InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sometimes We Forget ❯ Beneath the Weeping Willow ( Chapter 2 )

I've decided to juts post all my little Sess/Rin one-shots here. I'll tell you if they're romantic or not at the beginning of each. The last one, of course, was not. And neither is this one. It as inspired by a poem I wrote for L.A. XD Yes. I write Inuyasha poems for language arts. Better than normal poems. -Nods-

 

Beneath the Weeping Willow (Romantic!)

 

The sky was a dismal gray. Rain fell in icy sheets, making everything seem to drift in an endless haze. Wind whipped the long grass about in an ever-flowing sea of green. The coppery smell of blood curled in his senses. He flexed his claws. Never before had the scent bothered him so much as it did now. Face shielded from bottled emotions, Sesshoumaru descended down the grassy slope.

 

He felt off balance, almost. Toujikin hung heavy at his hip - alone. Tenseiga had been shattered and thrown about by his enemies. He had been foolish to let them take it. Perhaps it was just the thought of knowing he no longer held the power over life and death. Maybe.

 

And cast out before him was the field, littered with the slain bodies of friend and foe. Dismembered and mutilated, strewn across his path, the rain washing away the blood into the already tainted ground. Sesshoumaru inwardly frowned. His stomach churned ever so slightly.

 

His eyes strayed from the remains of war to the tree standing isolated between everything, it's branches bent towards earth as if weeping. And then they fell to the limp form of a woman beneath it. He felt his heartbeat quicken, and he was at her side in an instant. Around them, the hollow eyes of dead stared at him accusingly.

 

She is dead. They mocked silently. You chose power before her and now she is dead.

 

“No,” he whispered. It was Rin. Her body leaned against the trunk of the willow, her kimono a mess of crimson and mud. Sesshoumaru was afraid to touch her. Never had she lain so still, never had she ever looked more like glass…

 

Human. They murmured around him. Weak.

 

The glossy black hair she had tended too so joyously was tangled and matted. Her skin was pale and cold. The handle of a blade protruded from her breast, dark stains of red still making their way down her kimono.

 

She screamed your name. They continued. And you did not come for her.

 

It was her eyes that made his hands tremble. The lively almond faded to a black. “Rin,” he said quietly. Anger clashed with sorrow. Strangely, he was not mad at her for coming to the battlefield. Nor as he mad at whoever had dug their blade into her heart.

 

He was mad at himself.

 

“I let you die,” he confirmed.

 

You let them kill her. They agreed.

 

It had been dangerous when she was alive. She made him weak, being so near. And Sesshoumaru could not afford to have her away. He could have scared her, and made her run. He just could not stand the thought of her hating him. But now she must hate him even more than he hated himself.

 

I can become stronger now, his mind reasoned. She only made you soft.

 

Perhaps it was true. He could be stronger now that she was dead. But he could not fathom ever moving from the spot where he knelt now. He would be able to see her body covered in the earth. “I am so sorry,” He pleaded to her empty shell.

 

Clawed fingers wrapped themselves around the blade, and pulled it from her flesh. He stared at it, her blood dripping to the wet grass below. Her scent is no longer here, he thought dully. And then he was dead too…

 

Notes: Wow. I liked this as a poem better. If I had the poem I would post it instead