Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

The Girl
By : theMaven
Category: InuYasha > General
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Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Author’s Note: Sorry, it’s taken me so long to update, but believe me, I haven’t been slacking off.
This monster of a chapter is 86 pages long, and there is TONS of adult subject matter ahead.
This includes rape, violence, frank discussions of a sexual nature, assorted sexual situations, and
death. If you’re not old enough or have a problem with any of the before-mentioned things,
please, don’t read any further. You have been warned.
                                                                 The Girl
                                       Chapter 3: There Are No Happy Endings
            It pained the Western Lord to no end to hear the girl cry out for him but be unable to
answer her call. Her words were broken with deep sobs, punctuated with shallow breaths and
coughs so spasmodic, so forceful that they seemed to cause his own chest to clench, restricting
his breathing, each convulsion she doubtless experienced, sending an inward shudder through his
unshakeable frame. She didn’t want them touching her; she wanted “her lord.”
            It was years ago, but the memory still haunted him, still echoed through the darker
recesses of his brain. She’d sounded so desperate and stricken . . . lost.
            “Please,” she’d wailed. “Please, come back for Rin. Rin doesn’t wanna stay here.”            The humans tried to comfort her, tried to quiet her, tried to assure her that she was safe
and all was well, but the girl would not be swayed. She could not be convinced, nor would she
be won over. Over and over, she called out for him. For hours upon end, she cried for him.
Time and time again, she begged him to come back to her and take her away. “Rin wants to go
home . . .”
            But he could not go to her . . . not then. It had been one of his brother’s stipulations. He
fought back the ensuing low growl that wanted to rise up at the resurfaced memory. Rin was
barely conscious at the time, her frail frame so light in his good arm, her form only stirring when
a series of coughs shook her, and she reached up to cover her mouth.
            Yes, she was ill, but she still behaved like a perfect, little lady.
            The air was cold, a bitter wind accompanying the flurry of snow, a thick blanket of the
solid precipitation already lining the ground they walked on. Were it any other matter he needed
to discuss with the hanyou, he would have come during the day, landing Ah-Un in the center of
the village, his sword arm empty as he marched up to the miniature compound his brother shared
with the rest of his pack; he did not skulk about in the shadows. But, with Rin’s health hanging
in the balance, he could not risk alienating the human population, possibly spurring on an attack
by InuYasha and/or his youkai hunting companions. The girl could’ve been hurt.
            As it was, the scent of sickness already hung heavily around her . . . and just recently,
there was the added odor of death. Death was a scent he knew, had known his entire existence.
And to smell its foul stench once again creeping around the girl . . .
            He turned from his inward musings and focused his attention on their current situation.
They had ceased their travels and made camp for the night. The sky was clear, the first stars of
the evening beginning to make themselves known above the forest canopy of green, burning dots
of white against a velvety blue background. He had released Ah-Un to graze where he may,
while he had taken a seat at the base of a nearby maple tree. The night was warm, and the air
was still. The girl had lit a cookfire and was currently setting about the business of making her
evening meal–roasted venison and sticky rice. The food scents filled the secluded clearing,
assaulting his nostrils with the antagonizing aromas. Why humans felt the need to cook
everything was beyond him. It ruined the taste of the meat, and the most nourishing parts–the
blood, bones, liver and heart–were simply discarded. He failed to see how they could survive on
burnt animal flesh alone.
            But . . . it was her birthday, and he always indulged her on this day above all others.
She’d wanted deer, and he’d caught her one. What she did with it was her own affair.
            She seemed to take notice of his eyes upon her, and so she looked up from the fire, giving
him an easy smile, a faint blush staining her cheeks as the shadow and flames licked at her face.
He let his gaze linger a moment longer, taking note of the golden embers dancing in her dark
brown eyes and the few strands of silver streaking through the midnight black of her hair, then he
looked away.
            One such as he had no right to look upon the heavens, but the dark couldn’t help but be
drawn in by the light . . . So bright, beautiful . . . transcendent. Stargazing had always been one
of his favorite pastimes.
            But . . . the girl didn’t recall her actual birthday; she’d lost her family before she was able
to definitely determine that bit of information, but she did remember the mini celebrations and
the small tokens of affection her brother and parents bestowed upon her one day out of every
year. And she missed it. The youkai lord knew nothing of human ritual and practice, but when
the usually chipper child seemed somewhat sullen, and he’d uncovered the cause . . .
            His dark mood lifted somewhat. She seemed so certain he’d rebuke her or chide her for
being so . . . “silly,” as she’d suggested. She didn’t even want to tell him what was troubling her.
“Rin doesn’t want to be selfish. Rin is happy Lord Sesshomaru just lets her stay with him. Rin
doesn’t want to be a bother.”
            As if he could deny her such a simple request.
            Since neither one of them knew the date of her actual birth, they celebrated on the day of
her rebirth. They came to the conclusion she would be eight that year. She’d been with him
slightly over a year, and on her last birthday, her parents declared that she was six . . . However,
according to her, there were several unaccounted for moons between her sixth birthday, her
family’s death and her meeting with him.
            But, of course, the villagers never cared enough to see if she was properly fed and
clothed, so why would they care if she kept an accurate count on the changing times?
            Sesshomaru scoffed inwardly in disgust. Humans. Was there a more despicable creature
on the face of the earth? They did not hesitate to use and abuse one another without cause,
without necessity, without provocation. They seemed to delight in cruelty simply for cruelty’s
sake–a trait even demons did not possess. If a demon killed, it was for food, shelter or clothing.
If a village was destroyed, it was an act of righteous vengeance exacted for some past wrong its
inhabitants had inflicted on its so-called attacker. Demons did not “steal;” they did not creep and
crawl within the shadows, catching their victim unaware. They stood proud and tall, conducting
their business out in the open, confronting their debtors face-to-face, eye-to-eye, taking what was
owed to them–nothing more and nothing less. And they certainly did not rape.
            Mating was for procreation and procreation alone. It was not meant for intimidation, self-gratification or manipulation. The strongest male came together with the strongest female to
produce the strongest offspring; it was that simple. But, he learned, mating practices of youkai
did differ from those of humans. Like everything else in nature, there was a test to be passed. If
the female was interested in the male, she engaged him in battle, refusing to submit to him until
he proved himself worthy by defeating her in clean combat. If the male won, the female
willingly submitted to him, and they then became mates. Some youkai mated for only a season,
or just a day or two, while others were committed to one another for life.
            If the female proved to be the champion, she killed the male for daring to touch her. If
the female was not interested in the male, she simply walked away from him without verbal or
physical acknowledgment . . . which was where confusion often arose with humans. Among
humans no meant “no;” among youkai no meant “not yet.” For a youkai female to say “no” to a
youkai male was to admit interest in the male’s sexual advances; the same would be said if the
female were to push the male away or initiate any other form of physical contact. The female’s
refusal is what initiated the battle for dominance, which led to mating. To walk away without
saying a word was to rebuff him, but with humans . . .
            “What are you doing? Let go! Get off of me!”
            The girl had been 16 at the time. He’d always kept close watch over her, never letting her
stray far from his sight except when she bathed. He stayed within earshot, but occupied his eyes
with . . . more appropriate sights. He did not leave his swords unguarded, he did not leave his
borders unprotected, and he did not leave the girl unattended.
            When he heard her cries, he broke through the forest trees and underbrush, coming to a
stop in the clearing he’d left her in.
            He saw her there, them there, by the lake’s edge. One pile of her clothes, the ones she’d
been wearing when he’d left her, were neatly folded by the lakeside, resting amid the green grass
with an open container of soap the miko had taught her to make. Beside the discarded clothes
and the soap container were her fresh robes–both the under kimono and the outer robe–and the
red ribbon she now used to tie her hair up. He’d given it to her for her most recent birthday just a
few days before. A few feet, five paces or so, from the fresh robes and the red ribbon was
Rin–flat on her back, knees bent, legs crossed tightly at her ankles, eyes closed, her face red,
tightly clutching the long, white drying cloth about her chest. Above her, off to her left side was
a very thin, very haggard, patchy furred, bear youkai cub. Though human-like in appearance,
bear youkai could be just as vicious as their animal counterparts with their sharp fangs and razor-keen claws. They were not particularly graceful, speedy or agile creatures, but they often made
up for those shortcomings with their bulky size and brute strength. This youkai, however,
seemed as if he’d barely survived his species’ winter sleep.
            His youki was too weak to detect from a significant distance, and thanks to the shifting
winds, he’d been unable to successfully sniff out the long-haired youth. He could count the cub’s
ribs as they jutted out beneath the black fur of his pelts. He was bare-legged and bare-chested, a
shabby fur cloak draped across shoulders that fell to his midback, gauntlets of leather and fur
covered his forearms, and a skirt-like profusion of fur began at his waist and ended just below his
narrow hips. The skirt did its job of covering his loins and backside, but it did very little to hide
the youth’s obvious interest in the girl or mask his musky scent hanging heavily in the air.
            Also present was . . . the slightly subdued scent of Rin’s own arousal.
            He knew that, as a human, Rin was of age to take a mate and she held no particular
prejudice against youkai, but . . . he never imagined she’d choose such a shabby example of their
race. And yet, there she was grappling on the ground with the youkai youth, bucking her hips
against him, baring her neck to the cub’s hungry eyes. The two continued with their play despite
his presence, and with only the thin cloth to cover her, Sesshomaru was able to see more of the
girl’s form than he knew was appropriate. She’d developed so quickly and so . . . well . . .
            Long, lean legs, the soft curve of her behind, her skin wet with the water from the lake,
and that rosy, pink slit nestled between her tightly pressed together thighs.
            He growled lowly in his chest, holding himself firmly in check, but he could not contain
his body’s reaction to the girl’s exposed charms . . . and her scent . . . that overtly floral blend,
formerly so light and airy . . . calming, was now punctuated with a more exotic, more earthy,
entirely alluring aroma.
            The girl slapped him hard across the face, a smug smile plastered across crimson-coated
lips. “So, you think you can take me, do you?”
            A low growl rose from the back of the young prince’s throat. He had no interest in
“taking” the female; he simply wanted her out of his chambers. He’d tried ignoring her
advances, refusing to acknowledge her presence stretched out across his futon, but you can’t
ignore something that’s firmly latched on to your crotch.
            He’d removed her hand from his person then she’d challenged him.
            “Well?” she asked.
            He picked her up and tossed her across the torchlit room, watching as she contorted
midair and landed effortlessly on her feet that annoying smile still on her face.
            Damned Ishida, he cursed mentally. Thinks he knows so much.
            His father had little time to spend with him. Being the Great Lord, he kept quite busy
expanding his territories and guarding its borders, overseeing his vassals and armies and
accepting tribute from both his human and youkai subjects alike. In his absence, General Ishida,
an inu youkai like his father and himself, had been charged with his training and upbringing. The
general was an older male well-versed and well-traveled in the ways of the world. His armor was
blood red in color, and like his father, wore his hair in a high ponytail tied into place with a
leather string. But, unlike he and his father, the General lacked the magenta markings of the
alpha male, and he wore a well-groomed growth of facial hair, spanning from one ear to the other
along his finely sculpted jawline. He didn’t have a mustache, however; that would have
interfered with his sense of smell.
            The young prince had heard Ishida had saved his father’s life on more than one occasion
and the lord of the castle trusted Ishida’s judgement above all others. Sesshomaru, having no
other wish than to please his father and aspiring to be just as great, if not greater than he was,
followed Ishida’s every suggestion and always took his words to heart.
            It was the General that helped him see what weak, worthless, vulgar, despicable and low
creatures humans truly were. They often traveled across the countryside, watching pointless
conflict after pointless conflict as the humans warred against one another, destroying anything
and everything in sight. He’d even watched as a fully grown human male forced himself on,
what he now knew was, a six-year-old girl.
            He did not wish to watch, but Ishida insisted. “Know your enemy,” he’d said as they
observed the dark clearing below from the treetops above. “Know the depths to which he is
capable of sinking.”
            The young prince felt his stomach lurch. The girl was much too small to accommodate a
fully grown male, and he could hear her flesh rip as the male repeatedly pushed his way inside
her, heedless of her blood, heedless of her pain, heedless of her tear-stained face and her raspy
cries. It served no point. The child was not of age to bear offspring, and with her now broken
body, it was doubtful that she ever would be. After the male had finished, he wiped his soiled
loins on the girl’s torn robes, and before tucking himself back within his hakama, he gave the
girl a forceful kick, calling her a “worthless, little tramp.”
            The girl, already tucked into a tight, defensive ball, gave a slight whimper, but was
doubtless too injured to even roll away from her attacker.
            Sesshomaru thought the male would then leave her and continue on his way, but instead,
he towered over her, balling his right hand into a loose fist, raising his arm as if to strike her.
            “Stay put, pup.”
            He glanced down to find the general’s claw tightly clamped around his forearm.
            “And stop that growling. You’ll give us away.”
            Sesshomaru hadn’t realized he was growling, and quickly quieted himself. He was even
less aware that he was about to leap from the concealment of the treetop and pounce on the
unsuspecting human. His claws glowed a bright green and a deep desire to rip the offending
creature to pieces, adorning the surrounding bushes and branches with his entrails, filled him
from the tips of his clawed toes to the crown of his silver-topped head.
            “Listen and learn,” the General quietly commanded.
            “And if you tell anyone about this . . .” the human warned, arm still raised, glaring
vehemently at the girl’s coiled form lying at his feet.
            “No, daddy,” the girl whimpered.
            Sesshomaru started. Daddy? That was her . . . . father!
            “And who did this?” the human asked, his voice stern, his eyes harsh, his tone
demanding.
            “Bandits,” she choked out. “Bandits, daddy.”
            “Bandits?” he seemed to consider her reply, questioning himself as much as he was
questioning her.
            There was a sudden spike in the girl’s fear, and she suddenly came up with another reply.
“Demons!” she said. “A demon did this.”
            The young prince fell back on his haunches, and the General released his hold on his
upper arm.
            “It starts from a very young age with them,” he said. “They are born and bred to be liars,
cheats and thieves. Every other foul trait they exhibit stems from that. They cannot be trusted.
They cannot be left to their own devices. And we certainly can’t allow them free reign in our
territories.”
            “No,” Sesshomaru agreed.
            “What’s the matter?” the grinning girl asked. “Don’t you like females?” Her pale blue
eyes sparkled with a malicious light, swirls of her youki building a charge in the air, causing the
wooden floor to groan and the screened partitions of the walls to shudder and shake.
            The prince remained unfazed. “I have told you this Sesshomaru has no need of your...
services.”
            “Oh?”
            He watched as she slowly made her way back to his bed, her bare feet making no sound
as she tread across the floor, the air about her continuing to whirl, sending the hem of her kimono
up above her knees, her black hair whipping wildly behind her.
            “Well, General Ishida seems to think differently.”
            He, again, cursed the older male for his interference. He was fifty not fifteen! All work
and no play did not make him a “dull pup;” it made him an excellent fighter, a topnotch student
and an heir befitting his great father’s bloodline. It was none of the General’s concern if he was
“backed up.”
            True, he had become more aggressive of late, and he was quick to display his growing
displeasure in any number of ways–feigning indifference, growling at his underlings, snapping at
the servants, “roughing up” his peers, demolishing combat equipment. Why couldn’t everyone
simply leave him alone!
            He was already on edge, and their constant coddling and questioning did nothing to
improve his mood. His father would be returning soon, and depending upon what he found here,
he would either be taking Sesshomaru with him on his next border patrol . . . or he’d be leaving
him behind at the castle again. He was too old to sit at home while the other males went out and
defended their territories.
            His attention, again, shifted to the girl who now stood before him. She stood taller than
him, he seated amidst his bedding, his legs folded indian-style in front of him, her towering
above him, her eyes boring into the top of his head. He refused to look up to her. If his father
had taught him one thing, it was pride. He was the heir to the Western Lands, only son of Lord
Toga, InuTaisho of all the lands, and as such, he looked up to no one. He owed no one such
respect, such esteem, such submission to their content of character that he should have to crane
his neck in order to meet them eye-to-eye . . . save his lord and father.
            Even the General who had seen to his upbringing and care, the commander of all his
father’s armies and his personal trainer and friend, did not deserve or expect such fealty. “This
Sesshomaru commands the general; the general does not command him.”
            She slapped him again, the force of the blow powered by the strength of her youki.
“Look at me when you speak to me.” The strike not only stung, it burned and electrified, sending
a painful jolt throughout his entire body, forcing his head to snap to the side with the impact. “I
may have been given to you ‘in tribute,’ but I am still a lady and will not be treated as anything
less.”
            His eyes narrowed, a vicious growl issuing from the back of his throat. His claws and
fangs lengthened, a field of red bleeding into his view. This female dared touch him? Dared
strike him? Not once, but twice!
            Another growl erupted as he forced his boiling blood to settle and his instincts to recede.
He’d already played into her hands once, responding to her crude advances, and he refused to do
so again. She obviously wanted to battle, and he had no intention of conceding to her wishes.
Ignore her and she’ll go away, he reminded himself.
            He drew in a deep breath and pushed it out, straightening his spine, the red glare fading
from his vision.
            She stooped down before him, kneeling on the floor, their eyes now level, a charge still
hanging in the air. “Playing hard to get, are we?”
            He refused to respond, fixing his eyes on the torch in the far corner of his room.
            “Think you’re too good for me?” she asked. “Not even worth a power display or a
defensive block?”
            A verbal response, be it positive or negative, would imply interest, which he had none.
            The air in the room shifted, the charge diminishing, the demonic wind around her dying
down to a gentle breeze, lightly caressing his face and neck.
            He ignored the sensation, continuing to concentrate on the flickering flame of the torch.
The female had angered him, insulted him. Were she not a tribute, he would have killed her the
moment he’d discovered her in his chambers. Unfortunately, he was there the day the Eastern
lord had offered her into service for his father’s household. To kill a living tribute was to earn
the enmity of its giver, and the Eastern lord was no one to be trifled with.
            He was the one who had initially moved against his father when it was discovered he’d
taken a human mate. The old lord was an elemental, and he’d battered their estate with wind,
rain and lightning–fierce funnel clouds, torrential downpours and thunderous claps of his raw
power.
            The lightning was what had burned the castle to the ground, incinerated it to ashes, setting
his childhood home to drift upon the wind, be washed away amid the rain and mud.
            “So, what is it that you dislike about me?” the girl asked.
            She was arrogant, pretentious, conniving. She’d struck him, insulted him, molested him.
Her ears were too large, her nose was too small, and her lips were painted that vulgar shade of
red.
            “I’ve been told I’m quite attractive, and you’ve seen with your own eyes how powerful I
am . . . Perhaps it’s my body you disapprove of.”
            Again, he gave no reply, his eyes fixed on the far corner of his room. The torchlight was
quite bright–shades of red, orange, yellow and white, blending and mixing, co-mingling, one
color bleeding into the next. It was certainly a more dazzling display than the female kneeling
before him. From this distance, with his canine senses, he could even hear it–sizzling, crackling
and popping like a miniature explosion ringing around his outer ear, quietly echoing in the back
of his brain. Then something softer, smoother, more subtle sounded directly in front of him.
            The girl, the tribute, the daughter of the Eastern Lord had untied her sash, allowing her
kimono to slip off her shoulders, exposing her bare flesh to his appraising amber eyes.
            He was still not “interested” in the female, but he was . . . fascinated by the curve of her
neck where the slim column came into contact with the slope of her shoulders. He was . . .
intrigued by the protrusion of her clavicle as it, horizontally, became one with her shoulders and
vertically led his eyes down the center of her chest. Just beneath the breastbone (or perhaps the
two overlapped) there was an inverted “V”-shape, a cleft of sorts that began flat but gradually
rose to new dimensions. He could not see what was further hidden beneath the fabric of her
robes, but from the bunching of the material, the way it clung to her feminine form . . . there were
two . . . very soft-looking . . . gently rounded . . . perfectly formed, fleshy mounds . . . that would
fit quite nicely in the palms of his hands as he pushed and squeezed further familiarizing himself
with the shape and feel of her form as . . .
            No!
            He directed his attention back to the torch in the corner of the room.
            They were just breasts; there was nothing special about them. All females had them.
When pupped, they swelled and filled with milk to feed their offspring. They were for food not
for . . . fondling.
            But to be allowed to “feed” from this female . . . to wrap his lips around the stiff peaks...
to pass his tongue over the swollen nubs . . . to lick and to suck and grasp and paw and . . .
            “Well,” the girl said, “I can see my body’s not the problem.”
            He pretended to ignore her, but he couldn’t ignore the growing ache in his loins nor the
feel of the silk of his hakama as it sought to restrain his arousal.
            The damned general! Damned female! And what the hell was wrong with his body!
How many times was it going to betray him like this?
            He jerked involuntarily as the girl again captured his attention, the palm of her hand
resting on his knee, an easy breeze blowing across the left side of his face. He scowled at her,
and she smiled at him, a dark spark dancing in the depths of her pale blue eyes. “So . . . you do
like females, my face is not offensive, my powers are not lacking, and . . .”
            He followed her gaze as it fell to his lap. She let it linger there for what he felt was far
too long, and he forced himself not to squirm beneath her scrutiny.
            “Well,” she continued, her eyes rising back to his face, “it seems you’re as impressed by
my body as I am with yours.”
            You will not blush, he commanded himself. You will not color at the female’s
comments. Flattery is for fools–idle chatter meant to inspire idle minds.
            He tensed as he felt her hand creep higher, her soft palm sliding along the contours of his
outer thigh, the heat of her hand working its way through the cool silk, sending unfamiliar waves
of sensation to the very center of his being. “So,” she spoke softly, “if you approve of all of
those things, perhaps it’s my manner you fine objectionable.”
            Ignore her, he reminded himself. Focus on the fire, not on her face. Watch as the flames
dance, not as her chest heaves. Listen to the quiet crackling, not her . . .
            He froze as he felt her fingers again wrap around his manhood.
            “Perhaps I’m too bold,” she said smoothly.
            His hands clenched into fists at his side. Do not touch her! He screamed at himself. You
will ignore her. She will go away. And this will end!
            “Perhaps you prefer a more . . . docile female.” Her hand continued to caress the
sensitive flesh beneath the silk, her wrist resting on his right ankle as her fingers stroked and
squeezed, contracted and relaxed, helping to ease the almost unbearable tension in his loins.
            Grudgingly, he found himself relaxing into her touch, surrendering to these . . .
sensations, filled practically to overflowing with these foreign feelings and a deep desire to . . .
just let go . . .
            “Yes,” she said, “someone with a more diminutive . . . submissive personality. Someone
who is meek, modest and mild. Someone who would dream of touching you, but would never
dare follow through . . .”
            His hands moved to grip the sheets at his sides. He would not touch her. He would not
engage with her in such a licentious activity. She did not stop, and he couldn’t stop her.
            To stop her, to physically take hold of her hand and force her to cease her . . .
stimulations, would be to acknowledge her advances, admitting to having an . . . intimate interest
in her.
            Which he didn’t have!
            Damned Ishida. Damned female . . . He caught himself mid-moan and forced the sound
back down before he could make it.
            So damned good . . .
            “Yessss . . . that’s what you’d like, isn’t it? Some good girl who’ll roll over and play
bitch whenever you tell her to.”
            He was now at a complete loss. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight. There
was a glorious, white light creeping into his vision, a quiet roar filling his ears. He commanded
himself to be still, be firm, be strong . . . but his entire body was shaking.
            The female quickened her pace, his hips acting with a mind of their own, grinding
themselves into her hand.
            It was too much . . . simply too much . . .
            Rin and the bear cub behaving like perfect animals, grappling on the ground for all the
world to see . . .
            Enough, he chided himself. He’d clearly imposed on the couple long enough, and it was
time he went on his way. He didn’t like the idea of the girl carrying the mangy bear’s cubs, but it
was her life, and he had no intention of interfering. He knew she would eventually leave him to
take her own path in life, but still, knowing she would not be following him this time made his
steps a little heavier, his pace a little slower. Now, he’d only have Jaken for company.
            “Lord Sesshomaru!”
            He glanced slightly over his shoulder at the mention of his name. He had no desire to
further subject his senses to the . . . unsettling scene behind him, but perhaps the girl wished to
tell him goodbye. She did have a rather sentimental nature.
            “My lord . . .” she was crying now, whimpering. “Get him off me! Please . . .”
            He again turned to face them, finding that the cub had finally managed to rip the cloth
covering away from her, leaving her completely bare for all to see. The youth had wedged one of
his legs between her thighs and held both her hands above her head as his hungry mouth
devoured her left breast.
            The girl wept. The sweet scent of her arousal had diminished, disappeared. It was
replaced by the acrid stench of fear, the bitter scent of shame and the awful aroma of despair.
            The demon lord growled, fangs bared, the claws of his right hand flexing.
            “I am not that girl!”
            The demoness yanked her hand away, sprang to her feet and turned to walk away.
            But she hadn’t finished what she’d started! Yes, he’d wanted her to leave, but not leave
him like this!
            He forced himself to stay seated as the female walked away, his claws still clenched in his
bedding, his hakama soiled with pre-seminal secretions.
            Damned general. He could hear his teeth grinding against one another, his eyes fixed on
the girl’s retreating form. Damned female, damned body, damn . . .
            The sway of her hips was hypnotic.
            No, he contended. I will not. I will control myself.
            The grinding of his teeth ceased as one of his fangs inadvertently pierced the inside of his
lower lip, the scent of his blood temporarily distracting him from the female. He drew in a deep
breath, trying to calm his racing pulse, but instead he drew in the most . . . oddly enticing aroma
he’d yet to experience.
            It smelled like the girl, but it was sweeter, spicier . . . musky . . . like the odor of his own
spilled seed.
            His claws lengthened, the razor-sharp tips shredding the bedding beneath him. The scent
of her arousal was undeniable.
            He cursed yet again. I will ignore it. I will ignore her.
            But the female’s call to his baser nature was inescapable. A field of red replaced the
formerly white light. He’d been so close–too close to be careful, too close to consider the future
cost, too close to inwardly cringe at the direction he knew his next actions would take him–and
he wanted to go there again.
            His aching erection angrily pulsed within the interior of his pants, and the young prince
pounced.
            However, the girl was not caught off guard. She seemed to anticipate his attack, turning
to face him as he tackled her to the floor.
            The female’s laughter echoed in his sensitive ears as he ripped her obi from around her
waist then pulled the edges of her kimono apart. Without a thought, without a pause, he pried
her legs apart and settled his narrow hips between them, resting his clothed erection atop her
woman’s mound. The female bucked against him, baring her own fangs as she raked her claws
down the backs of his arms, the swift motion of her hips forcing her buxom bosom to bounce.
He ground his pelvis into the ferocious female, ignoring the wounds she’d inflicted on his upper
arms, ignoring the scent of his own blood, ignoring the changing charge in the air of his room,
his eyes fixed on her heaving chest, his mind set on relieving the ache in his loins.
            “That’s more like it,” the female declared. “Show me what a beast you are. Show me
who’s in charge. Show me what a full-blooded dog demon is capable of!”
            Sesshomaru froze, suddenly recalling a tiny voice filled with fear.
            “Demons!” she said. “A demon did this.”
            He stared down at the girl beneath him, a sickening wave of nausea washing over him . . .
the smell of the girl’s blood, the tearing of her flesh, her pain-filled sobs . . .
            But why did he care? Why did it . . . bother him so much? That had happened years ago
when the General had taken him “site seeing.” The girl was human! A worthless, lying,
conniving human.
            The girl beneath him grumbled audibly. “What is it, now?”
            When he declined to respond, she yanked her right hand free from his grip, swiping her
claws across his face, again drawing his blood.
            The young prince growled then quickly removed himself from her person. If she would
not leave, he would.
            “What is your problem!”
                                                                8 8 8
            He yanked the youth off the girl by the scruff of his neck, his legs flailing, his arms
swinging. Rin scampered to her feet and collected her discarded drying cloth, wrapping it around
her slim frame.
            “What is the meaning of this?” He looked from the girl to the youth and back again.
            Her lower lip trembled, her face flushed with anger, her voice loud and sure. “He
attacked me!”
            The bear youkai still seemed to be struggling with the fact that he’d been caught
completely unaware. That was the way of things, the Western Lord knew. When mating, the rest
of the world just . . . slipped away. Nothing else mattered–only the raging blood in your body
and the scent of a willing female. It was one of the few times a youkai could actually be caught
off guard.
            The instinct to mate was quite strong.
            “Is this true?” Sesshomaru asked.
            “No!” the youth contended hotly. “I approached her, and she responded.”
            He turned his attention to Rin.
            “Responded! I was drying myself off when he jumped on me!”
            He raised an eyebrow at the youth.
            “I announced myself, and she asked me what I was doing.”
            Sesshomaru gave a mental nod. Questioning was a sign of interest.
            The youth cast a longing gaze at the girl, who in turn looked away. “I told her she
smelled awfully sweet for a human.” He then cleared his throat, adjusting the hem of the fur pelt
covering him from waist to mid-thigh. “I told her I wanted to mate, then I pushed her down on
the ground.”
            “And I told him to get off me and slapped him!”
            “And I fended her off,” the cub added.
            “Then I kicked him and tried to crawl away.”
            “And I grabbed her again, forcing her back down.”
            “And I tried to get him off me, but . . .” She was obviously trying to maintain her level of
anger–her face stern, her eyes cold, her spine straight, her jaw set, but it quickly crumbled away,
and she collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap. “I didn’t want to!” Her hands tightened into
tremulous fists, her knuckles whitening as she pounded them into her thighs. “I tried fighting
back but . . . He just wouldn’t listen! He was too strong.”
            That sickening feeling again settled in his stomach, but he refused to show such
weakness. “So you engaged him in the battle for dominance and lost,” Sesshomaru concluded.
            Her face contorted into a frown. “What?”
            “You did not think he would be a worthy mate, so you challenged him, but he defeated
you. You are obliged to submit to him.”
            “What!”
            “You were interested in his proposal, but you wanted him to prove himself first. Having
proved himself, he is now a worthy mate, your mate.”
            “No! Th–that’s crazy! I don’t want him. I didn’t ‘challenge’ him. I d–didn’t . . . I won’t
let him touch me! I . . . I’d die first!”
            The bear cub frowned, still in Sesshomaru’s grasp, his feet dangling several inches off the
ground. “Why are you acting like this? You were interested. We battled. I’m worthy.”
            Sesshomaru couldn’t disagree with the cub’s logic.
            “Stop saying that!” she screamed. “I was not ‘interested!’ You tried to rape me!”
            The youth started at the use of the word, and the demon lord, himself, inwardly cringed.
Demons did not rape.
            The cub’s jaw dropped, his skin turning ashen and cold. “I didn’t,” he sputtered. “I
wouldn’t. She was aroused! I smelled it! She wanted me.”
            He turned his attention to the girl, who was now staring quite avidly at the ground, her
dark hair draping over pale face. “Rin?”
            She didn’t reply.
            “You’re inu youkai,” the cub said. “Certainly, you could smell it.”
            A quiet gasp escaped the girl, but she made no other sound. She did not look up to meet
his questioning gaze, and she’d refused to respond when he’d called her name.
            If there was one thing the lord could not tolerate, it was deception.
            “Yes,” he replied to the youth. “This Sesshomaru could detect it.”
            The girl seemed to jerk in reply to his response, her shoulders slumping, her head falling
forward.
            He turned his attention back to the youth and found him smiling quite smugly.
            “I was,” Rin spoke softly, “aroused . . . but not because of him.”
                                                                8 8 8
            He was staring at her again–her features calm, her eyes bright, the silver in her hair
painted gold by the flames of the fire. Her meal had finished cooking, and she was currently
portioning it out on her plate. She used to share her food with Jaken, but since the toad’s death...
            Sesshomaru scoffed inwardly, forcing down the renewed sensation of loss. The toad was
so troublesome, he should have been happy to see him go, but instead . . .
            He scoffed again. He’d watched Rin cry so many times for the irksome imp that he was
certain more than enough tears had been shed for his memory, and it made no sense to get so
upset about such things.
            Still, it was quite quiet without his meddlesome, little minion around.
            “Don’t look so sad.”
            He’d returned from the hunt to find Jaken missing and the girl ill. Ah-Un had entered his
hibernation state. He’d lifted the fur pelt covering the cave entrance and was nearly
overwhelmed by the scent–wilted flowers, dried leaves, and dead grass–sickness. Those scents
were unsettling in themselves, but also present were the older scents of decay and fresh soil.
Something, perhaps someone, had died . . . within the past few days . . . in his absence.
            His ears suddenly quit working. His heart was pounding too loud, too fast. The only
things he could hear were his own racing pulse and his own shallow gasps for air. Noiselessly,
he deposited the boar he’d slain on the cave floor and made his way to his two visible
companions.
            Ah-Un was fine. Though dormant, he could see his aura quite clearly.
            Rin, on the other hand, seemed to be the source of those god-awful smells. Her back was
to him. She was laying in the center of the cave, curled into a tight ball by the fire, the Staff of
Heads poking out from her inert form.
            He was moving so slowly. His feet felt so heavy. The closer he got, the stronger the
stench, the louder his pulse, the quicker his breathing.
            Then he saw it. The girl . . . trembled, shivering slightly in her sleep despite the heat
from the fire.
            It was too much.
            He’d been holding back so long–keeping her at a distance, keeping himself distant,
pushing her off on the toad, forcing her to keep company with the dragon . . . He wanted her gone
so badly sometimes, yet he was so afraid that she’d really leave . . .
            “You’re pathetic!”
            He paid the girl no mind and continued to make his way to the sliding screen. If she
wouldn’t leave him, he would leave her. He was not a masochist and did not delight in his own
torture.
            He listened as the female sat up, the fabric of her robe shifting with her movements.
“Don’t tell me you’re still holding on to the archaic concept of mating for life.”
            He refused to respond to yet another of her taunts. It was common knowledge that inu
youkai mated for life; he owed no explanation to this female.
            “You are, aren’t you?” The amusement in her tone was clear. “You’re still a virgin!”
            The young prince frowned. That was none of her concern. That was a matter to be
discussed between his future mate and himself. It had nothing to do with a tribute who believed
in behaving like a common whore.
            The girl laughed. “And you’re mad because I made you soil your pants.” Her laughter
grew, then she huffed quietly. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, my prince, but if that’s your
outlook on things–waiting for that one female you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life
with–you have nothing but more soiled pants to look forward to.”
            He grasped the frame of the screen, sliding it open.
            “Are you so afraid of me!” she called after him.
            His hand on the screen stilled, the door to his room only part way open. “This
Sesshomaru fears nothing.”
            “No?” she asked. “Then why are you running away?”
            He glanced over his shoulder at her. “This Sesshomaru runs from nothing.”
            He felt the floorboards shift beneath him. The female stood, wrapping her robes loosely
around her, holding them closed with her left hand. She then made her way over to him. He
quickly turned his attention to the empty corridor outside his chambers as he felt her creep up
behind him.
            “Isn’t this nicer than having to see to yourself?” she pressed herself against him, resting
her head on his back. “The General is unmated, but he always has something nice to warm his
bed at night.” Her free hand crept up his back, over his shoulder and down his arm to rest over
his hand, still clutching the screen. “Let’s just close this, so we’ll have some privacy. I’m sure
you don’t want an audience your first time going at it.”
            A low growl erupted from the center of his chest.
            The girl laughed. “Excited, are we?”
            In a series of fluid motion, he pushed the screen back, reversed their positions and threw
her out into the hall. He felt a strong surge of satisfaction watching as she tripped over her own
feet and fell face down on the floor.
            “Sesshomaru!”
            He looked up from the female sprawled on the floor to see his father barreling down the
hallway, headed directly for his room.
            He schooled his face into a neutral expression and bowed. “Father.” He stood upright as
his father looked between him and the girl.
            This looked bad, the young prince knew. His father not only had a keen eye and nose, but
a sharp mind to match. Seeing the half-clothed female spread out on the floor in front of his
chambers, him standing in the doorway, staring down at her, his hakama stained, his manhood
half erect, both their sexual scents hanging heavily in the air . . .
            Sesshomaru cringed inwardly. Undoubtedly, his father even witnessed him throwing her
out of his room . . .
            The girl prostrated herself at his father’s feet, carefully holding her robes closed. “Lord
Toga.”
            His father turned his eyes from him and momentarily regarded the girl. “Leave,” he said
after a moment of guarded silence.
            “Yes, lord.” She rose to her feet, keeping her head down and backed her way down the
hallway. Both he and his father watched her till she disappeared from sight, rounding the corner
at the end of the corridor, swallowed by the shadows at the end of the hall.
            The lord of the castle then regarded his son, his amber eyes cold, a slight frown tugging at
the corners of his mouth. “How disgraceful.”
            He accepted his father’s words without rebuttal, his eyes falling to the floor.
            One week later his father, again, departed, leaving Sesshomaru behind.
            “My lord, you’re back. Why are you . . .?”
            He watched with mild fascination as she took stock of her current position. After seeing
her stir, he’d immediately dropped to his knees, scooping her up in his good arm, covering her in
the fur of his pelt. “You’re ill.”
            She smiled up at him, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. “It’s nothing. Just a
little cold.”
            “Have you no more of the miko’s herbs?”
            She shook her head. “She didn’t have any the last time we were in the area. I’ve been
drinking tea, though. It helps.” Her voice was too raspy, too low. There were dark circles under
her eyes, and he could hear liquid in each of her inhales and exhales. Though she seemed to
shiver from the cold, he could feel the heat radiating off her skin . . . And that awful stench . . .
            “Where is Jaken?” He could see the girl was holding on to the Staff, and he could both
see and smell the soil embedded in its pointed tip. Against his wishes, the annoying, little imp
had been using it as a cane, so neither of those things came as a surprise, but he’d specifically
told the toad not to let Rin leave the cave. That was how she’d become sick all those years
ago–she and Jaken had been “playing” in the snow . . . And he’d beaten the toad within an inch
of his life because of it. Humans were far too frail to be exposed to such harsh environments.
            “He died,” she said softly.
            Sesshomaru frowned. “Died?”
            “Three days ago. I . . .” she released the hold she had on the Staff with her right hand,
exposing the red, blistered and formerly bloody palm for his perusal. “I buried him.”
            Jaken? Dead?
            “I woke up that morning . . . and he was so cold.”
            He was hibernating, he cursed inwardly. Sleeping, not dead. He’d have to go out, dig
him up and . . .
            “He wasn’t breathing, and I couldn’t hear his heart. I . . . I didn’t think youkai could just
die like that. I kept thinking it was a bad dream, and I’d just wake up and . . .” She swallowed
hard, her voice calm, but bright tears shone in her eyes. “But I didn’t wake up, and neither did
he. I was already awake, and he was really . . .” She looked up, then away from him. “I’m
sorry.”
            He swallowed down the bitter taste of bile rising from the back of his throat. “It was not
your doing. He was old.”
            “But I didn’t think youkai could die like that. I thought . . .”
            “Everything that walks upon the earth eventually dies and turns to dust–plants, animals,
humans and youkai. Everything must return from whence it came.”
            “But it was too soon.” The tears she’d been holding back finally fell, streaking down her
heated cheeks, leaving salty drops of water on his pelt. “I was supposed to go first,” she said.
“How could he just leave you like that?”
            He cleared the lump that had settled in his throat. “Death is part of life. All must answer
its call.”
            “But what will you do when I die, now? You’ll be all alone.”
            He, again, cleared his throat. “Do not upset yourself thinking about such pointless things.
Save your strength to fight off this . . . ‘cold’ you have.”
            “I can’t help it.” More tears fell. Her breathing became ragged, rapid. She was working
herself into the type of fit she’d thrown when he’d left her in the village.
            She’d yelled. She’d screamed. She’d cried, and he’d been helpless to do anything but
watch and listen. His brother and the slayer had forbidden him to step foot in the village. The
miko would care for her, and Rin would be nursed back to health only if he didn’t interfere. If he
didn’t leave her there, if someone didn’t cure her . . . she would have died.
            “The kid’s not my problem,” his brother had said, “but the village is.”
            If he’d had anywhere else he could’ve taken her . . . Known anyone else who could have
cured her . . .
            But he hadn’t; he didn’t–not then and certainly not now.
            She’d cried for him to come to her then as she wept for the thought of being without him
now.
            He huffed quietly. Or rather, the thought of him being without her.
            He swallowed hard. “Stop this, Rin. You are not a child.”
            He had meant to soothe her, but the words seemed to have the opposite affect.
            “I know!” She cradled the Staff of Heads to her chest, burrowing her forehead into his
shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
            “Would you like me to sit by you?”
            Sesshomaru cleared the unpleasant thoughts from his head. It was now, not then. Rin
was well, not ill. She was smiling, not crying. It was the beginning of spring, not the dead of
winter.
            He met the girl’s questioning gaze and gave a slight nod.
            Her smile grew, her cheeks coloring slightly, then she bowed politely and rose to her feet.
In addition to the deer, he’d gifted her with a new a kimono. It was not befitting a female of her
station. It only had three layers, but it was the best one the seamstress had in her shop. The shop
lay within his territories, so he demanded it be given to him. The old moth youkai had scowled
at him, but handed it over without a fight.
            The first layer closest to her skin was a muted shade of red, a crisp crimson that played
nicely against her pale throat. The second layer was a deep pink that perfectly matched the flush
of her flesh whenever she became embarrassed or overly excited. It was covered with narrow
white stripes that resembled thin blades of grass. The topmost layer was pale green at the
shoulders and collar, the edges of the sleeves and the bottom half of the skirt of the kimono. The
green gradually faded into pure white, which adorned her chest, waist and upper legs down to her
knees. Patterned over the sea green and the field of white were blue butterflies. They were here
and there, fluttering about the body of the garment, but they were concentrated at the ends of the
sleeves and the hemline of the outer robe, making the outside edges appear to be solid blue, even
though there were small streaks of the green still present.
            Rin had wept when he’d bestowed it upon her. “I’m too old to wear something like this,”
she declared. “These robes are for a young lady and not an old woman.”
            He found himself at a loss for words. He earnestly thought she would like it. “You are
not old,” he finally said, “merely middle-aged.”
            Her tears had stopped then, and she laughed.
            He raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in mood, but declined to comment.
            “Thank you,” she bowed politely then moved to pack it away on Ah-Un.
            “Will you not wear it?” he’d asked.
            She turned to face him, the robes still in hand, an unreadable expression on her face. “Of
course, I’ll wear it.”
            They stood there staring at each other amid the quiet of the clearing.
            “Now?” he added.
            “Oh! I’m sorry, my lord. That was very rude of me. Of course, you’d want to see me in
them.”
            He gave a slight nod, then left her to hunt. When he returned . . .
            “I’m sorry. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
            The girl was recovering her health, but fearing a cold draft could cause her to “relapse,”
as the miko had said, he insisted on sharing his pelt with her. It was warmer than any blanket or
any clothing she possessed, so it seemed the natural choice.
            Since the day of the misunderstanding with the bear youkai cub, and he’d noted his
body’s reaction to the girl’s new form, he’d been very . . . careful around her. Immediately
following the incident, she’d . . . yelled . . . at him. She wanted to know why he’d taken so long,
why he’d just stood there and watched. What did she do wrong? she’d asked. Why did she
deserve that? How could he take “that bastard’s” side and humiliate her like that? Why didn’t
he kill him? How could he just let him go? “Maybe Sango was right about you,” she’d said.
“Maybe I should try to stay with them!”
            “If that is your wish.”
            He didn’t understand why she was still so upset. She’d gotten dressed, the youkai was
gone, the cub had apologized for the mistake, and her virginity was still in tact . . . yet she still
wept. Everything he said, or didn’t say, just seemed to make it worse. By the time they reached
their camp and rejoined the others, she’d stopped talking to him.
            Two weeks passed between them in complete quiet–not a laugh, not a sigh, not a whisper,
not one, single, solitary word. It wasn’t as if they were separated by some great distance–she
secluded in a village or he off battling one of his many adversaries. They shared the same
campsite, sat at the same fire, traveled over the same landscapes. She bickered with Jaken,
praised Ah-Un, yet not one word left her lips directed towards him.
            Nothing spoke so loudly as the girl’s silence.
            He had always said that she could stay with him as long as she wanted, and if she no
longer desired his company . . .
            “What are we doing here, Jaken?”
            They walked through InuYasha’s Forest, stopping at its edge just before the village.
            “This Jaken has no idea. Me lord?”
            He looked down at the toad and then directed his attention towards the village. The girl
began to fidget.
            “Jaken, what are we doing here?”
            Fear. A tremor in her voice and panic in her scent.
            “Me lord?”
            If this is what she wants, so be it. “Come along, Jaken. We are leaving. Take Ah-Un’s
reins.”
            The girl gripped the dragon’s reins in trembling hands.
            “Rin,” Jaken reached up to take the straps from her hands. The demon lord didn’t know
his servant was capable of speaking so quietly, so gently.
            “No!” She stomped over to him, her fists clenched, her brown eyes blazing with fury.
“So, that’s it?” she asked. “You’ll just cast me off, toss me aside . . . abandon me with
these–these people!”
            He kept his voice calm, cool, even. He met the girl’s gaze with level eyes. “It is your
choice.” He then took Ah-Un’s reins and turned from her.
            For a moment, as he began walking down the forest trail, he thought she would not
follow. He thought her footsteps would be heard trudging in the opposite direction–towards his
brother, towards the humans . . .
            Or perhaps she would simply stay still, patiently waiting for his return.
            But he should have known his Rin far better than that.
            The sound of her bare feet rushing through the forest grass soon filled his ears. They
slowed then easily fell in step with his two other companions. Two hours passed before a word
was said between the four, the threat of the village now several miles behind them.
            “Did you really think I wanted to leave?” the girl asked. She walked just off to his right
side, ringing her hands tightly in her robes.
            He didn’t reply, keeping his eyes focused on the trail ahead of them.
            “You hurt my feelings,” she said softly. “You made me think you didn’t care what
happened to me, and I . . . I never felt like that before. You’ve always looked after me, and it
makes me sad to think you’d stop . . . Or . . . that I’d do something to make you want to stop.”
            Sesshomaru huffed quietly. “It was a misunderstanding, nothing more. Jaken will
explain things more clearly to you.”
            The girl nodded her reply.
            He then glanced down at her, noticing the way her hands bunched and grabbed at the
fabric of her robe. “This Sesshomaru recalls telling you that the dragon was your responsibility.”
            She looked up at him; he looked down at her, extending the steed’s reins in her direction.
She smiled in reply, quickly taking hold of the thick, leather straps. “Thank you,” she said, then
for the first time in two weeks, she spoke his name.
            “Lord . . . Sesshomaru?”
            She was so soft and warm, and light in his arm. The cave was so quiet, and she was
sleeping so peacefully. He could hear the snow falling outside and the fire crackling a few feet
away from them. Ah-Un was still deep in his hibernation sleep, his normally red aura, now blue,
their hearts beating so slowly, their breathing so subdued it was barely detectable. The girl’s
heartbeat sounded softly, quietly thumping quite close to his own chest, and he both listened to
and felt her deep, even breathing as her chest rose and fell and her life’s breath breezed through
the slight opening at the top of his haori, gently blowing across his collarbone. It hardly seemed
it had been almost 18 years since he’d last held her like this, yet the proof was undeniable.
            The girl had gray hair.
            It was just a strand or two but . . .
            He shifted her slightly in his embrace, leaving his hand free to brush back a few errant
strands, smoothing them neatly into place. Again, he felt the need to marvel at how soft certain
parts of her body were. Her hair fell in graceful waves about her face, shoulders and back, not
quite as unruly as it was in her youth, but still just as untamed and free. She occasionally braided
it in the summer months or pulled it back into a single ponytail in an attempt to cool herself, but
for the most part she kept it unbound.
            Yes, those were perfect words to describe the girl–free and unbound. She did what she
wanted, when she wanted, and made no apologies for it. She was stubborn, independent, proud
and . . . more free than he would ever be.
            He was still bound by his father’s disgrace. Other youkai made sure he suffered most
severely for his father’s sins–the sin of mating with a mortal woman, siring a hanyou son to be
despised by humans and demons alike. Of course, he’d long since grown accustomed to their
scorn and derision. After the first century or so, he realized how pointless it was to point out that
he had not sided with his father, he had not approved of his human mate, he did nothing to aid or
abet them . . . nor did he do anything directly against them . . . which is where they faulted him,
he supposed.
            But none of that would matter once he got his hands on his father’s sword. With it, he
would dominate the demon population and make them pay him his proper respects. He was not a
race traitor. He was not a “human-lover.” He held no one or no thing in higher regards than his
own being. Plant, animal, human or youkai–if it was in his way, it was dead. And to prove this
fact, he was more than willing to do away with his hanyou half-brother, completely erasing his
father’s mistake from human and demon history alike. With his brother gone and Tessaiga in his
hands, he would bring every youkai in the lands to their knees.
            They would rebuild his father’s palace. They would re-instate his title. He would
reclaim every piece of land lost to him due to the misgivings of others. And there would never
be another disparaging remark made in his general direction. His command would be absolute,
his power unconquerable, his strength undeniable. His name would inspire fear, awe and respect
as it spread it across the lands, and everyone would know once and for all that he was not his
father’s son.
            But . . . that’s simply not how things were.
            His hanyou brother not only lived, but lived well. While youkai could not overlook the
human taint placed in his father’s household, the humans in his brother’s village eagerly
embraced the hanyou’s demon half and the added protection it afforded them. The dwelling his
brother shared with the monk and the slayer was the finest estate in the town–a high fence to
keep out prying eyes, wooden walkways connecting one end of the compound with the other, and
each family had its own separate living quarters. Yes, his brother was living the high life with
his mate and pups while he was forced to live off the land, an outcast among the only people who
could accept him.
            Sesshomaru was not a simpleton; he was more than capable of constructing his own
home. In fact, he had tried to rebuild his father’s home or just any home in general . . . but
whenever he left it, whether it was to go hunting or simply to take a walk in the woods . . . he
always returned to ruins. Someone somewhere was always more than willing to knock down
anything he built up . . . as long as he was not in the immediate area to defend it. And any youkai
female of any standing would sooner throw herself on her sword point than submit to being his
mate. He had no doubt they received no small amount of pleasure denying him, the way he’d
spent centuries denying them when his father was still alive and the Western Lands were still a
force to be reckoned with.
            The only youkai female that had shown him any interest since the demise of his great
father was Kagura. She was . . . somewhat intriguing, but ultimately inferior. He did, however,
respect her desire for freedom and the lengths she was willing to go to get it. No, she did not
beat Naraku down on her own, but she certainly put forth a valiant effort, and in the end she had
everything she’d ever wanted . . .
            But he . . .
            He could not kill his brother. Tessaiga was forever out of his reach. He was still the
scorn of demon society. He could count his allies on his one, good hand . . . and the girl . . . the
girl who’d been so small in the beginning, yet so strong, so determined that he accept her aid, her
smile, her good nature and cheer too intriguing to ignore . . . She’d grown so much–so tall, so
mature, so well-developed. She’d suffered so much–beatings by the villagers for stealing to feed
him, death in the vicious jaws of hungry wolves, repeated kidnapings by his enemies, using her
to get to him. She’d sacrificed so much–the company of her own kind, a safe home, a warm
bed... a “husband” and “children” of her own. She was not an outcast; she was free to go where
she pleased, yet . . . she sacrificed it all simply to stay by his side.
            When he returned to her from battling the wolves, clearing every last one of the
capricious canines from his land, she didn’t seem very . . . happy . . . to see him. He hadn’t
meant to be gone for so long. He’d tried to be diplomatic with the beasts, explaining to them that
these were his lands and they had no right to make their homes here without his permission.
He’d then given them two options: leave or pay the necessary tribute to him and his followers.
            He observed, with no particular interest, the number of scowls that settled upon their
suntanned faces and listened as the level of grumbling and growling steadily rose as word of his
news circulated around the crowd. Despite their discontent, they made no move to attack neither
him nor Jaken and Ah-Un. He could sense their apprehension, their hesitation. They had him
outnumbered, but he had them outclassed, outmatched. Wolves had a strong self-preservation
instinct, and he could feel Tokijin humming at his hip in anticipation of the destruction they
would soon be causing. From the expression on some of their faces–the trepidation, the alarm,
the genuine discomfort of being so near such a malevolent force–the wolves could undoubtedly
detect it, as well. Some crouched low to the ground, their jaws set, their eyes alert. Others stood
tall, their hands hovering above the hilts of their swords, their bodies shifted slightly away from
him. And still others seemed to feel some measure of security by simply flexing their claws, the
tips of their nails glinting in the early morning sun.
            Sesshomaru missed none of this. He also noticed that their tribe seemed to be doing quite
well. The males appeared healthy and strong, well-fed but not fat. The females appeared to be
equally as healthy and seemed to be breeding at an almost unnatural rate. There were several
cubs, of various ages, huddled among the adults, even their instincts alerting them that he was
something to be feared.
            But despite all this, not a one of them made a move to leave.
            No, he concluded, they would not leave these lands. Wolves, like other canine youkai,
were quite territorial. He imagined he hadn’t stepped foot in this particular corner of his
kingdom for a decade or two, while wolf was all he could see, hear and smell. Though his scent
trail had doubtless faded over the years, his claim on the land still held, and he would not
relinquish it.
            “What is your answer?” he demanded. “This Sesshomaru has little time for dalliances.”
            Another rumbling rose from the crowd.
            “Sesshomaru, you say?”
            He turned his head to focus in on the speaker. The crowd before him parted, and an older
male dressed in a dappled gray pelt stepped forward. He stood at least a head taller than the other
males, his face was scarred, and his beady, black eyes shone with contempt. Sesshomaru
regarded the male’s heated glare with his normally cool gaze, his face impassive as he gave a
slight nod in reply to his question.
            “Son of Toga, the taiyoukai of the Western Lands?”
            His eyes narrowed, but again he nodded again.
            “And you expect us to pay you tribute for the ‘privilege’ of living on your ‘lands?’”
            Jaken scoffed, stepping slightly forward, brandishing the Staff of Heads in the youkai’s
face. “Our lord has already said as much. This Jaken thinks Lord Sesshomaru is being quite
generous, mangy lot of fools that you are.”
            The wolf growled, taking a swipe at the little toad.
            Jaken shuffled backwards, successfully avoiding the strike, then rapped the wolf soundly
on the skull with the two heads of the staff.
            The wolf, slightly dazed and highly agitated, moved to make another attack when
Sesshomaru interceded, stepping between the two warring parties.
            The wolf leapt backward with a sneer, the crowd again parting, allowing him room to
land.
            Sesshomaru frowned. “This Sesshomaru suggests you restrain yourself, wolf. An attack
upon my retainer is an attack upon me.”
            The male smirked, again stepping forward from the crowd. “And I’m meant to fear you?”
he asked.
            Sesshomaru gave no reply; he simply noted that Tokijin’s humming had increased and
some of the males at the rear of the pack were now moving nearer the front.
            The scarred male scoffed, folding his arms across his fur-covered chest. He then turned
slightly to the side, presenting a three-quarter view of himself to Sesshomaru, nodding his head
in the inu youkai’s direction. In a voice loud enough and clear enough for his entire pack to hear,
he declared war on the Western lord. “His father was a human-humping, lapdog, and I hear the
sons are no different.”
            Another round of rumbling rose from the crowd.
            “Why you!”
            Sesshomaru silenced his servant with a glare, giving him a wordless command to stow
the Staff and stay exactly where he was. The demon lord wished to know where the rest of the
wolf’s tribe stood before dispatching this one.
            “Tell me, ‘lord,’ where’s that lovely, little girl you’ve been seen traveling with? That
small human with the large eyes and unruly hair?”
            His eyes narrowed further, but he refrained from striking the male down, intent on seeing
if he spoke for the entire pack or just himself.
            “I do not care for humans, myself. We wolves do not ‘play’ with our food before we eat
it, but I must know, son of Toga, ‘Lord of the Western Lands:’ is the human as tasty as she
looks? The young ones are quite sweet and succulent.”
            He heard several sniggers throughout the crowd, and had little trouble determining the
individual sources of the crowd’s upheaval. Some of the pack seemed to be nodding their heads
in agreement, while others laughed and smiled in apparent amusement. More notable to him
were the ones who still held their tongues, showing him the proper amount of respect, their faces
still solemn, their eyes wide and wary. Perhaps after he had dealt with the unruly ones, he could
discuss more important matters with their surviving tribe members. He had far too few allies in
the world, and only fools made enemies unnecessarily.
            “Does she give as good as she gets? Or does she simply beg you to bend her over and
stick it up her skirt?”
            A few of the solemn faces put on a smile at that remark, Sesshomaru still keeping mental
count. The cubs will be spared, 17 adult males and 4 females. There were roughly 190 wolves
standing in the crowd, perhaps 60 or so, lurking about the surrounding hills and mountains and
26 cubs.
            “Perhaps the three of them share her,” came a voice from the crowd.
            The cubs, 17 males and 3 females.
            “I’ve heard human females are quite wanton. Once a year isn’t good enough for them, so
why be satisfied with just one male?”
            The scarred male chuckled. “If that’s the case, perhaps our gracious ‘lord’ can be
convinced to share her with us all!”
            The cubs, six males and two females.
            “If he’s willing to ‘share’ his lands, why not the rest of his holdings?”
            The cubs, two males and one female.
            “I won’t pay him to live here; I might consider paying him to bed the girl.”
            “Why pay him, when we can simply take her?” the first male who’d stepped forward
asked. “For all their fondness for the female of the species, they certainly don’t keep close
enough watch on them.” The male turned to look him dead in the eye. “Isn’t that what happened
to your father’s woman? One of his enemies got hold of her, and he died avenging her?”
            The cubs, two males and one female.
            “One of his human enemies, wasn’t it?”
            None, was the lord’s final count. None would be spared . . . Without the adults, the cubs,
some of them still suckling, would have no chance of surviving. It was better to have them die
with their parents than to leave them alive to dwindle and starve, or worse yet, become the prey
for a more vicious predator than he. He would at least be gentle.
            “This Sesshomaru sees you have all made your choice.”
            “That’s right!” the male proclaimed. “The day the wolf tribe of the East falls--”
            Sesshomaru smiled. Yes, today the wolf tribe of the East would fall. Those who ignored
the hum of Tokijin were soon destroyed by it. With one concussive blow, the crowd before him
was dispersed.
            Jaken cackled loudly at his side, amused beyond measure at the death and destruction his
lord had just caused.
            “Jaken.”
            “Aye, lord?”
            He looked down at his servant. “There are more.”
            Jaken let loose another bout of giddy laughter and went to dispense with the remaining
wolves. The toad never seemed so happy as when following his lord’s commands.
            Some were easy kills. They tried to kill them and fell at their hands, instead. Others were
more difficult. Their survival instincts overrode any sense of duty they felt they owed their fallen
comrades, and they ran to hide themselves. To let them live would invite later trouble. They
knew of him, and they knew of the girl. It wouldn’t do for them to make a nuisance of
themselves, continuously coming after him and his followers in repeatedly failed attempts to
avenge their brethren. They had to finish this here and now, and as quickly as possible.
            “I humbly ask that you not be gone too long; bad things tend to happen when you’re
away.”
            He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of her wishes.
            The girl smiled in reply. “I know my lord will be victorious, and I’ll patiently await his
triumphant return.”
            “Please, no! They’re only cubs.”
            Cubs that would grow into adults who would then come seeking their revenge.
            Sesshomaru scowled inwardly as the female attacked, and he released a blast of sword
pressure into the cave den. The sins of father truly were visited upon the sons. With the
exception of the female, none of the cubs had been any older than Rin when she’d first found
him.
            “Me lord?” Jaken ran up to him from behind, expecting more orders. He’d already
reduced a band of rebellious youths to a pile of smoldering ashes.
            “This Sesshomaru grows weary of this business. Let us finish it, and finish it quickly.”
            “Aye, lord.”
            Despite their best efforts, it took them three seasons to complete the bloody business.
Apparently, there were several wolf tribes living as one on the lands his father had left him. The
crowd he’d come into contact with in the beginning consisted of members from each of the four
tribes. The bloodshed only ended when he came into contact with the prince and princess of the
Northern tribe.
            He knew the prince. Some of his men had murdered Rin. At a later date, however, this
same prince had saved the girl. Sesshomaru immediately had the opportunity to repay the favor
in kind, thus dispensing any debt incurred to the wolf, so he owed him nothing. He could
dispense with him just as he had dispensed with many others, but unlike the other ookami youkai
he had run across, this one was a noble.
            Nobles lived by a different set of values than other youkai, and it wouldn’t do for him to
break form.
            “I know you, don’t I?” Prince Koga began. “Why have you been slaughtering my
kinsmen?”
            Sesshomaru disliked being questioned, but under the circumstances, it was unavoidable.
One noble did not war against another without just cause, and he was now dealing with two of
them and their cubs–the Princess Ayame, their sons, Kiva and Kisho, and their daughter, Akiko.
They were well within their rights to try to kill him for killing their kinsmen, and he was well
within his rights to defend his territories and those under his charge. This clearly called for a
diplomatic solution.
            Sesshomaru took a seat when they offered it, and he relayed his side of the tale–the
encroachment upon his territories, the disrespect of the scarred male, the attack upon his servant
and the threats made against one of his followers. He was not used to being so . . . wordy, but if
his words alone could put an end to this “war,” then so be it. The sooner things were settled, the
sooner he could return to the girl.
            “Disgraceful,” the princess remarked.
            The prince’s eyes seemed to have settled upon on his daughter. The wolf had not seen
Rin in several years, and doubtless assumed the girl was still no larger than his own offspring.
“We have no problems with humans or your father, whoever he may have been,” Koga declared.
“I say none of my men will touch the girl or seek you out to avenge the deaths of the mangy curs
they have the misfortune of being related to. What do you say?”
            “This matter is settled then.” He rose to his feet, dipping his head slightly forward. “This
Sesshomaru will leave you in peace.”
            As he made his way back to the den’s entrance, the prince called out to him. “And if you
run into that dog turd brother of yours, slug him once for me.”
            Sesshomaru smirked inwardly. He was not an errand boy, but he would gladly deliver
Prince Koga’s message to the hanyou.
            “Have you changed your mind about me?”
            Sesshomaru again turned from his reflections on the past to focus on the face of the
female beside him, somewhat surprised to see her sitting so close to him. But she had asked if
he’d wanted her to sit by him, and he had nodded, hadn’t he?
            What was it about this girl that made his thoughts stray so frequently?
            “No,” he said simply. “I have not ‘changed my mind.’”
            She smiled up at him, then rested her head of black and silver upon his shoulder.
            Calm yourself, he commanded. Her head is on your shoulder, not in your lap. There is
no rush; everything will happen in its due course.
            “I . . . I did a . . . bad thing, Jaken.”
            Sesshomaru had left them as they settled in for the night to hunt for his own meal. The
ordeal with the wolves was over, he had “slugged” his brother as the wolf commanded, Rin was
again with them, and his brother’s village was miles and miles away. The girl didn’t seem to be
quite as carefree as she usually was in their presence, but in the human measure of time, he
supposed they had been gone for quite awhile. The girl would more appropriately be called a
woman, now . . . quite . . . an attractive woman . . . and women were known for being more
subdued than their girlish counterparts.
            Thinking he would find them asleep, he crept quietly upon the campsite, not wishing to
disturb them. There was nothing so pleasant as watching the woman sleep, and he’d spent many
a night doing just that. It calmed him to see her so at peace. It moved him to no end that after
everything that had transpired between the four of them, the girl felt no less secure falling asleep
in their presence. Despite his rising urges to mate with the female, especially during her fertile
time, he made sure he conducted himself according to proper decorum. He’d listened in quite
carefully as Jaken explained youkai mating practices to the girl, and even more closely when she
relayed to the toad what the miko had confided in her.
            The girl was appalled. “You mean that’s how it’s really done! All youkai males behave
like that? What he did to me was okay?”
            The toad put on a disgustingly smug expression. “It should have been more than ‘okay.’”
            Sesshomaru made a mental note to drop kick his minion the next time he caught him
alone.
            Rin grimaced. “No wonder Kohaku’s sister thinks so poorly of my lord.”
            Sesshomaru scoffed. The slayer “thought so poorly of him” because she was under the
mistaken impression that he had interfered with Naraku’s attacks upon her and the boy to “save”
them. The girl was protecting her brother; he was merely trying to keep Naraku from gaining yet
another advantage. He stood between the two of them and the glorified hanyou as his poisonous
tentacles shot out, trying to reclaim the jewel shard he’d imbedded in the boy’s back. When
several came shooting straight towards them, the boy had the foresight to run, but got nipped on
the ankle by one. Sesshomaru easily dodged the attack, refusing to cut into the hanyou, not
wishing to incapacitate the boy. As long as the boy could fight, they still had a chance; the half-breed had all the shards in his possession except the one, and was running some of his foes quite
ragged.
            The slayer was quite tired. She was protecting not only herself, but her brother and any of
her traveling companions when she could. When the boy cried out, the girl became distracted. A
projectile she should have easily blocked–the same one he had dodged–impaled her. She went
down, her cries of anguish piercing the castle courtyard. Out of idle curiosity, he glanced over
his shoulder at her to find her glaring at him, her eyes wide with pain, her jaw set with
determination.
            The demon lord scoffed at the memory. As if she blamed him for her failure to protect
herself.
            “But she just doesn’t know him the way I do,” Rin proclaimed. “He’d never do anything
like that, least of all to me. He . . . he likes having me around.” Her voice was so warm, so sure,
so clearly filled with admiration and affection.
            But . . . if she claimed he would never do such a thing because he enjoyed her company,
would she . . . leave him if he professed to have an interest in her in that capacity? Would the
mere mention of mating with him send her running back to his brother’s village? Would she
then refuse to see him? Would his brother and the slayer keep him from seeing his long-time
traveling companion?
            “Indeed,” the imp solemnly nodded.
            Could he live letting such a thing happen? Could he . . . live . . . without the girl? Was
he even capable of comprehending such a doleful existence?
            “The miko said I’ll get married someday.”
            “Married?” the toad repeated.
            The girl nodded, a bashful blush spreading across her pale face. “I’ll meet a handsome,
young man, we’ll fall in love, we’ll get married and then we’ll live happily ever after.”
            “Happily ever after?”
            “You know,” she said
            “Know what?”
            She lowered her head, her thick bangs shrouding a bright gleam in the depths of her dark
eyes. “He’ll . . . make love to me then I’ll bear him lots of sons and daughters.”
            “What in the world are you talking about!”
            Her embarrassment faded, quickly replaced with ire, her head shooting up to glare at the
toad. “You know, Jaken, I don’t think you’ve done half the things you say you have.”
            “And what is that supposed to mean?”
            “Lots of young maidens lining up for a chance with you,” she scoffed. “For someone
who claims to have done so much, you seem to know very little.”
            The toad frowned. “I’ll have you know that this Jaken is an expert when it comes to
mating.”
            “Well, humans don’t ‘mate,’ we . . . they make love to each other.”
            “Preposterous,” Jaken huffed. “If humans didn’t mate, there wouldn’t be so many of you
scattered across the land.”
            The girl rolled her eyes. “‘Mate’ is a youkai term. And from what you and Kohaku’s
sister said, it’s completely abominable. You’re not supposed to force yourself on a female;
you’re . . .”
            “You’re what?” Jaken quipped. “And just how do you know the female is capable of
bearing strong offspring if you don’t battle with her?”
            “You don’t marry someone just because they’re strong; you’re supposed to love them,”
she said. “And that’s why it’s called making love. The man and woman come together in love,
and out of that love a child is created.”
            Jaken scoffed again. “This Jaken has never heard such nonsense. Hasn’t anyone ever
explained the ways of the world to you? Don’t you know where offspring comes from?”
            Sesshomaru had left them to the rest of that conversation. They were both obviously
talking about the same things. It simply seemed that humans had a different way of expressing
themselves, and in this instance, Rin preferred the human way of doing things. What came
instinctively to youkai was apparently taught among humans. Female youkai were inherently
attracted to the strongest male; they engaged the male in battle as a testament to their own
strength, and to test the male’s stamina, determination, and cunning. Human females, it seemed,
were decidedly more complicated.
            “And what have you done this time?” Jaken asked.
            He assumed they would be asleep, but finding them awake . . . He was not given to
eavesdropping; if there was something he wanted to know, he demanded the information from
the party in question. But . . . such tactics often proved futile with the girl. She’d get so
apprehensive and tense her scent would grow sour; the odor was so offensive to his nose, he’d
simply drop the matter and let her be. He never understood what had upset her so, but he trusted
that if it were something truly important, she would tell him.
            “I’m afraid our lord will send me away.”
            Jaken scoffed. “And why would he do such a thing?”
            Why indeed? Sesshomaru pondered. As he stared at the two of them quietly seated
before the fire, he silently wondered if she knew how . . . appealing she was.
            “I told you! I did a bad thing!”
            “And what ‘bad thing’ is this?”
            The girl’s glowing complexion paled somewhat, her hands tightly ringing the fabric of
her kimono. “I don’t want to say, but . . . but if I don’t say something, and he finds out some
other way . . .”
            “What are you talking about!” the toad demanded.
            “I gave myself to Kohaku.”
            The lord felt himself reel, but held himself steady.
            “What!”
            The girl wept. “You were gone so long, and I got lonely. No one would talk to me, and
the ones who would, would say such awful things I didn’t want to talk to them.”
            Jaken scowled.
            “It wasn’t like when I was sick, and I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. InuYasha
said I could do anything I wanted as long as I stayed close by. No one knew when you’d be
coming back, and they didn’t want him getting angry if he came back, and I wasn’t there. But,”
she sniffed. “I kept waiting and waiting and waiting, and even come fall, you weren’t back. And
I’d hear them whispering–he’s been gone too long. What’s taking him so long? Maybe he’s
dead. Maybe the wolves were too much for him . . . Or maybe it was just a clever lie. Maybe he
wasn’t battling wolves, at all. Maybe he just wanted to get rid of me without making himself
look bad. He’d let us think he died, and then no one could accuse him of abandoning me.”
            “Stupid thing,” Jaken cursed.
            “I know! But . . . but when everyone else was saying such mean things, Kohaku was nice
to me. He said, of course, he’s coming back. He’s not dead; he’s not abandoning you. You’ve
said how strong he was all along, and wolves were dull and stupid. He’ll be back; you just have
to be patient. And . . . he said until my lord returned, I had him, so everything would be okay.
He’d help me see everything was going to be okay.”
            “And you just let him take you,” the toad concluded.
            “No! I mean . . . he . . . made me feel better,” she said quietly. “I was lonely, and he was
lonely and I wanted him to come back for me so much! I . . . they told me to stop moping
around. They told me to go out and meet some of the other girls, and they were awful. They said
things just like Sango, and they said I should be glad he was gone. I should be glad I lived
through ‘such a horrible ordeal.’ I was about to get into a fight with them when Kohaku came
and told them all to leave me alone.
            “He tried to take me back to their house, and I said I didn’t want to go. I said I was going
to go looking for you, for our lord. He said I’d just get myself killed, and what would happen if
he came back for me, and I wasn’t there? He said he’d left me there for a purpose, and I should
trust in that. I,” her tears seemed to slow somewhat, but there was still a heavy air of sadness
hanging in the air. “He told me it was okay to cry if I felt like it, and he wouldn’t tell anyone
about it. So I did. I cried half the night, and he just let me. He didn’t care if I was being silly or
‘noisy,’ as InuYasha said. He said I shouldn’t be ashamed of my feelings, and I should just let
them out. I . . .” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I told him things I know I
shouldn’t have. I’d told him similar things before without really knowing what they meant, but...
I meant them, now, and . . . I just shouldn’t have said them out loud. They weren’t meant for his
ears.”
            “Did he force himself on you?”
            Utter terror ran across the girl’s face as Sesshomaru stepped into the clearing, her eyes
wide, her mouth open, her posture rigid with fear.
            “Our lord asked you a question,” the imp nudged her with a bony elbow.
            She lowered her eyes then shook her head. “No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper,
so meek and mild it didn’t sound at all like his Rin.
            “Are you his?” he asked. “Have you run off from your ‘husband?’”
            She again shook her head. “I wouldn’t marry him.”
            “Do you carry his child?”
            She shook her head for the third time. “No.”
            “Do you wish to be returned to him?”
            Her head shot up with that question, her eyes overflowing with tears. “No . . . It was a
mistake. I was weak and . . .” She bit her lower lip and shook her head, sniffing back her tears.
“I won’t make any excuses. I did what I did, and it can’t be taken back.”
            “No,” he agreed softly, “it cannot.” He then turned from her, walking back into the
woods. “The boy has no claim on you, so my words still stand. It is your choice.”
            “Dumb girl,” the toad berated her, doubtlessly thinking Sesshomaru had moved out of
earshot.
            “He said he loved me.”
            Jaken scoffed. “And that’s what made you spread your legs for him?”
            “No,” she said simply. “That’s what made me stop.”
            “I’m sorry. I . . . I thought that’s what you wanted.”
            He’d distanced himself from the girl. She still sat on the cave floor by the fire; he stood
in front the entrance, his back to her. Ah-Un was hibernating in the corner of their current
dwelling, oblivious to the actions of its other two occupants.
            “I thought you wanted me to touch you. I thought--” she cut her speech short then began
again. “I thought you wanted me..”
            “You . . . were not mistaken.”
            It had begun innocently. It was curiosity, plain and simple curiosity. He’d wanted to
examine the gray in her hair more carefully and . . . it was so soft. Instead of releasing the
strands and smoothing them back into place, he twirled the silver strands between his two fingers
as he stared down into her slumbering face. The cave was so quiet, and his heart was pounding
so loudly. It was her skin, radiating warmth from her still-present fever. It was her breath,
blowing sweetly across his collarbone through the slight opening at the top of his haori. It was
the feel of her heart beating against his chest and the hypnotic thrum of her pulse as it moved in
time to his.
            He was about to do something he knew he shouldn’t when the girl awoke. She took note
of her position wrapped in the fur of his pelt, and he explained that she was ill and he was simply
trying to keep her warm. He then asked where Jaken was, and . . . she informed him of his
servant’s death. She’d buried him out in the snow, which is what, undoubtedly, brought on her
illness. His fingers were still tangled in her hair.
            “I’ll have a whole head full of them soon.”
            His hair was silver from birth; her hair was going gray with age. Humans aged, and then
they died; that was the way of things. That was the path the girl had to walk. But . . .
            “I wish you to stay with me.”
            The girl gave no reply, possibly shocked into silence by his informal declaration . . . but if
she agreed to what he was proposing, such formalities were unnecessary.
            Her eyes remained wide as she opened her mouth to speak then quickly closed it.
            “You wished to say something?”
            Rin nodded.
            Good, he congratulated himself. She is responding. “You may speak.”
            “But I . . . I already stay with you. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
            He could hear the racing of her heart, her rapid breathing rate, her upper teeth grinding
against those on the lower level. No, these things did not point to confusion; they indicated
interest, excitement. These two things, when present in a female, almost always led to arousal.
            He congratulated himself, yet again. “And I think you do,” he pulled her more snugly
against him, lowering his head to nuzzle the tip of his nose against the right side of her face, “my
Rin . . .”
            He started slightly, but quickly recovered as he felt a shudder run through her body, her
lips parted to let loose one, long breathy sigh.
            “Are you cold?” he asked, talking lowly into her outer ear, wrapping his pelt more snugly
about her.
            “N–no, I . . .”
            His claws carefully slid up her upper arm to lightly grip her right shoulder, his thumb
slipping beneath the fur of his pelt to brush against the smooth silk of her kimono. She let loose
a breathless sigh, her body sinking into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Sesshomaru
was not an “expert on mating,” as Jaken had proclaimed to be, but he did know how to initiate
such acts, and apparently, now was the time.
            There is no reason to fear this girl, he convinced himself. She will not reject you, and she
will not leave you. She’s spent over one-third of her lifetime with you. No human has been with
her as long as you have.
            She . . . cares for you, and it is time that you show her that you . . . care for her, as well.
            There is nothing to be . . . nervous about. It is natural, instinctive; your body already
knows what to do, so just let it, and stop thinking so damned much!
            She will not laugh at you, she will not mock you, and she will not slap you. She . . . is
smiling at me?
            “I’m so glad you’re back.” She was still smiling, but he could see tears creeping in the
corners of her eyes. “I feel so lonely when you’re not here.”
            He nodded his understanding, then pressed his cheek to hers as he felt her reach behind
him, her left arm encircling his waist. He inhaled deeply, searching for her unique scent beneath
the odors of wilted flowers, dried grass and damp earth. She was so warm, so alive, so . . . good
to him.
            He, himself, did not care for such niceties and pleasantries; they were pointless and,
usually, only put on as a show (as if he could be swayed by such idle flattery and mock
adoration). But Rin was quite genuine in her claims, and . . . No one had ever been so nice to
him as the girl–not his father, not the General, none of his nannies or caretakers. When he was
younger, he used to . . . envy the other children of the court with their mothers and fathers and
brothers and sisters. They always looked so . . . happy together.
            He never knew his mother. She’d died giving birth to him, and though his father never
said it, the young lord was quite certain he blamed him for the death of his mate. Why else
would he have given him such a name? Sesshomaru–the destruction of life?
            But he used to imagine that his mother would have been quite nice to him. She would not
run off the way his father always did, and she would not get him into trouble the way the General
sometimes did. She would . . .
            He scoffed inwardly. Of all the times to think of such things.
            Rin shifted beside him, rubbing her cheek against his, the tip of her nose tickling the
sensitive spot just beneath his right ear.
            She wants you, his body declared. She wants you to want her.
            A low growl rose up from the center of his chest. It was not vicious. It was not sounded
in warning. It was . . .
            He allowed his eyes to drift closed, attempting to capture the sensation, memorize it, and
hold it in with every fiber of his being.
            “You feel good,” the girl declared quietly, her warm breath rushing over the flesh of his
neck.
            He tightened his hold on her as she pressed herself against him, his manhood hardening in
response to her verbal and physical stimulation.
            “I missed you so much.” Her voice was sweet, low . . . sultry, her touch feather light as
she brought up her right hand up to play across the muscles of his chest
            Inwardly, he trembled; outwardly, he gave no sign of experiencing such a weakness.
            He drew in a deep breath to calm himself, but instead the sweet scent of her arousal
filtered into his canine nose, causing his pulse to quicken and his manhood to go rigid with
anticipation.
            She wants you to want her, his body again declared. Show her that you want her.
            He hesitated.
            You love her, something inside him cried out. She is the one, it said insistently. She is
human, but she is the one. Your father would not think it inappropriate.
            Carefully, cautiously, he turned his head so his lips brushed against the soft skin of her
face, then he parted his lips, extended his tongue and lapped at her right cheek.
            Rin recoiled. Her head jerked back, her hand pushing against his chest.
            He quickly released her, quietly observing the expression on her face. “I have . . . done
something inappropriate?”
            “Yes! Well . . . no, but . . .”
            “You do not wish to mate?”
            Her face flamed a bright red, then her eyes fell to the floor. “No, I . . . I mean, yes. I
mean I want to be with you but . . .”
            “Then why did you push me away?”
            “It’s just . . . you caught me by surprise,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”
            “What were you expecting?”
            She opened her mouth to say something, then abruptly closed it.
            “You have mated before, correct?”
            She raised her head, eyes wide, then she quickly turned them back to the ground. “Yes,”
she said softly.
            “Did he not do such things to you? Did he not put his mouth on your body?”
            She squirmed in her seat beside him, then quietly answered in the affirmative.
            “I see,” he said softly. “You prefer his mouth to mine.”
            “No! I mean . . .” She swallowed hard then spoke again. “He . . . humans aren’t in the
habit of . . . licking each other,” she said, “on the face. I simply wasn’t expecting you to do that,
so I pushed you away. It caught me off guard, startled me.”
            He rolled her words over in his mind. Humans were not in the habit of licking one
another on the face . . . “Then where did he lick you?”
            He watched with marked interest as her face flushed even further, and her arousal
increased. Whatever the boy had done to her, apparently, left her with quite an impression.
“Will you not tell me?”
            “I . . .” she drew in a deep breath and pushed it out. She then timidly glanced up at him,
slid her right hand across his chest, brushed it over her own chest, gesturing to each breast,
individually, then dropped it down between her thighs.
            He could understand the first place. All males, he supposed, possessed the predisposition
to feed off a female, to recapture the lost nourishment of their infancy. But the second area . . .
“Why?” he finally asked.
            “W–why?” she stuttered.
            He nodded. “What purpose does it serve? Why did he put his mouth where other organs
were meant to go?”
            The girl bit her lower lip, her pulse racing, her breathing irregular and shallow. “It . . .
feels good,” she finally said.
            “Pleasure?” he responded.
            She, again, lowered her eyes then nodded.
            “Would you like me to lick you there, as well?”
            Her heart stopped, skipped one entire beat, then began pounding quite loudly in the inner
recesses of his ears.
            Yes, his body cried out. Smell how fiercely she desires you. Steep yourself in her scent.
Let it surround you, engulf you.
            “Only if my lord pleases,” she finally said.
            He nodded in reply, her scintillating scent working its way through the length of his body
It told him to . . . do things with the girl. It told him to embrace her, to taste her, to impregnate
her with his seed. It told him to mark and mate her, make her his for the rest of his . . .
            No, not his, hers–for the rest of her life. He would outlive her by a great many
centuries...
            “Why do you look so sad?”
            His attention was, again, brought back to the present and the girl sitting beside him.
            “It is nothing. Simply an unpleasant thought.”
            She smiled at him. “Not of my making, I hope.”
            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just . . .”
            “I am unmated, Rin. Inu youkai mate for life, and not having found my mate, I have
never indulged in such activities.”
            Her brow knitted in . . . confusion? Consternation? Pure puzzlement? Or . . . perhaps
she was simply thinking.
            He continued. “It is a serious matter not to be entered into lightly. You will never be
allowed to be with another male, and you must stay with me to raise our young.”
            “Young?” she repeated. “But I’m so old. I . . . I’m not sure I’ll be able to give you any.
My . . . cycle should stop soon, from what I’ve been told, and . . . it can be dangerous for women
so old as me to try to birth a child. I . . . When you were gone from me and I stayed in your
brother’s village, a woman near my age died in childbirth. It upset the miko a great deal. The
woman . . . she bled to death, I heard, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.”
            He pulled her close to him, again pressing his cheek to her face. “Do you think I will let
you go before your time?” he asked softly. “If your physical body remains whole, Tenseiga can
heal you and keep your soul locked safely inside.” He drew in a deep breath and pushed it out,
attempting to assuage the surge of sadness that suddenly gripped his soul. “And when you are
old, and your body fails you, I will have our pups to always keep your memory close to me.”
            Rin wept. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you. I . . .”
            The girl choked on her tears, and he pulled her more snugly against him, sending his
tongue out to lap up the salt of her tears. She started slightly, but soon accepted the unfamiliar
gesture, looping her arms around his neck, allowing him to lick her face clean.
            “Rin . . .”
            The tears were gone, but she continued to cling to him, his tongue licking at the flesh of
her face, his good arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
            See how she accepts you, his body declared. Hear how she calls for you. Feel how she
presses against you. Smell how she desires you. Taste how sweet she is.
            The demon lord shuddered inwardly, almost overwhelmed by the feelings the girl so
easily evoked within him.
            “I should have waited,” the soft skin of her lips lightly brushed the lobe of right ear.
            “Waited?” he repeated.
            “I shouldn’t have let Kohaku take me . . . but I was too weak . . . too weak with wanting
you. I . . . needed someone to fill the emptiness and . . .” Tears again trickled down her slightly
fevered face, which he quickly lapped away.
            “Shhh . . . it does not matter. You are with me, now.”
            Again, her heart stopped suddenly, then restarted. “How I love you, my lord.”
            He licked the seam of her lips, moved beyond all measure by the words she’d just spoken.
“And your lord accepts.”
            Rin brought her right hand up to cup the left side of his face. As he continued to taste the
flesh of her face, occasionally dipping down to her neck and over to her ears, she gently urged his
head to turn in her direction. She then lifted her own head and, as his tongue sought to continue
its explorations, she parted her lips, placing her mouth directly over his.
            He started, unable to control his body’s reaction to the unfamiliar interaction, then he . . .
gave into the pleasurable manipulations of her mouth, allowing her to have her way as her lips
caressed his, her fluid tongue moving in and around the moist cavern of his mouth.
            “This is the way humans do it,” she informed him as she broke off their oral embrace.
“It’s called kissing,” she, again, pressed her mouth to his as if to demonstrate. “Did you like it?”
            He gave a single nod, his eyes too dazed, too focused on her face to notice that her right
hand had crept down his armor-covered chest and taken possession of his fully aroused male
organ.
            The girl smiled at him as he let loose a hiss of pleasure, her right hand stroking him
through the silk fabric of his hakama.
            “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Let me do this for you.” She then brought her lips to his,
her hand beginning a slow and steady rhythm along his engorged length.
            He closed his eyes, and, again, let her have her way.
            She continued to stimulate him, her mouth and tongue working in tandem with her hand,
her passion-filled “kisses” combining with her loving caress to lift him to new heights. He could
still detect the illness in her scent, but her arousal and his desire were more potent than any other
odor still hanging in the air of the cave.
            “It’s okay,” she told him as he began to thrust his hips into her hand. “Let me make you
feel good.”
            An uncharacteristic groan passed through his lips as Rin’s tongue again found his, and
she increased the speed and pressure of her manual stimulation to his lower level. “Rin . . .”
            “I’m here,” she replied to his call.
            He pulled her more tightly against him, the fire she’d ignited in his loins burning
practically out of control.
            “Let me love you,” came her quiet command.
            “Yesss . . .”
            “My lord is so big, so strong . . . so beautiful.”
            His mind and body cried out together: more, his body demanded; no more, his mind
pleaded.
            His eyes were squeezed tightly together, masking the girl from his sight, but he heard the
gentle rustle of fabric, felt the shift of her body’s position. Two long legs settled themselves on
either side of his thighs, a warm, wet heat pressing itself against the base of his length, her hand
still creating sweet friction all along his . . . his . . .
            His head fell back; his hips thrust forward, his mouth opening up to let loose one,
wordless, soundless scream as one wonderful wave of sensation washed over him again and
again.
            He felt heavy and light and . . .
            He opened his eyes, the feelings of the physical world returning to him, and stared down
in disgust. He had felt heavy and light, riding some divine current coursing through his veins.
Now, he only felt wet–wet, sticky and smelly. His stomach lurched as he noticed the stain on the
front of his hakama.
            Rin, still straddling his crossed legs–the neck of her kimono pushed down, the hem of the
skirt pushed up–seemed to take no notice of it. She smiled at him, and he felt a new wave of
nausea wash over him.
            This was not the way things were supposed to be.
            He took hold of her hip with his right hand and eased her off of his seated form. He then
stood and walked over to the cave entrance, slightly pulling back the fur pelt blocking the
opening to cool himself in a draft and rid himself of the sickening scent of failure.
            He was supposed to finish inside her . . . not in his pants.
            “My lord? Se–sesshomaru? D–did I do something wrong?”
            He did not answer.
            “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to. I just . . . I thought that was what you wanted. I
thought you . . . wanted me to touch you . . . I thought you wanted me.”
            “You were not mistaken,” he finally said.
            “Then why are you . . . ? Why did you . . .? Why have you moved so far away?”
            He closed the cave covering, fearing the cold would creep farther than intended, chilling
the girl, perhaps causing her illness to linger . . . or get worse, but he kept his hand firmly
attached to the “door” of their den. “I have . . . soiled myself,” he finally said. He then pulled
back the pelt and stepped out into the snow. “I am going to bathe.”
            “I’m finished.”
            The girl set her empty bowl down in the grass, then wrapped her two arms around his
one, good one, snuggling against his shoulder.
            He did not wish to, but he stiffened slightly, feeling her pressed so closely against him.
After their first failed coupling, they waited one month, him claiming he wanted her completely
healthy before attempting such a thing again.
            It began much like the first–her sitting by his side, him quietly admiring the soft contours
of her form as she rested her head against him. He . . . put his arm around her, rubbing her
shoulders, inhaling her gentle scent. She caressed him in return, her fingertips lightly trailing
over the area of his chest left uncovered by his armor. Her hand then crept up to his neck, he
turned towards her, and they kissed.
            Clothes started coming off, and as soon as she reached for the tie of his pants . . .
            He sighed inwardly in disgust.
            It was ridiculous. He’d had no such troubles in the past. He’d gone years, decades,
centuries without the company of a female. Of course, he felt the urge every now and then, but
he never acted upon it. He did not pleasure himself. He would not allow a female to pleasure
him, and he did not sink into depravity as the General had done.
            But with the girl . . .
            He wanted her so badly. He needed her so much . . . Just the thought of her touching
him...
            “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
            He stared down into her face–the bright twinkle in her dark brown eyes, the slight upturn
of her nose, the hopeful smile gracing her perfectly-shaped lips . . . “No,” he finally said.
            After two failed attempts, he told her the winter months were inappropriate for such
behavior among youkai. She nodded with a smile, saying it would be “quite fitting” to begin
their new relationship when spring rolled around instead of in the dead of winter. In the
meantime, they familiarized themselves with each others bodies, bathing together, laying
together, each learning the likes and dislikes of the other. It was easy to find their way around
Ah-Un, but if Jaken were still alive . . .
            Oddly enough, he found himself . . . smiling inwardly as an image of the imp came
rushing to the forefront of his mind. Strange how the memory of the toad, now, was more
amusing than... painful. What would his old retainer think if he could see him with the girl?
            A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, then he pushed all thoughts of his
crotchety companion aside.
            The girl and he were quite . . . indulgent with one another. He, himself, liked everything
the girl did. She was . . . not as easy to please. There were . . . certain places she liked to be
touched, certain sounds she liked to hear, certain things she liked him to say. He always finished
hard and fast, while hers crept up slowly, softly, assuredly, wrapping her in the warm blanket of
afterglow.
            For three months they had “played” with one another, and now it was spring. It was
spring, it was her birthday, and her fertile scent kept him almost painfully erect.
            In her younger years, the scent could be ignored, fought off, repelled, but now it was far
too potent, far too alluring, far too . . . desperate to be overlooked.
            The girl was not mistaken. She did not have many fertile months ahead of her, and if he
didn’t take her soon . . .
            “I’m going to go lay down,” she said, standing and stretching. After last winter, he’d
decided the girl required actual bedding to keep herself comfortable and warm during the
inclement season. He’d ventured into one of his inhabited territories, demanding a futon
mattress, a thin sheet and a heavy blanket as tribute. She had used the futon every night since
then, and, on occasion, she would convince him to join her. On those nights, they would discard
the blanket, basking in each other’s warmth as opposed to that of the man-made covering.
            And as the weather had grown warmer, early spring giving way to true spring, she used
the blanket less and less, even when he did not share her bed.
            He nodded his understanding, then she leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on his right
cheek.
            “Just give me a few minutes, and you can join me when you’re ready.”
            He, again, nodded, and she ventured into the cave where they’d spent the previous winter.
They’d begun traveling as soon as Ah-Un had woken up and had . . . completed his springtime
activities.
            They were only staying here for the night. He never liked to touch upon the same patch
of land in the same year, but she had wanted to return here to lay flowers on the toad’s grave, and
he had agreed. He had promised her, after all.
            Scenting a storm in the air, he said she should cook out of doors, but camp inside the
cave. It wouldn’t do for her to get wet, soaked to the bone in a sudden downpour in the middle
of the night. She could fall ill again and . . .
            He stared after his as-of-yet unclaimed mate. She was so much more than he ever should
have expected out of this life. She was brightness and sunshine in a world that had grown bleak
and gray.
            Yes, he still craved power. Yes, he wanted his peers to respect and fear him. Yes, he still
anticipated the day when he would rule over all the youkai of the lands . . . But right now, as he
watched her cookfire burn down, dark clouds rolling over the horizon, obscuring the light from
the stars, there was only one thing he craved, one thing he wanted, one thing he anticipated above
all others: joining with his mate.
            All will be as it should be, he convinced himself as he forced himself to stand then
extinguished the final flames of the dying fire, stamping them flat beneath his feet.
            He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the still night air, scenting the storm a few hours away.
            “Ohhhhh!”
            He held back a low growl of satisfaction as the girl cried out for him as he rocked his hips
against her, into her, his pelvis positioned squarely between her parted thighs, her arms and legs
wrapped around him as she kissed and caressed him, showering him with softly spoken words of
encouragement and praise.
            She was so warm, wet and tight, ready, waiting and open for him.
            When he’d come to her, she’d already brought herself to completion once, and the scent
of her musk hung heavily in the cave air. She’d discarded her new kimono, crawled beneath the
sheet and made herself quite comfortable on her back. Her scent hit him harder than a full blown
attack from the Tessaiga, and as he peeled off his own clothing, watching the rhythmic motions
of the white sheet, knowing what the girl was doing beneath it just out of his sight . . . he
hardened immediately, all past erections paling in comparison to the pulsing, throbbing, rigid
length he gingerly held in the palm of his hand. He waited, watching and listening, lightly
stroking himself, as the girl climaxed, then poked her dark head out from beneath the sheet.
            Her eyes focused in on him, her skin glistening with sweat, her face flushed, her hair
tousled from the wild movements of her own abandon. She pulled back a corner of the cover and
rubbed the empty spot beside her. “Would you like to join me?” she asked with smile.
            He nodded once, then watched her as she watched him making his way over to her. The
instant he slipped in beside her she guided him into her and . . .
            “So good,” she breathed hotly into his left ear.
            He groaned in agreement as he continued to ply her with slow, deep thrusts, his nose
nestled in the crook of her neck, her ankles locked around him, silently urging him to come
closer, move deeper. He then bowed his back, allowing them to stay connected down below as
his mouth found one, erect nipple and sucked it into the cavern his mouth, his tongue repeatedly
passing over the sensitive bud.
            Rin cried out yet again, arching her back, working her hips up and down to meet each
plunge he made into her warm depths. “Yesss,” she hissed. “Just like that, my lord. You feel
soooo good.”
            He moaned in reply.
            Only with Rin could he be this open. Only with her did he not have to hide. Only she
would accept him, embrace him, love him . . . share this most intimate moment in time with him.
            She did not taunt him, tease him, mock him for his inability to control himself, to stifle
the involuntary grunts, groans and growls that arose from his inner depths, crying out at the
intense pleasure of coupling with this girl, this female, this woman, his woman.
            It was not weakness; it was rapture.
            “Gods . . .” the girl panted. “You’re so good to me.”
            He turned his attentions to her neglected breast.
            Her back, again, arched, sending more of her sweet flesh into his awaiting mouth. “My
lord is so good to his Rin.” She rolled her hips against him, causing him to cry out in response.
            Used. The boy had called her used. She said he’d been so nice to her in the beginning
that she couldn’t help but respond. It was merely a game to her, she’d said. She’d played
“pretend” with the boy–pretended she was someone else, pretended she lived another life,
pretended she could be satisfied with what she had instead of wishing for more, pretended . . .
that she didn’t miss him at all and she was quite content to remain in Kohaku’s company.
            It was fun, she’d said, a harmless distraction. She opened up to him, showing sides of
herself that she didn’t expose to anyone . . . not even to him. He let her be a woman, she’d said,
and he loved her the way a man loved a woman.
            The boy didn’t use the word “love” in the beginning, she assured him. If he had, she
never would have let things progress as far as they did. Yes, she cared for Kohaku; she didn’t
want him to feel lonely or rejected . . . which was the way she’d felt. When he’d . . . touched her
that first night she gave herself to him, it wasn’t about him or her, she’d said; it was about
commiseration and comfort.
            Still, he hated the boy.
            He’d just lost his sister, and she’d said she felt as if she was losing her mind. His sister
died protecting him during one of their youkai-hunting missions, and he blamed himself for her
demise. “And you’d left me again,” she’d said. “I didn’t want to think you were dead, but you’d
been gone so long . . . I was worried. I was sick with worry.”
            He abandoned her breast to see to her mouth–licking, sucking, nibbling at her lips,
pressing his flesh against hers, blanketing her in his warmth as he ground his hips into hers.
            Rin writhed beneath him.
            It had hurt, she’d told him. The boy had made her feel so good, made her forget her
troubles and pain, made her feel something other than loss and pain . . . Then it came crashing
down on her in a sharp, jarring stab, tearing her in twain, ripping her apart–pain renewed,
innocence lost, a love not meant to be. It was a hurt so deep, so indescribable all she could do
was cry.
            He moved his mouth across the smooth planes of her face, covering every inch with his
kisses, as he knew that’s what she liked him to do.
            In response, she lifted her hands to his head, threading them through his hair, seeking to
temporarily hold him in place as she brought her mouth to his in a warm, wet embrace.
            She’d bled, she’d told him. Not heavily, but enough to make an impression upon her.
The miko had told her that would happen, as did the slayer, but she couldn’t help but stare.
Mistaking her interest for concern, the boy retrieved a rag, wet with warm water and wiped her
clean.
            He lapped at her lips, her hold on his head loosening as he felt her feet rub along his
backside and upper thighs.
            “Sometimes I pretended he was you,” she’d quietly confided. “Not the first time, but
later on when I started to crave the comfort his body always brought me. I wanted you, but had
to be content to have him.”
            “Rin . . .”
            “Does it feel good?” her words quietly caressed his outer ear. “Does Rin make her lord
feel good?”
            He choked out an affirmative response, aroused beyond all belief at her diminutive form
of speech. He had been . . . concerned that the girl would think him “sick” for requesting her to
speak to him in such an admittedly childish manner, but . . . she had asked him what he would
like when lying with her. She had giggled when he originally replied that her presence was
enough, then she’d suggested there had to be something she could do, something she could say to
make their moments together more enjoyable.
            “Kohaku liked to feel me on top of him,” she’d said.
            His demon blood demanded that his mate submit to him in all ways. Because of her
aversion to the concept of mating–the male physically, forcibly seeking to subdue the female, as
the bear youkai had done–he refused to alarm her by suggesting such a thing. However, he did
enjoy the sound of her voice, and her verbal submission did much to feed his male ego and fuel
his demon pride.
            “Rin likes it, too,” she softly crooned. “Rin likes to feel her lord inside her.”
            Sesshomaru groaned. He was close, so very close. He could barely control the blood
coursing through his veins, his demon nature silently insisting that he flip her over and take her
on her knees in a proper mating between inu youkai, but . . .
            It was fun, she’d told him, being with the boy. He didn’t call her names like some of the
other villagers. He didn’t curse her existence as Jaken often did, and she could have him, as
she’d never had any hope to have her lord. She was human, after all, and she’d been repeatedly
told by various sources that he’d never find her suitable for such a thing.
            But it felt so good to feel her beneath him. The touch of her skin, the sight of her fevered
flesh, the scent of her arousal . . . certainly, nothing could compare to this.
            The boy had been “careful” with her, she’d informed him. She’d opened herself to him,
telling him her deepest desires, things she disguised from everyone else. She wanted to stay with
her lord no matter what she had to say, no matter what she had to do, no matter what she had to
give up or simply do without. “You seem so alone, sometimes,” she’d said, “so far off and
distant, staring at nothing in particular . . . It always made me sad to think you might be lonely,
to think you might be missing something or someone that had gone far, far away.”
            She’d been lonely for a long time before he came along, she’d said, and she knew how
awful it felt. Then she’d smiled at him. Her lord was too good to feel awful, she’d said
somewhat shyly, so she wished to stay with him. As her lord traveled so far so often, she had to
be able to travel with him. She couldn’t do such a thing if she were to become pregnant. She’d
seen the women in the village lumbering around with swollen bellies and aching ankles, not even
able to mount a horse.
            No, she wouldn’t let the boy finish inside her. She did not wish to marry the boy. She did
not wish to bear his child. She did not wish to be confined to village life while her lord roamed
around free.
            He moved his mouth back to hers, slipping his tongue inside as she parted her lips in a
ragged sigh, rubbing the length of his body against hers.
            Why had he been so foolish? Why had he been so stubborn? Why had he denied himself
so long when everything he needed was right beneath his nose?
            “He said you wouldn’t want me,” she’d cried. “He said you’d find out what we did, and
you’d either kill him, kill me or completely cast me aside without a second thought.”
            Yes, that thought had occurred to him–not killing her, but killing him. Not because he
had taken the girl, but because he had tried to take her away from him when she did not wish to
go. It was not a misunderstanding as with the youkai youth; the boy had deliberately gone
against the girl’s expressed wishes and taken advantage of her giving nature.
            She kissed him in reply, brushing her lips against his, tasting him with the tip of her
tongue, rocking her hips against his, keeping rhythm with his slow and steady pace.
            She hadn’t been in her right mind, she’d claimed. He’d left her in the summer and the
first snow of the season had just fallen. She knew he wouldn’t come for her, then. They never
traveled during the winter months.
            She’d been crying all day, knowing it would be at least another three months before she
saw him again. The hanyou had scolded her for her moping, so she confined herself to her
quarters to avoid his perpetual scowl and reproachful glares. Kohaku had also been absent for
a time, she’d informed him. He and the monk had received a call to slay a demon who’d been
feeding off the livestock of a village three days’ travel away. He and the monk had been gone a
week, already, so she was desperately lonely.
            She’d cried herself to sleep when she’d heard a knock on her screen. She sat up in bed,
scrubbed the tears from her face and answered the door. She was still half asleep.
            It was the boy, of course, coming to check on her and tell her of his return. But . . .
instead of dark hair and dark eyes, she envisioned hair so long and so silver, moonbeams would
pale in comparison; eyes so golden, the sun would hide itself in shame, a man so regal and tall
everyone else seemed oafish and small. “M-my lord?” she’d asked. “Lord Sesshomaru?”
            The boy had laughed and walked past her, taking a seat on her rumpled futon. “No, it’s
me, Kohaku. You look awful.”
            “I feel awful,” she’d said.
            “Are you . . . missing him again?”
            She stood in the center of the floor and wept, her head hung low, her hands covering her
face.
            The boy came to her, comforted her, held her close while she cried.
            “He’s not coming back,” she’d said. “He never comes in the winter, and he’s been gone
so long already.”
            “He’s a grown man; he can take care of himself. He doesn’t need some whimpering,
little girl hanging around. Smile. You said he likes it when you smile.”
            But her heart was too heavy, her thoughts too bleak.
            “What about for me, then? Will you smile for me? I’ve been gone, and I came back!”
            She ignored his smile and jubilant nature. “This is your home. You belong here. You’ll
always come back to it. I just happen to be here right now.”
            “Have you ever considered that maybe you’re his home?”
            She’d scoffed lightly. “I’m a person, not a thing.”
            “Home is where the heart is, they say, and I’ve never seen that heartless bastard give two
shits about anything besides himself.”
            This angered the girl, and she was about to rebut him when–
            “I’m not finished,” he’d said. “I’ve never seen that heartless bastard give two shits about
anything besides himself . . . except where you’re concerned. You . . . have an odd effect on
men, Rin. You make them want to care. You make them want to be better people.”
            “You’re already a good person,” she’d said softly.
            “No, I’m not.”
            So similar, the girl had said. She thought he and the boy had such similar souls. When
she let him take her that time, it wasn’t two calloused hands she felt on her flesh, but one,
immaculately manicured claw. It wasn’t tanned skin and deep brown eyes, she saw hovering
above her, but eyes of honey, skin of porcelain. It wasn’t hair of black that she let slip so
carelessly through her fingers, but her lord’s own silver mane.
            It was the best she’d had up to that point, she’d claimed. Everything seemed to click so
perfectly. They moved as one, breathed as one, their hearts beating as one.
            Sesshomaru had found it odd that instead of the anger and jealousy he should have felt at
the girl’s mention of coupling with the boy, he felt . . . aroused.
            He disliked the idea of the boy so intimately embracing his Rin, but seeing the blissful
expression on her face, the dark gleam in her eye; hearing the racing of her heart, her quickened
breathing, the sultry undertones of her soft voice; and smelling her excitement, the sweetly
musky scent of her arousal as she wriggled and squirmed beside him, rubbing her thighs together,
attempting to alleviate the intimate ache that had doubtlessly grown there . . . made him hard.
            Seeing Rin excited, regardless of the stimulus, excited him. Knowing she was aroused,
aroused him. And now knowing who she had always wanted to turn to in her time of “need,”
made him need her all the more . . .
            “I didn’t know what he’d done till I came back to myself,” she’d said. “I got so carried
away I was careless. I . . . I kicked him out of bed and started crying.”
            He felt her chest heave with each labored breath she drew in.
            “He didn’t even care what he did to me. He didn’t apologize, at all. He said it was ‘no
big deal.’”
            “Gods,” the girl gasped. “Mmmm . . . yes . . . so big, so goo–ooood.”
            “Chances are you’re not pregnant at all.”
            “But what if I am!” she’d screamed.
            “Rin, relax, it’s okay.”
            “It’s not okay. It was never okay. It’ll never be okay again!”
            He gently scraped his claws against her scalp, whispering sweet sentiments into her ear.
            She hugged her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his.
            “We’ll get married. I’ll take care of you. I won’t leave you to handle this by yourself.”
            “But he’ll leave! He’ll leave me by myself.”
            “But you’ll have me,” the boy said.
            “I don’t want you! I NEVER wanted you . . .”
            “But I LOVE you, Rin. I NEED you. I want you to stay with ME.”
            “Yes,” he crooned to her, gradually quickening his pace, pleased beyond words that she
continued to move with him, matching his speed, recognizing his urgency.
            “When did I ever say I’d do that?” she’d asked. “When did I ever say I wanted that!”
            The boy had no response.
            “I won’t stay here,” she’d said. “When the spring comes, I’m leaving. Even if he
doesn’t come, I’m leaving; I’ll find him.”
            “Do you think he’ll still let you stay with him?” he’d asked. “You’re used,” he’d told
her. “You’re mine. If he came back now, he could smell me on you. He won’t come near you.”
             “You’re lying.”
            “I’m a demon slayer, Rin. I know demons. Once a demon’s den is invaded, he abandons
it. He may kill the interlopers, but his home is still ruined. He’ll destroy it, then leave to find
another.”
            “Rin . . .”
            She bit her lower lip, her eyes squeezing shut as he continued to retreat and advance
within her. She was so warm, so tight, so . . .
            Understanding.
            She’d asked him why he’d went to bathe after . . . their first failed attempt. His father had
raised him to respect the mating rights, he’d explained. Females were not toys to be used to
spend his own desires; they were to be exalted as the mother of his heirs. Therefore, if a
coupling could not result in offspring, it was wasteful, shameful, debasing. But that was not the
way the girl had been taught.
            “Of course, children are nice,” she’d said, “but that’s not the only reason people . . . a
couple, a . . . male and a female want to be together.”
            “Pleasure,” he’d said simply as they sat on the cave floor.
            “Intimacy,” she’d responded. “You’re supposed to . . . I mean, it’s okay if you want to
touch each other just because it feels nice.”
            “Why?” he’d asked, taking in every nuance of her facial features.
            Her brow furrowed in concentration, her mouth taking a sudden downturn as she seemed
to think on a suitable answer. “It’s good to share things,” she’d finally said. “Like . . . like when
I used to share my food with . . . with . . .”
            “With?”
            “With Jaken,” she said, swallowing the lump that seemed to have settled in her throat.
            He nodded solemnly.
            “Or when the miko shared her medicine with me, and your brother let me stay in his
house. It’s good to do things for people because, otherwise, they might never get done. Jaken
might have starved. I might have died, and I might have gotten sick again. It feels good to do
good things for other people.”
            He quietly humphed at her naive conclusion. People did not do “good” for one another
because it felt good. They did it because they wanted something, or because it made them feel
self-important.
            “You disagree?” she’d asked. “It doesn’t make you happy to see me happy?”
            He gave no response.
            “Then why do you celebrate my birthday with me?” she asked. “Why do you give me
gifts? What do you get in return?”
            “I do . . . enjoy seeing you smile.”
            She smiled at him, and he found himself turning slightly away from her to avoid her
seeing the barest amount of coloring rising to his cheeks.
            “When you care for someone,” she continued, “of course, you want to please them. You
want to make them happy. You want to see them smile. You want to . . . make that brief
connection with them that makes life feel worthwhile.”
            Again, he turned away from her. When he faced her again, she had the oddest expression
on her face. He watched in open curiosity as she reached down and took his hand in hers.
            “I . . . I’ve loved you for the longest time,” she said softly, though he could hear a slight
edge to her voice, a raw, emotional gruffness. “And when you love someone, you want to share
everything with them. You accept them, and you can only hope that they accept you in return.”
            “I have . . . accepted you,” he finally said, pleased that he was able to disguise the
gruffness of his own declaration.
            “No, you haven’t,” she said, her eyes downcast, her voice low. Then she giggled, “You
just went and washed me away.”
            “I did not ‘wash you away;’ I merely went to cleanse myself.”
            “Because I made you feel dirty?”
            Hurt? Was that hurt he’d heard in her tone?
            “Is it because of Kohaku?” she asked. “Is it because I’m used?”
            He winced inwardly as he heard her voice crack and he watched the warm, salty water run
down the sides of her face.
            She’d told him everything, then–every escapade between she and the boy, every up and
down in their unconventional relationship, from their sadly sweet beginning to the bleak and
bitter end.
            No matter what he’d said to her, no matter the assurances he’d tried to give her to the
contrary, she would not believe that he didn’t find her touch offensive until he’d pulled her to
him and placed a chaste “kiss” on her forehead.
            She’d looked up at him, then, a bright smile playing across her lips drying up her spilled
tears.
            “I meant no offense,” he’d said softly. “This is still . . . new to me, so you will have to
forgive my ignorance.”
            But she soon enlightened him, and he supposed he had the boy to thank for that. Even
though he desired her, he never would have had the nerve to deal with the bloody business of her
virginity. The thought of hurting her for even a moment, the sickening scent of her blood on his
body . . .
            No, he never would have been able to take pleasure from her pain.
            “Touch me,” she’d said.
            It was after he’d found the futon for her, and she insisted on sharing it with him. He’d
removed his armor, and she’d removed her outer robes. He was simply laying there, trying to
ignore the feel of her warm body pressed against his side when she’d made her request. Obliging
her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
            She’d giggled, obviously amused by something unknown to him, then she’d placed a wet
kiss at the base of his neck. “Relax,” she’d said. “You’re too tense.”
            But if he relaxed, they would have a repeat performance of that night he’d asked her to
stay with him.
            Ignoring his discomfort, or perhaps, simply trying to work her way through it, she began
touching him–his face and neck, along his jaw and around the pointed tips of his ears. Then she
moved to his chest and shoulders, her delicate hand slipping inside his haori to caress the bare
flesh beneath.
            Gradually, she undressed him then undressed herself. “It’s okay,” she’d told him. “Let’s
just try to get used to one another.”
            He’d nodded, his heart already pounding loudly in his sensitive ears.
            She took his hand and directed it down the front of her body–across her shoulders, over
each rounded breast, her nipples stiffening beneath his guided palm. She then urged him to go
lower, releasing his hand, encouraging him to explore on his own, and as he did, she did the same
to him.
            His hand drifted down the smooth plane of her stomach, over the flare of each hip, across
her toned thighs and around her softly rounded backside.
            “You’re avoiding something,” she spoke softly into his outer ear. “It doesn’t bite.”
            “I did not think it did,” he replied casually.
            She giggled, rubbing her nose in the crook of his neck. “I was joking,” she said.
            “Of course.”
            She’d kissed him, then, her left hand rubbing slow circles over his ridged stomach.
“Please?” she’d asked. “I’d like to feel your hand there.”
            And so he complied. Careful of the sharp tips on his claws, he slowly, gently,
purposefully passed the palm of his hand between her parted thighs.
            The girl let loose a breathy sigh, her eyes drifting closed, a graceful smile on her lips.
            Intrigued by her reaction, he continued to cautiously explore her nether region with the
pads of his fingers and the palm of his hand. The air was soon perfumed with the sweet scent of
her arousal, and he found himself growing bolder with his caresses. There was a strangely
alluring, wet heat emanating from her hidden depths, and he was quickly overcome with the
desire to delve into the source. Paying close attention to the features of her face, he ran a single
finger along the seam of her sex and slipped it inside, immediately entranced by the warm
wetness he found there. Her hips jerked in response, and he withdrew, thinking he’d hurt her.
            “No,” she’d said, taking his hand, pushing it back down. “It feels good.”
            But her body felt so small, so tight. He didn’t wish to, but his subconscious recalled the
image of the human ripping into his child’s body. She’d bled, and she’d cried. She was much
too small to accommodate a full-grown male. Though Rin was no longer a child . . .
            He glanced down at his hardened member, mentally noting how snug a fit her body
provided his finger as he moved it in and out of her body. Quite concerned, he’d asked if it
would hurt her–mating with him.
            She’d opened one lazy eye, glancing up at him and responded with a knowing smile. “It
stretches.”
            Sesshomaru groaned as she bucked against him.
            “Soooo goo–ooood . . .”
            He held back his release a moment longer. He wanted to remember this. He wanted to
remember her–the way she looked, the way she smelled, the sound of her voice; her hair fanned
out beneath her, the few strands of silver streaking through the ebony strands; her chest heaving,
her dusky nipples erect, her rosy lips parted in a silent scream as she threw her head back in
release. The racing of her heart, the flush about her face, her damp, glistening skin. Her softly
crying his name, her body joined with his, the hazy look in her eyes, the smile on her face.
            Yes, that’s what he would always remember–her smiling face.
            He bit down on her left breast, emptied his seed within her, licked the offending wound
away and smiled with pride as his mark appeared on her.
                                                                8 8 8
            “I wanna leave, Daddy. I don’t like it here.”
            He nodded is understanding, noting the tears in the girl’s gold-flecked eyes. He placed
his palm atop her head, giving her a gentle pat, seeking to calm her. She was the youngest of
them, after all, so such an emotional display was not unexpected. “In a moment, Haruko.”
            Her two brothers took at as the men he was attempting to raise them to be, though, in
truth, they were both only whelps . . . or boys, as Rin would have called them. Kazuki stood tall
and proud, his head bowed low, showing his proper respect to the two mounds of earth laid
before them, but also hiding his eyes from his ever-watchful father. He had already heard the
pup sniff once, but thankfully, his cheeks remained dry.
            Nibori, his face still-rounded, hadn’t inherited his father’s stoic demeanor, and was
having considerably more trouble holding himself together than his brother, who was one year
his senior. He did not let a single tear fall, but his eyes were wide and glassy, and apparently, he
couldn’t help the pronounced pout about his lips.
            Sesshomaru, for his part, held his emotions firmly in check. He did not sniff. He did not
pout, and he certainly did not cry. They had gathered beneath this magnolia tree several times in
the past, and this time was no different.
            He was here, Ah-Un was here, his pups were here, of course, Jaken was here–this was
where Rin had buried him, after all–and his Rin was here, as well. It was, after all, where she’d
requested to be buried.
            The girl had . . . left him earlier that same day. A mere thirteen years had passed since
he’d formally asked her to stay with him. She conceived for him three times, and bore him two
strong sons and one, brilliant daughter. Kazuki–“the birth of a new generation”–was twelve.
Nibori–“rising to eminence”–had recently turned eleven. And his darling Haruko–“spring
child”–was only ten human years old. She had loved them all dearly, and had told them so and
showed them as much on a daily basis, but whelping three children in three years wore heavily on
her body.
            She’d had no particular difficulty birthing them, but afterwards, she was always so tired,
and she never seemed to fully recover from the exertion. She moved slower, and though still
high-spirited, her steps simply weren’t as light. Tiny creases began to appear on her face, lining
the corners of her eyes and mouth, and after nursing three pups for three straight years, her
breasts simply weren’t as buoyant as they used to be and her waist wasn’t as trim. She was by no
means “fat;” he saw her as being more rounded, more feminine, and his desire for her did not
decrease.
            It was difficult attempting to travel with a pregnant female, and even more difficult with
the addition of pups, so they settled down for awhile, he never straying too far from home. It was
not a “house,” it was a “den” he’d dug deeply within the earth of a rolling hillside. It kept them
warm in winter, cool in summer, and dry when it rained. But when the pups were old enough to
travel, he and his mate again began to wander, and he’d destroyed the den behind them.
            They were . . . happy, all of them together–going where they pleased, sleeping when they
pleased. He taught the pups to hunt, and Rin taught them to fish and swim. There was nothing
so soothing as the sound of their laughter. The boys, always so serious around him, would break
into easy smiles or rolling fits of laughter when with their mother. She would tickle them and
tease them, wrestling with the three of them down on the ground. He, of course, did not
participate, but he still reaped the rewards, watching from a slight distance as he learned what a
mother was supposed to be to a child.
            This day did not begin any differently than any of the others. He did not . . .
            He did not know she was going to leave him. She was not sick. He sensed no pain or
unusual discomfort from her, and she was only 43. Humans . . . were supposed to live to be
sixty.
            He was . . .
            They were . . .
            They should have had another 17 years together, but . . .
            “Daddy?”
            “In a moment, Haruko!”
            His sons’ eyes focused in on him. The girl flinched away from him. His clawed hand
flexed at his side.
            He shouldn’t have yelled at her, he cursed himself. She had nothing to do with this; she
was but a girl, a girl who had just lost her mother.
            He crouched down so he met the girl at eye level and spoke evenly to her. “Your father is
trying to think, Haruko. Please, do not disturb him.”
            “I want Mommy,” she cried. “Where did she go? Why wouldn’t she wake up?”
            Nibori lost it at that point. His head dropped, his shoulders slumped, and the tears came
tumbling down.
            Sesshomaru looked away. He would not watch his second son disgrace himself with such
a blatant display of weakness.
            “Pull yourself together,” he heard Kazuki say. “You’re a man,” he said. “Be a man.
Men don’t cry.”
            But this only made the boy’s cries more forlorn.
            Sesshomaru stood, fully prepared to distance himself from the scene playing itself out at
the grave sites of his old servant and his human mate. He was almost certain the toad was
laughing at him.
            “Get ahold of yourself!” Kazuki commanded his brother. “It’s not going to bring her
back; she’s gone.”
            “Do you think we could stop and rest for a moment?” the girl had asked him. “It’s
rather hot, and I think Haruko is getting tired.”
            Rin rode atop Ah-Un, he walked ahead of them, and their pups walked beside her. It was
warm, he supposed, and they’d been traveling for most of the morning. He nodded his assent,
and they stopped by a river where Ah-Un could drink, the pups could play as he watched over
them from the river’s edge, and Rin could watch them all beneath the shade of a maple tree.
            Her hair was almost completely gray now, but her eyes were still as bright and her smile
was just as beautiful. He met her smile with a rare one of his own, and then turned his attention
fully back to their children. The river could be tricky at times, the current always changing, its
true depths, at times, unreadable. It would not do for one of them to be drowned because he
couldn’t keep his eyes off his mate.
            He listened as they splashed about in the water, their cheerful laughter ringing in his ears.
Finer children he’d never seen. Haruko could have been Rin’s image, down to the crown of
flowers she currently wore on the top of her head. The only proof he could see of his
contribution in her making were the golden flecks in her eyes, the slight point to the tips of her
ears and the few strands of silver streaking through her, otherwise, dark hair. Nibori, at times,
reminded him of his little brother. They had the same eyes, the same hair, the same ears on the
top of his head, but his son, he was happy to say, was a great deal more self-possessed than the
hanyou had ever been. And Kazuki mirrored his entire existence after his father. They had the
same hair, the same eyes, the same long, lean build. He even seemed to be studying, and
successfully copying, his demeanor–the picture of calm, Sesshomaru referred to as his face.
            But, as much of there was of him in his son, there were equal parts of Rin. He liked to
share. He openly laughed and smiled when he felt it was appropriate, and he was extremely
protective of his mother, father, each of his younger siblings, Ah-Un, and even Jaken’s grave.
The Staff of Heads was now in his hands.
            Sesshomaru recalled the first time they’d taken the pups to visit the toad’s grave. Kazuki
had been three at the time, Nibori two and Haruko was only a few months old.
            “Who’s this?” Kazuki had asked, pointing to his old servant’s grave.
            “A friend,” he’d replied to the boy.
            But, after the pups had tired of their water play, the dragon had drunk his fill, and he,
himself, was more than ready to move on, he noticed how . . . quiet everything seemed.
            “Shhhh,” Haruko commanded, as they approached the girl’s slumped form. “Mommy’s
taking a nap.”
            No, not a nap. Not a nap, at all.
            “Haruko,” he again, placed his hand atop the girl’s head.
            She started slightly, probably thinking he was going to yell at her again. She and Nibori
were still crying. She cautiously looked up at him temporarily stilling her tears.
            He let a gentle smile show through his eyes as he patted the top of her head.
            She let a brief smile shine through, then again fell somber.
            “May I have this?” he asked.
            Her eyes rolled upwards, no doubt attempting to see what he was talking about. “My
flower crown?”
            He simply nodded.
            She gave him a slightly questioning look then nodded.
            He removed the wreath from his daughter’s hair and tossed it on the raised patch of earth.
“Come,” Sesshomaru finally commanded, turning from his “wife’s” final resting place.
            Ever obedient, the three pups turned, following in their father’s footsteps.
            After they had walked for awhile, Ah-Un now riderless, Haruko taking his reins as her
two brothers walked beside her, the sun having burned their tears away, the girl spoke. “Daddy?”
            He, of course, led the way. He kept his head forward, his posture straight. “What is it?”
            “Wh–where do people go when they die?”
            It was her question, but from the racing of the boys’ hearts, it was a question to which
they too desired an answer.
            “Back to whence they came,” he replied evenly.
            “So . . .where is Mommy now? Will we ever see her again?”
            Carefully, the youkai lord considered his words, refusing to open his mouth till he was
certain he would not falter. “You may; I will not.”
            “Why not?” she asked. “Didn’t we all come from the same place?”
            “No,” he said simply.
            “Then . . . where did Mommy come from? Where has she gone?”
            “Back to the heavens,” he replied, “where she belongs. Now, no more questions. We
have a long journey ahead of us and much to do.”
            “Yes, Father.”
            “Yes, Father.”
            “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
            A sad smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “There is nothing to be sorry about.”

                                                      “Lord Sesshomaru?”
                                                             “What is it?”
                “Some day, when I die . . . will you promise not to forget about me?”
                                                        “Don’t be foolish.”
–from InuYasha episode 162 “Together Forever with Sesshomaru-sama”

THE END
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Author’s Note: Sesshou–the root of Sesshomaru’s name–has three meanings that I could find.
1)regent, regency; 2)killing, the destruction of life; 3)negotiation. All three are appropriate for
him, I think, but for this fic, I chose the second meaning–the destruction of life. Can you imagine
if your father gave you a name like that? Ouch!
On a happier note, I’d like to offer a big, heaping of thanks to any of you who voted for “In a
Different Light!” It took first place in the Second Quarter IY Fan Fiction Guild competition for
Best Romance Alternate Pair. I’m brimming over with joy ^ ^
Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope I didn’t disappoint,
theMaven :)
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The Girl	By : theMaven Category: InuYasha > General Views: 4511 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

The Girl