InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Pinkie Swear ❯ Breathe ( Chapter 3 )

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“Breathe for me Rin! Breathe! Don’t give up; focus on my eyes, my face. Good girl,” Sesshoumaru urged in a tight, controlled tone.

The deep brown eyes of the little girl he’d saved by chance were once again clouding over with death’s touch.

“Rin is…a good girl?” she asked haltingly, fighting desperately to remain by his side, to remain in the ruined confines of her small body.

“You have always been a good girl,” he told her gently, cradling her body against his, uncaring that her red blood was staining his white silk clothing.

“Rin–” she started, but a wet cough tore her next words to shreds as she choked on the blood pooling in her lungs.

“Do not try to talk. Just breathe. Continue to breathe, to live! We are almost to the healer’s–”

“Sesshoumaru-sama?” she interrupted him as if to say something important, but her eyes were unfocused and she was looking beyond his shoulder as if she saw something or someone standing there that she recognized.

Her next word tore his heart to shreds.

“Mama?” Rin called softly to the person he could not see. Then louder, “Mama!”
The sense of Rin’s presence within her body faded alarmingly as the little girl reached out to the ones waiting for her on the other side.

“Mama!” Rin exhaled with relief and joy, her voice so full of tender love that immediately Sesshoumaru’s insides twisted viciously with jealousy.

She has never called his name that way.

The little girl began to struggle feebly in his arms, her soul struggling to free itself of its heavy fleshy bonds. Tightening his grip on Rin, he reached over and touched the hilt of Tessaiga, looking up to behold the sight of a transparent Rin burying her face in her mother’s skirt as the woman’s spirit and Rin’s clung to each other. Surrounding the pair was what seemed to be the father, a male sibling, and a plethora of other relatives.

And on each and every face was the same rapturous joy that illuminated Rin’s.

“Welcome home,” they whispered seductively to the little girl’s spirit, reaching out to warm her with their touch, to comfort her as Rin wept with the sheer enormity of her emotions.

Anguish curled through his insides at the thought of losing her. Selfishness crept through his being like a cancerous rot; and he found himself unable to simply let her go; even if it was to the family who deserved to be with her more than he ever would.

Biting his lip so hard it bled, he turned his face in towards Rin’s, pressing his warm cheek against her cool one.

“You promised!” he cried brokenly in an almost sob. “You promised me forever, Rin!”

He bowed his head, hiding his crimson tears, burrowing his nose into the fading fragrance of her hair.

“Don’t leave me…” he pleaded, beyond caring that he was showing weakness.

A phantom touch brushed across his hair, and he looked up, startled. Her serious dark eyes regarded him somber dignity as her spirit stood eye to eye with him. In the background, the voices of her loved ones called to her, but she ignored them, peering deep into his soul.

She smiled at him the same way she had at their first encounter, not so long ago.

“Good bye,” she whispered without taking her eyes from his; but her words were not for him.

The sense of the other spirits faded until she was all he could see. Beneath his hand, Tensaiga gave a throbbing pulse, and suddenly he knew that she was waiting for him to call her back, to anchor her to this world before the next one snatched her away.

“Rin,” he said her name with all the authority he could muster. “Breathe!”

She did.

Coughing up blood and sputtering, her limp body came alive as the spirit of Rin re-inhabited it. Immediately, her bright dark eyes clouded over with the terrible pain, her face skewing up in a grimace. She whimpered, softly, as he jostled her slightly.

“Stay with me,” he implored her. “We’re almost there.”

“Ah!” she cried as he landed roughly, sacrificing grace for speed.

“Rin…” he said disbelievingly, glimpsing the real depth of her wound for the first time.

Impossible. She shouldn’t be alive. But she was. Enduring the pain. Because he’d called her back.

Rin.

He let the hanyou healer take Rin from him, surrendering the little girl to the gentle giant’s expert care. Normally, any association with a hanyou would have made him sneer in arrogant superiority, but this time, he was the one helpless to save Rin, and the hanyou was the one who could.

He swallowed his pride. And entered the dwelling of the hanyou and his human mother.
Tucking himself out of the way in the corner, he watched with avid eyes as the hanyou smeared Rin’s wounds with a dark, foul smelling grease, then set the mixture on fire, cauterizing the wounds.

His fingers flexed with the urge to rip the hanyou apart as Rin’s anguished screams filled the air. He had to remind himself that the hanyou did know what he was doing.

He could not bear Rin’s pain for her. But he could watch; watch and remember that a small, human, girl child–someone he had always considered weak–was actually strong enough to continue living by a sheer act of will alone. Who was fighting, even now, to remain here when her loved ones were all gone, because he had asked it of her.

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Rin’s recovery was slow. Her mobility and movement were limited by the stitching that held the long ugly wound along her side closed.

For several days after the hanyou had declared her fit to travel, Rin would tire easily and be content to ride Ahun rather than frolic about collecting flowers and wild edibles.

Every day, Sesshoumaru brought her food to eat when she was hungry. Every day, he made sure there was a roof over her head, a soft, warm place for her to sleep. Every day, he noted the slow and steady process of her healing.

He even paid for her to bathe in a public bath house so that, with assistance, she could be clean.

One day, she paused, looked him square in the eye, and spoke with all the irritation and frustration a stifled little girl can feel.
“Rin’s tired of human villages! Rin’s going to hunt lizards and mushrooms in the forest.”
“No,” he responded immediately. “You need food and shelter and clean clothing. You’re too small to be wandering the woods alone.”

She stamped her small foot, glared back at him, and argued with him.

“Rin can take care of herself!”

“No you can’t,” he countered, striving for logic and patience. All he could see, all he could picture, was her lying in her own pool of blood, left for dead by one of the forest youkai. “Don’t you remember how close you came to dying?”

“But that was forever an’ ever ago! Rin wants to go play now!”

“No!” he commanded her, a slight tinge of panic to his voice.
“Why? Rin’s always goes and plays by herself!”

“Because the forest is dangerous. I forbid you to go.”

“Rin’s not afraid,” she protested with confidence.

“You should be,” he corrected her harshly.

“No! Rin’s not afraid! You always come and rescue Rin!”

“I won’t always be there to rescue you, Rin,” he tried to explain, tried to make her understand why without having to admit that he worried about her.

She shrugged as if his argument was nothing. “Sesshoumaru-sama always comes,” she stared fervently.

He resisted the strong urge to scream at her and tear out his hair. He strived for a calm façade.

“Rin, don’t you remember how much it hurt? How much pain and blood there was? That happened because I didn’t get there in time. Don’t you understand?”

“Sesshoumaru-sama came,” she shot back with childish simplicity. “Rin calls your name and you always come.”

“Rin…you almost died…almost left this world–”

“You called me back,” she interrupted. “Rin didn’t leave.”

“This once–”

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” she said his name reprovingly. She continued, talking loud and slow, as if that would make him understand. “Rin calls ‘Sesshoumaru-sama!’ and Sesshoumaru-sama comes. When you call ‘Rin!’ then Rin comes.”

He stared down at her, his frown deep and serious. “It’s not that simple, Rin.”

She sighed and threw up her hands like her mother used to do when her brother was being stubborn.

“There will come a time when you won’t be able to answer, Rin–” he started through gritted teeth, his irritation and anxiety over her safety finally wearing down his self control.

“Rin will always answer. Rin promised.”

“Rin–”

“Rin promised. Rin. Will. Always. Come.”

“You can’t be sure–”

Rin sighed again, as if she truly had expected better from him.

“Rin is sure,” she told him patiently.

He looked down at her, at the determination shining in those deep brown eyes, and remembered watching her fight to stay with him as the healer tried to patch enough of her body together again to keep her alive.

Rationally, he knew that there was no way a small child like her could make such a guarantee. But he had seen her strength; her unyielding will; and instinctively, he knew that he could trust her words.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He locked the clamoring of his worry behind the iron wall of his will. Then he listened, very quietly, to the whisper of his heart.

“Do you promise?” Sesshoumaru asked her, his own expression grave, his body tensed for her answer. “Do you promise never to leave me?”

“Yes.”

Her response came instantly, easily. She smiled up at him with obvious affection. Then she reached out, tentatively, and offered him her hand. He was still for a moment longer, his tall form easing as his shoulders slumped slightly. Then, with hesitant fingers, he encircled her hand with his.

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