Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

In a Different Light	By : theMaven Category: InuYasha > General Views: 12677 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer - I do not own the characters of InuYasha, nor do I make any money from this.
                                                        In a Different Light
                                                 Chapter 1: A Solitary Figure
            The Lord of the Western Lands was troubled.
            Doubt, suspicion, regret and, perhaps . . . just perhaps, a tad of fear plagued his soul as
the fire of their campsite began to dwindle and fade, the roaring blaze now reduced to glowing
red embers and gray, smoldering ash. He sighed inwardly and shifted in his seat beneath the
boughs of a magnolia tree.
            Rin had not returned yet, and the full moon hung low on the horizon, providing a ghostly
illumination to the surrounding lands and forest, dark shadows from the overlying trees
shrouding his features, and that of his two companions–Ah-Un and Jakken–in a velvety,
midnight cloak. Jakken had propped himself against an opposing tree, the Staff of Heads
clasped firmly in his slumbering grasp, and Ah-Un had curled up beside the campfire, its two
heads resting peacefully on the forest floor. But, despite the quiet, Sesshomaru felt ill at ease.
            Rin had changed. Right before his golden eyes, right beneath his canine nose, she had
developed from a, rather, chatty and bothersome child to an enchanting young woman. In fact,
when he looked at her now, he had a hard time reconciling the rambunctious youth she used to
be with the woman whose face allowed him little in the way of rest. She was . . . captivating.
            Of course, the change had been a gradual one. The most noticeable change came in her
height. In the beginning she was literally knee-high to him, just a few inches taller than Jakken.
Then she grew to his mid-thigh, the span of her arms still unable to embrace him in a proper hug.
From his thigh she sprouted to his hip, then his waist, then just below his chest. At that point,
she could reach all the way around him with her thin arms and awkward hands, but did so on
increasingly few occasions. Also, at that point, she began to develop more feminine attributes.
            Her hair grew longer and sleeker. Her face thinned and her hips broadened. And a slight
swell could be noticed in her chest area . . . It was also the first time she’d gone into heat, and
he’d purposely distanced himself from her . . . Her scent had changed from something overly
sweet and flowery to something more musky and subdued–from a field of scattered wildflowers
blowing in the breeze to a single bloom, burgeoning in the midday sun.
            He inhaled deeply, recalling the first time he’d caught whiff of her altered scent . . .
Roses... no not roses, plural; rose, singular. No one smelled exactly the way she did . . . Human,
demon or otherwise. Rin was one of a kind, and she did not leave him unaffected.
            Though he had a very tight rein on his own passions, his own desires, Rin had been a
slave to her emotions and raging hormones. In those days, the demon lord reasoned, she was a
greater aggravation to Jakken than when they’d first acquired her. She was either weeping and
whining, disgusted by her own reflection, refusing to let anyone come anywhere near her room,
whether to call her down for her meals or to attempt to clean her chamber because, in her words,
she was too ugly to be seen. Or she was gruff and disgruntled, easily angered by the simplest
things.
            Her ponytail now stuck up at an odd angle, and she couldn’t get it to lie down, so she
stopped wearing the ponytail, altogether, and stopped combing her hair for nearly a month. Her
clothes also became a problem. Her kimonos would no longer fit properly, no matter how she
pulled and pinned them, so she’d rip them to shreds and demand that Jakken go get her new
ones. And the new ones would always be the wrong color or the wrong pattern, or too short or
too long, and she’d throw an equally intense fit, insisting that Jakken hated her and wanted her to
look like some sort of troll.
            And meals were no different. If she wasn’t screaming and throwing dishes because her
soup was too cold or her fish was too dry, she was scowling over Jakken’s shoulder as he
prepared her food, making sure he added the proper amount seasoning and didn’t overcook or
undercook the rice or meat entree. On one occasion, he’d had to intervene and reprimand her for
scalding the little imp with a pot of boiling, hot soup. When he’d asked her why she’d done such
a thing, she’d replied, “He knows I HATE onions.” Apparently, she’d told him not to put onions
in the soup, and he’d done so any way.
            He chuckled lightly to himself. Thank the gods those days are over.
            She was such a mess back then–awkward and clumsy, her hands and feet too large for
such a tiny frame. She was constantly tripping and falling, and bumping into things, breaking
things. Black eyes and bruises, bumps on the head, cuts and contusions, skinned knees and
scraped elbows . . . How humans ever survived into maturity was far beyond him.
            But they did. And she had.
            She now came up to his shoulder, and her violent mood swings had ceased. She was
pleasant and jovial, her girlish giggle replaced by a more throaty trill. Her face had further
thinned out and her body had completely filled in, giving her the hourglass figure commonly
associated with feminine beauty. And her hair now fell just below her waist in soft, sleek waves,
the black of her bangs providing a startling, but not unpleasant, contrast against the pale ivory of
her skin . . .. She was . . .
            He narrowed his gaze and tensed his jaw.
            She was . . . not for him, he finally decided.
            She was a human, after all. And humans belonged with humans. It was pointless and
potentially dangerous, to go against the natural order of things . . . Not that he shied away from
danger. Danger was one of his favorite pastimes–facing down demon hordes, crushing coup
attempts and mass rebellions, defending his borders from feral predators and potential invaders.
And dismembering the occasional opponent who thought they could best him in battle. Yes, he
enjoyed the adrenalin rush he got when facing down a particularly fierce foe, and the look of fear
on his opponent’s face when he finally realized this was the one fight he wouldn’t be able to
walk away from.
            He smiled smugly to himself. Danger was practically a part of his daily life, and he,
himself, was considered to be one of the most dangerous demons in all the lands. But there were
many types of danger–peril, hazard, risk, distress. And while it would be considered . . .
cowardly to back down to certain types of danger, facing off against other types would be
considered foolhardy.
            Jakken stirred in his sleep and mumbled something unintelligible before falling onto his
side and cuddling up closer to the Staff of Heads.
            Sesshomaru decided to move to a quieter, more secluded area to further mull over his
thoughts. He encountered a fallen tree trunk less than fifty feet from their established campsite.
He took a seat and resumed his musings.
            Yes, his father had undertaken such a foolhardy endeavor, going against the natural order
of things, choosing to take a human noble woman as his mate . . . Izayoi, InuYasha’s mother.
And what were the fruits of his labor? His death, her death and endless torment for their ill-begotten, half-breed son.
            She had weakened his father, scattered his thoughts and loyalties, making it impossible to
protect his territories and retain the respect owed to him by his demon peers. He’d given
everything up for her, his human bride, and what did he get in return? Death, destruction and
disgrace . . . Disgrace that he, himself, was still trying to live down.
            He tucked his right hand beneath his left shoulder and frowned.
            He’d never been so . . . disappointed in anyone in his life. His father, Lord Toga,
InuTaisho of all Japan, led astray by a simple, human female. Laid low by love. Decimated by
desire. Weakened by one, worthless woman. And wasn’t Rin exactly the same?
            He felt a slight twinge in his chest, a dull ache, a minute contraction.
            “No,” he audibly voiced. She was not the same. Rin was one of a kind.
            She didn’t make him weak; she made him feel . . . calm . . . peaceful, tranquil . . .
centered. Yes, he decided. She made him feel centered. He knew who he was when she was
around. He knew what was expected of him and what she expected from him. He didn’t feel so
lost and adrift, compelled to wander and roam in search of . . . whatever–Tessaiga, Totosai,
Kaijinbo, Tokijin, Naraku . . . They were actually just distractions. Ways to fill up his days.
Ways to break up his sleepless nights. Ways to occupy his mind while his body craved physical
contact and his heart ached for companionship.
            He scoffed at his own admittance. He, the Lord of the Western Lands, lonely?
            And, yet, since his father’s death, he had noticed a certain . . . hollowness to his
existence. A lack of focus, purpose and meaning. No friends, no respectable family, no
foreseeable future beyond the immediate . . . Not that any of those things were of great
importance, but . . .
            It was senseless to dwell on the past. Especially when he had so much current business
plaguing his mind.
            Rin . . . had been another distraction. A temporary focus in his ever-shifting stream of
consciousness. A minor amusement amidst the doldrums of daily existence. True, it was
Tenseiga that had initially prompted him to revive her, but it was his curiosity that led him to
allow her to tag along with Jakken and he . . . Why had his father found them so fascinating?
And what prompted his brother to keep company with, not one, but two human females?
            There had to be something there that he was missing. Something that they knew that he
didn’t. Something he couldn’t learn through observation and could only understand through
experience. And what an experience it had been.
            A slight smile curled his lips.
            It would have been so simple in those first days to abandon her along the wayside,
leaving her in one of the many villages they had passed through. He had little attachment to the
child, and at times her presence could be quite trying and annoying, for Jakken more so than for
him. But soon he became accustomed to her little quirks–the incessant giggling, the compulsive
flower-gathering and chatter. She never hesitated to speak her mind and was quite fearless even
in those days. And he never tired of the constant challenges she presented to Jakken, be they
verbal or physical. “What good are you to Lord Sesshomaru?” she’d ask.
            What good, indeed? He mused with a dry laugh. How many times had he left Rin in his
care to come back and find her missing, abducted or wandering around lost in the woods?
Though with time and additional training, Sesshomaru could say without a shadow of doubt that
Jakken had become a more dutiful servant under Rin’s watchful eye.
            Yes, it seemed she always had his best interests in mind. And perhaps now, it was time
he considered her best interests.
            Wandering around the countryside with three demons was certainly no type of life for a
young woman. What she needed was certainty, stability, a place she could always call home.
And, in theory, he could provide, had provided that. He did have the castle, and they had stayed
there for several years after the defeat of Naraku. Rin was comfortable in the castle. She knew
her way around the grounds, she was friendly with all the servants, and she was perfectly safe
staying there.
            The only reason she wasn’t there now was because he’d insisted on taking her with them
on their annual border patrol. True, it would have been easier and more efficient to make the
journey without her, but she enjoyed the outdoors, and he, for his part, was . . . unwilling to be
without her company for such an extended period of time. A thorough patrol of the borders
could take months, three months to be exact, and the thought of traveling so extensively with
only Jakken by his side was . . . less than pleasant. He . . . needed to see her. He needed to hear
her voice and smell her scent, to see her smile and hear her laugh. He needed to know that she
was well, and she was well cared for. He needed . . .
            A phantom pain crept up his left shoulder where his left arm used to be. He rubbed the
stub and frowned. It was amazing how much pain something could cause simply by not being
there.
            He sighed inwardly. He wasn’t sure when, he wasn’t sure why, and he wasn’t sure how...
but he’d become quite attached to Rin’s presence. He needed her. And he’d always thought that
she needed him, too . . . until today.
            He had made a . . . he didn’t want to say “mistake” because the Lord of the Western
Lands was not given to making mistakes. He had made a miscalculation.
            In the castle when Rin went into heat, or had her “time of the month,” as she called it, he
simply left the grounds for a few days till she came back to herself. But while they were
traveling, it was she that disappeared into a nearby village till her cycle had run its course. It
was a slightly awkward time for the both of them, but she recognized the necessity of the
separation. Yes, he had a tight rein on his desires, but even the strongest bonds had their
breaking points, and as she had grown older, her scent had grown stronger, more alluring, more
insistent. And any actions taken during that point in time would be irreversible . . . Not that he
had an aversion to mating with Rin . . . But to use her in such a fashion when he had no definite
intentions towards her, would be dishonorable.
            There were other women in the world for such things.
            And he should know. He’d encountered enough of them. Flirting and fawning, panting
and pawing, lust in their eyes and power on their minds. Yes, he’d encountered quite a few of
that type in his long life, and he’d used them accordingly.
            But Rin wasn’t that type of woman, and he refused to show her that side of himself. She
seemed to think better of him than that, and he wasn’t in the habit of disappointing her. But she
had, somewhat, disappointed him.
            It had been five days, this being the fifth day, and he had been quite anxious for her
return, so they could continue with their travels and return to the castle before the onset of the
cold season. She’d taken several things with her to the village, so he thought it would be prudent
to wait for her on the outskirts of town, in order to assist her with her baggage. But while he was
waiting, something caught his attention–singing, a woman’s song, Rin’s song. He thought there
could be little harm in seeking her out, so he did, sticking to the treetops and observing from
above. He found her near the opposite end of town, entertaining a small crowd of children in the
fields.
            As the adults and older children of the village harvested and gleaned, she sang to the
younger children to keep them out from under foot. They ran around her in dizzying circles as
she tried to grab them and get them to settle down. But, after a few moments of wrestling and
resistance, the children relented and settled down into a semicircle in front of her. She sang to
them and soothed them, pulling one of the smaller girls into her lap, so she could braid her hair.
            Sesshomaru found himself quite pleased at the sight. The way she handled them, the way
she commanded their attention and demanded their respect. The way she coddled the youngest
one and cajoled the other ones . . . She had the makings of an excellent mother. She was gentle
and caring and attentive. Leery without being overprotective. Strict without being severe.
Lenient without appearing weak-willed. Any child left in her care would doubtless flourish and
succeed at every ambition.
            But the singing soon ended, the braiding was done, and parents began to call their
children home as they finished their work in the fields. Rin smiled and waved as she watched
them go, and was about to go herself when a young male from the village approached her.
            The demon lord focused his eyes on the human male. He appeared to be around Rin’s
age and, judging by the coarse cotton of his clothes, was nothing more than a commoner, a
worker, a peasant. His body was covered in sweat and dirt from the fields and his short hair was
pulled into high ponytail at the top of his head. Sesshomaru supposed that by human standards
the young male could be considered . . . attractive, and Rin didn’t seem to mind the obvious
attention he was paying her. She seemed a little nervous and, perhaps, a little surprised by his
overt interest, and while she wasn’t inviting him to come any closer, she wasn’t walking away
either.
            He wished that she would walk away. But instead she stayed and continued to converse
with the boy. They spoke of mundane things–his name, her name, the weather . . . “You’re new
to the village, aren’t you?” the boy had asked.
            Sesshomaru listened as Rin explained that she was just passing through and probably
wouldn’t be coming back this way ever again.
            “That’s a shame you can’t stick around longer,” the boy said. “We’ll be having our
harvest festival soon. There’ll be dancing and feasting and music. Everyone always has a really
good time.”
            “I can’t stay,” she said.
            “Well, that’s really too bad,” he said. “Especially with you being such an excellent
singer. I’m sure everyone would’ve liked to hear you sing.”
            She declined with a smile.
            He edged a little closer, spoke a little lower, eyed her more intently. “Would it help if I
extended you a personal invitation?”
            Rin blushed, and at that point Sesshomaru turned away.
            He tore threw the trees and returned to the campsite to wait for her. He was still waiting
for her, and was still quite . . . confused by what he’d witnessed between Rin and the peasant.
            Of course, he was angry. The nerve of that boy. Propositioning her like that. Leering at
her. Ogling her. The impudence, the audacity, the . . .
            He drew in a deep breath and pushed it out, forcing back the crashing waves of ire that
threatened to drown him, consume him, swallowing him into the bleak, black abyss. Yes, the
boy had been audacious. But Rin had been . . . He mentally choked on the words as his mind
processed the mental images.
            Yes, the boy had been audacious. But Rin had been . . . receptive . . . to his advances.
She had enjoyed his attention. She blushed at his flattery. She . . .
            The dull ache returned to his chest.
            She was not his, and he had no right to feel this way. If she . . . if she chose a human
mate, why should he be surprised? She was human, after all, simply following the natural order
of things.
            And if leaving him, living in a village, being mated to some inane boy, made her happy,
who was he to stand in her way?
            Who was he to deny her happiness? Had he ever denied her anything? Would he start
now?
            “No,” he whispered to the wind. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved to be happy.
But didn’t he make her happy? Wasn’t she happy with him? And Jakken and Ah-Un and the
castle? Didn’t she like her room? And her trinkets and her kimonos? Didn’t she like the garden
and the stable and the bath house? Didn’t she like the servants and Jakken and Ah-Un? Didn’t
she like . . . him?
            The ache in his chest spread and deepened.
            Of course, she wasn’t a child any more. She no longer tagged after him everywhere he
went. She no longer sat still singing for his return. She no longer picked him flowers or tried to
braid his hair. She no longer came to his chambers crying because she’d had a bad dream and
wanted to sleep with him. She no longer hugged his legs or kissed his cheek or . . . anything. In
fact, she was quite careful to keep her distance from him, now. Even when there was no reason
to be so cautious.
            Perhaps now that she was older, she realized what he was and what vile, disgusting and
despicable creatures demons were. Destroyers of villages, eaters of souls, the bane of humanity.
Perhaps she now despised him and the predicament he’d placed her in . . . A human child
brought up among demons.
            And perhaps she was justified in those feelings.
            But he had revived her, he had protected her, he had given her everything she could have
possibly wanted. And now she wanted to abandon him, to cast him off as a serpent would cast
off its outgrown skin?
            After everything he’d done for her, after everything he’d given her. After all the battles
and rescues. After all the clothing and campfires. The castle, the servants, the porcelain dolls
and golden combs. The finest silks, the rarest spices, the best of the best and she would still
rebuke him? She would leave him? Abandon him? Desert him? And for a human, no less.
            A low growl worked its way up from the back of his throat. The nerve of him, of them,
of her!
            His hand clenched into a tight fist, his claws digging deep into the flesh of his palm,
spilling crimson drops of blood onto the dying grass below.
            It wasn’t fair! He saw her first. He knew her first. He loved her first. He . . . He what?
            His hand relaxed and the wounds instantly healed.
            He loved her first? He loved her? Is that what this was? Is that what he was feeling?
Love?
            He laughed dryly to himself. Perhaps she had weakened him, after all.
            To get so angry over something so simple . . . She was talking to a boy. That didn’t mean
anything. It was only natural that the boy was attracted to her, and for her part, she responded in
the only way she knew how . . . with modesty. And even if she was interested in him that was
her right. Contrary to his previous assertions, she didn’t owe him anything. She’d never asked
him for anything . . . except his company and approval. And he wanted her approval.
Everything he did for her, he did of his own free will. He did it to keep her safe. He did it to see
her smile. He did it to hear her laugh and to make her happy. He did it because he loved her.
            A wry smile crossed his lips. So much for avoiding foolhardy enterprises . . .
            The phantom pain resurfaced in his left shoulder. He sought to soothe the ache in his
missing limb, increasing the pressure he applied with his right hand.
            But, what if she didn’t return? Maybe not tonight, but some other night? What if she
really decided that she wanted to leave? That she wanted her own life away from him? What if
she didn’t, couldn’t return his feelings? What if . . .
            “My lord?”
                         He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he hadn’t heard her coming. “Rin . . .”
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

In a Different Light