InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Sickness ❯ The Symptoms ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha or any of its characters. They belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise Studios. My only profit in the telling of this tale is the reviews I recieve from my peers.


He was sick. There was no other word or words to describe his current malady. He was hot. No matter how cool the climate, how cold the rain, how chilly the breeze, his entire body burned. His flesh was fevered, his hair was damp and he found no relief from the heat, even in stripping his body bare.

It made no sense. It was late autumn, dried leaves lining the forest trails, their quiet crunching marking the signs of their passage. The days had grown short, and the nights increasingly long. His comrades had abandoned their summertime apparel of thin silk and fresh linen in favor of more substantial fabrics, layering them upon their bodies in an attempt to shield themselves from this harsher course of nature. He would watch them as they shivered in their sleep after the night's fire had died down, and he could finally sit comfortably in their company. There was some small part of him that would pity their plight as each huddled into himself or herself in an attempt to hold in the heat they were each so readily giving off.

Ah-Un would tuck his legs beneath his body, wrapping his tail about its circumference, one head resting on top of the other, their necks overlapping, but not intertwining. Jaken would prop himself up against a tree, pulling his knees up to his chest, then lie his misshapen head atop the pointy appendages, tilting his hat downwards so that it covered his eyes. And Rin would take her blanket and pull it all the way over her head, so that if someone didn't know better, there was simply a pile of linens lying on the ground and not a girl at all. He would listen and watch as she tossed and turned, whispered and whimpered, sighing and shivering, her dark head of hair occasionally peeking out from the brightly-colored covers. In moments such as that, he was half-tempted to re-light the fire and, again, take his leave of them.

It was not them that made him feel so ill at ease, but the heat from the flames of their fire made him ill. He would feel dizzy and light-headed. His lungs would constrict, and a thin film of perspiration would form above his upper lip. His vision would grow hazy, and his senses would dull. He would bear it as long as possible, not wanting to leave them unprotected, but it would not due for him to slip into unconsciousness while they were quite conscious. Such an uncharacteristic display would doubtlessly raise unnecessary alarm and cause questions and concerns about his well being. It was he who had to look after them, and it wouldn't do for them to suspect he was incapable of carrying out his duties . . . He had enough doubts for all of them.

Youkai did not get "sick," but what else could it be? Aside from his rising temperature, there was an irregular heartbeat and a shortness of breath. There was no rhyme or reason for it. He was not engaged in battle. He had not received a shock or a "scare," as it was. And of late their travels had been entirely peaceful, so there was no need for exertion, let alone overexertion. Yet, he could not deny this endless sense of . . . fatigue. His limbs were heavy, his thoughts unfocused, and his body sore . . . No, not sore . . . achy. His body ached. Not the ache from a bone healing or tissue reforming or muscles regenerating . . . It was deeper than that and not localized in one specific area; it was all over--his head, his chest, his arm and legs, his buttocks and back, even . . . down there. That area was particularly sensitive and sore. Though rarely used, never touched and barely noticed, when his brain did dare to form a coherent thought of late, it was why was he born with such a cumbersome thing, and why was it so restless when the rest of him seemed to long for slumber?

There was only one way to find out for certain.

The Lady of the Western Lands laughed. "You can't be serious." She sat on the edge of her throne, an irritatingly bright smile on her face, her amber eyes alight with mischief, her right hand resting just above the Meidou-seki.

Sesshoumaru stood silently at the foot of the steps, calmly waiting for the female to calm herself.

His mother continued to chortle as she slid back in her seat, glancing down at him from her perch on the royal seat. It had been just over ten years since he'd dared step foot in the receiving room of his childhood home. He'd last come here seeking to strengthen Tenseiga by mastering the Meidou Zangetsuha--a technique that now belonged to Tessaiga and, by default, his hanyou half-brother, InuYasha.

Rin had died that day--for the second (and what should have been final) time, and he had cast off his sword, his father's memento.

The lady straightened her posture, regaining her composure, meeting his gaze straight on. "But, of course, you're serious," she finally said. "You were never known for your sense of humor." She tilted her head slightly to the side, her fingers now coming in direct contact with the jewel. "What did you say your symptoms were again?"

Sesshoumaru resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and, again, recounted the summation of his woes. No one could ever accuse him of whining, but his mother was a master healer, and if he gave her an accurate depiction of his ailments, he was certain she could devise a cure of some sort.

An odd smile quirked the corner of her lips and the light of mischief returned to her eyes. "Heavy limbs, you say. Are you certain it isn't just one limb?"

He was not going to repeat himself again.

The slight lift in her left eyebrow fell, and she sighed, sinking further back into her highback chair. "You haven't an ounce of charm about you, Sesshoumaru. You know, most females do find wit a quite appealing quality in a mate. The centuries don't seem so long when you can crack a smile every now and then."

Sesshoumaru stood stoic.

His mother again sighed. "An elevated temperature, an irregualar heartbeat, shortness of breath, light-headedness, general fatigue," she marked off each symptom by raising a long, lean finger that could be formerly found caressing the surface of the Meidou-seki at the center of her pendant. "Have I missed anything?"

He let a silent sigh slip between his lips.

"Oh yes! Your heavy limb."

"Limbs," he finally corrected her.

"Oh yes," she conceded with a mock smile, "limbs."

He stood staring up at his mother as she seemed to mull something over in her mind.

"Tell me, Sesshoumaru, is that human child still with you? The girl you revived with Tenseiga?"

He had hoped to avoid any mention of his female traveling companion, seeing as how she had previously contended Rin had made him "soft," essentially disapproving of their association, but . . . "Yes," he said simply.

His mother smirked. "Well . . . she must have grown quite . . . pretty over the years, no?"

He didn't reply.

"Flowing hair, smooth skin, bright eyes."

He could feel his lungs constrict.

"Long legs, slight waist, slender fingers."

The irregular heartbeat. The rise in temperature.

"Pouty lips, full breasts, rounded hips."

Shortness of breath. Unfocused thoughts.

"And I'll bet she smells amazing."

Light-headedness. Hazy vision. Heaviness of . . . limb . . . Limbs. Heaviness of limbs.

"Tell me, Sesshoumaru, are you experiencing any of your 'symptoms' at the moment?"

He commanded his pulse to slow, his lungs to breathe and his limbs to move normally. "Yes."

"And you dislike it?" she asked.

"I am not myself."

"You think you are 'sick.'"

"I know not what else to call it."

The gleam in her eye faded to something softer, subtler, something entirely unlike the woman he'd come to know. It seemed almost . . . kind. "Oh, my little Sesshoumaru . . ."

He repressed the urge to growl. Yes, he was younger than she was, but in youkai form, he was clearly the larger of the two.

"Now, now, I meant no offense. You're always so sensitive."

This time he did growl.

The Lady of the Western Lands sighed, sweeping her hair back from her face. "Tell me honestly, Sesshoumaru . . ."

He ceased his growling and watched as his mother rose from the throne and descended to the foot of the steps to stand before him.

"I know from a young age sons are taught to keep such things from their mothers, but have you managed to accumulate a single notch in your bedpost?"

Sesshoumaru huffed, unconsciously placing his hand on Tenseiga's hilt. "And why would this Sesshoumaru wish to do such a thing?"

The female laughed. "Well, I should hope you'd find it pleasurable."

Again he huffed. "As if this Sesshoumaru has an interest in such a thing."

"No?" she asked. She lightly placed her hand on his left sleeve, attempting to grab his left arm, he assumed. "Hmmm . . . forgot it wasn't there." She shrugged nonchalantly then continued to walk past him. "Come. Walk with me."

Grudgingly, he fell in step behind her, exiting the receiving room and stepping out into the foyer. From there they continued to the outside of the estate. She stopped at the topmost step and glanced skyward, drawing in a deep breath. "Don't think I will ever grant you such a favor again . . . but if you truly want her, you can have her."

"Ridiuculous."

"As if you need my permission, hm? Or is it something else?"

He stood silently by her side, glancing at the passing clouds all around them.

"Perhaps you think you're above such things. Pointless entanglements, are they?"

No reply.

"Or perhaps you think it's inappropriate . . . for whatever reason."

He was quiet for a moment then, "She has no interest in such things."

"No?" she asked.

"She . . ."

"She what?"

Again, incoherency seized his thoughts.

His mother frowned, her growing impatience clear. "Has no idea how you feel about her? What you're willing to do for her? What you'd like to do to her?"

Sesshoumaru growled.

"Or do I have that backwards? Perhaps you're the one that's confused."

"I am not confused."

"No?" she asked. "Then what are you still standing here for? You want her, she wants you, I've given you my permission . . ."

His chest tightened, his fingers flexing at his side.

"That is what you want, isn't it? What was her name?"

"One thing has nothing to do with the other," he contended.

The lady sighed. "So, you still want to cling to the claim that you are 'sick.' You want me to search some ancient text for an unconditional cure for what currently ails you."

Sesshoumaru said nothing.

She turned to face him. "Well?"

Still no reply.

"You do know that appendage between your legs is for more than marking territory, correct?"

Silence.

"Don't pretend to be stupid, Sesshoumaru. It doesn't become you. You are well past the age of puberty, and you know as well as I know what passes between a male and a female in the darkness of night. You are not 'sick;' you are in love."

Again, nothing.

"Don't think your mother wouldn't love to write this off as mere lust . . . a passing fancy, some pretty thing to be seduced and disposed of with the soiled linens. But your 'symptoms' denote otherwise." His lady mother frowned, "Have you nothing to say?" she asked.

"Preposterous," he huffed quietly.

'Perhaps," she replied. "And the fact that she is human makes it more so." This time it was she who huffed. "I'm sure your father is out there . . . smiling somewhere."

Quiet.

"It is a relief, believe it or not. I was beginning to worry about you."

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"The way of the warrior aside . . . A male your age with no notches . . . I was thinking I'd never see any grandchildren."

Grandchildren?

"And then to come to me, claiming to be sick." The older female laughed. "As if youkai get sick," she continued. "Wounded? Yes. Poisoned? Highly improbable for us, but still possible. But sick?"

He ignored the odd . . . sting her laughter produced. Perhaps "sick" was the wrong word. Enchanted, enthralled . . . something to do with magic and unwanted behavior.

"I was wrong, Sesshoumaru. That little bit was quite charming. One might almost believe you thought what you said was true."

Enough, he told himself. He had the answers he was seeking; there was no need to further subject himself to his mother's derision. He took to the air.

"Sesshoumaru!"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Be . . . careful with her."

He hovered in the air above the palace grounds. "Careful?" he repeated.

"She is young and, doubtlessly, untried, and you are . . . How best to put this . . . I don't want to say inept, but . . . unskilled, perhaps? Yes. Unskilled. You are unskilled in the ways of women, and if you do not properly prepare her, you could hurt her."

"Hurt her?" At these words he, again, descended to the palace steps.

His mother folded her arms and sighed. "You are hopeless, Sesshoumaru."

He stood and stared at her.

She threw a hand in the air and turned her back to him, retreating into the castle's interior. "Come along. If I'm going to get you both through this, we're going to have to have a long, long talk."

"Will you stop fidgeting!" the toad cursed from across the campfire.

"Rin can't help it, Jaken-sama. Sesshoumaru-sama has been gone for three days, now. Rin thinks he might be sick."

Jaken laughed, his face looking even more ghastly as the flames of the fire jumped across his face, making his eyes appear bigger and his beak more narrow. "As if youkai get sick."

"Jaken-sama got sick," Rin argued. "With Saimyousho poison."

The toad huffed, straightening his collar in his most self-important manner. "But this Jaken is not Lord Sesshoumaru. Our lord is immune to such things."

"But . . . don't you think he's been looking rather . . . pale, lately."

"Sesshoumaru-sama has always had the fairest of complexions."

"Pale, but not pasty," she rejoined. "And he moves so slow sometimes. And it's as if he's staring off into nothing . . . And sometimes Rin can hear him breathing."

"Ridiculous."

Rin frowned, her eyes falling to the ground. No matter what Jaken-sama said, she knew something was wrong. Not just with their lord, but with her, too. She stared down at her feet, and her frown grew. They'd gotten so big . . . She'd gotten so big. All over. Her hands, her feet, her chest, her hips. She didn't feel at all like herself.

It used to be she could always find a reason to smile, but these past two days . . . all she wanted to do was lay around cry. She was hot even though it was cold. Her head hurt, and her chest felt swollen and sore. Worst of all, she had this awful sensation down there. The type she used to get if she had to pee and had held it too long. But when she'd get up to go, nothing would ever come out. And this morning when she'd woken up she was all . . . wet.

But it wasn't pee. It was thicker and clear, and it . . . smelled.

To her knowledge, no one else seemed to notice, and thankfully, Sesshoumaru-sama wasn't there. She was certain he'd be as sickened by it as she was.

"Jaken-sama?"

"What is it, now?"

"Do you think Rin looks . . . too human, now?"

The toad laughed. "You're no more human or no less human than you've ever been."

"But Rin is bigger, now. Like the rest of them. Rin is harder to ignore."

Jaken laughed. "When has Sesshoumaru-sama ever ignored you?"

She was certain he didn't mean to, but that little comment made her feel better. Sesshoumaru-sama always watched over her . . . even when she didn't know he was. He . . .

Her mind began to wander, and she could feel herself growing warm again, but not unpleasantly so.

"He looks so tired, sometimes."

Jaken again huffed, crossing his stubby arms over his concave chest. "Lord Sesshoumaru has more energy in his little finger than we have in our entire bodies."

"But we do get into an awful lot of trouble sometimes," Rin argued. "And he always has to come and save us. Maybe he's not tired . . . just bored?" she questioned.

"With you perhaps, but this Jaken is indispensible."

Again, her eyes fell to the forest floor. "Do you . . . do you ever think he'll leave us one day and . . . not come back?"

The toad squawked. "What!"

"Not that he'd get killed or anything, but . . . Just not come back. Because he didn't want to?"

"Hmph, you grow more idiotic with every passing day. This Jaken has told you: Sesshoumaru-sama is interested in one thing and one thing only--forming the Sesshoumaru-sama Empire. All youkai will be united under his leadership, and this Jaken will be minister of state."

"Rin remembers," she said quietly. He'd also told her that despite their lord's power and battle prowess, she'd probably be long dead when the empire came into being.

She rose to her feet and dusted off the bottom half of her kimono. "Rin doesn't feel well. I'm going for a walk."

Jaken stood up to object. "Have you lost your mind! A walk? At this hour? You'll be eaten alive!"

"What's the difference?" she asked as she slipped into the overlying shadows. "Now or later, I'm going to die, anyway."

"Rin!"

She continued to walk at her normal pace though she could hear the toad's little legs scampering behind her. Her growth spurt did have certain advantages.

"Rin!"

Why couldn't he just leave her alone? She was sick. Couldn't he see that?

She was sick, and no one could help her. She had to pee, but she didn't. She was hot, but everything else in her surroundings told her she should be cold. And it was back: that slick, sticky feeling between her thighs.

Sesshoumaru-sama would be disgusted!

He was always so clean and smelled so nice. She was hot and stinky and dirty. If he could see her, now, she was certain he'd turn up his nose and demand that she distance herself from him until she'd properly cleansed herself. But bathing didn't help!

It used to be a simple practice: she'd dunk herself in a river or lake or (if they happened to pass one) an onsen. She'd take a soft cloth and rub herself down, she'd get out of the water, dry herself off and that would be that.

But lately bathing was just a bad idea. If she really wanted to get herself clean, she'd have to use a cloth, and the cloth would have to touch her skin. And anytime anything touched her skin any more . . . even if it just brushed over her, even fully clothed, she . . . she just didn't feel like herself.

She felt tingly and warm and . . . then her heart would start racing, her skin would grow damp and her breaths shallow. She'd feel as if she were in pain, but it didn't really hurt it just . . . ached. Dull and throbbing and . . . sometimes itchy. Down there. Itchy and smelly and wet.

An awful itch. Something she wanted to scratch, but didn't know how. If she scratched it the way she scratched at bugbites, she was certain that would make things much worse. It was far too sensitive to be handled so roughly.

So she'd just sit there and suffer in silence. Eventually the itch would subside and the ache would dull and after a few minutes more of discomfort, she'd start to feel like herself again.

But she knew this couldn't be normal. No one else acted this way--not Jaken, not Ah-Un, and certainly not Sesshoumaru-sama . . . though she was certain he suffered from his own affliction . . .

There was something wrong with her, and if someone couldn't fix it, she wished something would jump out of the shadows and devour her whole. She hated feeling so sick all the time.

"Rin!"

Stupid Jaken-sama.

She quickened her pace slightly, wanting to avoid any interaction with anyone for the rest of the night. Why was she so annoyed with him, anyway? Jaken had always been Jaken, and though she'd never taken him too seriously, she'd always given him his proper amount of respect . . . But these past two days it felt as if his shrill little voice scraped at the very core of her soul. Jaken-sama this, and Jaken-sama that. Sesshoumaru-sama says this, and Sesshoumaru-sama would never do that. Rin is this, and Rin is not that.

She would've liked nothing better than to take a stone and hurl it at him just to shut him up.

"Rin!"

"Unhhh . . ." she stopped dead in her tracks and doubled over.

Pain. It started in her stomach and shot all the way to her lower back.

She sank to her knees and covered her mouth. She was going to be sick. Right here on the forest floor.

"Rin! Please!" She could hear him running around, stumbling through the darkness, tiny feet trampling dead leaves. How she wished to be that tiny again.

"Riiiiinnnn! Sesshoumaru-sama will be most angry if he comes back, and you're not there."

She was so hot . . . And her head . . .

"Please, Rin . . . Riiinnnn!"

She moved to stand up, but stopped short when she felt the bitter taste of bile in the back of her throat.

"Riiinnn! Where did you go?"

Stupid toad. Stupid body. Why couldn't everything be the way she wanted?

"Riiinnn!"

At last she felt the pain begin to recede, and she uncovered her mouth to draw in some genuinely deep breaths. She reached down and loosened the tie to her obi, relieving some of the pressure she felt around her midsection. She drew in a few more breaths and finally felt her racing pulse begin to slow.

The sound of footsteps stopped.

She sighed, brushing her bangs back from her face, finding them damp and her face sweaty. She threw a tentative glance around and seeing no one in sight, she parted the top of her kimono to let some of the night air creep in and cool her fevered flesh.

By the gods, what was happening to her?

She rotated her head to the left then to the right, giving her shoulders an exagerrated shrug, attempting to rid herself of the growing tension in her neck and upper extremities. She'd been revived from death two times, yet she'd never felt this miserable.

Thankfully, Jaken had stopped looking for her, though, and she was now free to work through . . . whatever this was . . . alone. It was a matter of course that Sesshoumaru-sama went off on his own. Jaken was even known to take time to himself every now and then. Ah-Un, too, was permitted to go where he wanted when he wanted, but she . . .

Rin sighed. Well, she was never at a loss for company. If she didn't have the three of them, she always at least had one. Even when she had to pee, someone always went with her. It wasn't that she resented them, it was just that . . . Everybody needed time to themselves every now and then, and there were certain things people simply had to work out on their own--like her current condition. Whatever this . . . sickness was she was almost certain it was something none of her traveling companions could help her with.

They weren't particularly knowledgeable about humans, afterall, and she had a feeling that what she was going through was patently human. She'd never seen any of them go through anything like this. And what was the point of telling them if they couldn't do anything to help her?

Maybe this was how humans naturally ended their days. If not murdered their bodies simply fell into a state of disrepair--parts ached, temperatures rose, breathing became difficult, then impossible, and then you died . . . alone, in pain and misunderstood, wanting so much more from life, but not being able to live long enough to do it . . .

Rin sighed yet again. She'd never thought of such depressing things in her younger years. This was truly what it must be like to get old.

"Rin."

She immediately jumped to her feet at the sound of Sesshoumaru-sama's voice.

"Why are you not at camp? Where is Jaken?"

She kept her eyes low, dutifully scanning the forest floor, half expecting the little imp to pop up at any moment. Instead of Jaken, she saw only the black boots and white hakama of her lord, standing less than six feet away. She swallowed hard and tried to keep the heat from rising up in her cheeks. "Rin doesn't know," she finally said.

"He let you go off by yourself?"

He didn't show it, but she could hear the rising anger in his tone. He'd warned Jaken and her about doing such things. It was dark, moonlit and cold--the proper climate for creatures on the prowl to actually snare something on the hunt--and she and Jaken proved most tempting targets. He was small, she was weak and defenseless, and neither of them possessed the keen senses that alerted other such animals that they were about to be preyed upon.

"Rin ran off," she kept her eyes to the ground, her voice low.

"Ran off," he repeated.

"Rin is sorry. Rin didn't mean to cause trouble, but . . ."

"But?"

At that moment her pain returned. She didn't dare drop to the ground in front of Sesshoumaru-sama, but she couldn't help but wince and wrap her arms around her midsection, hoping to assuage the growing ache.

"Rin?" he took a step towards her.

"Rin is sick," she finally managed to say.

He took another step towards her.

With him so close, she quickly recalled her current state of undress--her loosened obi and the opening at the top of her kimono. In an attempt to cover herself, she wrapped her arms more tightly about her.

Sesshoumaru frowned. "Are you in pain?"

His voice sounded so soft, so smooth . . . with just the tiniest edge of concern. She could feel herself begin to shake, not from the cold, not from the effort it took to stand upright, but from . . .

She bit her lower lip. She'd been so silly. It was stupid to think she could just run off . . . no matter the reason. She knew he'd come for. He'd always come for her: no matter where she'd gone, how she'd gotten there, or how far away she'd thought he was.

She wasn't completely incompetent. She took care of herself--hunted for herself, gathered for herself, cooked for herself, cleaned herself. And after her family was killed, but before she came to know Sesshoumaru-sama, she was completely on her own. No one to watch over her. No one to protect her. No one to answer any questions she might have had . . . if she'd had the ability to ask them. Something . . . broke inside her the day her family died, and Sesshoumaru-sama had proven to be the only one capable of fixing it.

She wasn't sure if it was him, his sword, or some combination of the two, but after sitting in silence for so long, it felt good to be able to open her mouth and simply say whatever it was that was on her mind. If she was happy. If she was sad. If she was hungry or sleepy or scared. If she was injured or in pain or upset. Those currently around her didn't have to guess how she was feeling; she could tell them . . . as long as knew the right words to say . . . At the moment she wasn't sure if there were words to describe how she was feeling.

"Rin."

She looked up to see him standing before her, his right hand on her left upper arm, his head slightly inclined towards her. It should've made her feel awful. Her ache should've increased, and she should've been burnt up with fever, but instead she felt cool, calm, at peace.

"Where does it hurt?"

His hand wasn't still on her arm; she could feel his fingers lightly running up and down its back, sending soothing shockwaves of sensation straight to her spine. "Rin's stomach. And back." Truthfully, the pain had stopped, but she was still finding breathing rather difficult.

"You know it is dangerous to be out here by yourself. There are youkai, wild animals. It was foolish to wander away from camp."

"Rin was hot," she lightly contended. "The fire was making her sick. Rin didn't want Jaken-sama to get cold."

He moved his hand from her arm to her face. 'You're warm," he said simply. "You've been perspiring."

She merely nodded. Honestly, she felt better now than she'd felt in the past three days. But she was enjoying Sesshoumaru-sama's attention so much . . . normally, he only touched her to remove her from harm's way, and as quickly as he'd grabbed hold of her, he'd let go.

This was entirely different.

"Rin is sick."

"Sick?" he repeated, vaguely recalling the self-diagnosis of his current condition: the unbearable rise in his body temperature, the light-headedness, the dizziness, the hazy thoughts and heavy limbs. Presently, all of those symptoms were absent. He did feel slightly warm, but not unpleasantly so. Instead of all over, he could feel it quite clearly in the center of his chest.

"Rin is hot and . . . achy. My back hurts and my head and my stomach and . . ."

"And?" he pressed lightly.

"Rin's . . . chest and . . . down there," she added with a whisper.

He resisted every inclination he had to reach down and test said area for soreness. It was his way, afterall. If she was hot, he checked for fever. If she was injured, he inspected the afflicted area. And when she claimed pain, excluding an external wound, he touched the area to gauge the severity. But given the situation, that would be highly inappropriate. On both counts.

Instead, he moved his hand from her face back to her upper arm, lightly tracing its contours through the soft fabric of her kimono. "Describe the pain."

She shook her head. "It doesn't hurt," she said, "not now. It . . . Rin . . . Rin wets herself."

Sesshoumaru swallowed hard. According to his mother, that part wasn't supposed to happen until later. As it was he'd barely touched her, let alone done the other things she'd suggested. But before he could question Rin on the matter, he found two slightly glistening fingers stuck directly beneath his sensitive nose.

"And it smells," she added. "Sesshoumaru-sama is disgusted, isn't he?"

She waited with bated breath. She didn't want to offend him or disgrace herself, but she wanted him to see that she wasn't making these things up. There was a reason she'd left camp. There was a reason she'd run off from Jaken. She wasn't insolent; she was embarassed.

Like now.

She quickly moved to withdraw her hand only to have Sesshoumaru-sama capture it at the wrist. Shocked, she looked up at him. There was something about his eyes. They weren't their usual cool, clear amber color. They were darker, deeper . . . and entirely engaging.

He looked at her then at the two extended digits. Holding her gaze he lowered his head and drew in a deep breath, a warm rush of air blowing over the moistened flesh.

Rin shivered, a pure shot of electricity shooting down her spine. "Sesshoumaru-sama?"

He replied by parting his lips and lightly licking the digits completely clean before sucking them into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth.

She felt her knees give out, but before she could even think of hitting the ground, he released her wrist and caught her firmly around the waist, pulling her upper half against the long length of his body. His armor was cool against the fevered flesh of her face, but the rest of him seemed to be radiating an almost unearthly heat that struck her at her core. She could barely breathe, and Sesshoumaru-sama seemed to be struggling as well. She hadn't imagined it then, and she wasn't imagining it, now. She could hear him breathing.

Completely of their own accord, her hips pressed against him, and her arms wrapped themselves around him. She felt a shudder shoot through his strong frame that set her heart aflutter.

Careful of the spikes on his armor, she chanced a glance up at him. Though he was quite clearly staring at her, his eyes seemed far away, his gaze, hazy. There was a light sheen to his skin, giving him an even paler glow in the moonlight, and some of the strands of his hair were adhering to his face. Drawing in a few deep breaths, she finally found the voice to speak. "Rin feels . . . sick. It . . . it's hard to breathe, and . . . it hurts again."

He gave no verbal reply, merely nodded, his eyes never leaving hers, fire dancing in their dark depths.

"Is . . . is Sesshoumaru-sama sick, too?"

"Hai." It was more a sigh than reply.

"Did Rin make Sesshoumaru-sama sick?"

"No." He quickly released her, prompting her to do the same.

The absence of his warmth made her ache. "Sesshoumaru-sama?"

He took a few steps away from her, then turned his back to her, retreating further into the forest. A cool wind cut through the air, whipping up the fallen leaves, fluttering both their sleeves.

Rin stood stationary, not quite clear on what she should do.

A voice from the distant shadows answered her unasked question. "You will come with me."

She hesitated, her feet seemingly frozen to the floor.

"Now."

Her heart lept into her throat, and her feet swiftly found their footing, traveling the unseen trail he'd left behind him.