A Distant Promise – Mini-Chapter #26
"Rin did both."
If the statement hadn't been so intriguing, Kagome felt certain she would have laughed at his expression. The normally placid taiyoukai looked distinctly uncomfortable and nervous. His gaze met hers, and she could almost see him working out a way to avoid answering her next inquiry.
So, she did not do him the favor of having one. The priestess simply crossed her legs and waited, expectantly. As the minutes passed, however, Kagome realized belatedly that she could not outwait Sesshoumaru. He was practically the pioneer of the silent treatment. A true master at evasion through wordless glares and cold shoulders.
To break the tension with an easy question, she asked what Rin had been like as she grew older. Somehow though, this only seemed to make the situation worse. And… good heavens… Was that a blush staining his cheeks?
"Shippo said that she died protecting Satoshi from a band of marauding demons," the miko continued uneasily, wondering why her usually composed and stoic companion was acting so strangely. "Rin must have loved him very much."
The glass in his right hand shattered under the force he was exerting, drawing a startled shriek from the priestess. Sesshoumaru watched the water forming lazy trails across the table, snaking its way between shards of glass. Kagome tried to calm down again – her heart was racing after that brief scare. Clearly, she had said something wrong, but she had no idea what or why.
"Right, sorry… I didn't mean to…" she murmured, wondering if his hand hurt, after breaking his water-glass. Luckily, their waitress had not wandered by the table at that moment, so no one was any the wiser about a guest in the restaurant who could accidentally crush glass in his fist. "I'm sorry…"
With a sigh, the taiyoukai started to pick shards out of his skin. Although his emotionless mask remained firmly in place, Kagome could feel the anguish tainting his youki. Normally, his aura was carefully controlled, but at the moment it shifted uncomfortably beneath its master's skin, and little bursts of energy licked at her senses like flame as she watched him repair his right hand.
"In the end, Rin grew to care for Satoshi," he admitted finally, "It was me that she could not forgive."
"What do you mean?" asked Kagome, puzzled. "She idolized you."
"Rin desired children," he continued ambiguously, "I needed an heir. So, I brought her my firstborn son, deliberately failing to understand that this was not the way in which she hoped to have a child. And she never forgave me."
"Oh," murmured Kagome, wide eyed. All she could remember of the little girl was a brightly checkered kimono and a smile formed from liquid sunshine, topped off by a lopsided, fluffy pigtail. But eventually, she supposed, all humans aged. Perhaps it was not so surprising that their relationship had changed when the girl reached maturity. Still though, it seemed slightly odd to her. Sesshoumaru was… Sesshoumaru. She had always assumed that Rin viewed him like a father-figure. "I see," she said, even though she really didn't.
Feeling faintly relieved to actually explain this to someone who would listen and understand what he was talking about, the taiyoukai decided to explain the rest of the story. While his actions were not commendable, at least this woman would know why he had taken the steps that he did. "Satoshi never knew his mother; I took him from her when he was weaned," the taiyoukai stated, "Rin was supposed to care for him, but she did not want him either, because he was a living symbol that even though… I loved her…"
"You still didn't want any hanyou children," the priestess frowned.
"A pure-blooded heir was needed to secure the West," replied Sesshoumaru a tad bit defensively, for someone who had already whipped this subject to death over and over inside of his own mind. "Demons age much more slowly than humans – Satoshi was still a toddler when Rin was old and her hair was turning gray. Eventually, she forgave the boy for what was obviously not his fault in the first place. The rest is as the kitsune told you. I was called away and detained by a battle, and when I returned, she was gone."
Biting her lip, Kagome struggled not to reveal her pity. It would not be received kindly. But the rest of the story was so painfully obvious that it hurt. Sesshoumaru, the perfect assassin, ever-in-control, had actually fallen in love with a human. And he had never told her so. Perhaps he had not realized it until she was gone. Times had changed, and the lands he had fought so hard to protect and secure had fallen apart, making all his arguments about a full-blooded heir irrelevant. In the end, only regret remained.
She lowered her eyes and used her napkin to mop up some of the water on the table, just to keep her hands active. "I see," she said again, and this time she really did, but simple understanding didn't make the past right.
