Chapter 6: Reality

Much to Rin's surprise, the outburst was a dream. She had been so flustered when the Taisho trio entered that she fainted. However, that's not how she had awakened and she hadn't gone insane. Most likely, hours later, she awakened for real to find she was lying amongst the pillows. The director sat beside her. She turned and the visitors were sitting on a bench as they had in her dream. Her gaze centered on the subject of her sculpture and her whole hallucination. Still caught in the dream's insanity, she felt disoriented and didn't know what to say. The first thing out of her mouth became "I'm not dreaming…"

"You are not dreaming," the director confirmed.

Continuing to stare at them, Rin commented, "Hello." She had no clue how to react. After such an experience, after coming face to face with the subject, she didn't know what to do. Her brows creased as her thoughts took a sharp detour. It was then that she comprehended, "I don't know their names." Finally tearing her gaze away from the subject, she looked at similar figures. An older man seemed to be father of the other two. His hair wasn't as long as the older son, neither did he have a crescent moon on his forehead nor were his streaks defined and two, it was only one. Looking at the last figure, something clicked in Rin's head. "Fruit guy," she cried smiling on impulse.

The man looked at her confused until it clicked in his head as well. "Runt," he smirked, "What? Are you still stealing fruit?"

Rin pouted and stuck out her tongue. "One time thing," she scoffed.

"Keh," he shook his head. "Inuyasha," he stated. She nodded. "This is my father, Inutaisho." Rin nodded and bowed as much as she could, which wasn't much. "That's my older brother, mind you half," Inuyasha growled out, "Sesshoumaru."

Staring at Sesshoumaru, Rin started moving on impulse once again. She stood, shuffling towards Sesshoumaru and without hesitation began touching his face. Stroking his skin, caressing his cheek, tracing the crescent and the streaks, she was oblivious to everyone's shocked stares, even Sesshoumaru's and she was staring straight at his face.

However, though she was gazing, she couldn't make out his expression as she was looking at feature upon feature, detail by detail. There was no way she could see the big picture. Leaning closer and closer, she was close enough that she could brush her lips against his, yet all that was on her mind was examining his face. And as soon as she was close enough, she pulled back and walked towards the first compartment.

They followed behind her, watching as she stopped directly in front of her sculpture and did the exact same thing. Stroking the skin, caressing the cheek, tracing the crescent and streaks, even leaning in close enough to brush lips against the cold stone, she barely noticed when the claws of her sculpture brushed her cheek to her ear. When she pulled back, she sat down, continuing to stare in silence. A thought echoed through her mind, "How foolish. Of course, a lifeless creation can't compare to a living creature." A tear streamed down her cheek. Hurriedly, she wiped it away, gazing at the face sadly. "How foolish," she mused pitifully, "I can never have him…"

Rin had sat staring at her sculpture for what seemed like hours. Though it wasn't, it was enough for everyone, even the demons to question what she was thinking. And after sitting for so long, Rin stood, stretched and then glanced at them as she asked happily, "So will you be staying or going?"

"What will you be doing," asked the director. Rin smiled teasingly as she answered, "Another sculpture…or practicing a song, whichever I feel like." She shrugged. Before any of them could answer, Rin strode into the second compartment, taking out supplies, such as her sculpting tools and a small slab of clay that she carried onto a table in the third compartment. To her surprise, Inuyasha helped her. Inutaisho and Sesshoumaru sat down on the bench, waiting to see what Rin would do. The director on the other hand bid farewell and left the studio.

When Inuyasha sat down on the bench, Rin couldn't help tilting her head and smiling at the three identical men. She glanced at the pile of cushions. "You know," she drawled, "you could sit over there. It's more comfortable and I'm not sure how long you'll be here." Sesshoumaru was the first to move, finding a place closest to the wall and then leaning back with one leg propped up to support an arm. Inuyasha and Inutaisho shortly joined after, sitting closer to have a better look at what Rin would be doing.

Continuously glancing at the three, Rin felt herself begin to giggle and stifled it one after the other. She was accustomed to people sitting in as she did her work, but usually they were kids and their parents, aspiring artists and such. Not once had she ever worked in front of three silver-haired men dressed in expensive Armani suits with expressions that not many people would be happy to approach. Inutaisho was solemn, but he had the most softness in his expression, the softness of a true father, strict and loving. Inuyasha seemed to be brooding, pissed and upset about something, yet what it was she couldn't discern, almost like a child. Lastly, Sesshoumaru had a look of indifference, though with a prolonged glance, Rin could see the intensity that was always there, the chill that froze anyone's blood and cracked through anyone's skull. She almost laughed, wondering why Sesshoumaru was the one to attract her. However, she knew that answer and left it to itself.

Facing the slab of clay, Rin gradually began to take and add, mold and shift. Her graceful hands seemed to be massaging the clay, yet something was forming, something was taking shape. There was no image in her mind, but there was life in her hands, so she followed, seeing what would come of following her instinct. Arms reached to the sky, a head tilted to see the blue heavens, flowing hair that tossed and curled as it moved to envelop what came out as a thin and wispy figure, and the sheets that covered the young woman's figure wrapped around her arms and waist, fluttered around her chest, and danced and entangled with her legs that were already off the ground. Keeping her hands moving, a branch formed under the woman's floating feet. Her sheets trailed down and curled around the branch, but didn't encase it. From the branch, the top of a tree formed, branches shooting out in all directions, coming up to create a canopy. Amongst the leaves, the young woman was liberating herself, emerging from the veil the tree had formed over her.

Rin glanced at the three. In front of her were the shapes of what her mind had envisioned, but it wasn't complete enough for her spectators to truly discern the finished work.

Smiling, she began to engrave every detail. Each and every strand of her soft hair, the curl of her delicate fingers, the folds and creases of the sheets, the contours where the sheets hugged the woman's figure, the eyes and nose and lips, the lines and clear spots of the tree's trunk, and even the shapes and lines of every single maple leaf. Her precision was stunning and as she shifted, engraved, and smoothed, the work started to breath. The young woman seemed as if she could fly off or drift into the heavens, yet she could only admire. The sheets seemed as if they could be blown away, yet held tightly. The tree seemed to shutter in the wind, yet was safe from harm.

And it did come to life. Without color, it was living and breathing and moving before their eyes. Inuyasha and Inutaisho praised her for the skill she displayed. As they stood for a closer look, Rin turned towards a nearby clock, reading close to midnight. Facing the two, she commented, "It's late. Maybe you should be heading home." The two spared a glance at their watches and nodded. Sesshoumaru stood then, breezing past them all and only stopped at the door to look back at the other three. Inuyasha and Inutaisho followed close behind. However, the two walked past Sesshoumaru, expecting that he would've resumed walking. Instead, Sesshoumaru was still waiting, his gaze fixated on Rin. She waved, not sure how to respond.

"You are not leaving," he stated. Immediately, Rin shook her head and said, "I'm going to finish my sculpture."

"Don't push yourself," Inutaisho commented, a tone of concern in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. Unable to help smiling at them, Rin waved her hands, saying, "It's okay. I really want to finish. Plus I have no school for the next week, so I'm fine." Inuyasha shrugged and walked off, calling out, "Don't die of exhaustion and don't be a workaholic like Sesshoumaru! You'll turn to stone!" Rin laughed, calling back, "I won't. Have a good night, Inuyasha."

"We will visit tomorrow," Inutaisho stated. Rin nodded, "I'll be waiting then."

Inutaisho turned to walk away, but noticed that Sesshoumaru wasn't following. As he was about to address his son, Sesshoumaru reentered the third compartment and sat down amidst the cushions. "Good night," Sesshoumaru stated coldly. Unfazed but taking a hint, Inutaisho said goodbye to Rin and left after Inuyasha. Rin hopped back to the table, feeling Sesshoumaru's hard gaze observe her every move. She was frightened and excited enough to think he was perhaps observing her too closely, every muscle, the details of the expression on her face, the curves of her thin figure. That was a dream though.

And right as she sat down, the first thing she blurted out was, "Are you married?"

"No" came the stern reply.

"Got a girlfriend," she kept going and had no idea where the questions were popping up.

"No," he said again.

"What about a lover?" She couldn't stop.

There was no response. Confronted with silence, Rin lifted her gaze only to find he was gone. She searched around, but stopped, feeling him press against her back. His hands slid down her arms. In a husky subdued growl, he replied, "No." One of his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against him, full against him, able to feel the very lines of his form through the barriers of his clothing, which she found were just as easily penetrated through as her shirt.

"Uh, Sesshoumaru," she murmured.

He growled against her ear. "You don't remember," he uttered in an airy breath.

Remember what, she inwardly screamed. His body was too close and something was pressed into her back, a bulge in his pants that made her mind spin at the implications. One of his hands glided down her side, dipping lower and lower until the tips of his claws found the entrance to her womb, fortunately protected from the heat of his hand. "You don't remember," he whispered, "how I touched you," he rubbed circles over her clothed sex, "how I held you," he straightened her against him, reaching up with his other hand to knead her breasts, "how I claimed you as mine."

Pleasure surged through her, heat pooled in the depths of her belly. With a moan, she threw back her head, subconsciously bucking against his prodding hand. "Your body remembers me," he stated, a husky rasp on the edges of a growl, "Now you should." But as he dipped his head to capture her lips, he was met instead with her cheek. She was shaking in his grasp, yet was struggling to muster enough energy to deny him. His fingers became rougher, rubbing, prodding, and pinching, sending waves upon waves of pleasure cascading through her system. In his chest, he rumbled with a growl, angered and aroused by her sudden defiance. At least, for him, it was sudden. For her, it felt instinctive to deny him.

Seizing her in one rough jerk, he ground out, "You are mine, Rin, and you will remember me."

At last, something snapped inside her and Rin tore out of his grasp, crashing to the floor as she tried to avoid hitting the table. Panting, sweating, the heat knotted inside her, wanting release, but she had broken away moments before completion.

Sesshoumaru straightened, taking a single step and towered over her, gazing down with his dark golden eyes. In them though, Rin saw the makings of red edging his retinas. "I don't know what you're talking about," Rin panted, her voice was too airy. She swallowed, "but I don't remember you or any of this. And I don't belong to you!"

Suddenly, he was down on her. There was the crash as her stool smashed against the wall, wood falling to pieces and thumping on the tables and clacking on the floor. Her legs were spread apart. Despite the clothing, he was pressed against her, his sex to hers. Her body screamed for release, delighting in the new contact, begging to orgasm against him. Shallow pants brushed along the top of her head. His forearms rested on the floor on either side of her, trapping her as if she were in some kind of cage. An instantaneous thought struck, "Loving him feels like a cage."

She didn't want to admit it, but it was buried deep in her subconscious. Even if she couldn't remember and didn't know, her body did and she could feel memories stirring in her. The emotions she felt when torn from his completion, they were remnants of him. How his body and embrace seemed so real against her, it was the call of her memories. And they started streaming, but before she could register them, she dispelled them. She wouldn't delve into it. Something inside her was breaking, screaming at her "Don't open the chest!"

"Sesshoumaru," she called meekly. Tears streamed from her eyes. "Sesshoumaru," and he was no longer holding her down. He was sitting up, cradling her in his lap, his head buried in her shoulder. "Sesshoumaru," she kept calling, holding onto him tighter. She felt scared, weary. The chest, her memories, the emotions, something in them would destroy her. Something told her they risked her sanity. Times of demons and samurai, the feudal era where war and death were rampant over Japan, to a time she had forgotten and lost, it was a time she saw the memories lied. Whatever happened then, she didn't want to face again. All she wanted was her Sesshoumaru. He's all she wanted.