InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Fukai Mori ❯ Fukai Mori ( One-Shot )

Author's Note: My first Inuyasha fanfic. Please don't be too hard on me!

I suppose that this story may be a bit of a tear-jerker.and it contains spoilers relating to

Sesshomaru. Nothing specific, but you probably shouldn't read this if you don't know

who Rin is.

And no, this is not a S/R pairing. Just read it and see!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sesshomaru, Rin, or any of the other Inuyasha characters. They

belong solely to Mrs. Takahashi. ^ _ ^

FukaiMori

The night held an air of celebration and freedom.

News had spread like wildfire through the fields and valleys of Japan: tidings that Naraku,

the most powerful and cunning of demon lords, had finally fallen. It was universally

accompanied by much rejoicing. Forest and river sprites glided through their territories,

raising their voices in choruses of praise. In human villages, mikos and priests that

realized the significance of the situation likewise rejoiced, keeping nightlong vigil in their

temples as to thank the gods for their fortune. And, somewhere in the remote wilderness,

a battle-worn half demon and his companions rested, weary, yet in peace.

But even such a mood of festivity could not penetrate the atmosphere of the dark forest, a

dense, interminable stretch of woods that had been all but forgotten by the inhabitants of

the surrounding lands. It was not surprising, seeing as no human, demon, nor beast had

dwelt there for centuries. Save for the presence of its trees and the occasional fall of an

autumn leaf, the Forest was by all means lifeless and motionless. Its natural aura was a

silent yet oppressive atmosphere that belonged solely to itself, and no other.

Yet, on that night of all nights, a solitary figure stumbled through the darkness of the

forest, footfalls echoing in the pitch silence as it trod on many seasons' worth of fallen

foliage. It moved with a slow, painful limp, keeping its balance only through leaning on a

long, silver-blue katana that it held in one hand. Had it not been in such a pitiful

condition, the figure might have been mistaken for a ghost, gliding through the darkness

clothed in white, with its silver-hued hair sweeping, veil- like, down its back. As it was,

its clothing was irreparably tattered, ripped and stained dark red in many places. From a

particularly noticeable rent on the figure's upper chest, blood still oozed slowly, trickling

down the side of an empty sleeve onto the leaves that lined the forest floor, leaving a long,

glistering trail in its wake.

It was in such a way that Lord Sesshomaru, Demon Prince of the Western Lands,

wandered aimlessly through the forest during the darkest hours before dawn, in search of

his final resting place.

As Tenseiga creaked quietly under his weight, he tried to tell himself that he did not care

about any of it, really. A demon lord did not fear death.

Yet in a far corner of his heart, there was regret that he could not even begin to admit to

himself: regret, perhaps, that he had only lived out the beginnings of what would have

proved to be a long and glorious lifespan. Slight annoyance, also, at the fact that he

would never be able to fully relish Naraku's fall, nor the role that he had played in it.

Finally, was it.sadness? Sadness that caused his already weakened heart to quail every

time the face of his young traveling company sprang to mind?

Lost in his thoughts, the demon lord hesitated briefly in his steps, and then staggered on,

his face as impassive as it always had been.

Had it been merely days ago that Naraku had reappeared from hiding? Only days since

when he had first became aware of the bold, treacherous presence to the west. To his

keen senses, it had felt like a powerful yet malignant growth, one that posed a blatant

challenge to both himself and all the free creatures that inhabited the land. He had had to

admit, though, that he had been deeply surprised by the magnitude of Naraku's demonic

energy: a power that had steadily increased during these days leading up to the battle.

It was perhaps because of this that he had felt the need for to hurry, and had consequently

thrown all his being into an all-out attempt to reach Naraku before it was too late. Rin,

and occasionally Jaken, had slept on the back of the two-headed steed when they wearied

of travel, but he himself had not stopped, neither eating nor resting.

Somewhere along the line he had became aware of the presence of his half- brother and

the humans that accompanied him everywhere. They had been well ahead of him, and

were rapidly approaching Naraku's territory. He had not made much of it them, telling

himself that the idiot was free to get himself killed if he so chose, but that in the end, it

would be he, Sesshomaru, that would defeat Naraku.

Caught up in his musings, the demon lord stumbled, and would have fallen had he not

been leaning on his sword.

How hopeful, how utterly foolish he had been.

The one brief respite during their journey had been when he spotted a limp form, lying in

a meadow at twilight. One glance had been enough to ascertain that it was Naraku's

minion, the boy who had once helped kidnapped and tried to kill Rin. Kohaku, was that

his name? Either way, he had evidently been discarded by his master. A small cut had ran

down the middle of his back, where there once had been a fragment of the Shikon jewel.

Sesshomaru's first thought had been that all this did not interest him in the least. Yet what

he had done next came as great surprise to his companions, and perhaps to himself most

of all.

He still did not know why he had done it.but Rin had been overjoyed. In a fashion

entirely different from her usual careless happiness. She had been so.solemn, yet the

glitter in her eyes told that she was more elated than she had ever been. He could not

describe it, but it remained in his mind even now: the expression on her face as he had

unsheathed Tenseiga, and swept it in one fluid motion over the boy's body.

And so he had allowed the boy to follow them, feeling that he would later be of use. It

had been almost amusing, watching Rin's delight and Jaken's confusion showing so

plainly on their faces. He did not realize then that later, Kohaku's presence would become

sometime both useful and fortuante.

For there came a time when they had finally approached Naraku's wastelands, and he had

seen that they were covered with noxious fumes and miasma that would prove painful for

a demon and fatal for a human. He had felt a sudden desire to transform, and transport

Rin as far from the place as possible (Had he been mad, to allow her to come thus far?)

However, he had to content himself with entrusting her to the boy Kohaku, who, he had

grudgingly admitted, did have some skill with the chain scythe.

She had said to him a quiet "Farewell". And at that instant he was filled with worry,

although, of course, he did not show any of it.

He realized now, that that was the last he had ever seen, and would ever see of her.

And so, with only Jaken accompanying him, he had headed into the wastelands. He had

silently cursed his fatigue then, for not even demon lords could travel at full speed for

days on end without losing some amount of strength. Even so, he had stridden serenely

through the fires and smoldering fumes as if they did not affect him in the least. He had

tried futilely to push Rin's solemn face from his mind, had tried to prevent himself from

wondering what would befall her if Naraku happened to win this last fight. She had been

still perilously close to that place, too close for him to be at ease.

How right he had been, really.

He had crossed the land with little occurrence, although he had noted the widespread

desolation, and had felt slightly disturbed because of it. Gradually, the miasma had faded,

and he had been once again conscious of Inuyasha's presence, a considerable ways ahead

of him. He remembered that he had then stepped out the patch of forest that he had been

following -

And had almost stumbled into the midst of a massive army. That, in fact, of the Leopard

Demon Clan, the rulers of the Lands to the South.

It had been an army that had evidently been summoned there by Naraku. It had also been

one that he and his late father had fought against fifty years previous. Not surprisingly,

then, a bitter enmity existed between the leopards and the entity of the Dog Demon Clan

of the Western Lands.

Which meant, he had known, that the leopard demons, as they stood now, would as soon

as kill him as look at him. The same went, probably, for his worthless brother.

And then he had realized the nature Naraku's final scheme. The leopards had been mere

mercenaries, whose task would be to keep Inuyasha occupied and thus leave the human

miko, as well as the last Shikon fragment that she still held, entirely defenseless for

Naraku'spurposes.

And as he had surveyed the leopard army once again he had realized that it consisted not

of small-fry demons, but scores upon scores of trained warriors, many who were of the

same class as Inuyasha, and, in some sparser cases, perhaps even himself.

Their purpose would not have been to merely occupy Inuyasha while Naraku took

advantage of the situation. They would have utterly annihilated him, and much more

besides.

And so there he had been, in a perfect place to take advantage of the chaos that would

have ensued. Inuyasha would have struggled with the leopards for a while, and Naraku

would have made a move for the Shikon fragment, not knowing that he, Sesshomaru,

would have been lying in wait. It would have been...the perfect trap. It had also seemed

fitting that, after having caused him years of irritation, Inuyasha would have died in order

to ensure his victory.

So why was it that this plan, infallible as it had sounded, had bothered him so much?

For in the end he had not stolen away to seek out Naraku. Leaving Jaken to cower in the

bushes, he had drawn out Toukijin, planted himself directly in front of the leopard army,

and announced his presence as Lord Sesshomaru, eldest son and heir of the late Inutaisho

of the Western Lands.

And as the leopards had fallen silent in their surprise, he had taunted them, with his face a

mask of calmness and cruelty. Does it take so many of you to take down one worthless

half-breed? He had asked. I don't suppose then, you would care to give me a try?

They had been all too happy to oblige. To them, it did not matter whether their opponent

was Inuyasha or himself: as sons of the Inutaisho, both served equally well as targets of

their hatred.

And so as they had rushed at him with yowls of rage, he had forced the image of Rin's

smiling face from his mind one last time, and had taken up his fighting stance.

The last battle of Lord of the Western Lands had been formidable. Although he wondered

vaguely whether he really had had any chance to begin with. Had the battle simply raged

on, without all unforeseen occurrences, would he have stood a chance of surviving?

Secretly, under his cold, imperturbable exterior, he had doubted it even then.

Either way, he would never find out. For, at some point into the battle, evidently under

the influence of Naraku's youki, Toukijin had turned on its master.

Before he had even been able to react, he had found himself pinned painfully against a

rock, with the once-prized demon sword embedded in his chest.

In his hand, the Tenseiga throbbed weakly, suddenly, at the memory.

He had felt Toukijin bite through flesh and bone, had felt its poison seeking into his

bloodstream, so that even as the blade had melted into a pool of blackened miasma, he

had known that he was beyond help, whether it be that of Tenseiga, or the most skilled of

demon healers.

And so he had struggled on, with Tenseiga, and with his bare claws, yet all the while

fighting a losing battle. Yet he had held valiantly to his stand, and in the end, had

managed to take down the major portion of the leopard army with him before the

remaining twoscore or so had left him for dead, and departed in search of Inuyasha. But,

as he had felt, even his useless half-breed of a brother would have been able to handle

them in such small a number.

He had not lingered long after it was all over. Long enough, of course, to ascertain that

Naraku was indeed dead, and that Inuyasha was indeed still alive. Why he had even

bothered, he did not know.

And suddenly, there, in the calm of the night, following the fall of Naraku and the

dissolution of the miasma that had covered the land, he had sensed Rin's presence,

approaching the field with a mixture of worry and expectation.

And then he had realized that he did not want her to see him in such a state, nor did he

wish for her to know that he would soon forsake her for the shadows of the afterworld.

And so he had given Jaken his last orders, and then had staggered off into the night.

Thus he came to be, there and then, in the almost pitch-dark woods, walking out the

remaining minutes of his life.

He was conscious of the passage of every second, could feel that, with every step he took,

a little bit more of his soul was trickling away from him.

Already his senses were becoming numb. The excruciating pain that had once burned

away at his body was now only a dull, distant throb. He was weary, and needed to rest.

Soon, he told himself.

With all luck, Jaken would, as instructed, tell Rin that Lord Sesshomaru had had to depart

on an unexpected journey, and that for the meantime, she would need to stick close to

Kohaku, as to be well-protected in these still dangerous times. Together they would most

likely run into to that half- breed brother of his, and those humans that he hung around

with.and Rin would live on.

She would be angry at him, would not understand his leaving. But then she would live on,

carefree, joyous, just as he had always known her. Somehow, he felt sure.

Inuyasha would probably have sensed the blood of his elder brother on the claws of the

leopard demons. He would know, but hopefully he would not reveal any of it to Rin in

some suddenly spur of idiocrity.

Rin must not know. Not yet. Not now. She must stay...happy.

A sudden, sharp, ice-cold stab of pain penetrated his chest, catching his breath and

causing him to stumble.

The forest lurched around him.

Tenseiga fell from his numb grasp as he collapsed to the forest floor, stirring up a flurry

of fallen leaves that settled gently over his clothes and hair.

Lying there on his side, he found that he could no longer move, and instead stared

blankly at the foliage on which he lay. Within seconds, it had been stained red.

A dry, curled leaf lay on top of his hand. With his last physical effort he forced his

fingers to open and grasp it gently.

Tenseiga's aura flickered, and he wondered, for the first time, whether it would disappear

along with him.

The Sword of Life, will die...

Because it was bound to him?

What power did he have, then, to bind it to him?

He did not yet understand...all that his father had meant for him to.

Life. All he knew, at the moment, was that life on earth would go on. Despite all that his

own had encompassed. The world would remain unchanged, even after the departure of

Lord Sesshomaru, Ruler of the Western Lands.

And Rin...

A cool wind passed over the forest floor, causing the layers of leaves to stir gently.

To live alone, and to die alone. Fitting for a demon lord.

And yet, he realized, he was not really alone, not as he once had been.

And as his eyelids closed wearily at last, he felt the blade of the Tenseiga splinter, to

dissolve silently into the air.

With its essence he went as well, succumbing finally to the bottomless dark, and then

surging, soaring, beyond the canopy of the forest and into the coming dawn.

He wished Rin...the best of fortunes.

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That wasn't quite so bad, was it?

Look for "Of Swords and Moon Shadows", which is a sort-of sequel.

Please give me a quick review, even if it's just a word or two...