InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Ribbons Undone ❯ Scroll One ( Chapter 1 )

Ribbons Undone

 

Disclaimer: In which I try to wittily phrase my lack of ownership to the anime/manga series I am using as a basis for this sad tale.

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Scroll One

 

Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring. ---Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

 

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“You look nervous,” the woman mocked.

 

The young man jolted from his seat and looked to his newly arrived guest. She gave a wry smile and let him help remove her wool coat. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he carried it to the nearest coat-hook before returning to the table. They took their seats together.

 

“You look like you know what type of toothpaste I prefer, or some other horribly obscure personal detail,” he laughed. He sighed and fished through his pockets out of lack of anything better to do. “Like a cat that just got into the cream,” he added lamely.

 

“Ah, but you don't strike me as a cat person,” she said, waggling her finger at him.

 

“No,” he snorted, “definitely a dog person.”

 

She had not forgotten how the roles had been switched the day before. Not many people approached her with the boldness he had possessed. Somehow he knew who she was, and not who she was supposed to be.

 

In her past lives, she had been many things that were herself and not herself. Her first job was a healer for a village. An old miko had witnessed her knowledge of plants and took her in as an apprentice. When the miko died, she moved to midwifery exclusively, and the cruel irony was not lost on her. She became a fisher when she thought the shore was the best place to live, and became a potter when she got sick of tasting salt all day long. She spent some years moving up and down the country, going from one eating establishment to the next as a waitress or a cook; very often she did both. She tried working in a tea house but couldn't stomach the clientele. When she got bored, she went to work in a factory doing mindless, repetitive tasks which suited her just fine. She moved to the United States for awhile and went to school, getting her Bachelor's in Botany and half-heartedly attempting a degree in literature. When she came back to Japan, she finished a Ph.D. in Botany, published two volumes of poetry under an assumed name, and opened a small greenhouse where she sold rare and exotic plants.

 

After 500 years, what else better was there to do?

 

People knew her under these names and these lives. She guarded her true identity at all costs. Somehow, this young man had found it out. Usually her suspicion and sense of self-preservation would have her tongue hacking the mysterious informant to shreds and running for the hills, but that day she was lonely. It had been far too long since she had shared the company of a male. It had been far too long since she had shared the company of anyone who was genuine. It was about time for a change, anyway.

 

They crossed paths at a little sidewalk café that she used to frequent. She had been edgy that week, and hoped the groove of an old routine would support her wandering mind. He had started going there recently; it was the perfect environment to write in. The day was sunny and not too cold with a wool coat on. Their tables mirrored one another. She thought perhaps he was trying to pick her up, until he dropped her real name.

 

Instead of running, she allowed herself to be caught. Age makes even the best chameleon sloppy. He was cute, and said he'd pay.

 

Before any awkward informalities could commence, their waiter swooped in and demanded requests for beverages. The young man nodded with approval when the woman asked for coffee, and requested the same for himself. Today they were inside because of the snow. Winter was picking up in momentum, and Tokyo in January could be quite bitter, in many ways. He found an uneasy calm staring into the white static falling past the windows. It gave a sort of snow-globe-in-reverse effect to the whole scene. Had he not been so unsure of himself, he would have told her his witty observation. Pity, because she would have laughed.

 

They waited in silence, eyes darting about the restaurant anxiously, until two white mugs brimming with java were placed on the table. Now free of distractions, the young man cleared his throat and turned to speak.

 

“I'm sorry for being so jumpy,” he apologized, shakily holding his cup underneath his lips. “I've never met anyone from a legend before.” His poorly matched tweed sports coat spoke of his bachelorhood; the backwards baseball cap on his head spoke of poor breeding. She had recognized him as youkai at once—no human had naturally white hair, ruddy eyes, and fangs peeking out of the corners of his mouth.

 

The woman laughed and crossed her legs. Her panty hose were black, which provided a racy contrast to her red pumps. “That's funny,” she snidely remarked, “I've never met a youkai concerned with human fairy tales.” Her nails were short and stubby, but painted red in attempt to hide the fact she'd been biting them recently. Her dress was black, but cut conservatively—she was young, but not callow any more.

 

“But it's not a fairy tale,” the man insisted. “It's true! You're living proof of it!”

 

The woman rolled her eyes. She seemed to contemplate her own existence for a moment before raising the coffee to her lips and sipping gently at the beverage. Coffee always knew the right thing to say.

 

“Let me tell you something,” she coolly began, looking at him from under hooded eyelids, “truth in fairy tales is different than truth in real life. In fairy tales, people always live happily ever after. But if you were to find one of those people, and question them after the fact, I'm sure they'd still have a bone to pick. Fairy tales must end, and real life takes over at some point.”

 

“But how often does one get the chance to find out what happened?” the man countered with excitement. “How many heroes and heroines do we get to interview in our lifetimes?” He twisted his napkin and leaned towards her with a broad grin.

 

The woman frowned. Her lips were coated in a beige gloss with tiny, shimmering flecks inside its viscous hold. “Firstly, I am no heroine, and secondly,” she snapped angrily, “you're missing the whole point of the legend altogether.”

 

The man furrowed his brow and cringed slightly. “I'm afraid I don't know what you mean,” he defended. He loosened his navy blue tie.

 

“The legend of the Shikon no Tama is not about just one hero, or just one ending,” the woman explained curtly. “In fact, it's not even a legend. It's true, and what makes it true are the people woven into the story. The hanyou, the priestess and her reincarnation, the cursed monk, the orphaned kitsune, the taijiya siblings---”

 

“—the inuyoukai nobleman,” the young man interrupted.

 

The woman set her jaw into a frown, and waited to see if she could continue without another interjection. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat poignantly. “Those who wish to cheapen its legacy by confining it into chapters with an unbending plot know nothing of what it means to be `epic'.”

 

“Epic?” the young man queried, hugging the coffee cup with both hands. It was a term he'd never given much thought to in his writing, and now he was kicking himself for it.

 

“Epic, immortal, tested across all cultures to be true and genuine,” the woman explained, waving her hands. “All good stories have elements that you're familiar with—that you've heard before elsewhere. But epic stories have the greater good at heart. The boy doesn't get the girl without any small sacrifice. He has to quest for her, defeat dragons, save countless other lives, and even then there's no guarantee that he'll survive. Very often he gives his life to save her, or she will do the same for him. In the end, goodness must be preserved for the universe in order for it to be epic and only those slated to be heroes can do it.”

 

He frowned. “I still don't understand what you mean.”

 

She sighed impatiently and tapped her fingernail against her teeth as she tried to translate the fabric of her life into a simple analogy.

 

“When you look in the mirror, which I assume you do from time to time despite being a male, do you see the mirror looking back or yourself?”

 

The young man pondered for a minute, trying to soak in the obvious meaning of her words. She was really stripping his intellectual ego down to the bones, but he supposed he deserved it coming in as unprepared as he did.

 

“I see myself,” he answered carefully.

 

“And I see the mirror,” she replied coolly. “There are some of us whose lives are not our own. Destiny owns us, and no matter what we do she will have us in the game of her choosing until we die. Such is the fate of those who interfered with the Shikon no Tama. Exposure to a sacred jewel doesn't come without a price. And without the jewel there would be no greater good to be preserved. There's no fence sitting; you have to know which side you're on early in the game or you're doomed.” She grinned and chewed thoughtfully on her fingernail, waiting to jump back into the ring in their battle of wits.

 

The young man cleared his throat and set his cup down. “You'll have to excuse me then,” he floundered, “I'm only a historian. I'm not much of a classic literature buff.”

 

“Which does not make your interest in the legend of the Shikon no Tama make any sense,” the woman countered. “Everything that happens in the story defies fact. I've read books by historians who say that Naraku was a political terrorist trying to make a name for himself, much like Oda Nobunaga. They cannot fathom the idea of a man who had his soul devoured by youkai while destroying the country in search of a piece of jewelry. Can you? Youkai are restricted to fairy tales in this country. You understand.”

 

“Which is why I'm not interested in what they say happened,” he explained, “only in what really happened. That's why I searched for you. That's why I need you. That's why I invited you here: to set the story straight.”

 

“Alright,” she shrugged, “where do you want me to start?”

 

The young man laughed heartily. “Why, at the beginning of course!”

 

The woman shook her head patiently. “You have to understand, I wasn't in it from the beginning. I didn't join until later on, and even then I wasn't really a part of the actual quest. I didn't know all of the characters either; maybe a handful well enough to recount. I'm pretty sure the ones I do know well aren't worth your knowing at all.”

 

“That's still better than nothing,” the man continued to laugh. “After all, I think you're the only person who was part of this story still alive today.”

 

The cup jostled in the woman's hands. “Really?” she tried to say nonchalantly. Still, the pain and loneliness was obvious in her eyes.

 

The man faltered. “Well, yes actually,” he stammered. “I've looked all over, for many years. You're the only one I've been able to turn up.”

 

“Oh,” the woman sighed sadly. For a moment she looked away, and he wondered whom she could be missing.

 

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, reaching a hand forward to hold hers.

 

She jerked away and smiled once again. “It doesn't matter,” she chortled. “I'd long resolved myself to that fate anyway. It's the price of being a `living legend', as you put it. Like I said before, Destiny is in control. Now that I know I'm the only one left for sure, I guess I'd better make my story more entertaining to make up for it. You'll have to fill in the arguments of how I got things all wrong on your own.”

 

Sighing, the young man reached into his pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen. Flipping open to the first page, he scanned his list of prepared questions and cleared his throat.

 

“Alright, Narita-sama,” he barked officially, “I'd like to ask---”

 

“Rin,” she interrupted.

 

“Excuse me?” the man choked.

 

“Call me Rin,” she insisted, smiling politely over her coffee cup. “The `-sama' never suited me anyway.”

 

“O-okay,” the man stammered. “Rin.”

 

She nodded.

 

“I'd like to ask you a few questions pertaining to the legend of the Shikon no Tama,” he began once more.

 

“Sounds good,” Rin replied, leaning back. “What's the first question?”

 

The young man straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “The first question,” he repeated lamely. “How did you get involved in this quest?”

 

Rin laced her fingers together and placed them under her chin. “It all started,” she began with a wry grin, “on the day I died.”

 

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She was lying in a puddle of blood—her own blood she quickly discovered. Rin realized in terror that the light whip must have cut through her body as well. She had gotten caught in the crossfire...

 

Rin opened her eyes and heaved a shivering sigh. Of all of her nightmares, that was certainly not the worst one. It was however one of the many she had catalogued in the back of her mind that kept repeating itself. Sleep had become something exhausting because of these midnight images haunting her dreams; she would awake and feel exhausted from them. Sometimes, she would forgo sleep altogether and keep plodding on down the road. It never mattered. They would find her again wherever she stopped.

 

Grimacing, she rolled over into the dirt. It was cold and grimy, like dirt was supposed to be. Rin smiled bitterly at her strange affirmation of reality. She could always trust dirt to be there when she needed it. It meant that the dreams were over, and the waking world was waiting to be explored once more. She dug her nails into the solid earth and knew everything was as it should be.

 

It had rained in the night, but only a gentle drizzle it seemed. Next to where Rin was sitting was a small puddle. It was the dirt trying to look back at her. The girl did her best to avoid looking in the water as she stood up. Reflections were a difficult thing for her to handle these days. After Naraku, she just didn't look the same. The person she saw was someone she didn't even recognize; Rin knew she was looking at herself, but she did not want to believe it. Her bare foot splashed in the puddle, and Rin heaved a sigh of relief. Saved from that mess.

 

Her hair was matted and dirty from lying in the mud. This morning she would have to leave it in its braid from the night before until she found a place to take a bath. No one was around to see, but she didn't feel self-conscious to begin with. Very rarely in her life had Rin cared about her appearance in regards to what other people thought of it. To begin with, there were never other people there that would care. Jake thought she was ugly no matter what, and told her so every day. It was comforting in an odd sort of way, because at least Rin knew the toad had given it some thought. Every morning he seemed to re-evaluate her, and end up deciding that she was just as ugly that day as she had been the day before. Change was something that Rin did not get along with.

 

It had been the third week straight she had spent sleeping on the ground. Traveling with Sesshomaru had hardened her to this, but lately she had been accustomed to having a shelter over her head. As much as she hated to admit it, she had become quite spoiled by the hut, even though it wasn't much to get excited over. It barely deserved to be called a hut at all. Now that the winter had passed, there was no reason to stay any longer. She packed up what little she had in order to survive and began trekking down the road.

 

Rin never looked back.

 

The sky was still dark; it was at that eerie time when neither the sun nor the moon hung in the firmament above, yet the air itself seemed to generate its own illumination. Rin stretched her arms above her head, surveying the forest for any threats. The silence that greeted her was disconcerting; Rin found herself dearly wishing for Jaken's shrill voice to break through the veil surrounding her and ring in her ears in the form of some insult. It was funny, because of all the things she missed being away from Sesshomaru, Jaken certainly wasn't at the top of the list.

 

I bet he's grooming Aun right now, she thought muzzily, and muttering all kinds of foul things under his breath about everything and nothing.

 

Smiling, Rin decided that was a good enough image to start the day with and turned towards the clearing in the wood. If all went right, she could make it to a village in two days time. There was no big hurry; she had enough food left to last for a week. Frugality was something she had learned from her mother. Still, the possibility of another night in a hut was appealing enough to put some speed in her heels. Winters spent growing up with Sesshomaru had taught her to take the random villages passed for granted. It was still awkward for her to associate with humans for an extended time, mainly because it reminded her of her own humanity for a change. With Sesshomaru, it was easy to forget who she was.

 

Rin walked briskly this morning, feeling the dream still fresh in her mind and breathing down her neck. It wasn't her death in the dream that bothered her; death ceased being frightening when she awoke from its grasp as a child. But seeing Kanna again, with her blank gaze and empty voice, always stirred her soul to curl into itself and hide. The youkai's whispered declaration drummed again and again inside Rin's skull like a reprimand. She was defenseless now as she was then to its truth:

 

You are already dead. You are already dead. You are already dead.

 

Rin shivered and clutched her arms to her chest.

 

Sesshomaru pivoted on his heel and began to walk away.

 

With quicker steps, Rin hoped to put another day's distance between herself and the past.

 

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“Get up, you lazy brat!” Jaken shouted irately. “The master says it's time for us to leave!”

 

Rin heaved a sigh of regret. Sesshomaru had yet to say more than, “We're going,” to her in almost a month. She was quickly tiring of Jaken being her master's messenger. She also had a secret fear that she wasn't getting all of the words intended to her.

 

Jaken didn't help much either. After ten years Rin had still not acclimated herself to the squawking commands that greeted her nearly every single morning.

 

As was her routine, Rin unknotted the simple braid she had plaited the night before and combed her fingers through her long, walnut hair. Picking out a lock from the right side of her head, Rin used the ribbon she had formerly contained her braid with to hold a limp ponytail. No longer was it the stubby tuft sticking out from the days of her youth, yet Rin could not abandon this hairstyle. It was all she had leftover from her past in the village, and her family. Rin wasn't sure why this still mattered to her, but something about it was reassuring. It was silly, and childish, but it was still her.

 

“Stop primping and get a move on!” Jaken ordered testily. “You still need to groom Aun.”

 

“Hai, Hai, Jaken-sama,” Rin chirped. At least Aun would be happy to see her. The dragon had instantly attached itself to her from the moment they met, and they had looked out for one another ever since.

 

The sun was beginning to rise directly ahead. She could see the frost start melting off of the grass. This year's winter was surprisingly mild, but it still was not over. Spring could not come soon enough; then the flowers would be out and Rin would be in her element once more. She thought flowers to be the cleverest of all living things. Their ability to lie dormant under the earth, and then burst through the soil to brightly shine for a whole season mesmerized her. Flowers only appeared to die, but every spring their charade was revealed for all to see.

 

Flowers, she philosophized to herself at a very young age, are stars on earth.

 

Rin knew a lot about stars. She had used them to guide her path when left to travel alone. She traced lines between them with her eyes as a form of entertainment during long and lonely nights. Once, she had tried to count them, but realized she didn't know very many numbers.

 

Stars filled her eyes with wonder, and made her feel very, very small.

 

Flowers on the other hand could be touched and held. Their number didn't matter, because there would always be more waiting underneath the ground. She could use them as a guide too, because she knew the different flowers that only grew certain times of year and in certain regions. Rin didn't know the proper names for many of the plants she encountered, so she made them up. She could tell which plants could heal, and which ones were poisonous. She knew which ones smelled the best, or could be used for cooking. For lacking a formal education, Rin was impressed with her own ability to retain a vast resource of knowledge about plants.

 

Sesshomaru had paid no mind to any of Rin's interests, which left her plenty of creative leeway. While she would have wished at times to know the real answers to some of her questions, always later would she realize that truth is not always as entertaining as fiction. Besides, that way she could know something that even the great Sesshomaru didn't know, and if he wanted to he'd have to learn it from her. Once she'd tried to teach him about the merits of her favorite blossom, but he seemed otherwise occupied in staring off into the distance as he was prone to do. But he never told her to be quiet, or to stop.

 

“Good morning!” she chirped as she bound towards Aun. But her eyes were trained on her master, standing merely a stone's throw away with his back turned.

 

“I hope it will be warm today,” Rin continued to the dragon, but not to the dragon. “Do you think we'll have good weather? I know you are so jumpy when it's about to rain.”

 

Ah snorted and drew his head upright in order to nibble playfully on the top of Rin's head. Un swiveled his neck to the side and under one of Rin's arms, prompting her into petting him.

 

Rin laughed cheerily. “You are so spoiled!” she mock scolded, trying to sound serious but failing before the attempt. She pushed the Ah's head away and slipped a rope around Un's neck. Then she led the dragon down to the river.

 

Being covered with scales, Aun merely required a wash with a wet rag every morning in order to be ready for his tack. If he wasn't bathed, the blanket tended to dry out his skin and make it flake off and shed. This would leave the dragon particularly tender, and he would not be able to be ridden for days. Rin was always careful to take care that this did not happen to Aun, as she depended on him a great deal for her own transportation. However she also cared deeply for the creature, and her whole heart went into every second of help she gave.

 

“Where are we going today?” she mused quietly, more to herself than to the dragon. She dipped the cloth into the river and wrung it out in her hands. Blankly she began stroking down Aun's side, moving with the fall of the scales.

 

They had been heading south-west for quite some time now. The final battle with Naraku had taken them to the northern-most point of the country, but that had been six years ago. Sesshomaru had seemed content to take his time moving down the East coast, but his mind changed dramatically when he passed Inuyasha's village. There had been an argument between the brothers, but over what Rin could not be sure. Whatever the case, Sesshomaru had returned to his faithful companions with blood-stains on his clothes and at the corner of his mouth, and declared authoritatively that they would be heading West to stay. It was the year of Rin's tenth birthday, a milestone marker in her young life.

 

Now sixteen, Rin was well-accustomed to this roaming lifestyle. It pleased her greatly, just as it seemed to please her master.

 

Aun seemed to sense Rin's lack of presence and decided to bring her back. With a sudden whip of his tail, the dragon splashed water on his mistress across her back. Rin squealed in protest.

 

“That was mean!” she chided, laughing. She took a moment to wring out her hair, and then her clothes as best as she could. “I know, I know, it's my fault,” she grumbled. “I should know better than to not pay attention to you.”

 

Un grunted in agreement, while Ah snorted a hearty, Serves you right.

 

Rin picked up the rag and wrung it out. “Nothing personal,” she sighed, “I just seem to day dream a lot these days. I'm sorry.”

 

The girl resumed washing the dragon with intent focus, but said nothing. When she had finished, she morosely led him back to camp.

 

“Ack! What have you done to yourself?” Jaken demanded as Rin cleared the top of the hill.

 

“Aun decided I needed a bath too,” Rin pouted, shooting the dragon a mischievous glare.

 

“Your chores are not playtime!” the toad fussed. “You're old enough and should know better! Besides, that cold water could make you sick, and god knows we don't need that!”

 

“Yes, yes, Jaken-kaa-san,” Rin teased.

 

The toad puffed up indignantly. “I am not your mother!” he screeched. “You take that back, ungrateful whelp! I'm not concerned for you in the least. I'm merely worried about you slowing our benevolent master down, as well should you be. I honestly don't know why he's kept you this long.”

 

“Enough!” Rin shouted, stomping her foot down. She could take the constant nagging and scolding, but whenever the topic of her staying with Sesshomaru was brought up, Rin ended it as abruptly as it started.

 

Jaken had learned this though, and would often use it to seal an argument in his favor. He watched the girl forcibly tack up the dragon with a sly grin.

 

“It's getting colder, brat,” he muttered under his breath. “Who knows if this is the year he really leaves you?”

 

Without thinking, Rin shot an arm to the ground, picked up the nearest rock, and hurled it at Jaken. The projectile landed squarely in the middle of Jaken's forehead, knocking off his hat and sending him to the ground on his back.

 

It felt good, at least a little bit, to see the slimy toad in pain. There was still the gentle side of Rin that cringed each time she raised her hand against any living creature. When she was hunting for food, it wasn't as bad because she could justify her actions in the name of survival. But beating up Jaken served no greater purpose, and already she could hear herself in her head berating her haste actions.

 

While indignant over the indignity inflicted, Jaken knew better than to pursue the topic further. Though he would never admit it aloud, it pained him to see the child pushed to her breaking point. It held the same connotation to him as snapping the stem of a newly bloomed flower, or holding a butterfly's wings between his claws. It wasn't like he wanted her to stay, but he didn't exactly want her to go either. She was quite useful when she wasn't playing around. And it could be supposed she was good company.

 

Jaken dusted himself off and walked away, grumbling to himself about going soft.

 

“Stupid human!” he shot bitterly over his shoulder as he disappeared from view.

 

“Watch that I don't send you flying with my foot next time!” Rin warned.

 

It surprised her to feel the hot tears running down her face. It also made her angry with herself for getting so worked up.

 

He can't leave me! she consoled herself. Why would he? I've been with him for so long, wouldn't he have left me behind in the beginning if he really wanted to do it?

 

It had been difficult in that first winter when Sesshomaru left Rin on her own on the outskirts of that village. True, she had been let on her own in human villages before, but it was always to gather supplies for herself, and she never stayed longer than a few hours. If she was to stay for a season, she had to fit in seamlessly. She had carefully concocted her own background story, of how she was traveling and got separated from her family, and they would surely find her here if she just waited long enough. It had worked for her in the last village she had lived in, right after she lost her family. The bandits made sure there was nothing left to salvage, so Rin arrived as an orphaned urchin who barely spoke. Everything was comfortable until people from her old home migrated in after picking up their pieces. Rin's old neighbors revealed her as a liar, telling everyone each grisly detail of her family's deaths. Luckily the villagers took pity on her, but she always remained wary of them. Time proved her suspicions to be valid. No one trusted her after that. She stopped talking altogether. The people were disturbed by her stoic silence. They began beating her whenever she came near. They even went out of their way to starve her. She was all to glad to leave when Sesshomaru-sama found her. Never once did Rin look back.

 

Memories of her past encounters with villagers made Rin happy she was in the company of youkai. However Sesshomaru demanded that she stay behind after the first snow fell; he told her little else other than she would not be permitted to travel in winter. Jaken filled in the blanks and explained that the great inuyoukai would not be dragged down in his travels by a human brat with a cold. Rin knew if she cried or pitched any kind of fit it would only work against her. Sesshomaru would be less likely to come back for her then. So she waited, staying out of everyone's way and trying to be as invisible as possible. When the ground thawed, Jaken came and fetched her in the middle of the night. Each year followed in the same way in different villages across the land. Rin's anxiety was never fully alleviated, but she always did her best to be brave. Sesshomaru always came back for her. She didn't know why, but he did.

 

Lately though things had been different. Sesshomaru hadn't spoken to her, or looked at her, or even gestured towards her in weeks. It was as if he was ignoring her, and it was something Rin couldn't ignore.

 

Jaken was right. It was getting close to the time of year when she had to stay behind. Perhaps this would be the year he didn't come back.

 

Rin sat down in the grass and hugged her knees. She tried so hard not to be useless. It wasn't her fault she was only human. She did her chores every day, avoided arguing with Jaken too much, and always addressed her lord in a kind, respectful manner. It was easy for her to do all this because she felt nothing but admiration for Sesshomaru, and was grateful for all that he had done for her. Rin was an intelligent girl and knew how odd their relationship was. The reason she followed Sesshomaru to begin with was because she recognized right away how random and uncharacteristic it was for a youkai to save a human. He didn't reject her company either. He even engaged her in conversation from time to time, or at least he used to. He saved her from danger. He made sure she was provided for. For all of this, Rin loved Sesshomaru.

 

Some part of destiny obviously wanted them to be together. That was the only explanation. Rin believed in destiny, and the power the threads of fate had over people's lives. She wasn't brave enough to wonder why her life was tied to Sesshomaru's. But she couldn't help but wonder, for how long?

 

“Rin.”

 

The voice shattered the moment like a bolt of lightning. Rin jumped as if she'd been shoved backwards. Catching her balance, the girl looked up with wide eyes to see Sesshomaru standing on the crest of the hill, looking down upon her with his stoic mask.

 

“Come here,” he commanded, then turned and disappeared.

 

All of Rin's fears resurfaced in a nauseating rush, making her wobble where she stood. Tears sprang from her eyes which she quickly wiped away with her sleeve. The world was spinning even as she tried to tell herself she was overreacting. Obviously Sesshomaru-sama had something important to say else he would not have broken his prolonged silence.

 

Calm down! Not every single little thing that goes on is about your destiny, Rin reminded herself. Still, she knew it was wrong. Tenseiga had made sure that fate lived in every breath she took.

 

With quicker steps, Rin tried to close the distance between herself and her future.

 

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“So you were resurrected by a youkai's sword?”

 

“A sword that could not cut, no less,” Rin chuckled. “What could be more epic?”

 

The young man smiled eagerly. “I think I'm getting this `epic' thing now,” he said, congratulating himself.

 

Rin rolled her eyes. “If I had known then that I was stepping into one of the greatest legends in Japanese history, I would have done some things differently. Like I said earlier, anyone who survives a fairy tale will always have something they wished was changed in retrospect.”

 

“You followed that same youkai after that?” he quickly asked. “Is that how you got involved in the quest for the Shikon no Tama?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“As what? As his daughter, his slave, his pet…”

 

Rin cringed. “No, no,” she corrected, “it was never anything as complicated as that. I merely followed.”

 

The young man quirked his eyebrows but decided instead not to pursue his line of thought. Flipping to another page, he chased down his second question.

 

“Obviously you were around a great many youkai,” he began. “What was that like for you, a human child?”

 

Rin drummed her fingernails on the tabletop. “It never really occurred to me as a child to find anything daunting about it. It was all I knew for so long.” She paused, and carefully considered her next words. “I didn't stay a child forever, though,” she concluded, looking directly into her interviewer's eyes.

 

A quiet understanding passed between the two before they continued the topic any further.

 

……………………… ;…………………………R 30;…………………………&# 8230;……………

+++Author's Note: This story will be decidedly darker than all of the others. Combined. It is rated R for dark imagery I dredged up from the pits of Hell. Nothing but the best for my readers. My hope is as always that you will read and enjoy; feedback is always appreciated and taken into serious consideration.

 

This story is naturally dedicated to Botan, my captive audience and my stern grammarian. You've been hurting for me to get Ribbons over with for months. I'll be nice and try to leave you out of this one. And to my new friend and unofficial fangirl, curious fruit. Hope this keeps you just as enthralled as The Pearl. Just don't fail your classes because of this one, okay?++