Update info, disclaimers, etc are in my bio.

Chapter 13

The first thing Oshun felt was the warmth of the morning sun on her skin, its gentle rays filtering through the dense canopy of palm trees that swayed softly outside of her window. She stirred as the light began to filter through the cracks in the weathered wooden walls of the old hut. The familiar scent of the sea filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of herbs hanging from the ceiling and left over in her basket somewhere. Her body ached with the weight of the journey she had just undertaken, but as she blinked awake, the quiet, rhythmic feel of an aura stirred her mind. The scent of saltwater hung in the air, mingling with the sweet fragrance of tropical flowers, a stark contrast to the world of Sesshomaru's memories she had been navigating only moments ago. She blinked against the soft light, her senses slowly adjusting to the present day.

Sesshomaru…

Her eyes adjusted to the familiar worn dark wood of the old healer's hut. The hut, nestled deep in the bush as they said in her homeland. Shrouded by overgrowth and jungle, it was a place of peace and solace. It had been given to Sesshomaru as a sanctuary while her father worked to unravel the mystery of his sickness. The walls were simple, made of driftwood and woven palm, but the space was imbued with a deep sense of history and care. It was a place meant for healing—a place where even the strongest could find refuge when their strength was not enough.

Oshun sat up slowly on the woven mat where she had slept, her gaze drifting to the figure beside her. Sesshomaru lay still, his silver hair spilling over the rough fabric of his bedding. His once commanding presence had been reduced to something fragile, a shadow of the demon lord she had come to know. He appeared more like a statue, his breathing slow and shallow, his eyes half-closed as though lost between waking and dreaming.

For a moment, Oshun felt disoriented, her mind struggling to reconcile the past and present. The intensity of the memories—the emotions, the anger, the moments she and Sesshomaru had shared—still lingered within her like echoes in a vast chamber. She could feel the weight of them, etched deep into her consciousness, as if they had happened not in some distant memory, but in a time that was as real as her island.

The dawn light played across his features, accentuating the sharp lines of his face and the soft glow of his skin. He looked both ethereal and ghostly, a being caught between worlds. His usual strength and power were muted, and a deep lethargy hung over him like a heavy fog. Before he was all-consuming. With his armor, he seemed as if he could take on the world and win. But here he lay before her, essentially sick. Possibly dying. And what would become of him if he were to die now? She saw what he was in the past. But who was he now?

She watched his eyes and aura seek the space about him. Oshun's heart clenched at the sight of him in such a state. He had spoken with such conviction the last they parted. She believed him. She knew he would fight. And he would go to hell to protect all that was his. He knew of his enemy but also knew nothing of how deep those wounds were going to dig into their shared history. Now, he would have known. He would have seen. And what did the world take from him? Did it take everything like it did her? The sickness that had gripped him was not just physical; it ran deeper, into the very essence of his being.

Oshun sat up straighter, knocking her locs out of her face. His eyes fell upon her briefly and it was all she needed to come to attention. The ornaments in her hair and the bangles along her ankles sung with each movement she made. They chimed along with the movement. His once powerful and commanding aura was diminished, and his breath came in slow, measured draws. He was awake, but barely. He blinked slowly as if dragging himself from the depths of a dream. He seemed both present and distant as if the boundary between past and present had blurred for him as well. His half-lidded golden eyes were dull, their usual sharpness replaced with a hazy, faraway look. The brilliance within them dimmed but was still sharp enough to find her in the soft morning light.

Oshun felt a pang in her chest as she reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm. His skin was cool to the touch, but she could still sense the lingering power within him, though it was now faint, as if drained by some unseen force. Sesshomaru turned his head slightly at her touch, his gaze meeting hers, and for a moment, a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes.

"You're awake," she whispered softly, her voice carrying a tenderness that belied the concern gnawing at her heart.

His gaze shifted toward her, a slow and deliberate movement, as though it took great effort just to focus. For a moment, they remained in silence, the space between them filled with the soft rustle of the wind outside and the distant sound of the trees rustling outside above them. The call of various animals echoed somewhere in the distance. They stayed this way for some time. As if frozen in space.

Sesshomaru's response was slow, as though he were pulling himself from a deep, heavy slumber. His lips parted, and his voice, usually so commanding and cold, now sounded weak and raspy. "The past… it lingers," he murmured, his golden eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

Oshun nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. She too felt the weight of what they had experienced—the shared memories, the emotions that had once been his and were now hers as well. The lines between their souls had blurred in the journey, and the past had left its indelible mark on both of them.

The old Sesshomaru of the past was stoic and held a cold demeanor that was like an impenetrable fortress. That visage was enforced behind a shield of indifference that rarely allowed anything to breach its walls. His expression, carved in the sharp angles of his face, was one of calm detachment as if the emotions that drove others meant nothing to him. His golden eyes, though Oshun found to be luminous and striking, held no warmth; only an icy clarity that seemed to see everything with some level of judgment going on behind those walls. The judge, juror, and executioner. They were often half-lidded, giving him an air of boredom or disinterest as if the world around him held little significance. But this was not the case now. This was not the Sesshomaru she knew of the past.

Even during their last moments together, he was different. He was somewhat softened by her presence. Or maybe she had struck a chord by speaking of how his pack would be what the enemy sought. It wasn't gold, silver, etc. Well, those things were valuable. But they needed mules and a workforce to take it all. When she spoke plainly and gave counsel about what was to come, he shifted. His whole demeanor was enraged. And somewhere in that rage was…empathy.

Maybe?

Oshun looked to him patiently wanting to help. Wanting to ask the burning questions. What happened to you? What happened to Rin? Where were his men? His people? His mother even? She held her breath instead waiting to see what he would do. What he needed in this moment.

In the quiet confines of the hut, Sesshomaru's demeanor was a stark contrast to the stoic and cold figure he had been in the past. Where once he had moved with the confidence of an untouchable warrior, his presence now felt weighed down, burdened by something deeper than physical exhaustion. His usual regal posture, always straight and commanding, had softened; he lay still on the bedding, his body less poised, more vulnerable.

In this moment, Sesshomaru's silence spoke not of indifference but of contemplation. His usual stoicism, once a wall that shielded him from emotional entanglement, had fractured. He seemed almost human in the stillness as if the fortress of coldness that had once defined him had been worn down by the sickness he carried and whatever else had picked at the edges of his memories. His movements, once precise and calculated, were slow and deliberate, his strength no longer driven by sheer force of will but tempered by fatigue.

Her hand came up to press gently to his forehead. His eyes narrowed immediately upon the contact. Her words brought his mind to the forefront. "Oh Sessh…-" She sighed and titled her head. "What happened?"

Sesshomaru's eyes traced the faint outlines of the ceiling as the weight of his memories pressed heavily upon him. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, and the soft murmur of waves miles away crashing against the shore outside was the only sound that he remembered he enjoyed, but his mind was far from peaceful. He could feel Oshun's presence beside him, her warmth near, her concern palpable. She had seen so much, more than any other had been allowed to witness, yet there were things—things he hadn't shown her, things he couldn't.

He chose silence.

There was too much; too much that even he couldn't fully confront, let alone explain. The memories they had shared, the moments she had witnessed in his past, were already overwhelming, a flood of emotion he had buried deep for centuries. The newer ones from this century…a reckoning. And yet, there were fragments she hadn't seen. Darker, more intimate moments he had locked away so deeply even he had not dared to revisit them. The weight of those memories stirred now, in the quiet of the morning, pulling him under like a riptide.

Rin.

Her name alone sent a sharp ache through him. She had been the catalyst, the one who had awakened something in him he hadn't understood until he saw her fight on the battlefield beside him. The child had grown and had proven herself to be worthy of Western Moon Inu Clan's great hallmark. But there were memories of her—moments of fear, helplessness, of watching her die, only to bring her back. Over and over. The cycle had gnawed at him, a reminder of his limitations, of the emotions he couldn't control. It had been unbearable at times, but he had hidden it well, behind his icy exterior.

Now, lying here, he could feel it all. Not just the memories she had seen, but the ones he had kept from her…the guilt, the confusion, the anger. So much rage. Rage at the humans. Rage at the demons. Everything could burn for their continued unreasonable failures as a species. The memories they did share felt fresh, as if they had just happened, as if time had folded in on itself and brought the past rushing into the present. Every emotion he had so carefully buried surged within him, raw and unfiltered. The joy in Rin's laughter, the quiet moments of peace when she would follow him, and the terror that had gripped him when she was taken or injured, every emotion now bubbled to the surface.

But how could he voice these things? How could he admit that someone as insignificant as a human child had managed to touch something within him he hadn't known existed? How could he explain the bitterness he had felt toward himself for allowing her to matter, for letting her become the center of his silent world? How her offspring took on that mantle and were partially the reasons that drove him here. Partially…

"Come to the Emerald Isle for refuge and healing too. This I offer you."

Her soft skin against his chest stirred his beast. The memory was fresh, and her expression was so…warm. Hopeful even. The calming scent of honey and hibiscus lured him to sleep that night. And…he held tightly to that memory. He just didn't know until recently that he would cash that offer in.

Sesshomaru's jaw tightened as he forced himself to remain still, his face impassive as always, though inside he was unraveling. He was a demon of few words by nature, and now, even more so. He could not bring himself to speak of it. The thing that gnawed at his insides. Eating through his sanity. The beast in him was silent now. A failure they both had yet to grip with. The pang in his gut was salivating. It clawed to be free. To reveal what lingered beneath the surface. But he would endure and refuse. He would not share. Not to her. Not to anyone.

He had chosen silence and strength for so long, and now, it was the only thing he could cling to. His body ached, not from physical wounds, but from the strain of confronting these emotions—emotions that were foreign to him, that threatened to unravel the cold, controlled self he had spent centuries perfecting. Even now, the memories of their shared journey were all-consuming, blurring the lines between what was real and what had passed. Sesshomaru still felt Oshun's body curled against him as if it were minutes before she was there. The warmth radiates off the blankets and furs underneath him.

Sesshomaru closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel the touch of Rin's small hand in his, the warmth of her presence, the fleeting moments of happiness she had unknowingly given him. It felt as though it had all happened moments ago. That wide smile and watery eyes as she turned to go inside while he prepared himself for war.

But he could not speak of it. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Oshun was still near, her aura gentle and compassionate, waiting for him to speak, to open himself further. But he remained silent. She had seen enough, felt enough. He would not burden her with the rest, the parts of him that still resisted the weakness of emotion. And then there was that moment. Where his rage shifted to something else. The fierce need to protect her.

He let the silence linger, allowing the memories to fill the space between them. They weighed heavy on his chest, but this was his burden to bear. Even if he could never voice it, he would carry it alone. It was the only way he knew how to survive.

Soon, Oshun had gotten up and started to clean up. A sigh released from his lips slightly as he watched her move around him. She went about changing blankets and furs gently underneath him. His fevered sweat permeated the air as she rustled the space, reminding him of his current state. And it went on like this for some time. The shadows changed and danced along the walls as time crept. His eyes would track the woman occasionally as she brought water and food, and did things with her herbs, potions, and brews. Dried florals were placed throughout the hut that calmed him. The windows and doors are thrown open to allow fresh air to circulate within the house. Her words of prayer and gratitude would break the quiet occasionally. Her soft pleas to her deity called Jah would drift out of the window and catch the breeze. The name found its brethren on the shores near the waves where presumably her people were.

She finally came to him and lay on her side to face him. Her scent caught his attention first before the soft sounds of her bare feet as he turned his head to look at her in the afternoon light. Soft whimsical chimes and songs called out as she shifted on her side. As Sesshomaru lay in the dim light of the hut, his mind drifted back to that night in the past; one of the few moments when his carefully guarded walls had slipped, even if only slightly. The memory of Oshun, beside him in the darkness, came flooding back with startling clarity. It was a moment he had kept hidden, buried among countless battles and years of cold solitude, but now it resurfaced with a vividness that took him by surprise.

He remembered how they had laid together, their bodies close but not quite touching, the air between them charged with an energy he couldn't fully explain. His mind had been sharp, as always, but there had been something different in the quiet of that night. A stillness, a pause before the inevitable storm of war. He had chosen to let her stay beside him, something he never would have allowed another to do. Yet, with her, it had felt… natural. A specter that was real. A mystic from the future.

Oh if his brother's mate could see this now?

Her presence had been both calming and disarming, her aura humming softly, so unlike anything he had experienced before. The warmth she exuded had cut through the coldness he usually carried within him, creating a strange sense of peace in the midst of chaos. He hadn't needed to speak more; Oshun had understood without words. His instincts had raged and found a foundation to stand on with her. There was an unspoken connection between them, one that he had acknowledged in silence, though he never would have voiced it.

He remembered the way her eyes had glinted in the soft moonlight filtering through the walls of his private quarters. Those striking violet eyes, filled with a deep, knowing wisdom, had met his, and for the first time in a long while, she hadn't looked away and he was enraptured to stay. She had seen more of him than he was comfortable revealing, yet her gaze hadn't been intrusive. It had been steady, and patient, as if she had always known there was more beneath his cold exterior. Her truth of what was waiting for his future self cut through his ire and temperament. She told no tales. She was here of her own free will to help him. Rather than work in her favor leaning toward excess gain was pushed to the side.

Sesshomaru recalled how he had felt the tension in his body slowly ease, the constant vigilance that kept him prepared for battle, for danger, fading into the background. There was a brief moment of vulnerability, though he hadn't thought of it as such then. It was something different, an unspoken understanding between them, a mutual recognition of the strength and the burdens they each carried.

And yet, beneath that calm, there had been something more primal, something unacknowledged but undeniably present. His beast, usually kept in check by his iron will, had stirred that night. In one accord with his logical self. He had felt it rising within him, not out of anger or desire for battle, but out of something deeper. Something drawn to her, to her power, to her spirit. Her touch had not been threatening, but soothing, and that had unsettled him in ways he had not anticipated.

He remembered the way their energies had mingled in the quiet, not quite touching but feeling each other's presence all the same. He didn't know what to do with it then. The desire to both protect and possess, to let her in but also keep her at a distance. He hadn't been able to reconcile those emotions with the image of who he was: Sesshomaru, the demon lord, untouchable and aloof.

But in that moment, as they lay together under the weight of the coming war, something had shifted. He had allowed himself, if only for a brief time, to rest. To be something other than the cold, unfeeling warrior. With her beside him, there had been no need for the stoic mask he wore so often.

The memory of her soft breath, steady and calm as she lay near him, lingered in his mind. It had been a night unlike any other. A night where the silence between them had spoken more than words ever could. He had chosen not to act on the emotions stirring within him, but even now, the memory remained vivid, a reminder of the one night where, for a fleeting moment, he had allowed himself to simply exist with someone, without the weight of the past or the burdens of the future.

Now, lying in the present, weakened, and consumed by an illness, Sesshomaru could still feel that moment. It was distant but powerful, a thread connecting him to a part of himself he rarely acknowledged. A part that had, however briefly, found solace in another.

Oshun sat quietly beside Sesshomaru, her eyes tracing the faint lines of his face, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he lay in the stillness of the hut. The afternoon light filtered through the cracks in the walls, casting long shadows across the floor. She could feel the weight of his silence, the burden of everything unspoken between them. He hadn't said a word for hours, and in that quiet, she had sensed his struggle, the turmoil of memories too raw to speak of, too painful to share.

It was her gift. The gift of healing and foresight was passed along from her mother and father. It was why her father felt secure in her ability to help. At the time, she didn't understand. She held a better understanding now. Sesshomaru's mother sparked something within her with her crass and sharp wit to cut through Oshun's mental mess. She was sick too. And her healing was found in this shared healing journey with the handsome Inu lying in front of her.

Handsome!

Her eyes widened a fraction before she swallowed thickly. Her eyes traced the contours of striking angles along his cheekbones and chin. The raised colored flesh along his cheeks that heralds to his ancestors and lineage. The tiny goosebumps she could see along their ragged edges spoke of how close his baser instincts were to the surface. His hair was wet some from the gentle washing she had done to his mane and face. A feat she would take to the grave as it didn't end in some kind of combat or fight for her life. Occasionally, her eyes would flicker to the corner where his weapons sat before turning back to the male lying before her. His abs and physique spoke of years of battle and who knows what else. His body definitely kept score. He was indeed handsome, but this wasn't the time or place to look at him anything but what he was. And what was he exactly? Who was he? She wondered.

Oshun focused on the gentle amber of his eyes. She had waited, hoping he might offer something, anything that would help her understand the depth of what he was going through. But as the silence stretched on, Oshun realized that his silence was a choice, not a failure to communicate. There were parts of his past, parts of his connection to Rin, that he simply wasn't ready to share. Not now, perhaps not ever. And in this moment, she had to respect that.

With a quiet sigh, she finally broke the silence, her voice soft and gentle, as though not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between them. "Sesshomaru," she whispered, her hand resting lightly between them on the blankets. "Rest."

He didn't respond, his eyes half-closed as though teetering between sleep and wakefulness. But she could see the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. All signs that he was still aware, still burdened by whatever storm raged within him.

Oshun's heart ached for him, for the unspoken pain he carried, but she decided at that moment. She wouldn't press him. She wouldn't ask him to explain what had happened to him, to Rin, or anyone else in his past. There was no point in dragging him through those memories now, not when his body was still so fragile, his strength barely returning. What mattered now was the present, and in the present, he was alive. He was here. And that was enough. For at least until his body was ready for another round. And when she was ready to face nasty parts of her that she wanted to bury.

His fever had broken sometime during the night, and the sweating that had wracked his body in the days before had finally stopped. His skin, though still pale, was cool to the touch, and the shallow rise and fall of his chest was steadier than it had been since they had arrived on the island.

Oshun shifted her hand and moved herself to sit up. A warm hand grasped her own that lay between them for a moment. Oshun blinked owlishly at him before looking to see pale talons latched onto her smaller hand. His calloused fingers curled around hers gently. The weight of his fingers pressed against hers in a small embrace. Oshun nodded her head and continued to lay on her side. They stayed like this for as long as the afternoon light would have them. Their breathing began to mimic the other in a dance and song. Peace had settled between them until the cicadas and the frogs, and the buzzing of insects had become too much for her to ignore.

Oshun watched as he succumbed to sleep finally. She sat up languidly and fixed her skirt and tresses. She looked to the fresh basin of water she had gathered and reached for the cloth she had been using to cool his forehead earlier. She dipped it into the basin of water, wrung it out, and gently pressed it to his brow. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of relief cross his features, though it was gone as quickly as it had come.

She moved with practiced care, her fingers light as she tended to him, wiping away the remnants of sweat that still clung to his skin, checking his pulse, and ensuring he was stable. Her touch was gentle but purposeful. This was how she could help him now, in the present. Not with questions or demands for answers, but by being here, by caring for him in the quiet moments when words weren't necessary.

"You're getting stronger," she murmured, more to herself than to him, as if speaking the words aloud would make them true. And in some ways, they already were. The fever had gone, the worst of it had passed, and for that, she was grateful. She prayed.

Her fingers brushed against his arm, and she felt the strength that still lingered beneath his skin, even in his weakened state. Sesshomaru was a being of immense power, a warrior who had faced unimaginable foes, and yet here he was, vulnerable in ways that she knew unsettled him. But he was alive, and that was what mattered.

Oshun glanced down at him, her heart softening as she watched his chest rise and fall. She knew that the road ahead would not be easy, that there would be battles yet to face. Both within him and in the world around them but for now, she would let him rest.

For now, she would focus on the present.

"I'm here," she whispered, her hand gently resting on his arm. "We are not alone in this fight."

She meant it not just for this moment, but for whatever came next. She would be there, by his side, no matter what memories he carried, no matter how long it took to find the answers they needed. Her prayers went up again. And a reminder that they were indeed not alone in this battle. They had the righteous one with them and their ancestors with them always. But at least at this moment, as the night broke outside their sanctuary, the only thing that mattered was that he was still here.

Alive.

Awake.

She would care for him if it took. Not for herself. Or for the fear of loss of her father. But for that little girl who she saw herself reflected. Rin. For the memory of those big brown eyes looking up at the being that could move mountains, skies, and seas. She would do it for her and him. She would fight this battle alongside Sesshomaru. She would help him through his past. While also getting to know his battles in the present. His refuge was here. She just needed to be up to the task.

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