InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cross My Heart ❯ Midnight Moon ( Chapter 11 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

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Title: Midnight Moon
Rating: G
Characters: Sesshoumaru and Rin
Setting: AU reincarnation ficclet

[A/N] This is a belated New Years Eve fic. I had no intention of writing such a thing but Tomoe's New Years S/R AU pic caught my fancy and I decided to add some words to it. It hardly matches exactly, but I think the feel is close to right.

=#= Midnight Moon =#=

She is drawn, that night of all nights, out into the cold crisp darkness. She passes by the cheerful couples and the toasting friends without a sidelong glance. Her parents are asleep in their bed like good working adults, the thought that their wayward daughter might not be in hers far from their peaceful dreams.

There is no one to miss her, and she feels weightless, transient because of it. Her feet lead her up into the mountains, faithfully through the labyrinth of trails she has explored since she was very young. She knows intuitively where she is going, but she pretends as if the snow shrouded trees around her are brand new. With caution and adventurous curiosity, she goes forward to see where the path under her feet will take her.

She comes to the peak of her favorite mountain, the top a sheer cliff face topped by an outcropping of rock that appeals to her. The shape is something that tickles her fancy, like a great dragon springing into the sky, or a gigantic turtle looking forth from its huge shell.

Tonight, with its pale, ethereal blanket of snow and long, wicked looking icicles, it reminds her of a great white dog, sitting alone with its gaze towards yonder crescent moon.

Something more than just errant imagination fixes the image in her mind as a painful, almost wistful nostalgia tightens in her chest. The silhouette against the starry night sky makes her head ache and her eyes water until she is forced to look away. No sound has alerted her to his presence, but she looks directly at him just the same.

Ancient, alien gold eyes shine eerily in the midnight moon, and for a moment she has trouble making out his form in the shadows. The illogical, frightening yet exhilarating possibility that her great dog has come to life grips her mind as she freezes with instinctive fear. For one of the rare moments in her life, she is still and quiet as the creature—he—takes a calculated, cautious step forward.

Such is his demeanor that she lets herself believe that this moment is as surreal for him as it is for her. His demonic eyes roam her form with a kind of disbelieving yet overly intensive assessment that calms her with its familiar feel. She relaxes enough to find her voice, to find her lips shaping the syllables of a name she has not spoken in this lifetime.

“S…sess…shou…maru…”

The word slips out of her mouth and disrupts the serenity of the night. She sees him visibly start as his gold eyes narrow with suspicion and interest. His posture changes from one of wary intrusion to assured aggression.

“Rin,” his voice calls out, deep and resonant and demanding.

She jerks, rudely taken aback by the difference in names. Her name is Aoi, like the blue summer sky her mother named her after. Yet beneath her confusion pulses a different kind of recognition, a blind and primitive response to the sound of his voice that cannot be denied.

“Rin,” he says again with imperial insistence, the moonlight falling onto his regal, coldly handsome face in time for her to see the deepening of his stern frown.

Without conscious thought, her chin lifts stubbornly and she replies with far more bold audacity than she thought she had in her.

“Aoi is not Rin, Sesshoumaru-sama,” she says determinedly. “Aoi is Aoi.”

“A…oi,” he pronounces her name, as if struggling to comprehend the difference.

She falls awkwardly silent; belatedly realizing that she is chastising what must be one of the ancient youkai of lore. He can be no other, for the sheer subconscious awareness he provokes within her speaks of great age and power. Fairytales of helpless maidens being bewitched by the unearthly beauty of youkai, never to be found again, dance through her head like snowflakes as she endures his penetrating regard in mute terror. A part of her wants nothing more than to flee, to turn tail and run as if it will do her any good. Yet another part of her wishes to stay, to stare in confounded wonder at this mythical creature. A third part of her—that which surely is justifiably crazy—wishes to approach him and slip her small hand trustingly into his large one.

“You are Rin,” he decides with unarguable authority.

His shoulders droop slightly as if a great weight has been lifted from them. His head half turns as he hides his expression, and for the first time she notices his hair. Her body moves and her hand lifts and her actions catch him so off guard that neither of them prevent her from softly threading her fingers through the silken silver strands.

“You cut it,” she cries with sincere sorrow, so caught up in the moment of equal parts recognition and regret that she forgets to be self conscious. “You cut your beautiful hair,” she continues in a quieter voice as awareness catches up with her.

A bright, mortified blush steals across her face, but before she can stumble backwards out of his personal space, she is caught and held fast by the haunted vulnerability in his gold gaze. The painful, wistful, lonely feeling in her heart squeezes until she is breathless from it. Her fingertips trail down, tracing the strong line of his jaw as she stares at him with concentration and wonder.

“You're…real,” she stammers. “Sesshoumaru-sama…”

She drowns slowly inside as layers upon layers of memories wash over her, shifting and settling inside of her until her mind and soul feel old and tired. Clinging to the unspoken need she sees in his eyes, she endures as her self awareness expands and stabilizes to take it all in. She remembers to breathe, remembers to blink, remembers his face as everything vital to her clicks back into place.

“Rin…remembers,” she croaks as unshed tears thicken in her throat. “Rin promised…”

“Yes,” is all he says as he gathers her close and the scent of his body surrounds her more sweetly than the scent of her mother ever did.

“I waited for you,” he whispers into her hair. “I will always wait for you.”

In a quiet household where the last seconds of an old year slip away unseen, a small forgotten digital alarm clock flips over to twelve am and a new year begins.

=#=