further under the circumstances. Not this time.

Despite the limitations his tutors had identified in his oratory skills - his delivery never charismatic enough nor his volume loud enough - he felt the urgent need to get his point across this time. Sesshomaru now steadied his gaze on his father, determined to hold nothing back: "Mother is well-connected at court - far better than you have ever been. That is why this is a benefit you want me to have, and something I do understand, Father."

While Touga looked ready to interrupt at this admission, Sesshomaru didn't give him the opportunity but continued on steadily. "However, I have also had the benefit of listening to Mother time and again about her social machinations and concerns. Something which you have not done for all the time you have been on the battlefield and away from our home."

"Sesshom–" his father tried again, but the young Sesshomaru pressed on; yet, as Sesshomaru watched his own dream he couldn't help it - something deep within him tightened a bit sickeningly, knowing what was about to come. Watching after so much time, he now saw that his father had begun to look a bit sad, but he felt sure his younger self likely had not noticed or did not care.

His younger self continued: "According to Mother, relations at court are complex, as you have also said. However when I question her, my understanding is the same every time - those complexities merely sit atop a greater landscape. It is the wealth and power that only a few families hold that dictate all, from the marriages to the wars of our kind.

"To this point, Mother has made it clear since I was a whelp that my marriage and the continuation of our family line would all be predetermined - when the time was right, the proper marriage candidate and family connections would be arranged for me. Beyond my education in basic etiquette, which I have completed, and the appearance of such allies, my success will be assured. By contrast though, Father, I have seen through these years what is not assured, which is our ability to appropriately eliminate on the battlefield the military rivals of the Western Lands once and for all."

Still standing on the level beneath the platform where his son sat, Touga looked up wearily. "Sesshomaru, that is not fair –" he tried to start again.

Sesshomaru's retort was quiet but enough to silence him; Touga's somber expression deepened, as Sesshomaru finished calmly: "Yet, this is what I have seen, and should make my reasons clear: I refuse to waste time on anything other than what prepares me to take the battlefield together with you. I will secure a legacy of strength that no others can doubt - whether at court or anywhere else."

His father had closed his eyes, as he listened to the last of his son's pronouncement. When the Inu no Taisho looked up at the younger demon atop the platform again though, the look in his golden eyes had changed; a certain softness had left them, as he said, "Sesshomaru, I think you are making a mistake, but it's becoming obvious I probably can't keep you from it. One day, you're going to regret it, that you're making it all about this one thing."

The young Sesshomaru gazed on silently, refusing to be fazed in the moment, though as his older self watched the dream, he didn't feel the same…

Suddenly, from where Sesshomaru observed the dream, his heart clenched: his father was turning to go, as he knew he ultimately would.

It almost looked like he would leave right then, but then he stopped.

Touga gazed back over his fur and armor covered shoulder. "Sesshomaru, please tell your mother I'll write to her," he said.

"Yes, Father," Sesshomaru replied and lowered his head, as was expected of him.

When he sat back up, he caught one more sight of his father's eyes. Gold and blazing, Sesshomaru had thought they looked determined - the eyes of a warrior going back into a battle that Sesshomaru, so young then, had wanted nothing more than to join. Now as he looked back into that golden eyed gaze, he saw nothing but the look of his father, so alive before he fell on a snowy night –

Sesshomaru gasped under the pressure of the memory, and in a snap, the roof of the cave appeared. Lit by the dancing flames and floating embers of the campfire, slowly, the high up rock ceased to spin in his vision.

He was awake, and the dream had ended.

Sesshomaru sighed heavily, as he became aware of the pool of sweat that had gathered underneath him.

Gradually, his senses were coming back to him.

His father was long gone and dead.

He, Sesshomaru, had been attacked and made human.

And - a choking, sick sound caused his gaze to flick to his side. Across the fire, someone wrapped in blankets was moving around. The glow of the flames caught the unusually pale features of the slayer, reminding Sesshomaru that he was stuck with a group of people who barely tolerated him and whom he never expected to be hitched up with.

For a moment, perhaps just to avoid the latest wave of feelings of loss invading his mind, Sesshomaru just watched the young man moving around at the other side of the cave.

It wasn't the first time Sesshomaru had noticed Kohaku doing this. He would wake, usually just by chance, to the sound of gentle murmuring, and find the slayer knelt down beside Rin's bed. It did not take much guess work on Sesshomaru's part now to know that Rin likely suffered nightmares. Having learned how Yaga had affected her, let alone her near miss with a fiery death in Harumura, her sleep was likely racked with terrible images. He assumed it was much like he had witnessed when she was a child - after he had resurrected her and allowed her to follow him, he would let her, Jaken, and Ah-Un pause to rest at night, but her sleep had been fitful for a series of seasons. Now that he was aware of the occasional realness of dreams, he had started to realize how the nightmares had likely haunted her; while he knew he was not a soothing creature by character, he too had quietly comforted her back then like the slayer did now, stroking her hair or her back.

Ever logical, Sesshomaru knew that he should no longer be the one to do these things for her. He had already failed her and lost her trust - how could she even allow him to touch her in such a way. No, she hated him enough, and he couldn't sacrifice the common ground they had gained with the naginata. Her protection in waking life was more important than her protection from dreams after all as well. So in silence, he let the slayer take that place by her side again that night, as Sesshomaru also knew that his plans for Rin dictated it.

Still, though he tried to deny it time and again, it annoyed him to watch the slayer with her. However, as Sesshomaru looked back away from where the slayer knelt in front of Rin, he could not help but find himself trapped with his own uncomfortable thoughts again.

The same inexplicable tightness that had gripped him in the middle of his dream retook him, as he cycled back through his unpleasant reality once more.

His father had died and devastated their clan's position, weakened by his odd affinities, as Sesshomaru had predicted.

Sesshomaru had been strong, but then he had become human and lost every scrap of power and sense of self he had ever earned.

And while he longed to leave the confines of his chaperones' watchful eyes, he also realized that he would be absolutely alone with truly nothing at all as soon as he finished training Rin and left her behind.

Even when his father betrayed them and died, he hadn't been left with so little.

And Sesshomaru thought he had done everything right.

But why did that feel less like the truth every day now?

And there in the darkness, Sesshomaru had to admit that for once in his long life he had begun to comprehend and actually dread the emptiness ahead.

:::

Note 2: For those of you interested in learning about what I described as a ho jacket and also the kanmuri hat that Sesshomaru hated so much, I will include a post on Tumblr: origamikungfuwrites. I leaned on some creative license, but it was fun to think about how the fashion was probably more "early Japan", possibly with some later clothing references starting to creep in for the servant class, even among youkai when Sesshomaru was young. ;)