InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Regret ❯ Chapter 1

The sky churned inward in a tumultuous wave. Dark nimbus clouds rolled and thundered threateningly across the horizon choking out the twilight while stretching its fiery fingertips to slap the surface of the seething seas. Along the shore, people scurried to and from buildings to cars and cars to buildings trying to flee the cold hard rain pelting their delicate skin. Their clothes were plastered to their flesh as the bluster of the wind chilled them to very core. The weather was unnatural for the season and as such the masses were ill equipped to protect themselves. The fact that most Southern Californian drivers automatically forget how to drive once moisture kisses the Terra Firma was just an added annoyance.

It was no night to be out and about which is why he found solace in watching nature's debacle from the comfort of his balcony. Shielded by high glass walls on each side, the weather barely touched him. The side sweep of the wind merely stirred his silvery hair across his steely golden eyes as he purveyed his surroundings with vague disinterest. The modern world was no place for his kind. Those who were left were scattered across the world bound to live in hiding or forced to assimilate into the human world. Every couple of decades it was necessary to eradicate his existence in one area and move to a place where he was unknown or time had erased all memory of him. Wealth made relocation easier and was also very effective at causing selective amnesia to those humans he had to do business with on a frequent basis.

The downpour smacked against the glass and ceiling with increasing ferocity, swelling like the waves in his ears. If a person's mood could affect the weather, nights like these would be as frequent as a heartbeat. Foul weather brought some comfort but still, there was no chill that could affect his demeanor. Due to his lack of passion at describing his state of being the only word that he could muster was that he was a void inside. Any sense of emotional connection with the world had died along with her all those centuries ago. Time is a fickle companion for an immortal, whereas a decade can pass like a moment, memories on the other hand can remain quite vivid, and a nagging reminder of things you would rather forget but cannot. Those flickers of the past can haunt a soul more than any of the atrocities one might say he committed in his lifetime.

“I would say you should come back in to the warmth of the house, my Lord, but I doubt my words would do no more than fall on deaf ears.”

With cane in hand, an old and tired Jaken slowly walked out onto the balcony and stood beside his master looking up at him with jaundiced eyes. “You'll be pleased to know that everything is unpacked and put away to your liking. It will be nice to be able to settle down and be comfortable for a few decades again. The move from Tokyo was very strenuous on me.”

“When do my brother and his brood arrive?”

Jaken sat down in a child's patio chair and gazed out on the horizon. “Your brother and his wife arrive next week, but his children have decided to stay behind. Inuyasha didn't protest too much. Their bloodline is so diluted that any features they may possess are hardly noticeable to human eyes.”

“What of my mother?”

“According to her companion she left London a few days ago, so I expect we'll receive a message from her soon.”

Jaken let silence resume between them. His eyes were not what they once were, but after standing by his master for so many years he had come to know the subtle differences of his Lord's moments of silence. As time had continued to move on, his master's thoughts lingered more and more on a rather sore subject. At first Jaken had ignored his Lord's brooding figuring it was the most polite thing he could do. After a few decades he then wept for the sorrow he could not express. After a couple of centuries he tried to ask questions hoping his master might divulge his grief so that he may feel some sort of peace. Now he just voiced the facts as he understood them and continued to leave the door open for his Lord to share his thoughts.

“It's the anniversary of her death,” Jaken stated quietly.

His master's eyes narrowed slightly a blatant warning that the subject was not favorable, but the shriveled up toad had long since stopped flinching at his threats. He was far too old as it was that if his Lord killed him now it would be a blessing.

“I can still remember how annoying that girl was when she traveled with us. Always scampering off when you left me to watch her. That girl I'm certain was trying to get me in trouble!” Jaken whined in his nasally voice. “Then after all you did for, after all the times you saved her life how does she repay you? She stays with that old human woman with hardly a fare thee well!”

His Lord slowly closed his eyes. It was better that he remember her when she was still a little girl, because the memories of her womanhood were just too much to bear. So many people were blamed for what happened, but in truth there was no one who could assume total responsibility. Still, his master carried the burden of her death more acutely than anyone. Most everyone else had died long ago allowing them to shed their guilt with the grave, but his Lord was not to be that fortunate.

“Leave me, Jaken.”

He rarely ever had to speak loudly. Something in his tone was deafening. His long time servant sighed in resignation and slowly rose from his seat. With a final sorrowful glance at his master the old demon went inside and shut the glass door behind him. For years now the little imp had tried to get him to expound on his thoughts regarding his Rin, but his memories were all he had left of her. He could not share that. Besides, he had made a promise to her than to himself.

 

“I told you once before, that she could not be saved again by Tensaiga.”

His mother glared at him with traces of disdain from her high perch at the top of the stairs. In his arms he carried her limp and bloodied body. In his hands he clenched the fabric of her kimono, a gift from him not six moons prior. The last gift he had given her. The last time he had seen her radiant with health and happiness.

“You can save her with your amulet, I know you can!” He growled.

“Ugh!” She scoffed, “You and your father! Both of you groveling and pining for a human whelp! I told you not to expect me to save her again, yet here you are in desperation. I warned you all those years ago about having compassion. Did you listen? Did you think I was being humorous? Did you think it did not apply to the great Lord Sesshoumaru? If you held her in such high regard you should have kept her sacred instead of letting your damnable pride rule you. So don't bark at me for what has happened to her!”

His eyes narrowed to deadly slits and he pierced his mother with a glare that had sent most everyone fleeing from him. The woman merely laughed.

“I gave you that glare, Sesshoumaru! Do not think that you can use it to influence me,” She sat up from her lounging repose and considered her son. So much of his father was in him, she wondered if he truly was a child of her loins.

“Set her down before me.”

Lord Sesshoumaru walked forward and gently laid the woman's body on the ground. The time he took to place the body showed such reverence for her that his mother felt greatly annoyed. She was to closely reminded of how her supposed “mate” forsook her to worship a human woman. Still, as a mother she was not inclined to see her only son suffer and there was no other woman demon or otherwise who would have him. Beggars could not be choosers.

“Are you prepared for the choice you are about to make?”

His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.

“You know what life she wanted to lead with you. Can you give that to her now?”

Silence.

“Ask yourself this, my son. Do you save her because you cannot live with the guilt of her dying? Or do you save her because you cannot live without her?”

“What does it matter?” He grounded out.

His mother glanced at her nails with a bored expression.

“It doesn't matter to me. I could care less if she lives or dies, but the amulet asks,” She explained blandly, “and I'm certain it matters to her. So my son what is it to be? Will you give her the life she wants or will you have her continue to lead her life of sorrow for your own selfish desires?”

Still he met the question with silence, but his mother did not halt her actions. She laid the amulet on the dead woman's chest and leaned back. Sesshoumaru held his breath as he waited for the talisman to work.

Nothing happened.

“That's interesting,” His mother commented.

She took up her amulet and returned to relaxing in the luxury of her plush throne.

“Rin? Rin!” He shook her dead body trying to jolt a response.

“You're wasting your time, my son. Her soul did not return.”

He stood drawing his sword.

“Do you think it was my will that kept her from returning, Sesshoumaru?”

“What happened?”

His mother looked at her son, a slight smile at the edges of her lips. Her son was not going to like her answer.

“She's moved on, my son.”

His hand fell away from his sword and he sank down to the ground before his precious Rin. He had lost her. Somehow in that moment he knew his heart had stopped beating. She had filled the abyss inside him, now she was gone. With all his strength and all his power he was completely helpless to try and save her. Slowly he rose to his feet, her cold lifeless flesh in his arms. Though his entire body was numb he steadfastly walked down the stairs and headed towards his home so she could receive a proper memorial. He could hear his mother's voice calling out to him, but her words were just noise in his ears. The whole world became a lackluster blur and all the sounds around him became nonsensical mutterings.

 

The storm was in full throttle now. It was definitely no time to be out in the open. Silently the great Lord Sesshoumaru opened the door and stepped into his new residence. Like most of the other places he lived in there was a very minimalistic quality to the décor that most would say was fashionably posh, but what it really reflected was the absence of heart. Without a goodnight or even a single command the once powerful youkai strode down the hallway to his suite.

On the side wall of his room was a glass enclosure where inside was a decorative outfit from the Sengoku period in Japan. Next to the case there was a shrine like table that held up two ancient swords. On the other wall of the room there was a display that didn't seem to quite fit the rest of the pieces. In the case was a worn woman's yukata, decorated with orange and tan squares with little green circlets. To a collector the piece would have little value to the collection, but each night no matter where he lies for the night it is always the last thing he looks upon before drifting off to sleep.