Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
"Was I lost in thoughts of love
When I closed my eyes? He
Appeared, and
Had I known it for a dream
I would not have awakened."
He comes in dreams, softly to her front door.
Scandalous, her room door is left open whilst her husband rests beside her, as he does after completing marital duty. He is aging and tires easily, and often she is left to her own mess; aching and bereft.
It almost feels like lust, the idea of it, the heat. Afterwards, with him. He does not satisfy her, and Kiyohime knew this long before her husband grew knowledgeable in his mannerisms enough to not cause her so many aches. But what truly warms her belly, is the man who comes to her in these dreams, half beast, half man, all desire.
He is white like a pearl under the moonlight, hair long, white and untied. Her robe, turned inside out, slips, and she is bare beneath. She knows why he has come and answers his wordless demands with those of her own. She is satisfied.
Over and over. Night after night he takes her. She knows this is no ordinary phenomenon, and she is not unwise; So, carefully. Entice, appeal. Enough so that he be tempted to taste the fruit but never bite down. It's a dangerous game. Sometimes she thinks she won't wake at dawn.
Sometimes she doesn't want to.
She wakes and works. She walks the length of town, pauses at the now-empty homes and silent paths. The streams gorge themselves with rainwater. She prays at the abandoned shrine, to anyone who might hear. If the Gods blesssed the mountain with silver, surely they could also eradicate the demons surrounding them...? Unless that, too, was ordained.
She sleeps.
He is a man. He does not take her desires into consideration, she thinks– Not truly. He is a demon afterall. He is a man, after all. Something born out of take, and here, have. He takes her ‘considerations’ as he takes her, voraciously, deliciously, more feel than thought, but he takes and fulfills them nonetheless. They are done so under fulfillment of his own, so no extra effort on his part.
She wakes, she works. She sleeps, she dreams. She desires. Its easier to wait, and accept. Anticipate, and be rewarded for it. So, let him come. Let her slip her dreams, her door. She benefits from this arrangemt too, and it is better than the losing ticket she's been dealt with all her life.
[ Be humble, Kiyohime, be dutiful. Be a gem, Kiyohime, beautiful and silent. Be like rice, Kiyohime. Pale, soft and malleable. ]
He breathes into her. “Will you indulge me? Kiyohime.”
“How bold you are.” It is welcomed. “What is your name?”
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
Content warnings: Smut, some lemon if you will, pvp, I dont go into a lot of detail but female genitalia ya, mysogynistic language towards reader, A bit of intimidation/domineering(??) kind of behavior from Sesshoumaru, IDK if that would trigger anyone but he does get kind of murder-y vibes, (not towards reader).
A.N: This is part 2 to part three of this story! Part one will be linked accordingly~
Length: 11.9K
You say my name and I want to knit my bones into your bones, smooth away the boundaries of our heartbeats.
It's late in the afternoon when you come to.
There's something wrong with you. Not wrong enough to worry alarm, but wrong enough for the hum in his gums to buzz to an ache.
Your spare moments of lucidity were fevered and dizzy. You drank whatever he gave and ate from his hand, pawing at his arm and chest with soft, weak sounds that made him wonder what sounds you’d make if he just decided to push back the covers and sheets, and soothe where you’re aching. It's not as if he doesn't know how to soothe you.
Static rose and sparked harmlessly when you touched him then, and he takes note of it with more than a hint of concern.
It's neither rare nor common to find a human with some ability, whether that be spiritual or otherwise. It’s just your luck that you're one of them. It's just his luck that he came across you, treasure that you are.
But you're awake now, and he must look after you. You sit up, wiping the crust out your eyes.
“Rin is resting in her room,” he tells you. “Jaken has left the inn for an errand, and has not returned.” Despite the time, and his patience. Something must have held him up.
“So you just let me sleep all day?” You yawn, your jaw cracks. His hand comes to your forehead and you jolt–another hint of static bolstering his suspicions. Your fever is lowered, and your jaw isn't tense with the pain of discomfort. Good.
You smell like late spring–green and sweet and full. Sunlight. His scent is on you as well, but it's superficial. He needs you to be coated in it. Smothered.
A mating mark would do that. Hormones, pheromones- they are in everything. And the mating gland found within the neck is crucial for the mating bond. He’d have to see where yours is, your glands don't seem to be so close to the surface, even with them being tender and swollen now from your heat when he felt over your skin. He just needs to find them, bite down–He’ll try not to be too savage.
He’s going to do it. Not now- he wouldn't want to do it in such a decrepit place. His manor, assuredly, would be ideal. And of course, it would be when you weren't in a heat. You’ll need to be more clear headed, and he doesn't need a pseudo-rut, this cloud of want and lust influencing his demeanor. Strictly, now, he’s only going to offer you what you need. That's all.
A test for his patience and discipline, if there was ever one.
He’ll ease the pain and lick away the blood, afterwards, you’ll have the time. He’ll wipe your tears. And you’ll mark him too, of course. You’ll need to bite hard, your teeth are blunt, smaller. He’ll need to show you where, how-
You’re talking. They said something. Listen. “Sleeping for so long always gives me weird dreams, you know that?”
“Such as?” He reaches for a plate he has at the ready, cut fruit, ume and pear. He doesn't want to give you something too heavy, yet.
“...It was a storm, but the rain was falling upwards. I was on A-un, I was going…somewhere. Blood…flowers. Fire. ” You shake your head. “I only remember bits and pieces.”
“Sounds nonsensical.” Or an omen, if one is superstitious. He presses a slice to the seam of your mouth. You mumble as you take it.
“You were there too, in your demonic form though.”
This, he pauses. “You've never seen me in that form.” He’s taken great pains to ensure that you haven't.
You grin. “Yeah, so when are you going to show me?”
“Shut up.” He presses another slice to your lips to shut you up before you start. You laugh.
“Hey, are you alright? Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Your hair is pulled back. And the white part of your eyes are pinkish now.” You reach out as if to brush away a stray hair from his forehead. “Are you alright? Did you get so mad you popped a vessel?”
He can't help it–this close, he might as well be tasting you on his tongue, in the back of his throat. His lip curls as a low sound escapes; You freeze, before moving back.
“Um, too close? Sorry…”
Not close enough. He clicks his tongue. “Just eat.”
“Okay. Feed me?”
You're happy with just the fruit, you glutton. But he acquired it for you, didn't he? He watches you eat. Presses each cut of fruit past your lips, teeth. There's something particularly thrilling about imagining your smaller canines, sinking into the flesh of his neck instead. You’d have to bite hard–your teeth are much more blunt and he needs to make sure the mark is deep enough. The rivulets of blood that would escape, run down–He finds himself leaning forward into your space, and has to draw himself back.
He’s noticing though, the way you hold yourself, and the puzzled way you look when you think he can't see you as he looks away, as he feeds you, as you allow him. Your fingers shake before you curl them into fists and it taints your rich honey scent with worry, murky and thick. He knows it has more to do than with the way you moved from him.
“What is wrong?”
A sigh, a hiss from your teeth. “I feel hot. And…jittery.”
“...Are these symptoms familiar?” Here, you pause. But you try to shake off the gooseflesh he sees rise on your skin.
“It's…probably something with my diet, or messed up hormones, or maybe because I'm not used to so much leisure-”
“And the sparks? They've been happening more frequently as you slept.” H offers you another slice. “And there is a storm soon to break. You always get tense when they come around.”
“You think there's something up with that?” You remove the covers and crawl over to his side. He tries to ignore the curve of your spine, or the way you look up at him doing so.
You bite half of the slice he offers you, covering your mouth and pushing the other half towards him. He takes it as you chew over your thoughts.
“So, what are you saying? We kinda-uh, there was a spark last night too, when you touched me.”
“So try it again.”
“Uh, Okay?” Hesitant, you look at him, and reach for his arm. He looks at you, and you take that as permission to lay your hand flat there.
Immediately, there's a spark, and you jolt your hands away.
“Ow?! There is something up with that?! What was that?”
“Try that again.” He holds up his hand as you look down at your own in alarmed confusion.
“Try it again, this time.”
“I don't know man…” You reach with a finger this time. He urges you and you poke the heart of his palm.
Before you touch him, he lets just a hint of youkai energy seep past the lines of his palm. As soon as you touch, there's a tiny spark of light, a crack!
You fall back with a cry, and immediately he’s on top you.
“Are you burned? Hurt? Where?”
“What? No! No, I'm fine,” you sit up and try to push him back, but your hands are shaking harder now, and so too are your shoulders. He leans against your force, ready to fall into you. Your hand curls against his collar.
“...Okay, okay, really. What is this? What the hell is going on? Sesshoumaru?”
“...”
Oh, dear. You look at him, with your eyes wet and wide and confused, and it doesn't do anything but pluck the heartstring known as W A N T in his chest. A low growl builds in his diaphragm; He wants to speak in his own language, console you, cajole, entice, warm. But you wouldn't understand him.
Connections beyond words are made when a pair is made through mating. Would you understand him then? He wants you to. You need to.
He takes a breath, for calm. He's getting out of hand. His intentions aren't good, they hardly ever are, but they aren't meant to cause you distress. Your tears are pretty. But he’d prefer them in a different context.
“It's fine.” He pulls you up, and takes your hands in his own, to help the trembling.
“There are humans with abilities not unlike youkai. That's what this could be.”
“What…? How, why-”
“A series of factors. These abilities are more often present in half bloods, or monks, priestesses. You're one of the rare outliers, it seems. Has this ever happened before?”
“...I guess? I always get sleepy and have weird dreams around this sort of time. You know I get jittery during storms too, so to have both at the same time is just, kinda rattling me up a bit,” you laugh, weakly. “Jaken and Rin could probably tell you more about it.” Since they're the ones who are closest to you in this time.
He should have slotted himself closer to you much, much sooner.
“If it's around the time of your cycle it could be an imbalance of energy. More than simply nerves, you could be responding to or be affected by the storm-which is why you're so rattled now.” He presses your hands down into your lap, better looks you in the eyes.
“Though there's limited ways to prove such.”
“Forget about proving, I just want to stop the shaking. This always happens,” you sigh, washing warm breath into the space between you. Fruit and honey and hot.
“You got a remedy for that?”
“...Stabilizing will help. But first we need to know what the disruption is. The storm will worsen, if you react to that then I can test your energy to see if it is in fact a reaction or response. There is a difference between the two.”
“So if it's not the storm, then…?”
“Then it's your cycle.”
“So is there nothing you can do now to help? How would we even ‘stabilize’ this?” You gesture with your trapped fingers.
Something in his jaw ticks. “Drain the energy, have it expelled. Or, we introduce a foreign element. Your energy would either fight it off, depending on dose, or succumb to it.”
“So like a vaccine then?”
“...?”
“It's, uh, a medicine thing, for really bad diseases and stuff. Introduce a dead version of the virus or whatever and inject it so the body can safely fight it off and build immunity. Some, like measles you only take once. For the flu you need one every season as the virus builds its own immunity and evolves.”
“If that's the connection you can make, then in a sense, yes. This could also just be a one time occurrence. You can't build ‘immunity’ though- not here.”
“What, wait why not?”
_________
Rin combs the brush through A-un’s mane– He closes his eyes in bliss as she works. She's more petting than anything.
You've been busy sleeping, and Jaken is gone doing who knows what. It's not like she can't stand being on her own for a while, but she doesn't want to. And the Lord is kind of antsy right now…
Even if he’s enjoying all the extra sleep, staying cooped up isn't good for anyone, so Rin took off A-un’s muzzles and led him to a relatively clear part of the forest floor, not too deep within the trees, the inn still in sight.
“-and he told me that alphas and omegas are together to make babies, but most people are betas so they too can have babies.” She’s careful with a particular snag. “So I don't know what he meant by that.” He snorts. Talking to A-un is easy–and maybe it's because he can't speak back. He could react and reply, he had his own feelings and thoughts, but Rin took comfort in the fact that if he was judging her, he couldn't verbalize it.
“And he said demons, so does that mean you too? Which one are you? I’m an omega, so I'm supposed to smell sweet. What do I smell like?” He snorts again in answer, eyes still closed, and Rin hums.
“I wanted to ask him, but I didn't want to be rude. If that is rude. What if I smell bad and he just never said anything? That would be soooo embarrassing.” She picks the stray hairs out the comb, rolling it into a ball.
“They didn't know that they're Omega too. I think he's going to tell them all the stuff when they wake up–I think he should. They already like each other.” She rolls her eyes.
There's always been some kind of tension between you two, she's noticed it since she joined, and there always has been one looking at the other.
Maybe now you can be together and get married and maybe she can have siblings again like she used to. It would be nice to be a big sister. Would they have white hair? Would they have pointed ears, or fuzzy dog ears, or a long fluffy tail like Lord Sesshoumaru’s?! They wouldn't look anything like her, that's for sure. Nothing like the familiar faces she once knew.
Suddenly, violently, comes the twist of shame, guilt. She gasps, sits up ramrod straight and tries to breathe through the tightness, like she does after a nightmare, like you’ve told her to.
Count the breaths. In. Hold. Release-slow. In. Hold. Release. Again.
There's no replacing what’s been lost. You can only make the best of what you have now, and hope for the best. You always tell her things like that, and when Jaken and A-un’s eyes become too eerie, when she sees the glint of fangs when her lord speaks and her old scars ache–she goes to you. You're soft and warm in a way that is intrinsically familiar.
She loves it here. She’s not lonely anymore. She’s safe from the dogs and their glinted fangs.
She just hopes nothing bad ever happens to separate this little group.
Suddenly, A-un straightens, and his heads turns towards the trees. But Rin doesn't see anything, and reaches to pat his neck.
“What's wrong buddy? Did you hear a rabbit?” He doesn't pay her any mind, and instead stands to his full height.
“Hey, that's-” That's when she hears the rustle, and she too turns in time to look- and she meets a pair of eyes.
Her heart stutters, suddenly cold.
It's only for around a half second, before the dark blur races through the trees.
A-un’s snout wrinkles into a snarl as he takes stance, head lowered and pupils pinpricks. The comb feels unnatural in her hands as he growls, harsh and guttural.
“A-un, what’s–” but before she could finish her sentence he barks loud, once, and bounds into the trees.
“Wait-!” She’s tugged along a few feet before the reins in her hand are ripped away and she nearly tumbles. The momentum pulls her forward, before she rolls-stumbles into a stop, leaning against the tree. A-un doesn't notice, or care, as he goes after whatever that thing was.
Her heartbeat is so loud in her ears, almost louder than the panic.
She wasn't even supposed to let him out! If you or Lord Sesshoumaru finds out she let him out, and that now he’s running around without his muzzles they’d kill her.
“A-un! Come back! It was just an animal!” It's easy to follow the trampled shrubs he left in his wake, and she runs, hesitantly looking back as the inn gets smaller and smaller in view.
“Both of us weren't supposed to be out here, come bac-!!” Her foot slips on empty air, and she goes tumbling down with a squeal.
“...Ow…” When she looks up, she has a scraped knee, and she's half in a hole-no, tunnel, dug in a hill. As she smooths her hands along to get her footing, the walls are smooth and packed.
It’s really small though. Barely bigger than something you could fit, maybe, if you crouched low. It is roomy enough for her though.
She hesitates for a moment– A-un, and the inn…but childish curiosity wins out, and she enters the tunnel.
She pulls out a gift you gave her, a Flash-light. You told her to use it sparingly, because the batt-ery would die and couldn't be replaced. For a tiny thing, it has a lot of power, and lights up the tunnel with ease. It's deeper than she thought, and she gasps in delight.
It's cool and dark, and she sees other tunnel openings as she runs along, but she just stays straight, dipping down for a while before sharply going up.
It's not too long, and she has to climb, putting the light in her mouth to use her hands. It gets dusty soon, and she covers her mouth and nose with the collar of her kimono. Her light flashes against metal, and up ahead she sees a door.
Thrill, then hesitance. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…
But it's too late for that. So she goes up to the door, and tries the handle. It turns.
__________
“The foreign element introduced would be my own youkai energy. ‘Energy’ doesn't work on the same level as our biological functions, they can only influence and be influenced by. I don't seek you harm, so there won't be anything to fight off.”
And that felt like something he did not mean to confess, so he just keeps talking so you don't dwell too much on it. “It is strong, so against your force, you'd most likely succumb. A definite ‘cure.’” He takes definite care not to look at your face. Instead, your hands, small in his own.
Human scent glands are smaller, not so close to the surface. He has to search for them, and, there. Tense under the soft flesh, he presses his thumb in circles into the soft part of your wrist. You squirm, but sigh as the initial discomfort fades.
“The issue could be solved either way. Energy can be taken in by simply being near one another, though that method takes the longest. The most effective method would be through ingestion.”
“Ingesting…what?”
“Something holding your energy. I'd need a taste of your blood to know what I'm addressing. But I'd give you my blood after, this is the most potent method.”
You hum, a lilt...pretty thing. “So energy is in…bodily fluids?”
A nod. “Which is why yours is out of balance from your bleeding. It should be stabilizing, but again, the storm.”
“So is that why you've been kissing me like that?”
“...Like what?”
“You like to use tongue. Messy.” You huff. “And you don't come up for air as often as I need you to. Is it to stabilize my energy?”
…He didn't think of it like that. Perhaps he realized earlier on a subconscious level. But- “I do it because I want to.”
“That's it?”
“What other reason could there be? I wasn’t doing it for your health then-” Mistake. Because your eyes alight with that teasing joy you so often encompass.
“But you could. We could. So why not?’’
“Do you know how long it would take to transfer my energy to you via saliva? You’d be better off if I decided to couple with you instead.” And you move closer, grinning.
Sesshoumaru just focuses on smoothing his fingers, and his own scent gland over yours, smoothing up the soft flesh of your inner arm in slow circles, thoroughly. Not the way your mouth curls to a smile, not remembering the taste of them, not the honeyrich floral scent of you thickened, blooming with the smell of lust, the slick he can scent between your thighs.
Sesshoumaru focuses on his motions, and keeping his breathing light and under control.
But you’re, of course, not satisfied with that. Your eyes are alight in a simple joy.
“If, in an autumn field,
a hundred flowers
can untie their streamers,
may I not also openly frolic,
as fearless of blame?”
“We are playing this game now,” his voice, colored in mirth. Unfamiliar for its rarity.
“The Dyer’s River
Should one cross,
Then what do you expect?
Getting stained with passion,
Of course.”
You grin. “Undisturbed, my garden fills with summer growth– How I wish for one who would push the deep grass aside.”
“I can do that.”
“Oh? Do what?”
“Fuck you.” There's a switch in your expression, alert, listening. This is where he tests boundaries.
No, he is not infallible. But he is close. You are the margin of error, chance, and you need to know it.
So he allows this tension and this pause, lets you know he means what he says.
“How long have you wanted to?”
“...A while now.”
“Before Rin?”
“Well before.”
You take his wrist this time, simply holding it as he smooths his thumb across your collarbone. “...You should have said something.”
“That would have been beneath me.”
“To what, admit your feelings? So you waited until I reciprocated so you could just say you're accepting my feelings.”
“Reciprocated, as you said.”
“You should have said something. We could've been close like this much sooner.”
“Do you think restraint is effortless?” He straightens his spine, no longer curved over but still above you. You seem to realize the position you're in, how close; He feels the gooseflesh rise on your skin when he meets your eyes in sudden, reckless abandon.
“Do you take my discipline as flawless?”
“Well, no, no one is perfectly infallible-” you still as his hand comes to your throat.
He traces over the marks he left- shallow, practically an insult. He needs something that will last.
“My Lord-”
“My name. Use it.”
“...Sesshoumaru.”
He sighs a breath. “I want you,” and he pulls you into a kiss too swift to gasp into before he pulls back.
This feels less like a confession than a declaration. Your pupil, round and soft, blown dark and wide. “Not only once, and beyond the flesh…I want the whole of you.”
“Me too. I-I, I want you too.” You rush closer, and he hastens you the rest of his way into his lap.
“I could hurt you. I might.”
“I understand the terms and conditions.”
“Do you?” With a hitch of your breath he shoulders off the layers of cloth between you two. “This is no shallow basin to dip in.”
“I know-”
With you in his lap already, it's easy to smooth his way up the skin of your thighs, pushing aside cloth. He doesn't bother with cajoling you into this, you're already too deep. You jolt, but he’s not going to let you shy away.
He presses into what little space remains, nosing at your hairline and sliding a knuckle through slick, sticky and clear.
“Put your arms around my neck. And don't forget to breathe.”
— — — — — — — — — —
He slides his cock hard and fast through the puffy folds of your sex, but he won't enter. You already came once like this, a swift fluttery thing, and he shivered when you said his name. With his chest laid over yours, it's almost embarrassing how hard you’re worked up when he's not even fucking you properly.
But he's panting too, more controlled, of course, but his face is tucked into your shoulder, mouth grazing your ear, jawline, neck. Kneeling, one arm locked around your waist is all he needs to slide himself through without friction.
“You're not, this isn't-” he bumps against your clit and you squeal. He swallows the sound with a kiss.
“I'm not fucking you properly? Greedy, aren't you.”
“It's not fair.”
“Fair?” He breathes. “I just said I don't want to hurt you.”
‘I, you won’t--please?”
“I won’t. I won't.”
It only takes smoothing your hands up his arms, tracing a pointed ear and a pleading look before he relents, soft for you, where it matters at least.
He has the deltoids and slim waist of a swimmer, and when you trail past the planes of his stomach, the start of a happy trail catches your eyes. It's white, like the rest of his hair, and thick. It looks slick and matted by your combined arousal, and he is big-and pretty. His dick is flushed the prettiest pale pink you ever saw,trimmed white hairs and a bright red at the tip as aligns himself.
He slides inside-just the tip. But the stretch, the feeling of almost-full has you digging your nails in his back, fluttering. He growls a note low in approval.
He fucks you shallow, sinking deeper each time. You grin at the concentrated look on his face and he looks at you in question.
You punch out the words in gasps. “For someone who might hurt me, you're doing a pretty good job of the opposite.” He lays you down to free his hand, petting over your belly.
“I could do better. You're testing me.”
“Always.” You wiggle your hips, earning yourself another delicious inch and a hiss. “Please?”
“Look at you…you're so small and you want me to fuck you?” He thrusts shallowly, and your thighs are already trembling.
“I just..want you to enjoy yourself, too.”
“I'm… limiting myself to what you need. Be grateful.”
“I am. My Lord is so, ah, gracious.” you sigh against his skin, and you feel the tip of his cock head throb in another wave of pleasure.
A dog demon, liking praise. Who would've thought.
The pace he takes is steady but relentless. When you twitch away from the pleasure, he presses you into the sheets, keeps your legs around his waist and drives deeper, he’s basically fucking himself into you, and you’re mortified again at the coil thats tensing in your belly, the familiar tension. He sees this, and his hand comes to the little bundle of nerves, shushing the little sounds of ‘wait’ and ‘too much, too much’.
His eyes are half lidded too. He doesn't look flushed, but his eyes look indulgent and his hair is mussed from your hands running through it. There's sweat beading at his temple and he looks like he’s in love with you.
“There you go,” and he kisses you, breathes into your mouth. “Give me another.”
It's not a mind blowing-earth shattering orgasm. But he bumps against that gummy patch once, twice, and it comes, swift, your back arches away from the sheets.
He holds you down with his weight, and licks into the open cavern of your mouth. You're not doing a good job of being quiet, but that's fine, let it out. The sheets are torn where he raked his claws over, instead of your skin.
When your high dies down, he slips himself out, still half hard and aching along his thigh. Your hands smooth down his shoulders and his chest, and he focuses on that, getting his breathing even.
“Wait, you didn't-”
“Doesn't matter. Lay down.” How soft-You already look tired, droopy eyed and flushed pink.
“It does. You didn't come.”
“One wouldn't be enough for me. I wouldn't have stopped even if you asked.”
“That doesn't sound too bad.” He pushes you down and you sink with a sigh, boneless.
“Two and you're ready for sleep. I don't think you could handle more than five.” You reach and take the tie holding his mussed hair. It falls over you.
“You look different you know.”
“Hm?”
“Your eyes are red now. And those lines on your face are longer. You have fur now.” He didn't even notice the partial transformation; you stroke a thumb along the white fur along his arm.
“Even some on your belly, look-”
“Don't patronize me,” he swats your hand away from the trail on his stomach, and you laugh weakly.
“It's cute. The curtains do match the drapes.”
“What?” You laugh again, burying your face into the sheets. “Look! Even your teeth are a bit longer.” When your hand brushes his jaw, he takes it, opens his mouth to press the pad of a finger against a point.
He lets you run your fingers across the points of his teeth, curious and tentative. Across the top row and bottom, molars, tongue. You look content.
“Look at you. You're being so soft for me. Good boy.”
Fuck the thrill that passes through his bones. He’s not a pet. So he bites down, enough for skin to break and blood to drip into his mouth. You frown. “And you called me greedy.”
Your blood tastes sharp, like something barely ripe. Spring in bloom-warm and full of light, growth and seed. That's you.
So you take back your hand and he pets over your hair as you doze back to sleep, though you stall with sneaking looks at him with your bright eyes. He doesn't reprimand you; the hot rod of desire in his belly cooling in the long quiet moment. You'll rest, and by that time night will fall. He’ll call Rin over to eat her meal with the both of you. She’s been on her own for a hint too long.
In fact, where did she–
Suddenly, he hears glass, fall, shatter. You perk up, the sound loud enough for your ears.
“...Where is Rin?”
He feels his hair bristle. “Where is the innkeeper.”
__________
She gasps, holding the door open a sliver; Daylight cracks into the tunnel so she shuts off the flash-light, peeks, and when she finds no one, opens and crawls inside.
It's empty. Floorboards, the barest pieces of furniture. One look past the barely opened window has her realize she somehow circled back and up to the inn. Was it really that long of a passage, or did time just feel disconnected within that tunnel? It's a bit hard to believe she ended up all the way up…here. She rushes back towards the tunnel she just came from.
It's a little door hidden behind a stack of folding screens. It's painted over to meld into the wall, and when she smacks her hand against it she feels the impact reverb off wall, then rock. It must be the wing of rooms closest to the springs, the wall is warm from more than sunlight, even if she can't fully hear the water.
She’s on the second floor. The mountains are to the north, and with the way the house is placed, she must be in the east wing, so opposite side of where you and the Lord are. That means the tunnel went through earth, and through rock to reach up here. But it was so smooth, she never noticed the transition of earth to rock,only the steep incline.
But the second floor is bare, and untouched, though very clean. Obviously unused for some time, but the air is fresh and smells like old clean clothes.
As Rin looks around at what little there is, her footsteps creak on the long untouched floorboards. One particular loud creak has her gasp out loud–heartbeat thudding erratically when she hears something drop, and shatter in the hallways outside.
There’s someone up here who who oh please please please please please please-
But to no avail. Footsteps quicken and get louder, and she looks around for a place to hide. She spots a chest drawer covered with a sheet by the other wall that she's able to squeeze behind and under just as the door opens.
“Hello?!” Immediately, Rin recognizes the innkeeper's voice.
“Hello…? Are you there?” She walks into the room, footsteps hesitant. “Ren? Hiroya? Did you come to visit?
“...To see me?” Rin just quiets her breathing as she steps into the room.
“Ren? I know it's you. Your brother is too big now to use our tunnel. And, he wouldn't come here, anyways. I don't know why I called for him.
“You shouldn't be here either Lotus. Can't you smell the Lord who's here? Him and his partner.” The sneer in her voice startles Rin, and she tries to sink deeper.
“Why don't you come out? Or ...did you already leave? You left the door open.”
Oh nooooo. She walks over to the door, opening it to peer inside, before shutting it.
“So did you leave? But I did hear something up here, are you hiding from me?” She sounds so sad.
“I'm sorry, you were supposed to visit but this lord and his entourage ... .He’ll kill you and your brother, I can't have that.” And the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock sounds.
“...You know I'm not very good at this game, Ren. Are you here? Are you really not coming out?...Or maybe I'm just talking to empty air,” she sighs. “Wouldn't be the first time. I'll be locking this door. If you’re still here you can wait until I can get some time to talk to you. But I'll be back, don't worry, okay my Lotus?”
She kinda does sound crazy. Are those her sons she’s talking about? Shouldn’t they already be grown up?
The door shuts, and Rin panics as she hears the definite sound of a key turning. She shoots up as she hears the footsteps hurry away.
She waits. Then, she tries the door first, and yep, locked. It's not budging. Checking the door of the tunnel she came through yields the same results.
…She doesn't want to have to break the lock to get out. She can, but that would take time, and too much work. She’ll definitely get caught that way.
Maybe there's another tunnel door here..? But searching the room doesn't offer that option.
There's noise outside.
The window is easy to slide back and look out of, but all she can see from this side of the inn are trees and rock. But she doesn't mistake A-un’s barks and scuffs, it's the same noises he makes when he’s agitated, or being stubborn. He must have flown back, and she doesnt recognize the voice that's shouting back at him, old and booming.
Maybe if she can call A-un here, he could help carry her down? He could spare a moment to help her, right? It's not like she can go anywhere now, locked in this room with both exits blocked. Whoever's yelling doesn't sound like they're leaving anytime soon.
She pokes her head out the window and calls his name, but the sounds don't stop, too busy with one another.
“...to get inside-move-”
‘Who is that at the front? What are they yelling about?’ She leans more to hear just a bit better and–
She slips.
She slips with a cry, and ends up catching herself when her hand slams down on to stop her falling. It hurts, and she cries out again, but that doesn't stop her descent.
“A-un!” But he doesn't come. Her feet aren't touching the floor anymore, and with her weight slipping forwards, she falls the rest of the way with a scream, hands scrambling. She falls, falling for a hot rush through open air, before a hand catches her by the back of her collar-falling with her and slowing her descent from near death to this is going to hurt.
Her eyes shut, she already knows what trouble she's in as she feels those familiar nails at her nape. He lets her hang, toes dragging limply across the grass as he waits for her to fully stand.
“Rin.” She doesn't answer.
“I know you didn't faint. Stand up.” He jostles her a little. “...I will drop you.”
With an inward sigh and a wriggle, he plops her onto her feet. She takes a moment to smooth out her clothes, before turning to the Lord with forced cheer.
He cuts her off (before she could even start) shooting rapid-fire questions. “What were you doing in this wing of the inn instead of staying somewhere close? Why is A-un infront without his muzzles, and why were you leaning out the window?”
“Um…fresh air?” She grins weakly. “Exploring?”
“And A-un? Who is the old man he is barring from the inn?”
Old man? “I don’t know.” He turns to face the noise, the old man's voice carrying over all the way from the front. Closer now, she can hear him better. He's cursing- you and A-un and even her.
With a hint of trepidation, she sees her Lord's sclera are already pinken-ed with blood.
Her voice is tiny. “...It's the rice boy's dad, I think. From yesterday.”
“It is. Senile fool. Come here, interrupting, for what?” Interrupting? interrupting what? He turns away from the noise and back to her before she could ponder.
“You didn't answer my question.” She hesitates.
“Took A-un out…no muzzle. He ran after a r-rabbit. I followed.
“I found a tunnel. It led to there.” And she points to the room she fell out of. “Door is locked now. Both of them.”
“Hm…” He looks up towards the room, around the wall of rock leading to springs, where the water is heated and flows.
“So the hag still has some secrets then? What arrogance.” A-un barks, once, and she jolts. He looks at her without turning his body.
“They woke up and ate, and they've only just gone back to rest. Let's get rid of this fool before he disturbs that any further.” He turns, she follows.
__________
Jaken didn't get a chance to see what got him.
He had the mind to turn the female head of the staff away from him, spewing water into the dark tunnel and nearly drowning himself. The hands gripping him were torn away, as well as some of his clothing; But he had only ended up washing himself deeper into the darkness, and now he wandered, trying to find his way out. But he knew there was more than one.
As long as he wasn't going down, that was progress, right? There were tunnels of all sizes and shapes, some even he could not fit through. He wandered among them, led by his nose, sniffing for the wafts of cool air that would come unbidden.
There had to be a way out, right? He wasn't going to be stuck here forever, or, or devoured by a demon, right?! If, if anything, his lord will surely–
No, no he wouldn't. What is he thinking, would his lord really inconvenience himself to save such a foolish servant in this demon’s lair?
And that's the other thing.
He could see a few feet ahead of him, even in this murky darkness. He could see the trails of a great snake on the floor, claw marks, here and there, skulls and skeletons of both human and animal. There were multiple tracks, and sounds from throughout the great rock would come to his ears. This was a place lived in, and possibly by multiple someones.
He must stay low and stay Q U I E T. He can't risk attention, not here.
Jaken had thought for a while, as he crawled through, and the thought came to him that perhaps with all this wandering, he ended up somewhere close to the mountains his Lord wished to conquer. It would explain all the tracks and bones and demon scent. But he had not wandered that far, surely, and so the only conclusion popped into his brain–
That the demon nests his Lord wished to quell were not in the mountains, but closer to the village itself–that there was more than one naga demon, if these trails, and his eyes and ears, are to be believed.
He could hear the breathing of something very large down here, and very, very dangerous. The smell of sulfur would intense at times as the thing, whatever it was, hissed and breathed.
‘That Numachi-san was married to a demon…what if she lied to my Lord about his death?! What if he’s here and I'm going to be devoured soon by his brood or–!’ A shuffle in the dark, and Jaken ducks through a tunnel above for a view–he scrambles inside the hole, clutching his staff close and muffling his breath.
He waits.
The sound comes closer, until he can see a dark blur from below him, coming from a tunnel below. It -its a demon by scent- almost blends into darkness, but Jaken can see it has some human likeness, a head and arms and torso. Long, pale hair. He can see some scales, and see it look around the tunnel. Jaken cowers as its eyes sweep past his hiding place.
There is more than one demon, the one his Lord had met had dark hair, he said.
“...You're somewhere close by, imp. I smell you underneath your Lord's stench.” Jaken stifles a sound, alarmed.
“You shouldn't be in here. I'm sorry my siblings dragged you down here-do you need some help in getting out?” Jaken could hear mirth in his voice. “Then I'll be leaving now.”
“If you want out, then follow me imp. Lest you be killed and eaten here, of course.” He clicks his forked tongue and then he slithers away.
…He’ll follow at a distance, in case this is a trap. But he does really need to get out. It's not the same voice Jaken heard before he was dragged down here, he doesnt recognize it. But he does, in fact, recognize that scent.
Because the boy who shares the same spiced signature is already dead.
__________
Kushinadahime had– has a bad habit of bouncing her leg whenever she is anxious. She usually takes pains to hide it, but she doesnt care in the face of these guests.
Her sister should be getting their father, or already have him, and taking him to the apothecary. There, they will stay until they get back. The workers have been paid and ushered to their homes while there is still dim gray light. Her bag is packed and ready to go, if only these two, would excuse propriety and just let-her-leave. Her mind races with plans and the worry of them all, her leg bouncing faster. He frowns.
“...I understand you are in a hurry Kushinadahime, so I won't hold you too long–”
“I’ve no time for these pleasantries, Numachi-san.” The older brother's face doesn't change, but the younger twin's face falls even further. He looks like he could weep. She doesn't care right now. If she must suffer through his brother then he must suffer her.
Still, she adds (fake) pleasantness into her voice. “Why don't you go and visit your lovely mother, instead of me? I'm sure she’d readily welcome you both.”
He frowns. “You know why we cannot–”
“I would-” They speak at the same time and look at each other. She doesn't let them stall and cuts them off.
“Oh, I'm sorry, is it because of the demon Lord there? The one who maimed Takashi? Are you scared?’
“...The one who killed him? You found his hair at the scene, right?”
“Perhaps. He does have long, pale hair. Or maybe the two of you arrived a little earlier than we thought.” He frowns deeper as the late sun, hidden behind clouds, paints his hair in shades of silver and grey.
Hiroya Numachi looks like his father, with the pale hair, too dim to be silver and too bright to be pure white. His eyes are so dark that you cannot find the slitted pupils unless you look for them, and he is mannered enough not to show his fangs when he talks.
It all annoys her oh, so, much.
“It's late. You two arrived much later than you usually would.”
“Kushinada-hime, you know I would never–”
“I know that my sisters are secluded and undefended and that I must go to them, before my cycle starts and I lead a trail right to them.” She rises, and dusts off her knees. The floor is reflectively clean.
“...The twins are much more polite and welcoming than you are, you know.”
She ignores him. “What did you come for?”
Hiroya rolls the teacup in his palms, continuing. “That's why I first went to check the mine tunnels, but I didn't find your sisters there. You sent them early, didnt you? Are you sure they arrived safely?”
Her heart jolts, but she ignores that too. “My brother told you that there's no need to ‘help us’ anymore.”
“...I caught an unfamiliar scent there. Two really, but in the way one is marked when you're around someone for a time.
“It was a demon imp, and I think I led him out- he scampered off after a time and I lost his trail fast. Still, I led him far enough before taking a detour back.” His eyes are hard little things when he looks at her.
“The twins were the ones who dragged him within, I bet. That staff of his saved him from a cruel death; the twins aren't very good swimmers.
“But anyhow, you know what this means. An unfamiliar scent, in that place will upset the fragile balance. So what will you do, now that your brother isn't here? Where is his ronin sword? Will you take it up, Kushinada-hime?” She flinches, and at the sight of her unease, he settles down, straightens his back.
“The twins could help me take care of things if I could just go to them, I can take care of it.”
“...Stop with the pretenses, like we don't already know each other. Humour me, why don't you? Why were you named Kushinada-hime and not Inada-hime, daughter of the fields? That would have been less obvious. ”
“That is–”
“Tamayorihime and Toyotahime are even worse. And Ohatsuhime? Truly? I do not think she is nothing.” He hardly blinks as he tries to wear her down. “Strange way to make a distinction.”
She snaps. “What are you insinuating? What do you know? You speak on something you are not privy to nor will you ever be. Our names, are none of your concern. You have yours,” and she sneers, “and we have ours.”
Numachi Hiroya does not react, instead, he just sips at the tea she served.
Ren Numachi, however, has his shoulders hunched up to his pointed ears. The twins are identical in everything but color. Where his brother is more the lotus, Ren is the mud it rises from, dark and cool and gloomy. His nervousness makes his face seem almost softer, and her irritation fades into something more like pity. She’s surprised when he speaks.
“Kiyohime-san…was intentional when she named all of you. Kushinadahime in the tales was the youngest of the eight sisters, and you are the oldest of four. She named the twins after Taiga-san, the rivers. And she named all of you ‘Hime’,” and his eyes met hers. “She must have loved you all very much.”
‘Father named Takashi, as the eldest son. Dutiful, Boasting, Prosper. Ambition. Fathers name means great river, so the twins make sense… So why did father allow her to be named Ohatsu-hime? Or me…?
‘Maybe, mother was being a bit too on the nose–’
Hiroya hums. “She’s late, isn't she? Your youngest. She won't be joining you this time either, I didn't catch her scent there. She might not ever join you.”
“That's a good thing. She’ll be safe here until we get back.”
“Will she? With that Lord? What If that happens? What happens after? That little imp could disrupt what little peace you have, if he goes deep enough.”
“You said you led him far, so he can't–”
His voice rises above hers. “When are you going to take your sister to bring offerings?”
“When I tell Father where Mother’s grave is.” She hisses from gritted teeth.
His eyes flash. “A bit too late for that now, isn't it?”
The two of them glare at one another, caught in this stalemate, and the longer it goes on, the more she feels her anger building.
Who is this half and half monster, pretending to be courteous, pretending to be kind? He might look like his father, but he took his arrogance, and his mother’s temperament, and amalgamated them into some horrid semblance of grace.
Her father wants her to marry this one, even with the unspoken [but true] rumour of his parentage. If not her, then the twins, who see him more as family, and she allows this small betrayal. If only father knew who he was.
A liar. An actor. Pretending to have emotions.
[Why does he remind her so much of herself?]
She'd rather anger spill than tears. “Why did you come here, both of you? To give advice, warnings? Condolences? I don't need to replace a brother,” her lip curls, undignified, “So I would appreciate it if you just went about your business.”
The twins look at one another, in a way that reminds her of her twins. They stare off, and with a sigh, Hiroya is the first to break away.
“Allow me to accompany you towards your sisters.” She pauses.
“...You already went. The demon will be even more aware of us if you accompany me. And I thought you were keeping to yourselves?”
“I went, but I want to make sure the girls are safe. They would be pleased to see me as well. I also wish to give my offerings towards your mother-”
“There is no need. Or want.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that,” he laughs, (and oh she could kill him) and then in humor he recites,
“Now I know well
The pain of it;
When someone awaits me
At their home, I’ll not stay away
But pay my call, as I should.
“I was in a rush when I stopped by–it is disgraceful of me, and I humbly apologize. So please allow me to remedy this mistake.” He bows his head and her eyes fall to his brother.
“And him? What will he do?”
His eyes cut towards his twin. “Lay low. Keep watch.”
Kushinadahime scoffs. “You’re planning something. Aren’t you aware of who the demon inhabiting Numachi-san’s inn is?”
He looks at her like she is daft. “Of course we are aware–”
“Lord Sesshoumaru, Lord Daiyokai of the western lands. He’ll kill you and grill you over a fire.”
“If he has a taste for poison then he can have my flesh,” he shrugs, and she wants to scoff again. The arrogance!
“He took Takashi’s ear, and a finger off each hand.”
“Which ones?”
”What?” What does that have to do with anything.
“Which finger.”
“...Middle finger.” He makes a sound somewhere between a hiss and a grumble.
“He left him with some mobility then. So he isn't a cruel demon. We should be fine.” Now her mouth is open in confused shock as he drains the cup and rises.
“Your poison blend was stronger this time, but it still needs work. You can't kill me with such a weak dose.”
“...I wasn't aiming to kill you. This blend is meant to induce severe bouts of indigestion.”
“You used a venom as a base. You know that wont work on me.” He tosses the empty cup towards her and she catches it with a scowl.
“Well now I know…” He rolls his eyes to his brother.
“Ren-”
“I know, I know what you're going to say and I know what to do brother-”
“Why did you run off earlier then? Where did you go?” Ren rolls his eyes next. They're a hint lighter than his.
Hiroya clicks his snake's tongue. “Never mind, I smell it on you. I know exactly where.”
“What? Where?”
“Making sure your youngest wouldn't get mauled by that demon Lord–” she whirls towards him.
“You used the tunnel? You could've been caught–”
Ren sighs. “I know-”
“Did you now? He already met Takashi, he's already met Kiyomizu-kun, he would have recognized you!”
“I left quick enough-I didn't even get to see Ohatsuhime make it to Yoshida-san.”
“You just couldn't help yourself, right? You nearly got caught by that Lord's servant at the streams as well.”
“I wanted to speak with Takashi then. I just didn't anticipate them being so far from the inn. The most they saw was a far off blur.”
“You are so careless. I hope you didn't get spotted this time either.”
Unlike his brother, Ren doesnt hide his teeth, and snarls, fully. “I was checking on our mother, since you seem so very not worried about her proximity to that Lord-”
“So? Our mother did it, her mother did it. She’ll be fine.”
“And that right there is Father, talking from beyond the grave again,” Ren sighs as he stands.
‘You know, you’re only a few moments older than me?”
“Older all the same.” Hiroya turns to her so sharply she jolts. Whatever he sees there, he takes note of it, and nods. He walks past her and grabs the bag she packed for herself.
“Let us go then, shall we? We don't have much time before nightfall, do we?”
__________
Numachi-san is already outside, behind A-un and trying to calm down the enraged man.
A-un does a good job of corralling them both, snapping at faces and hands if one gets too close; if the man tries getting closer to the front door, or if Numachi-san tries to sidestep him.
“This blasted stead,” the old man is still cursing, “And that impish pest….! Where is he, gathering a list of next possible victims for his lord?! To hell with these thrice-damned creatures and that damned bitch of a concubine!”
Lord Sesshoumaru scoffs. She prays that this man will keep his mouth shut and stop right then and there but he continues.
“An omen if i've never seen one, leeching off of others power and using it to have my son killed- She’s not even married to that Lord, her teeth are not blackened and she still wears a furisode? What vassal needs such long, colorful sleeves, the whore?” Rin flinches. The man has not noticed them walking up to the front, but Numachi-san does. Her eyes widen in horror as she more frantically gestures to get him to stop. He doesn't.
“Her bastard child will end up just as rotten as her, as all the rest of you! A half blood, just like your son Ayumi-chan! But she doesn't look all that strong, is she even his?” He laughs, and then grips his head in his hands. “Does it even matter?! My son is dead. To the hells with all of you! Each and everyone of you! That bitch had my son killed! He’s dead!! My son is dead and I will have recompense. If I still had my blade I would have stormed past that front door and –”
“Why are you yelling from outside the inn? You can't even get in.” A-un straightens as the other two go still and pale, before Numachi-san dips into a deep bow.
The old man splutters, whether in shock or rage.. “I…I, you–”
“‘-You?’” Immediately, his blanched face reddens, and he bows with only his head in the shallowest bow Rin’s ever seen her Lord receive.
“Lord Sesshoumaru, Inu Daiyokai of the Western Lands. This humble one Yoshida Taiga–”
“I didn't ask,” Her Lord sighs, looking more towards Numachi-san. He frowns.
“What are you doing outside the inn?”
“...I wasn't aware that I wasn't allowed to leave.”
“I don't trust you.”
“If I may–” Oji-san cuts in, steps forth. “I have a duty to uphold my family's honor.”
“The same honor you disregard with such disgraceful composure? I turned your son away last evening, and now the father comes to show where he learned such horrid manners?”
“My son is dead,” he snarls, wrinkles deepening in grief. “His sister found the remains of a corpse in the early hours of dawn, within our family's bamboo grove.”
“Casualties are high in this town, no?”
Oji-san throws out a fist, it takes a moment to see it, but flowy gently with the wind is a strand of pale, white hair.
“I found this when I went to check myself. You're the only demon here with white hair, and you already had an incentive.”
Sesshoumaru looks down at the wrinkled fist, the strand of hair.
“It's true that the demon of this town does not have white hair,” he admits. “But do you think I would allow a lowly human’s hands to touch me, whilst I hunt, nonetheless? That is not mine. Neither does the length match.”
“It's yours!” He yells, shaking his fist. “Maiming him wasn't enough, he insulted your pride, your servant and by proxy you. So you just decided to finish the job.”
“Perhaps I should save everyone the nuisance of your bloodline and end it? Your disrespectful nature deserves it.” Anger melts into fear as the Lord leans forward, his eyes bleeding red. The elegant airs that are always so integral to him suddenly melt away in his anger.
“Like Father, like son. Again, you insult my vassal, my ward, my servant and even my steed…Why not the master too? I'm right here. Speak.”
“I came here…to, to demand recompense for my son's murder.”
“Not vengeance? Oh, but you know you’ll die, don't you.” He flinches as the Lord lifts a hand, grabbing his collar and snubbly testing the fabric between his fingers. “You're so old, perhaps you came here looking for an excuse to die?”
Oh. Oh. He’s angry.
“My Lord, please–” Numachi-san butts in, still stuck behind A-un. “He’s just an old man of the village, he’s, he’s grieving. I'm sure one of his daughters will come here soon when they notice he is gone.”
“The rice paddies are on the other half of the village. How did he sneak all the way here without notice?” And he lets the man go, who, to his credit, remains on his feet, albeit shaky. Rin just goes over to pet A-un's neck.
“Why are the rooms on the second floor closed off? Where do they lead?”
“Pardon?”
“Second floor. East wing,” he repeats.” And Rin sees it, the way Numachi-san goes rigid, the way Oji-san goes still, eyes wide and analyzing.
“The rooms and its doors are all locked off.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“They lead nowhere-”
“Rin.” She stands at attention, and comes when he beckons.
“She said she was aways from the inn when she fell into the opening of a tunnel. She followed it and it led to one of those rooms.” He articulated. Numachi-san’s eyes widen even more-in horror yes, but understanding. She looks away just as she meets the woman’s gaze.
“So, where do they lead?” When he looks back to Oji-san, Rin understands what he’s getting at.
He’s probably in his sixties to seventies. His legs are probably as thin and knobbly as his hands are, and to walk all the way here would have taken time and effort he didn't have. The sun would set soon, and it was the night of a new moon. How would he get back in time?
There were other tunnels leading in other directions.
Numachi-san wrings her hands, eyes wide. “Those were just…tunnels that my sons dug when they were younger. They're too big to use them now!” She adds hastily, when her Lord’s eyes narrow. “Just childhood endeavors, I assure you. I’ll, I’lll even show them to you, if you so wish…Its just–”
“Oto-san!” A shout behind draws their attention, at last the humans attention.
Come running up to the inn is one of the prettiest girls Rin’s ever seen. Her hair is pulled away from her face, sleeves tied away for work and face shiny with sweat–But her hair is so dark and shiny, and her face is pale and round like a full moon; A small mouth and thin eyebrows, like her features were painted on. Not like Rin with a few missing teeth, adult ones barely poking out. With her hair and its tendency to knot and poof, or her freckled face.
Maybe she’ll look like that when she gets older, if she starts taking better care of herself?
“Oto-san-!” She runs towards her father, whose face of shock turns to anger.
“Ohatsuhime! I told you to stay with your sister and go where she tells you, why are you-”
“She sent me here!” She yells, rushing forwards and grabbing his arm. She turns and bows profusely to Lord Sesshouamru.
“We are so, so, sooo sorry Lord. My father is going mad in his grief. We lost our mother years ago to the demon, so what happened with Takashi-kun,” she gasps, whether it be from exhaustion or the grief in her voice. “It's affecting us all, but that's no excuse for his behavior.”
“I maimed your brother for less.”
“...I-I understand-”
“Do you now? What will you offer me in recompense?” At this, Oji-san pulls his daughter back behind him. He draws a long blade, the size of his forearm, out of his sleeve.
“Nothing to you, Demon. Your issue is with me.” Rin could weep. He just made the worst mistake he could have.
His sclera are already bloody, and the golden yellow has faded to a bronzed orange, pupils muddy and dark, making his eyes look famished and enraged. He doesn't look angry, no, but calm. Calm and still with malice.
He articulates his words, slowly, clearly. Gooseflesh erupts on her skin. “My patience and my grace are not limitless–you've already depleted their stores. If I didn't trust myself not to kill you slowly and wake my vassal with your screams you would have been dead before you ever saw me.
“I did not kill your son. I don't concern myself with filth I've already tossed. If I had killed him, you never would have been left to worry who did it, but rather where he had gone. Now give me one reason why I should let you go?’ He was so still-He walks forward and they startle, following them as father and daughter tremble back.
“How will you convince me to let you leave alive?”
The daughter falls to her knees, weak with fear. Oji-san stands still, but not firm. “...My son is dead. My anger is justified–”
“And so is mine. You didn't think this through, did you?”
“You have a human child! Do-Do you want her to see this murder?!”
“Rin, get inside.” He doesn't break eye contact, and his hand starts to drip poison. “I can wait until you're far enough away.” Rin hesitates, feet stuck to the ground. Things were falling apart, fast, and maybe, maybe if she called out to you–
The girl, Ohatsuhime, crawls and kneels head to the ground. “I'm sorry! Please, please just allow me to leave with my father–”
“I’ll leave his corpse.”
“Alive, please! Whatever else we have, you can take, Just please–”
“My Lord!” And again, Numachi-san speaks up against the commotion, hands clenched so hard they’d immediately turn red if she released them.
Rin inwardly thanks her for the quiet her shout brings, even if the Lord has his sights set on her now. He’s really really angry–she wonders why. Does it have something to do with you? Are you okay?
Or maybe it's because of what this man said, insulting everyone, except the Lord. Except he did, like his son. Hotheaded and brash. Maybe these people were just prodding at his last nerve.
“...I will…I can tell you more about this town, about the tunnels and my husband–”
Oji-san protests. “Ayumi-chan-!”
“If you would just…let them go, without harm. Please.”
“You will pay for their release, with information.” Is the information worth the price of leaving them alive?
She sighs. “Shingetsu is the name the demon of this town took on, but that is not his birth name. My sons aren't close enough to know what it is though. And…there are more than just those three demons.” Oji-san and his daughter’s mouths drop open in horror, while Lord Sesshoumaru tilts his head in question. He steps away from the two of them, and Rin follows, silent, a shadow–reminder.
At least if he does attack, it won't get too bloody, not with her there…she hopes. She doesn't know how composed he is now. A-un whines as they brush past.
“...Leave. I’ve no more business with you.” A pause, before the girl is heaving her father up and rushing to escape the scene. When she looks back, Rin gives her a shy wave goodbye. Poor girl. She really is so pretty.
“...”
Numachi-san forces a smile. “...You seem agitated. Is your partner having complications? Giving you any trouble?”
“You know I will not handle any disrespect. You have words for me.” She nods.
“I’ll be brief. My husband wasn't faithful.”
“How many.”
“I'm not sure exactly, he was very secretive. But at least three.” She sighs, shudders. “According to my son, they too have white hair and wait for the new moon.”
“‘Too?’”
“The eldest has white hair, like his father.” Oh, so maybe it was one of them that killed the rice boy?
“And their mother?”
She only hesitates for a second, before answering. “She is a demon. And dead.”
Lord Sesshoumaru absorbs the information, before he seems like he spent enough words, waving his hand away as the poison dissipates. A last speck of poison, bright green, flicks out and she flinches horribly to avoid it. “Get inside, and make yourself useful-and scarce. Until I have need of you.” Another bow, and she is gone.
“...I don't trust that woman, and all her secrets. We might not stay here very much longer. But Jakne still has not returned.”
A-un trots forward, head lowered, a whine in his throat.
“You,” he tells Rin, “Smell like a hanyo, if only faintly. How long were you in that tunnel?”
“Not…very long.”
“You will show me. We’ll see if it's as untouched as she says. You,” he turns to A-un, “Shouldn't have run off like that. You left Rin alone–what if it was a decoy? What if she was a target?” He whines again and stamps at the ground.
“And Rin,” she already has her head down. “You're a child, not stupid. What possessed you to follow an underground tunnel in a haunted town? The moment you saw it go past a few feet you should have gone back. You shouldn't have even chased off A-un, let alone take his muzzles off.”
Tears erupt in her eyes as she nods along with the words.
“...I'm sorry.”
He clicks his tongue. “Don't be sorry, be smarter. You know better.”
“I’ll be better.” He sighs.
A hand comes down to smooth over her head in a pat, then another. When she looks up he is already turning away.
“Come. You're going to show me that tunnel, and then you’re not allowed to be on your own. A-un, come.” A-un trots in front with Rin behind, and then her Lord, And even with his eyes white and gold again she feels like she's being stalked. But she’s alright. She’s safe now, from the dogs and their glinted fangs. It's only her Lord behind her, the man that brought her back to life, even if he feels like a danger to it sometimes.
Thunder rumbles overhead, with a crack of lightning.
__________
”Hello? Girls? Are you there?’ It's late at night, and dark within the mine tunnels.
This deep though, there are strains of rock within these walls, and those that jut out, that gleam, ever so faintly. They provide enough to see. The smell of sulfur is familiar, and he keeps his voice to a low reverb off the walls.
“I was supposed to come here with your older sister… but I think she went up ahead. She isn't very happy to see me right now.” There's a pause… scuffling and sounds of movement, before the twins appear, expressions identical in their shock and joy. They jump at him with open arms, and tackle him to the ground.
“You-?! You're here?!”
“You’re late!”
“So late!”
“And stupid!”
“Where were you? What happened, Where's your brother?!” They shout at the same time, and he holds up his hands in surrender, laughing.
“I’ll explain later. I wanted to check up on you two. Are you alright? Do you have everything you need? Is your sister here already?”
“Yeah, she came here before you, and… She’s fine.”
“...Don't pull my tail. How mad is she really?”
There's a great sound like hissing, like boiling hot water poured over cool rock. The sulfur scent intensifies.
“...Very.” They look at each other and shrug. “But we’re fine. We have everything.”
Remembering propriety, they slide back and fold their hands, allowing him to sit up. In the darkness, he can see the white of their eyes, the shine of their hair, reflecting what little light there is.
Now that he looks at them, the twins are looking a bit haggard. Their clothes are the slightest bit wrinkled, and their hair loose and untied. Sloppy.
But he shouldn't even be here right now, so he’ll disregard that.
“We’ve done this before lots of times. You know that Aniue.”
“But there hasn’t been many times I joined you though, this is…”
“We know,” they nod back, moving to hold hands. Always so well behaved and in sync.
They pause to listen, before the sound stops, then starts up again.
He leans closer, and the twins take the hint to squirm closer. “How is she, really?”
They look at each other, probably reading each other's thoughts, and turn back to him.
“Same as always. It's late now so she’s sleeping. Tomorrow we're going to clean the altar and check the rabbit traps to make stew. Rabbit stew is her favorite.”
“Yeah, it's Ohatsuhime’s favorite too. She’s staying with the apothecary since Numachi-chan is a bit…occupied.”
“Why do you call her that? We’ve known Ayumi-san for a while now. She’s nice.”
“I can't call her by first name, can I? She'll slap me with a slipper if I ever did.”
“Moms do have perfect accuracy, in that sort of thing,” a twin, Tamayorihime, he thinks, nods, before speaking again.
“Are you hungry? Are you okay no–”
He cuts her off with a sharp grin. “I'm fine.” That is Tamayorihime, he recognizes the burn on her wrist.
“You and Kiyomizu-kun got into such a big fight, I didn't think it would go so far! There was a lot of blood, we smelt it from so far and we thought–”
“No more. I’m. Fine. Kiyomizu is fine too, it's just a bit of a brotherly spat, you know?”
“Why does your hair look longer?” The other twin, Toyotahime.
“Because…? It grows? And I don't have a tie for it right now.” He draws a hand through the silver strands.
“...Wait, if Ohatsuhime is with the apothecary, then where is Kiyomizu-kun going to be staying?” He shrugs.
“Hell if I know. But you know he can't come here. A grown man would get lost in the tunnels here, and all the fumes would kill him in hours.”
“He wouldn't get lost, he knows his way around here,” And she looks around at the walls, the darkness, more tangible in the dull glimmer. Like you could reach out and grab a handful. Her tail rattles as she speaks.
“He spends more time here with mother than we do, after all.”
Outside, with a peal of thunder, it begins to pour.
Taglist: @tanspostsblog @xmenteria
(˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵) So what did you think~~
Poetry: Ono no Komachi / Ariwara no Narihira / Ariwara no Narihira
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
Content warnings: Intimidation tactics-Sessh gets pretty scary and domineering with some people in this chapter- a bold line like this will mark where this happens if you wanna skip.
A/N: Tumblr wouldnt allow me to post this in one piece, so part 2 to this particular chapter will be llinked. Also, Its been a while since I wrote, so when I was writing the reader, most people refer to them with mostly 'they' and some 'she/her' pronouns.
Length: 11K
Listen, plato of ancient greece wrote that the souls we each have now are only halves. That in a frenzy of blood, zues severed us from each other, so we rely in the blind tugging of our hearts.
He wakes up hours later, in the dead of night, with the wind blowing and the cicadas screaming.
There is a storm brewing. He can smell it.
The twins, Toyotamahime sleeps to his right and Tamayorihime to his left, breath soft and even, faces peaceful and identical. He hears his father, the stilted, uneven but deep breaths, and when he rises, head ringing, he sees his youngest sister, Ohatsuhime beside him. There is one missing.
He struggles up, ignoring the pain of his missing fingers, his ear. He tries to be quiet, but he stumbles into a wall, biting his tongue at the cry of pain. No one wakes, so he goes on.
Kushinadahime sits at a table, with tea ready, and mochi. She doesn't acknowledge him with more than a wave over to the table. He stumbles over, and sits.
“I knew you would be up at this time. You're always tense this close to the new moon.”
“Yes, well, what if a demon comes inside?”
If she were any less put together she’d roll her eyes. “You sound like Father. That's only happened once in a case of extremely bad luck, Takashi-kun.”
“That's how mother died.” Chased through these halls until a child with a ronin’s sword tried to play hero.
He wasn't alone then. But he wasn't able to do much– his mother still died. The sword leans against the door leading outside, touched by age and use.
“...Mother led him outside the house, she protected us.”
“She still died.”
“She drowned. And the demon is dead now, drowned with her–”
“Just replaced–”
“And he is not as bold as the former. We’re all alive, aren't we? Now, drink your tea.” Takashi glares, and she sighs.
“I know, Takashi-kun, I was there and I'm old enough to remember what happened. But if a demon comes, If this demon decides to finish the job, there isn't much you can do now with a missing ear and finger on each hand.”
Takashi scowls harsher as he takes the mochi. It's fresh, as it always is, of course. A rice farmer should have something to show the bounty of his harvest.
Rice cakes, mochi, sake, they had it all. And while others didn't bother to put in the work, Takashi-s sisters labored to remove the bran from the rice, so they often dined on white rice like elite nobles.
“You don't need to worry, these will grow back soon enough,” he teases through a mouthful. She breaths a laugh. This too is quiet.
“If only! Tell Masaki-san your secret, I'm sure she’d enjoy having her left foot again.”
“Really? I’m not so sure, if she’d have to go back to working in the fields then.” They both go quiet again, and she urges the cup of tea towards him.
“With the storm, we have to make sure to work quickly.”
“We’ll do that tomorrow.”
“You will rest. We have enough people, and you need to heal.”
“I heal fast. Remember how I got my sword?”
“It isn't a wandering ronin this time Takashi-kun, it’s a high ranking demon. The Lord of the Western Lands. You’re lucky to even still be alive.”
“’Lucky?’”
Her shoulders curve inward at the tone of his voice.
But she sighs, sets her cup down. “Brother don’t-”
“Kushinada–”
Her voice rises, suddenly. “You attacked his servant! You know how territorial demons can be, for Kami’s sake Takashi you know–”
“His servant’? His bitch more like. There's only one way they could have inspired such dutiul care.”
Her face reddens, and she hides her hands in her sleeves.
“You speak so uncouthly. Nevertheless, you still insulted his pride by proxy. Just…stay low for now, heal.”
He rises. “I'm going outside.”
“For what?!” She whisper-screams, planting her hands on the table. “It's dangerous!”
“Exactly why I'm taking patrol. Isn't it almost time for you and the twins?” Her eyes narrow.
“You should be making preparations to leave.”
“We already have, we’ll be leaving tomorrow. We’ll be gone for five days. And no, there's no need to escort us this time.”
He frowns. “The blood attracts demons. It's dangerous for you all.”
“So imagine how much more dangerous it would be with an injured person on our hands.”
“I can still protect you all.”
“And we can protect ourselves. The twins need to learn how to get there on their own. They know the way, they just never gone by themselves.”
“No. As long as I'm here you won't go yourselves.”
She frowns. “You coddle them.”
He grins. “In the way you hardly allow me to for you. Ohatsuhime is the worst one though-just wait until she joins you.” He inclines his head towards the door, where the rest of the family sleeps, but his sister is quick to snap. “Don't jinx her. She won't be joining us, you know that. Ohatsuhime, she's the youngest. She's too young.”
There is a chill in the air that he sees her shiver by. “...She is sixteen. You know she won't be young forever. It's a miracle she’s lasted this long.”
“No. But we still have time to worry about that. Maybe, maybe it will be different for her.” She turns away, and shadows hide her face from view, expression indistinguishable in the lily-seed dark.
“Maybe…maybe she’s just late, is all…I don't mind her being a child for very much longer.”
Takashi sighs. His head throbs. “Sorry…Sister, I do not mean to speak on these…feminine issues. It's not my place as a man. And you're right- I don't know what I was thinking, of course she is too young. Just go back to sleep, and please do not wait for me. And no–” he cuts her off, “You can’t convince me to stay.”
She frowns, lowers herself back down. “You could at least drink your tea.”
“You probably drugged it for me to fall asleep.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Not–”
“You did,” he grins. “You’ve been using your apprenticeship with the apothecary for dubious reasons. Dont think I don't know what kinds of orders you've been taking out behind her back,” he teases. ”The women in town aren't very quiet about where they get their products from. I suspect the population will rise by a few numbers in the next few years, if you catch what I’m-” Kushinadahime snatches his teacup on the table and takes a long drink of it–she holds it out to him.
“There. You know I wouldn't do that to you Takashi-kun. So drink.”
Instead, he goes forward, and takes her half cup, drains it in a single swallow.
“Don't follow me.”
He takes the sword leaning against the door in his mangled hand, and pitches around the cabin. When he finds nothing, he goes further, extending the patrol. The night is humming and teeming and calm. He walks, stumbles in the direction of the bamboo grove.
It's small, something his mother insisted on before the twins were born. It's far from the paddies, to ensure that the pests there don't eat away here. His father planted the stalks, hand dug the little pond and placed a few koi fish there, back when there was still silver circulating in this backwater town and they had their share. Besides then, his father never stepped foot in here, at his mother’s behest. Her alone time. Sometimes…sometimes she would bring one or more of her children here. Never all of them at the same time. But still only sometimes.
{In the days after his mother’s death, still ragged and raw from grief, Takashi would wake, surrounded by his infant sisters, father gone. He would wait until the sun just rose, safe and secure in the pale glow, to rise and look for him. Kushinadahime would rise too, to start cooking breakfast, and check on the babes. Takashi would always find the man, kneeling just in front of the grove, staring within. It looked like he was waiting.
If he took his hand and led him within, could he muster up the courage to tell him the truth?
“Father..I’m…Mother didn't want–”
…He’s not a child anymore.}
He takes his position, deep within the stalks, and raises his sword.
It's the sword of a dead man, a ronin killed when he had stopped by this town, when Takashi was a child. The demon killed him. It's his now. It's hard to hold, his grip shakes from pain, his remaining ear ringing. He can barely stand straight; he has to stop himself from leaning too far on the side of his missing ear.
If only it could grow back. Like a piece of liver, like scraped skin, like scales, like blood. But even that takes time. Time he doesn't have. That he can ill afford to waste.
He needs to get out of here. He needs to learn and train and grow and earn enough money and prestige to get out of here, get his family out of here. Work. Rise the rankings. Become a samurai, or a daimyo even.
Being the son of a rice farmer could mean stability, but he wants more than that. His sisters should be bathing in milk with pearls in their hair. Samurai and Lords should be clamoring for their hands in marriage. He should be wed already to some lovely, demure, dutiful thing. It's not his place. It's not fair.
What did you ever do to earn your place, your privilege? Despite what he told his sister, it has to be more than that. You are very pretty, beautiful enough. But pretty charms aren't enough to earn you a spot besides one of the greatest demon Lords of the past few centuries.
Was he going to train that child as well? Even though she was just a runty little git? Did he not prove more capable than those two? What did you two have that he doesn't?!
It's not fair.
It never has been. So he pushes through and continues his sets. When the blood of his hands makes the blade too slick to hold, he wraps his hands in cloth and carries on.
Stars are slowly fading in the lightening sky, and the sky is brightening. He’s not alone.
He doesn't stop but he notices. The wind still blows, but neither that nor the blood pounding in his ears is enough to deafen the crickets and birds and bugs, who’ve gone silent. Something is here.
He’s being watched.
He knows it.
But he pretends he doesn't. There are the slightest imprints of sounds, and Takashi stumbles in his pain, leaning against the stalk of a bamboo.
Hush.
He tries to breathe. “You know, it's not very good to stare. A bad habit of yours?”
Silence.
The grove goes silent, and in one spine tingling, breath stopping moment, he feels his heart drop.
He turns to take stance–
He doesn't see what gets him. The world flashes white–sharp and keen, laced with pain. It bleeds red, and fades to black.
__________
You wake up with a fever.
Tendrils of a dream cling to you. A voice calling out. Dark tunnels and the smell of sulfur. Somehow, you know not to strike a fire for light.
There is something else in the darkness with you. It slumbers, and you cannot wake it. You must be q u i e t , heartbeat rabbit quick.
There is a man with scales, and pale hair looking for you. You must stay low.
When you wake, it is with a shock, a jolt, a sound caught in your throat. You are fevered- Hot, and raging. Sweat makes your skin clammy, and your body is sore in odd places.
You drag yourself back into consciousness; Sesshoumaru is not here with you.
You are not content to wait, but you do. You wait and you wait, but he does not return. So you get up.
The floors are cool under your feet, as you make your way to the kitchen. It's dark, and clean, Numachi-san must have finished cleaning hours ago.
She’s very hardworking. She does everything here-the cooking, the cleaning, attending to you all. She’s not elderly, but she is an older woman. It must be hard for her.
Maybe there could be something you can do for her, instead of just the odd chore or so. Maybe you could ask Sesshoumaru to let her kids stay here, since you know he'd already be opposed to that idea.
Water slips down your throat, cool. You want a snack but you don't want to go digging in someone else's pantry, that's just rude. So you turn and–
You nearly throw yourself back. Sesshoumaru, your Lord, stands. But his pupils are tiny and sharp, and his jaw is tight. His hand is half out, reaching.
You stay, staring off while your heart tries to settle.
“...”
“...”
“...My Lord, again, you–”
“Why are you not resting?”
“Um,” You look about, set your cup down. He's still stuck in that half motion, reaching for you. “I was thirsty. I woke up and you weren't there?”
“I had business.”
“...Uh huh.” You're not buying it, and the movement of his eyes is unnerving. They follow your every move, from the way you are fidgeting to your blinking.
What the hell. He finishes his motion, takes you by the wrist, when–
“Ow!?” A shock, jars your wrist out of his hold. It stings, sharper and stronger than an odd static jolt.
Sesshoumaru looks at you, as if to ask, what was that?
“Just, some static I guess,” You shake out your wrist. There's no burn, or sparks, but the sting feels fresh. “It's…normal?” He looks at you again, taking your wrist more gingerly this time. There's another shock! But it's weaker, so you just flinch before he tugs you along, back through the dark corridors and to his room.
You pass by the room you share [shared] with Rin, and see her curled up in extra blankets, only the dark of her hair visibly against the sheets. You feel a soft pang of guilt and stop in your tracks to hear her soft snoring. Sesshoumaru stops with you, but after a moment you nod at him, and he shuts the door, and leads you back to his room.
He tucks you in the futon, pressing the blanket under you, like a swaddle. When you try to protest, he presses the palm of his hand to your collarbone, against the mark he left there. You hear the unspoken words, and you listen.
He undresses, down to the simple outer robe, and, unlike before he doesn't sit beside you to watch you sleep, he lays his weight on top of you and your breath leaves in a huff at the sudden weight.
“Is everything really alright?” you squeak.
It's a moment before he speaks, and it's gruff. “You have a fever. Symptoms of preheat.”
“I do feel hot…”
“What else?”
“I don't know, the usual…? I feel sore, though. And hungry.”
“It's too late to eat. It's not good for digestion.”
“It's just a craving.”
“Anything in particular?”
“I want fruit.”
“I will get it for you then.”
“Aw, you’re willing to indulge me?” You tease.
In answer, he pulls his ear from your breast, enough so that he could bury his face in the juncture between shoulder and neck. He licks a slow stripe there, hot then cold.
You try not to shiver. Words come to mind and you hope he can hear them over the thrum of your blood:
“Watching the moon
at dawn,
solitary, mid-sky,
I knew myself completely,
no part left out.”
He lets loose a long breath; exhaustion, or release?
“Dawn and dusk
Is the time I see
My darling:
Yet seeing her is as if I’ve seen her not...”
‘...How much I do love her.’ You hold him a little closer to that strange flutter in your chest.
“...You're much more romantic than I thought you'd be.”
“I have my manners. You are more dense–clueless, than you have any right to be.”
“What.” A low rumble in his throat reverberates through his chest, through you. Your belly warms.
“So you like me then, don't you?”
“...I more than like, you simpleton.”
“Call me names but I know that you like me~.” You reach to slip your fingers through his hair, scratching. He smells like clear water, silk, a rich scent that's distinctively him. He tenses, but his rumble takes on a deeper pitch, then goes softer and what a marvel that is? You melt deeper into the sheets, him, into you.
“I like this.”
“Silence.”
“And I think you do too. If you're being this obvious you must be down bad–and have been for quite some time, am I right?” You laugh. “I'm so glad you’ve finally succumbed to my charms.”
“Go to sleep, or I will leave.”
“You won't.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“You just said that that was business,” you pout. “Did you lie to me?”
“...I did not.”
“You did.”
“Not. I do not lie.”
“That is a lie in and of itself–” He sits up, looms over you. His brow is stern, but you know he isn't upset. The seam of his mouth is too soft for that.
His hair falls around you, a silk curtain. “Go. To sleep.”
“...On one condition.”
“None.”
“Just one! Just one, please? Pretty pretty please?”
“...” You bat your lashes and he frowns deeper.
“...What is it?” Oh wow, you actually got him. You grin. “Come here. I want a kiss.” And for all his stoic cold demeanor, you see the gleam alight in his eyes before he swoops down swift, to press his mouth to yours.
He's gentler than you'd think he'd be, with all his strength and eagerness. You should remember that. You should remember to not test him too far, even though you want to. Even though you imagine him pressing you into the sheets, smoothing his hands past the barriers of cloth to find where you're aching, hot and slick. You want him to kiss you harder.
That's why he's the one who pulls back first, laying back on top of you.
“There. I fulfilled your request. Fulfill mine. Rest. You need it.”
The warmth on your belly spreads, a migration of butterfly wings, your heart and your throat.
“...If you so insist, my Lord.” With his weight a comfort, it isn't long before you fall back into a dark slumber, with no dreams.
__________
He has to keep swallowing back the drool that pools in his mouth.
Like this, buried in softness, your scent coats him, like he’s cavity deep in a cadaver; it sticks to his cheeks, smears across his mouth and chin and fingers and clogs his nose. A spark, short and sharp, prickles his skin, but it's harmless. He breathes through his mouth, tasting honey in the back of his throat, practically panting. He could get drunk on your scent, gods above and below be damned.
Damn you. Damn you and your eyes and hands every temptation and vice he can afford to indulge. A single glance from you, like looking through warbled glass, reflects every desire for you he’s ever had.
He sighs, sinking deeper in your warmth; He blinks back the slow haze your preheat brings. Hells, he feels like a glutton. It will only get worse when you're in proper heat.
It never lasts. A day or so almost. You're dizzy those days, scatterbrained. Doe-eyed. Atleast, that's what he can tell from the few moments he caught you in heat- he’s never been this close before. He feels…Anticipatory. Eager. Possessive.
Another prick of static crawls over his skin with a hitch of your breath, and a noise, deep in his throat, comes out low and even as he buried his face in your belly.
Clothes, robes, sheets- He can smell you through them. Honey, him, the syrupy dampness left to cool between your thighs. A part of him is angered at the thought-but there will be time to satisfy the both of you.
Sesshoumaru is not one to curb his desires–direct them, temper them, indulge when demonic fancy tends. Discipline is a practice he’s only recently mastered. And only nearly.
When It comes to you, it feels less like a discipline and more like a surveying, stalking. His desire has not been hinged, but cultivated. He will reap what he has sowed.
It's only natural. You are his, and you are in need–should he not provide?
The things you are not aware you need, protection from the dangers that have yet to present themselves.
Sesshoumaru’s ire, his wrath, is the tension of a lightning strike, building, building–then a strike too swift to fathom, smoke and soot and ozone in the air.
So, you rest, lovely thing you are, and he rises, slips from your arms. He stalks out the room.
__________
Ayumi has not met many demons.
Ayumi has not met many demons, but the ones she has met she has spent much time with, so she would like to say that she is rather sensitive to certain…circumstances, or incidents, one could say. Encounters. Moments. Situations.
She feels the ripple of chills down her spine, the added, silent presence in her room, and struggles to keep her breathing even and under control.
He already knows she is awake, her heartbeat probably gave it away. So she sits up, and goes to sit on her knees. She lowers herself in a perfect bow, but pushes up slightly, so that she could lift her eyes, her head still lowered.
Lord Sesshoumaru is a rather beautiful demon, but there appears nothing beautiful now. His eyes are pin pricked golden marbles, elongated fangs and claws, and a deep violet slashes something vicious across his face. He moves his jaw, side to side, human features ill fitted for the demon pressing outwards.
“...” She takes a moment to ensure her voice won't falter. “My…My lord, what might I do for you, at this late hour?”
A second of lightning bolt terror–he is a man after all. She thought that the two of you were…but apparently not? But the anger on his face doesn't speak to the kind of violence one might expect.
He, too, takes a minute to speak. It is dark and rumbling when he does. “Your sons…. Twins. Hanyo’s?“ Her heart skips–sinks, a rock on water.
He leans down. “You must have been married to the previous demon of this town.”
‘Previous demon’…So he knows this one is not the one from before? Have they met?
“...The previous demon, yes–no. No, we were not…married. I had my sons out of wedlock.” He tilts his head, a twitch to his ear.
He moves forth, quickly, and before she could contemplate or process or think of what she is to do, he drags her up by the loose collar of her kimono. She holds his wrist, flesh like steel, to keep herself upright and not dangling, he maneuvers her in such a way that he has view to the pale skin beneath her collar. The patches she put there.
“You are hiding your presentation.”
“After my husband's passing, for…safety-!” He lifts her high–lets her go and catches her by the throat, to hold her better. She chokes, toes dangling above her futon.
“Of course, even at your age, even with children…I imagine you would still attract.”
He’s silent for a moment, and for a moment, he darkens. Ayumi thinks he is going to kill her, just because. He is going to snap her neck, just because. Demons have done more for less. Her lover has done more, for less. But he just makes an annoyed sound, drops her unceremoniously.
“Yes, I know of your presentation,” he says. “But what of your sons? The ones that are to be coming here, here. An Alpha and a beta, a fact I was not made aware of?” She doesn't dare lift her head to match his eyes, she has some self preservation. “Tell me about that, would you?”
“I…I had informed your vassal of their arrival and I had just assumed-”
“‘Assumed?’ That, what? I would allow it? Did you tell them the full truth? Or omit some details? Or, did you hold the hope perhaps that one of your sons could come to claim a bride?” And here his lip curls in a snarl, a sneer, teeth white and sharp like little knives.
”Which one? My vassal or the child?”
“No!” She shakes her head, loose hair spilling down her shoulders.
“My sons would not…I wouldn't, they would never…I…”
“Do not waste my patience, woman. I have little to give.” Of course, of course. Her breath is shallow and quick, Ayumi has the sense to know that she is slowly panicking. The coldness of his words, the murderous drag of his eyes could not be mistaken.
This isn't a demon to lash out in anger, no. This one needs reason, and he is calculated. That means his cruelty is calculated too.
But so too, should his mercy.
Ayumi prostrates herself. “My sons…One an Alpha, the other beta. The oldest was to be his father’s heir but he is…against the idea.
“My sons will be coming to town today, or tomorrow, but they will not be here, I swear! They hardly ever stay at the inn-”
“Where?”
“...The town, the other residents usually offer, so I do not know whose home they would–”
“Where.”
“...Taiga-san, the rice farmer, intends to house them for this visit.” And there, the death knell begins to toll. “They are on the other end of town.”
“The same rice paddies you sent my vassal to?” She tries not to flinch, but she does.
“The same house with that insolent boy… You saw what happened to him.”
“My sons will not be coming here. I’ll ensure it. And, anyways my sons… are much better mannered.” A hint of pride, petty and spiteful. She slides her hands out from her forehead, arms laid flat and hands open, palm up.
“They will know to honor and defer to you as soon as they sense your presence in the village. They are smart boys. If you call for them they will come. If you do not wish to see them, they will not make themselves known to you.”
“And if I want their heads?”
“...Then I will bargain for their lives.”
Again, he scoffs. But as he crouches down, the wood doesn't creak. “And what do you have to offer me?”
“...Whatever it is you can take.” She hesitates, but she reaches and pulls off the bandages on her neck. She can only smell the sharp tincture of herbal ointment. She can't smell it, her scent, but she can imagine he can.
Winter wind, salt, chestnut. A refreshing scent, her lover once told her.
All she could smell in the aftermath was the blood in the air. The old, darkened spark is just another ugly reminder.
“It was my negligence and ineptitude that I failed to inform you. I should have told you immediately,” she clasps her hands. “I am sorry my Lord, I am so sorry. Please forgive me-”
“Do you think I want you?” She doesn't respond, but he goes on. “Because you are an omega? Do you think that all demons are so tasteless?”
Again, she doesn't respond, but he reaches out and grabs her face, lifts it so that she is looking at him. “Answer me.”
“No, no, you do not, but you could. No, you are not uncouth.”
“So because I could, you then make me the offer? Why? Do you think I will kill you? Your sons? They must take after you,” He says, shaking her face, and Ayumi almost bursts into tears, ripping her eyes away. Yes, yes, I do think so! You make it so obvious you will. You're all the same.
“I told you to look at me,” she whimpers, but does as he says.
When she looks, his head is tilted at an arrogant angle, and he scowls at her tears. “I will not sully my blade with your blood. I have not fallen so far as to spill omega blood.” He lets her go, but before she could sob in relief, he leans in, smooth and agile like the predator he is, so that his eyes are level with hers, his breath cold like a winter sea breeze.
“But you will give me what I desire. Speak.”
Something in her head goes silent, and while she still shivers, her voice comes out calm. Her vision sharpens, almost. She recognizes this-if she gets too caught up in the feeling, she’ll faint. She speaks.
“My father had driven me out after I had given birth, because I had…coupled with a demon. He then took me-us, here,” the words spill. “The owners of this inn were old, and he killed them, as well as the Daimyo and his samurai who stayed here. Then we came here.” The upper rooms have remained quiet and full of dust for over a decade, now. Ever since her sons left and they stopped playing with all the ghosts up there. Sometimes, she would swear she can hear noise up there. She’d go to check, but more often than not, there were only the ghosts of the past.
“Why were they here?”
“F-For taxes. They were…leveraging taxes.”
“...And he killed them.”
She wasn't there for the slaughter. A small mercy, perhaps. “People were starving then, so they were thankful, and started leaving offerings in the forest. My lover had a human disguise, but people still assumed…so they treated us well. The people of this town believe that my sons took over the role of their father, when he passed.”
“How did they know your ‘husband’ had passed? He fought another demon and lost, devoured. Even if there was a body or remains, he would have reverted to his demonic form when he died, so you couldn't have held a funeral,” his voice, mocking.
Ayumi blinks, slow. Shingetsu must have told him. “...Yes, there was a great fire that broke out in the midst of a storm, years ago. During it, people saw–him fighting the other demon.”
“A white naga?” So they did meet.
“...No one died, for weeks after. Vagabonds and gangs started pilfering through here, again. We knew there was another demon when people started going missing again. Or we found remains.”
“Then?”
“Life went on. My husband had killed anyone who came for the rumors, the glory of killing a prominent demon. When they dwindled, he ate the residents.
“But this new demon took mostly the wandering ronin, or whoever came through. They took people, but not as often as my husband did. Never those too young either. People here called it a kindness,” And the vitriol that comes out with the word shocks her. She covers her mouth as he speaks.
“So your husband killed whomever, and whenever, and then, a demon, who is not one of your sons, came and killed him to take his place. And this demon kills more sparingly, so the people here pool their pitiful offerings as thanks.”
And maybe it's the blood pounding in her ears, or the way his hair almost reflects the moonlight, familiar, but she opens her mouth and says, “No. No, I killed my husband.”
He raises an eyebrow, and draws back into her space. Panic rises in her throat again, a trapped bird. “Oh? You killed him?”
“I…had poisoned him, before he fought the demon.”
“How? Why. Did you know this new demon would fight your husband?”
“I had a feeling…he was going to leave me. Us.” Her nails dig into her palm to quell the sudden heat in her eyes. “I didn't know the demon would attack. But I knew he would die that night.”
And he laughs, at her, just once, a breath, and that felt more derogatory than anything he had done so far in this night. Her face burns with unshed tears and shame, anger. She swallows it all, a burning in her belly.
“You killed your lover. “
“Yes.”
“Is that why your sons have left you? Their scents have long faded from the wood of this place, you know. It better stay that way. “ She nods, frantically.
“O-of course-”
“I won't kill you, you lucky thing. The same courtesy does not apply to your children. Your negligence in informing me of them has ensured this. Perhaps if you had been forthright, I could have lent some leniency…The chance is lost now.” He lets her go and rises, and Ayumi realizes she holds no breath.
“...I should rid myself of you, set your building ablaze. But we can ill afford to leave. There will be a storm soon.”
“Then why don't you leave now to beat it, and save us both some misery.” She blinks, then realizes the fear has numbed over her skin like rain in winter. She is disconnected from her body and her tongue is loose.
She moves, to try and salvage her life. “You, you obviously want to leave, and, well, well the darkness of the new moon will last two nights. Why not leave now while you still have the slightest light?”
“...They are all resting. Why should I disturb it and give myself unnecessary grief?”
Does he care…? No, no, he's a demon, why would he?
“...Your vassal does not have a mating mark.” She’s noticed the unmarked swathe of your flesh, and envied you horribly for it. At the same time, she pitied you—and the child. Rin.
She looks neither like yourself or the Lord, and Ayumi could guess her situation no better than she could yours. She looked happy–but most children are easily pleased. She is a child, but she would grow to be a woman, eventually. She dreads who she’ll grow in to be under the tutelage of you both. Someone should save her.
“I’ve noticed their symptoms, and their lack of notice. Is this their first fever?”
He pauses. “This will pass, as it always has before.”
So it was not. He did not answer her observation on your lack of notice….so perhaps you did not know. If you did…would you stay? Did you even have a choice?
Ayumi remembers those hazy days of fever. She did not enjoy the symptoms, rather, the alleviation of them, even if her skin crawled throughout.
Before she could follow that stream of thought the demon turns on his heel, his long hair moving with him.
“Continue to serve as you have. We will leave once the worst of this storm is over, and perhaps you and your sons could remain with your lives.” His eyes flash. “Heed my words. I will not repeat them.”
Ayumi bows, head to the floor. When she rises, he’s gone.
Ayumi takes a moment–to breathe. She looks around the still little room, and clutches her loose collar close to her throat.
She breathes–Once, twice, thrice. Then she weeps.
__________
You dream of a memory.
It was before Rin joined. You’d settled deep into your situation, having spent the past few months already with your new companions, and a few more in this era in whole. It wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. At least you can semi make a fire now.
A fire that was now slowly dying. The embers crawled across the logs like fire ants, but you were mesmerized by what lay above. The sky, that is.
You never had seen anything quite this beautiful before. You dont think you’ll ever find anything better. You don’t gape, open mouthed anymore, but your eyes are wide and ravenous, drinking it all in. Your mouth curls in a smile.
“Go to sleep.” You jolt, but it's just the Lord. His arms are crossed and his eyes closed, he speaks low.
“Enough stargazing. Rest.”
“But it’s all so lovely.”
“We leave at dawn. I will not hear your complaints.” You laugh under your breath.
“Don’t worry, I won't!”
“Lies.” You laugh again, louder, and Jaken snorts in his sleep. A-un peels open an eye to look at you, before he too returns to rest.
It's quiet for a few moments before he speaks again.
“They are the same stars as always. They will not disappear if you stop looking.”
Mirth colors your voice. “I know that.”
“Then why stare in such awe?”
“Because I’m in love.” The way he goes silent and still so suddenly doesn't sit right with you. But you refuse to let the moment fall into something more awkward.
You stretch a hand out. “I just love the stars. Before I landed here I've never seen a sky like this. Remember that electricity thing I told you about? There's too much of that light pollution to really see the sky. At most, in the city you can see a scattered handful.”
“Typical of humans, to spread their dross even to the skies.” You frown.
“I think it's a shame too that not many people see it as a problem. There was a blackout in…San Francisco? Or Los Angeles? Anyways, there was an electricity blackout and so many people called the authorities to report those ‘strange lights in the sky’. It’s so sad that there are people who don't even know what stars are.”
A scoff. “Humans are simpler and better served when you are dealing with plagues and agriculture and demons. Convenience has made you all indolent.”
“‘Indolent?’”
“Complacent. Lazy.”
“I wasn't asking for a definition,” you frown. And then you pout. “...And I am not lazy.”
“You are. You have none of the skills needed to survive. None of the skills a human your age should have.”
You huff and sit yourself up. “And that's not laziness if it wasn't a necessity to know back when. Besides, I learned quick enough, didn't I? I don't expect anyone to pick up after my slack.”
“What person does not need to know how to search for water, or gather firewood, or to make a fire? Who does not know how to stitch cloth or tell time by sun, to identify poisonous plants?”
“All that is taken care of. We focus on other things, Like curing diseases, or exploring the mysteries and laws of the planet, even other planets. More people can afford an education, and industrial production has only boosted!”
“Produce what? Production for the sake of what? Simply because? That sounds great for your feudal Lords.”
“We dont have Lords-I mean, most of us dont–”
“So you produce for a lord that doesnt make any remedies or facilities available to you.”
You pause. Wher eis this going. “Look at you advocating for the lowly people.”
“I’m not,” he scoffs. “But the symptoms put in place work for a reason. Does your endless labor benefit your life in any meaningful way, or is it just for the sake of capital? Can you eat it what you produce, or use it in any real capacity, or do you endlessly produce for the sake of a possibility of consumption?”
…God damn. You dont need a reality check like this. “Okay mister, I know consumerism is no joke–”
“No, it's not, its a preference, not a commodity. You are disconnected from the fruits of your labour. Even the poorest rice farmer is better rewarded than you are in your era. Has the human lifespan been extended just for you all to live in pointless work, pointless excess and vice? That sounds simply like gluttony.”
Your fingers dig into your sleeve. The tone of his voice is reprimanding, and cold. This feels like it's devolving into an argument, and you don’t like that.
“Well, I don't think you should judge a multitude, the culmination of generations, or even just one era by a singular person. One you don’t know all that much about.”
“...I know far more about you than I care for.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I know that you are in love.” And you go quiet. “You’re a glutton for the privileges you once held. You act like a sheltered noble, as if the world is in your hands. You get drowsy and antsy before a storm breaks. Your first instinct is to debate and argue, as if you are a scholar-”
“I am–”
“--And you are seldom quiet, and lack proper mannerisms. It is appalling.”
“...Oh, well, please pardon me my esteemed Lord–”
“I do not. Also, you are weak and you have no fear.”
“Fear from what?”
Finally, he opens his eyes, and you hope he’s far enough away to miss the skip of your heart. They are impassive, and alight, twin lanterns glinting off the top glaciers of a frosty mountain.
Gods, you’re whipped.
{...behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.}
“...” He stares at you, and you catch up to what you said.
“I mean–! You’re strong enough to deal with any demons we come across, and humans of course don't stand a chance. So… yeah, what do I have to fear?” You raise your hands and let them fall back to your sides, as you fall back to the grass.
It’s as simple as that. You have protection, you are safe here. What have you to fear?
He doesn't have a response for you, and you think he is in agreement. Or at least tired of talking. Fine either way.
You hum, and open your eyes to the stars again, only to flinch horribly when the Lord stands above you, outlined by starlight.
You didn't even hear him move. “And you have nothing to fear from me?”
He can probably hear the thumping of your blood, does he mistake that for fear? His eyes are just too…direct. His gaze was always sharp, but it's pointed now, like a knife tracing your throat.
You half sit up, leaning on your elbows, not sure to rise or remain. It brings you closer. “...No.”
“No?”
“As long as I don't do anything to earn your ire, right? Or your displeasure, then I’m fine.
“And…Have I displeased you, my Lord?”
You curse yourself as you stumble over his title, but he crept up on you so suddenly and you’re startled.
He leans in. You’re enthralled.
Hair slips down, like a curtain closing in on either side of you, and you’re captured by golden eyes, like the yellow crater pocketed-moon, like gold, like honey. You don't even notice you’ve sat up fully, until you notice you’re counting each individual lash of his eyes.
He speaks. “No.”
“No?” Fuck, your voice cracks.
He reaches, and your hair comes between his fingers. He has to cradle your head to do it, and it's like he’s holding you up for his purview, keeping you in place. If you let your weight fall, would he hold you up?
“....No. Unfortunately for you, I am not displeased.”
“Hm? I-I don’t–” you stutter as his hand moves over your eyes. You have to wonder if he can feel the brush of your lashes with each blink, how lightly his hand rests.
Now you can only hear his voice. “You will see the stars for years hereafter. Now, rest.”
__________
Jaken left right before dawn for the things his Lord needs him to get. He has been foraging from first light to the bright light of noon.
Of course, his Lord didn't give him an exact, precise list, or say, anything, really, but Jaken is also a demon, and he understands that his Lord can't just come out and say the things that you need, the plants he needs to forage, for whatever tinctures, teas, ointments. It's not like you’d know, or even ask, stubborn, pigheaded fool.
You're only human, so you do not understand the significance of what this all means. You will, eventually.
The day is gray as storm clouds gorge themselves with rainwater, soon to burst. This delays their plans–they’ll have to stay within this place for a day or two more, at least until the rains let up enough, for A-un to be able to fly without you two being at risk of a lightning bolt.
But as of right now, rain hasn't yet broken, though the top soil is only slightly damp as he digs for roots. He has to hurry, before these too are weighed down by wet and storm.
…Imagine his lord, with his elegant, noble hand, digging through dirt for tangled roots? Ha!
But, he's done it before, hasn’t he?
{You and the child sleep into the night, set to rise early next morning. The area is wrought with demons, but you wouldn't know if not for the dying screams here and there-Your Lord slays all who dare to come too close to the dizzying trail you leave behind, though he himself stays out of sight.
At night, he returns, to check the state of you both, to brew teas from the plants he foraged himself. Jaken never speaks-too stunned by the display, its implications. You do not know how terrifying you are, to influence the Lord as such.
You don't know how damned you are, little human.}
“Where in the hells…” The foliage is so overgrown and tangled, and Jaken has to claw his way deeper into the forest to get the things needed. Everything is too strangled and dead closer to the village.
He has his staff with him. And with all the time spent under his lord, his scent signature is on him as well. The demon wouldn't dare to touch him, unless he wishes to die. Honestly, Jaken has no issue with drowning this town or setting the forest ablaze if it saves his life.
There's a scent that catches his nose. Faint, but so startingly familiar that it stops him in his tracks.
The rice boy, with his spiced musk. The scent of his blood.
“So, the naga demon dragged him out here then, hm? Pretty far from the paddies.” Jaken shakes his head, rearranging his basket like an old woman.
“...Did he taste well? Or was he as distasteful as his demeanor?”
There's no response. He doesn't know if it's because the demon is not here, or whether he smells the lord's signature and refuses to come out. Either way, it's safe.
He should be safe.
Under no impression is he that he is alone. The tracks are smooth and unbroken, fresh, and typical of reptilian demons. He knows he is a naga demon, in the few words his Lord shared with him before returning to his chambers. To you.
{“The demon of this town is a naga, white scales,” he pauses to think, remember. “Plain dark hair, brown reptilian eyes.”
“Is he a threat, my lord-” His nails sharpen and Jaken swallows his words.
“If he was, I would have killed him where he wriggled, the worm.” He growls, then sighs, pushing his hair away from his face.
He sighs again, harsh and quick, and his fangs are elongated, knife sharp and milk white. Shivers ripple across Jaken’s skin.
He understands his Lord could be–is, agitated. You can always put him in that sort of mood, but your frequent heats, over and over and over and over for months on end would put any demon on the ropes. Surely, being so close to you now is having its toll.
Something will have to break–hunger or carnal. Jaken wonders if he’ll come back to a corpse, and he finds himself hoping that, despite…well, you’ll probably be alright.
“We stay until the worst of the storm abates. They should be over the worst of it then; I will acquire some remedies when day breaks to ease them. There is an apothecary here, so I believe.”}
Jaken knows his Lord would only settle for the convenience of an apothecary, instead of the surety of his own skills and hands in such an inconvenient, meddlesome time. So, Jaken has taken the job, even if he doesn't really like you, even if he is a little late, and, a little lost.
He swats his staff around, trying to clear his way in the general direction of the town. If anything, he just needs to avoid where the ground slopes downwards. Although, those seem to be plenty in this near-untouched forest.
Like now. His foot trips on empty air, a sudden decline, and he stabs the staff into the ground to try and right himself as he falls.
“Why are there so many slopes!?” He screams as he slides. He tumbles down, and he scrambles with all his little might.
“It's a mountain range?! Why does it lead so far down-!”
It's not uncommon for a terrain like this to be bumpy with hills and hidden crags. But the slope smooths further he goes.
When he finally gets his footing, he stands to look past the plants that grow past his height, to see that the slope is far deeper than he thought, almost straight down. As he follows it with his eyes, Jaken sees why.
The opening of a mine, half boarded, stands before him. Its outside is black with ash and soot, blackened hand prints and claw marks. He smells the demon, and he smells more blood of the boy. The smell of sulfur, wafting from deep underground.
‘If it is sulfur I cannot light any fires here,’ he thinks. "It will make an explosion and I’ll die as well.”
Furthermore, just to the side of the opening lies a shrine-altar, of sorts.
Jaken isn't getting close to that thing just to get snatched inside. It's an abandoned mine, yet the wind that comes from it is warm, as if heated by body and breath. The altar has offerings on it, half burned incense, silver utensils, and, strangely, a bowl of rice with chopsticks placed vertically within the bowl.
The rice offering wasn't strange. What was strange was it was expensive white rice, and that there was still steam wafting from the bowl.
It's time to go.
This was definitely the demon's lair, an abandoned mine leading underground. Perhaps the offering was made by a foolish resident, praying for all the people who left handprints as they were dragged inside to their doom as they surely were.
He couldn't hear any screams from inside but he wasn't going to be next. Jaken squints more to see the hands that blacken the wood of the mine’s entrance, both big and small. A plethora of victims.
A rustle has him whirl around, staff at the ready. But he sees nothing, hears nothing. He doesn't drop his guard. Instead, he trudges slowly back onto high ground, looking around for the noise. He did not imagine it.
“Who is there? Come, now, if you value your life.” Nothing, except the wind.
“Do you want me to come find you? Or, are you trying to lure me away from your lair?”
If he uses fire, he risks an explosion with the sulfur in the air. Water is the safer bet, but if he ends up overdoing it, he might draw out whatever’s in the boarded up mine, or wash himself away. He doesn't exactly have the high ground to keep high and dry.
A voice, suddenly, high but male: “Not at all- You're very welcome.”
He doesnt recognize it. Neither does he doesn't get the chance to look. Hands come out from the grasses, grasping his clothes, his hands, covering his mouth–he is dragged into the mine with nary a sound.
__________
You sleep.
Not peacefully. You toss and turn and curl and uncurl. You go between a deep sleep into a half doze, and Sesshoumaru stays there through it all. It's a normal symptom of preheat behavior. You’ll either be completely asleep or awake for the day or two of your actual heat.
He keeps a pot of ginger tea at the ready for when you awake. It should help.
The child, Rin, is in the room as well, looking over you occasionally with the tug in her brow. He wants to keep her in sight, even though he knows she is capable with the tanto up her sleeve. Capable and willing.
When she glances at you in that worrying way for the nth time, Sesshoumaru beckons her over.
She shuffles on her knees till she is by his side.
“They are not sick.”
“...I know. It happens.”
“So you understand what this is?”
“Cycle. I’ll…get them. Too.”
“I am sure that they have explained to you their terms for their biological functions. But do you understand what cycle I mean?” She looks at him confusedly, and Sesshoumaru sighs.
If only you were a bit more informed, and not so damn dense, you could’ve been the one having this conversation with the child. She’s practically your child already, with the way you dote on her.
[But she is his too, isn't he? He didn't bring her back to life because she wasn't.]
“Demons have higher senses, so we are more aware of our biology than humans are. There are the dynamics, and everyone fits into one of them. Alpha, beta, omega.” He looks the tiny girl in her eyes, darker than lily-seeds. “You and they–are omega.”
“...?” When she tilts her head he continues. “Alphas are dominant, protective and proactive. Often they are the heads of households, and providers. Betas are more mild, and depending on the individual, fall more towards either side of the spectrum. They typically have softer senses and milder temperaments. Most humans are beta.”
“And…omega?”
“...Sweeter smelling, with softer dispositions. By that I mean they are not as aggressive or forward as Alphas, though, that does not mean they are weak, or invalid. Within demon societies they just tend to be raised that way, so culture shapes perceptions. They are desired for their biology, their sweet scents attract.” Her eyes widen with understanding and he nods.
“That is why demons follow the two of you so often. They are attracted to the blood, yes, there is no doubt of that, but also the scents.”
“Is that why you leave? To not eat…”
“No. If I wanted to eat them I would have done so long before we took you in.” We, we, we.
You shuffle and groan in your sleep, and her eyes flit towards you.
“Then why do you…”
“To kill the demons that are attracted to the scent of it all. As well as…” she turns to him, and Sesshoumaru wonders if she is too young, perhaps, for him to be as honest as he wants to be. Whether or not you are listening in your dreams.
“Omegas are also desired for mating. Procreation.”
“Pro…”
“To have children.’ her mouth makes an ‘oh’ shape.
“That is why Alphas could be triggered into ruts, when synced with their omega’s heats, which is another kind of cycle, the one they are in right now.”
“...And you are…”
She doesn't say anything else, but he knows the way her mind races, her voice caught behind. So he adds, “...An alpha. But I do not intend to father any bastards. Just because these are our biological functions does not mean we need to adhere to them.” Despite how difficult it feels to not breathe in your scent like a man risen from the depths. His nails dig into his palm and break skin, just to heal the next moment.
“So they are yours then? Your…omega?” How simple she makes it sound, as if that's all there is to this. But you are. He nods.
“So are you going to marry them then?” That question though, for whatever reason, is what jolts him.
…Why hasn't he ever thought of marriage with you before? He has only thought about having you, enjoying you and weathering your antics and quirks. And he’s always had little doubt of your reciprocation, only the quickness of it.
Blackened teeth do not suit you. He prefers the gleam of your smile under sunlight. Shorter sleeves however, would suit you well.
Rin, with her blatant, [and frankly rude] dead straight gaze, hums.
“It’s, okay. I always knew you liked them.”
“Since when?” It comes out more snide than he intended, but she just shrugs.
“The way you look. At each other.”
That’s it? He wonders, as Rin moves to you. She pulls off his outer chinese robe that's already half off you. She twitches as he does so, and Sesshoumaru’s ears can pick up the soft pop of static that sparks between her hands and the cloth. Rin stands and lifts it, of course, it's much taller than her and pools on the floor.
If it was anyone else they would have lost their hands. But he watches as she fumbles with the fabric, catching hint a beat too late as she turns the robe inside out, and covers you once more. You flinch before you settle back into comfort.
“There. Better.” She grins, dusts her hands like she worked oh so hard, a quirk she's picked up from you.
“Rin.” She hums again in answer, looks at him.
And Sesshoumaru, he has to wonder if she understands the significance of what she did. She is a child yes, but a child under the care of demons and a Prophet. A child who's died once already.
“You will never have to worry about your future. Your physiology will have no bearing on what path you decide to take in your life.”
She pauses, and it seems like she wants to say something before she shakes her head, and smiles. She nods, and with a bounce in her step, she skips out the room.
You slumber on.
__________
The rice daughters are quite infamous within this town. And as the eldest of them, Kushinadahime is the least famous of them all.
‘What a strong, dutiful daughter. How hardworking.”
“As she should be. She takes after her mother.”
“No, the twins do moreso. They're so lovely in their performances.”
“Do you think Taiga-san will arrange marriages to get them out of town soon? You know, Kiyohime was married quite young. They’re above the age she was.”
“To whom will they marry? They have to marry outside the town, they’re beautiful enough.”
“Well, to the other twins of course. They're a bit late, aren't they?”
“Do you think Kushinadahime will marry one first? Or will the twins be paired with one another?
“She should provide an example and marry first. Or maybe she'll make sure they're safe first? Especially Ohatsuhime-chan.”
Especially Ohatsuhime, the youngest of them, and the loveliest. The most famous, the most pitied.
When each daughter was born it was a day of fear. Because common tales will tell that a rice farmer blessed with daughters will have a bountiful harvest, but everyone knows demons love daughters. And they were all beautiful, but Ohatsuhime was beautiful from birth. Some damned, others condemned. Takashi always rejected that nonsense though. He got that from mother.
That's why each one of their names has a ‘Hime’, princess. Why mother washed their hair with white rice water and bathed them in water from the mountain streams. Quite presumptuous of her, and they've carried the tradition even to this day, sneers and looks of envy following after them all their lives.
After mother drowned, those words and looks hung over their heads from thereafter. Takashi was only six years of age, and she was four. The twins were barely over their first year, and Ohatsuhime was just born.
The ominous presence over them faded, as the years passed but now, with the death of the eldest son…
‘Poor Taiga-son, his only son…first his wife and then his son? How cruel. How unfair.”
“Then why didn’t they move like they were first told to? Even before Kiyohime-san…”
“Well, what are they to do now? Kushinadahime must step up now and secure marriages for herself and her sisters. Who else can support them and her father now?’
Yes, as though she has not been the primary caregiver of her family since mother passed and she learned how to work the stove.
[The only thing better than a daughter is an eldest son].
Takashi worked hard in the fields, and he could bargain for other supplies from other families if they needed. If a demon slithered into their home, he would take that discarded ronin sword and defend them.
But beyond that, he never expected to do anything more demanding than some repair at home. As younger children, he almost burned the house down when Tamayorihime asked him to help with dinner once, as she was sick and their father was, frankly, helpless. The twins were too young and Ohatsuhime was an infant.
That's how she tells the twins apart now, by the burn on Tamayorihime’s wrist. She never let him near the stove again.
She made sure their father was cleaned and dressed and fed and took his medication. She and her sisters made the teas and meals, rice cakes, and the mochi and wine and the sake, with the abundance of rice they always had. They cleaned. They worked the fields. Kushinadahime worked with the apothecary, even if the older women told her not to follow her path lest she be single and die childless. The twins loved to dance. Ohatsuhime was still young and wanting to do everything.
Takashi offered protection, and less work among the paddies. He went past the mountain pass every few months to sell and procure things for them. An extra body of warmth in the winter. A voice to talk to in the night. Brother. With father as he was, Patriarch. All he wanted was the world.
And now, he’s probably dead or being devoured and life has to go on anyways like he never existed, isn't that right?
Why now? Why so close to the New moon? She knew she should have forced him back to bed; Even strong as he was, Kushinadahime was strong too, she had to be. And he was weak from pain, she could have forced him.
It's almost that time of month, when she and her sisters cycle syncs. Blood, of any kind, attracts. It's why they always left, huddled somewhere secluded and safe to wait the bleedings out. Most women of the town were older, and weaker, so they oft didn't need to hide, not like them. Not like Numchi-san, or the apothecary, in her golden days. Or, you.
The irony does not miss her. She has only seen an image of you, dizzy from a fall, the image of a perfect damsel that her brother just could not help but to help, a boost to his ego. You and Numachi-san are very similar in this regard.
Who is going to safeguard them now? They are not some pampered vassal, or bride, hiding away in lavish inns with a mighty demon's protection, fostering and mothering children of his.
…She has to go tell her. She and her sisters still need to go. The twins already left much earlier and she must join them. Just until the bleedings stop. Until it's safe to come back. Safe for Ohatsuhime, who has not gotten her blessings despite her age, and safe for her withering, grieving father. For now.
Numachi-san’s twins would not come here now. They wouldn't dare.
Her twins, Toyotamahime and Tamayorihime, were silent as a tomb, despite their tears when she sent them off.
“The usual time, just a few days. You know we can't stay here right now, not…not with what happened. I’ll tell father.”
“What about Ohatsuhime?”
“We can't send her to Numachi-san. Not with that demon there.”
“Then I'll send them both to the apothecary. I’ll force father if I have to. Just focus on getting there safely, okay?” With an embrace, she sent them on their way.
She’ll join them, after she makes sure that her sister and father will be taken care of. She’ll seclude herself with her sisters, until it's safer to be around them.
She jumps as Ohatsuhime suddenly taps her shoulder. She whirls to meet her wide, dark eyes.
“-hime, it's very hot today. Everyone is tired even though it's not noon yet.”
“...Alright, we can stop for a break then and–”
“Kushinadahime,” They always use their full names, no honorifics with one another. “There's. Something else. Tamayorihime and Toyotamahime already left, right?” Something in her tone makes her pause, but Kushinadahime was speaking and cutting her off is just rude so just let her finish her sentence, please?
…She can feel her skin crawling, like it wants to get away from her body.
“In a minute. After the break lets gather what we’ve got-”
“No, Kushinadahime, it’s-”
“And it's almost time to give father his medicinal teas and did you pack the things you'll need–”
“Kushinada-hime,” Ohatsuhime raises her voice. Few of the workers who weren't already have turned to look.
“Father. Isn't. Resting right now.”
“...Well, I can understand why not.” Is a dead son still called prodigal, or just lost? “He'd be working with the rest of us if he could, I bet.”
“No, sister, he…he left, he left.” It's only a moment of pause, before she's suddenly dragging her baby sister back to dry land.
“What do you mean? When?! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Where could he be? Where could he have gone?!”
“He took Takashi-kun’s blade with him. He found something when we went to check the spot again, oh, I told him not to, I told him to stop, he never goes inside the grove but he kept on and we found– I think he’s going to Numachi-san’s inn!”
“What did he find?” She could grip her hair out in frustration, anger, worry. But as Ohatsuhime holds open the fist she kept at her side, Kushinadahime sees the silver thread–no, strand of hair there, and her stomach drops.
And thats the end of part one! Part Two will be linked here if you wanna see what happens next!
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
Content warnings: Misogny, A LOT of it, era apropiate sexism, (physical) assault, dismemberment (a little and not reader) non graphic.
A/N: A lot of the misogyny here is just characters reiterating what women of this era were expected to do, i.e be homemakers listen to men and whatever. However, the physical assault part will be put under a bar if you need to skip.
Length: 15.8K (This one got away from me bois gn)
Part 2 of 4
What I'm trying to say is that, in this universe which sculpted itself from a baptism of fire, I am the moon swept up by your tendernes. You got me dreaming foreign words: gravity, ellipsis, perigee, until all i can think about is becoming ancored into orbit around the saltwater green landscape of your laughter.
You had another strange dream that night, when you fell asleep.
Rin fretted, so you swung between a light and deep slumber, and the images that flashed behind your eyes were strange, to say the least. The remnants you remember play like a movie.
It's dark, the cloud of your body floating away from you like a mist in the darkness. White scales glow. Another man’s voice, frantic, angry almost. A familiar blade. Tenseiga flashes like the cold white edge of the moon, and then, silence.
And then warmth.
Were you just stressed? Was your mind just filling itself with nonsense after what happened– What almost happened last night?
You’re up before the sun, dawn just a lavender-pink bruise on the horizon.
Numachi-san must still be asleep, because no one stirs as you make a pot of tea, ginseng and ginger, like the old apothecary had intended. You’re not sure if they’re meant to go together but oh well. The earthy, warm drink is also spicy, and does wonders to help finish waking you up so early.
The slightest shuffle in the dim dark, and you whirl. Your Lord steps into the foyer, and you try to ease the sudden pounding of your heart.
He lifts a hand when you bow to greet him, barely sparing a glance and striding past. The breeze of his pace cools the sweat on your brow, and you reach out.
Figuratively of course. “My Lord, would you not stop for a cup of tea? It's…ginger and ginseng. It will help reduce stress for you.”
“I am not stressed.”
“Still, it wouldn't be, uh, very good to start the day on an empty stomach, my Lord.” He turns on his heel. And in the pastel colored dawn cringing its way across the sky, his eyes almost glow. They could be glowing, for all you know. The moment feels too trepidatious to really ask.
Your voice is soft. “...What are you doing today, My Lord?”
“...It is none of your concern.”
“I’m not concerned, I'm just curious. Will you tell me?” And you step forward. Just one tiny step but he tracks it.
“The demon, stalking this village.”
“So they’re real? Not a rumour?”
“Yes. It must have some measure of strength, I intend to test it.” A hand on his blade, not Tenseiga. That is for emergencies.
“So that's why you’re gone throughout the day. Are we... Will we see you at dinner?” He sighs harshly, suddenly, and turns where the foyer leads to the front doors.
“What is the point? Does it bring you some added comfort, my presence?”
“Yes, it does.” He meant that rhetorically, or sarcastically, you only realize. And you answered far too honestly. You backtrack.
“And Rin, too, as well. It would do her some good to know that you are still around. The last time she saw you was early morning yesterday; You leave signs of yourself even when we are on our travels, so I suspect she’s worried. And, that that's why she had a nightmare.” You wring your hands, you’re babbling too much.
Why are you nervous…? This isn’t new territory, not really.
There's always been some odd kind of tension between you and the Lord, even if you were hesitant to call it so. He’s been more lenient though hasn’t he? Besides the night before. He doesn’t really force you to walk on foot anymore when you forgo honorifics, and he’ll just ignore you when you get too obnoxious. Nothing crazy, but he’s already used to you!
You always just figured he wasn't used to company before, especially one such as yours, and there has always been some feelings of safety and attraction on your end. He is rather beautiful, though you wouldn't call yourself vain. Yesterday just breathed to life the embers that have been left smoldering for too long.
Above all, you just want things to flow naturally.
He sighs. “You so readily coddle the child.”
“Should children not be coddled?”
“No.” He pivots, eyes eerie and pointed. “How will she survive, if you spoil her so?”
“That is different, she is a child, and the adults have the responsibility to care for and protect her. That is different from coddling.”
“That sounds exactly like it.”
“But it's not. She is still being taught what she needs to learn. And if you're so against this ‘coddling’, why did you let me leave to take care of her last night?”
And just like that, the breath in the room is sucked away at the slightest mention. Sesshoumaru goes still, still in that way that reminds you that yeah, this isn't a human. He isn’t a bomb, steadily ticking towards explosion. No, he’s a mountain, a breath away from a landslide.
But he doesn't say anything. The way he looks at you seems to be daring you to make mention of that again, and you’re not sure that that is such a good idea anymore.
“...It's just…she's a child, and I believe all children deserve a happy childhood and… I'm just eager to please her, My Lord.”
“And not I?” You both catch that at the same time, because when your eyes meet, you see the slightest, just the slightest shock in them. A reprimand, for himself.
Huh.
He clicks his tongue, sharp and flat. “Nevermind. You are–”
“My Lord,” You’re bold enough to cut him off, gods be damned. “I can’t even begin to imagine what I could do that would begin to please you, with our…differences. Should I start? You have to be clear with me.” You take another step closer, and when did you become so bold? His eyes flit to yours.
The silence doesn't just fall, it crashes, like a boulder landing, like a current pulling you under.
That came out… much more bold than you were intending. But you don't backtrack, you wait.
There are no distractions now.
“I ‘must be clear’, with you?” He steps forward, in that all too familiar way. It's like he’s gliding more than walking, and the proximity makes your heart pound. You hold your tea closer.
It's still a touch too warm, stinging your hands, but it doesn't seem to affect him when he takes it from you, sets it down; With his one hand he grabs your wrist, his hand large enough to dwarf yours, a thumb pressing into the lowest thrum of your veins.
“Your pulse is quick.” He murmurs, head dipped. He’s so close to you. You drink in those regal features, the way he’s so fixed on your hands.
He rubs over your wrist, slow, deep circles that slow your heart under their prudent care. You don’t say anything, you just breathe as he works, oddly…focused.
His nails, his claws, are hued red at the points, fingers long and defined and pretty. Not soft, calloused and rough, he is a samurai…but pretty.
He moves to rub his wrist against yours, and a slight shock of static makes you jump, but he’s too close for you to get that far. Not that you want to go far. You’re reminded of when your mother would rub lotion on your hands, or scented oil into your wrists. He does it once, twice, on both wrists, sliding his skin across your wrist, the inside of your forearms, before he moves to the delicate skin behind your ear.
You laugh and jolt away. “That tickles.”
“Just stay still.”
“I’m trying.” Not hard enough, you jitter away from his touch with breathy laughter, and with a breath of a mutter he cups the back of your head, and replaces the slow drag of his wrist with his teeth.
That stills you. It's…barely a bite, what he’s doing. But his teeth are there and you’ve never felt anything so sharp so close to your neck before. You quiet, under the conscious threat of being near something so sharp. But he wouldn’t do anything.
You're 80% sure.
He murmurs against your skin. “Are you going to keep still, now?”
“Uh, yeah?” you breathe. “Your fangs are at my throat, duh.” He doesn't rise to the bait, he just drags his teeth over the soft column of your throat, his claws tangled in your hair.
“What... are you even doing?”
He clicks his tongue, and you can almost feel the wet heat of it. “Dense as always.”
“I am not ahh-” a staggered breath, just pushing a moan of your lips when he bites down, just above your collarbone. It's gentle, not even breaking skin, and that's what surprises you.
You’re clinging onto him, you realize, strands caught between your fingers. You lean back, but there's nowhere to go between where you were and him.
He just sighs against your skin, and leans into you more, so your back is arched and you’re melded against him, like a pressed flower. There's a rumble in his throat you can feel when you squeak.
Well, two can play at that game.
You reach, press into him with your body and return the favor; your mouth tracts the pointed shell of his ear. When you reach the pointed end you bite down, and he jolts. He actually jolts.
Not away, mind you. But his teeth clamp down before he moves, leaving an imprint around that plum colored bruise.
You look at each other, caught in this twilight moment. And he draws away. You want to cling, but you have your pride, and reluctantly you let him out of your hold, white strands of silk slipping through your fingers. His face is smooth but you sense a contentment? There, the slightest sense of smug satisfaction.
You press your fingers to the spot his teeth were in, just seconds ago, when he leaves. There, just above your collarbone. If you had a mirror you could see it, but you’re certain. A lavender pick bruise, delightfully sore.
You press down, hard.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Breakfast is a normal affair, or abnormal, as you were the first person up which happened almost never. Breakfast was served anyways, and it didn't take much cajoling to get Numachi-san to sit down with you again, even if she only accepted a cup of tea, which she poured herself, after she served all of you. Must be a tendency of hers.
“Hey, Numachi-san, have you lived here in this town your whole life?”
“Hm? Oh, no, I moved here when I was quite young, no older than you, actually,” she tells you as she sits. You pout a bit.
“Oh, I was going to ask you some things about the Demon haunting this place. Like whether it's been here longer than you have or something.” She looks at you oddly, with her dark bangs. Her eyes and her hair.
“They've been here a few years before I came here, and the attacks weren’t as bad. They got worse over the years. This used to be a popular spot for a resting Daimyo on their travels, as it was a good spot to rest travel wise. One was eaten though, and his entourage, that's what made people stop coming here. If even a Daimyo isn't safe, no one is. People are too poor and sentimental to move. And some others were eaten, trying. Most don't bother anymore.”
“And…yet you chose to stay? Your sons were able to leave, why didn’t you go with them after you're husband passed, since I'm sure you don't get many customers nowadays…”
“Oh, because when I do get customers, they’re amazing ones, like you honored guests! There's the occasional weary traveler–but I get monks, samurai, swordsmen, hunters looking to take down a fabled demon…those folk hardly return though.
“I…you could say, inherited this place when I came to this town, after I left my village. It was when the Daimyo had been eaten, along with the samurai who protected him and the old inn keepers. I worried it would be too hard a job for me to fix, but my sons helped me. It’s only as furbished as it is now because they helped me with the more tedious things.” She delicately raises her cup to drink.
“How helpful of them. What are your sons like, Numachi-san? They’re visiting pretty soon, right? You must miss them a lot. ” She looks up from the tea in her hands, tilts her head.
“Oh, well, yes of course…I had twin sons, one would have been ideal, but having two...You might not know but twins are an ill omen. When I gave birth…It was either leave one or be banished. So I was driven from my home, and found my way here. No one cares about ill omens in a town that's already cursed,” she shrugs. “Now I’m here.”
“You said your husband stayed with you?” Her smile turns sour.
“Well, no, he…visited. He too believed in the ill omen of twins…and he was a very reclusive person, even at his most affectionate. So the visits dwindled until…he eventually passed away.”
“I'm…so sorry for your loss?” Even though he sounds like an asshole?
“Don’t be, it's a relief in some ways...” The bitterness surprises the both of you, she pauses, and then covers her mouth in horror.
“I-I mean…It's just–”
“You...don't have to explain anything to me, Numachi-san.”
“I don't want you to think I’m ungrateful,” she presses, daring to inch closer to you. Her hands tremble.
“You’re so kind, honored guest, and I’d hate to spoil your image of me. I am grateful for both my sons and my husband when he was with me. I'm grateful for this Inn, and the people in this town who are kind enough to not have chased me out like my birth family. Truly, I am.”
“You don't have to be grateful for the bare minimum.”
“Hm?” She looks so confused, and the expression she wears nettles at you. You’re not irritated with her, just her attitude. She’s so….timid. Mellow.
“Of course you can be grateful for the blessings, all the good in your life. But it's okay to…not be okay with just the barebones. You don’t have to be thankful for the scraps.” You can be angry too, you know, you want to tell her.
You think of a girl, with twin boys, being driven from a village by her own family. Traveling alone for goodness knows how long, until she reached a cursed village and a dilapidated inn she would painstakingly restore. A husband who only visited ‘sometimes’.
You would be livid.
Maybe that’s why you’re always so hesitant when it comes down to the new, the change. A chance of failure is never completely zero.
Maybe that’s why you’re always so hesitant to take a step forward.
But Numachi-san, unfreezes, and laughs, waving away your words like more than a too cool breeze on an autumn day.
“You’re such a strong-spirited person, honored guest. I admire your strength; and I am a bit envious too.” She rises, and takes the teapot with her.
“I think I’ll go brew a new pot, this one is no good cold. Excuse me.” Even though her hands on the pot flush pink from the heat, you watch her leave.
Jaken shakes his head at the woman, bug eyes closed.
“That woman is far too meek and soft-spined for a town like this–no husband, no sons…Though, her attitude is the proper one a woman should have, nothing like your brashness and lack of manners and respect.”
“Jaken, can you kindly shut the fuck up?”
“See! That's exactly what I mean!”
“Rin.” Rin looks up from the table she’s been staring intently at. People think just because she’s mute, she is also deaf. She hears much of the world around her, more than people realize. Her eyes are young and wide as you speak to her.
“...You don't have to rely on a man to define yourself. You can do what you want to do, anything at all, alright?” She nods but her eyes drift back to the table. You tap it with your knuckle to get back her attention.
“I'm serious. You have me. You have Sesshoumaru. A-un and Jaken too, I guess. If you need something….”
Jaken cuts in. “Go to the Lord, he’s much more capable.”
“For like...intimidation and murder and money. I got everything else.”
“Like?!” You shrug.
“Well, she’s going to grow into an adult one day..."
‘Like you’re a proper example.”
“I am!”
“Of course you are-’ And Rin breaks out into laughter, snickering behind her hands, eyes crinkled in delight.
You feel your heart warm, swelling three sizes and all, before you reach over the table to tickle the girl.
“Hey! What are you laughing at?!”
You might not be a parent, but Rin is the closest thing you have to a child, and you’re going to do right by her. Coddling and all.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
In your musings it takes more than a full hour to traipse your way to the rice paddies from the inn. You've gotten faster at walking, during your travels with your little group, but it was still away, at the other end of town, at the bottom of a small mountain which a stream ran down from, and fed into the rice paddies. Behind that mountain, miles and miles past, you could just see the peaks of a mountain range. That was where Sesshoumaru wanted to go after all this. It was pretty far, on foot it would take at least…a week, or two? With A-Un, and the Lord, only two or three days.
When you went up to the little house on the hill overlooking the paddies no one answered, and you looked about for any signs of the oldman.
Rice paddies spread out below you, and you look down the hill to check for any signs of life. Luckily, you did, a group of people working close by in the fields below. You went to meet them.
And promptly fell down the hill.
And oh no, you couldn't just trip and roll down like a normal person, or even bonk your head on a rock and pass out, which would be merciful. Instead, you do this stupid half trip, half wobble and catch-yourself-but-still-very-much-falling dance down the hill like a demented horse, before gravity finally lets you go; You collapse like a maiden struck by a curse.
‘Gods, are you there? Why have you forsaken your most devoted child?’
With an audience to boot. Well, at least you didn't fall into the water of the paddies, you landed barely a foot away from where the grassy hill turned into mud, and sloped down. A guy, thigh deep in the waters gapes at you. Three identical versions of him you see in your swimming vision as he steps forward and nudges you with a wet hand. You give him a thumbs up to show you’re alive. You think he calls back to the others you saw with him.
Some of the words swim in and out your hearing, your head too dizzy to focus on them, so you can only squeal as your world tilts, and you're suddenly held in the arms of the first man (or three) you saw, the world flashing in colors of blue and green and brown.
You try to protest as he starts carrying you up the hill but he doesn't listen to you.
“Excuse me?! I said put me dow–”
“I can hear you.” His tanned hands are wet and warm from the sun and work, black hair pulled into a ponytail. He looks around your age, if only a few years older.
“So then put me down.”
“No, that was a long, erm, fall.”
“It was nothing, please put me down.”
“Nope! What if you rattled your head and your brain comes spilling out your ears if you move too fast?” A beat of awkward silence, and he tries to laugh off that crazy ass sentence like it was a joke.
You have to get out, you're in the hands of a madman.
“Uh… that, wasn't a good thing to say... sorry? Really though, if you’re hurt we should get you checked out–the Doctor is actually here for our father today, so she can just look you over real quick and then you can be on your way.” Finally at the top of the hill, he sets you down on your feet gingerly.
“Actually, what are you here for? Aren't you those fancy guests at Numachi-san’s honjin?”
“Uh, I guess. We’ll only be there for a few days, since we’re there to...recover.” Yeah, you’re not telling him the real reason. But he nods, looking over you, assessing.
“Traveling on the road, even with such a powerful Lord, must be exhausting for you two. Of course you should rest while you can!”
“Us two?”
“You and the child, of course.”
“Oh yeah, of course…”
The tense silence doesn't seem to bother him, in fact, he just waits…and waits. When no one tries to break it, he perks. “Yes!” He shouts and you jump. “How about I help you with what you need? Did your Lord send you to buy an order…?”
Couldn’t have asked that quicker? “No. I’m just running some errands for Numachi-san. Though that's not a bad idea, some rice would be good for our travels…”
“Our rice is grown from the melted caps of the mountain streams, you won't find anything better. Fit for your mighty Lord's tastes, I should say.” And he leans in, eyes gleaming. “Hey, please indulge me, for curiosity's sake… he wears a kimono with two sleeves but he’s missing an arm…did he lose it fighting some horrible demon?!”
He is a horrible demon. Technically. “I…suppose so? He left me in a village so I didn’t see the battle.”
“What about those markings on his face?”
“He was born with them, I believe?”
“And his chinese robe, very strange fashion, but he’s a demon right? Where did he get it, his sword, his armor?”
“The sword came from his father…? And I don’t know about the robe and armor, I’m pretty sure that's a result of his Yoki energy.” Did he make it with yoki or does he acquire it and then have to put it in his inventory, of sorts?
“I don't really know what I can divulge to you…?”
“Oh...” And, damn, the sad way he deflates endears you, like a kicked puppy, so you offer something else.
“I’ve seen other battles though, though they can hardly be called that with the strength of my Lord, if that would suffice.”
“Yes! I am Takashi, by the way, forget the honorifics.” He bows, and when he rises he winks, ushering you inside.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
“...So he swiped out with his poison claws, and the demon fell to ribbons. It was so quick, so precise, that no blood stained his hand. It careened in an arc in the air, the slice so clean it took a minute for the demon to start bleeding out. We just continued on our way then.”
“Amazing…” He breathes, awestruck. The tale is practically playing behind his eyes and you laugh.
“It must be amazing to be able to serve a Lord like that…”
“Honestly? It is.” Despite your troubles and woes, there are sights that have taken your breath away and moments that are seared into your memory. Even in your world, you doubt you would have ever seen as much, ever.
Takashi-kun, as he cheekily insisted you call him, tilts his head to the side in question.
“You serve him?”
“Yes, it's tedious, but I’m glad for the work, it keeps me busy.” Never let him hear you say that, he would hold it above your head forever.
“...No, I meant being his disciple, not his servant.”
“Yeah, that's what I meant.”
“You are his disciple?”
“Yes…? The Lord is much too…dignified and proud, to name any disciples of his own. Still the imp wields the two headed staff, and Rin carries a tanto.”
“And you?”
“I can take care of myself, I have to,” you shrug. “I'm a woman, traveling. I’ve asked the Lord to teach us how to wield the naginata, but every weapon’s master we’ve seen never meets his specifications, so he won't teach us until we get the right weapon. ” you pout.
“Seriously, shouldn’t he put more priority on teaching us, if we’re to be traveling on the road with him?”
But Takashi fiddles with his hands, running fingers over some age-old scar there, looking down at it with a pensive expression. “Well why should he? Why would he? You’re a woman.”
“...Excuse me?” He gestures.
“I mean, even in this kinda’ place, we’ve heard of the Lord of the Western Lands. Such a strong and disciplined leader, it would insult him if you continued to pester him about teaching you how to wield an actual weapon, as if he weren’t capable of protecting you and the child.
“It's already awfully gracious of him that he allows the child the tanto, or that he allows two women to accompany him; I assume he provides you shelter and food and the like. Shouldn’t you be more grateful?”
“Huh?” There's this odd look on Takashi-kun's face, just beneath the surface, and the mischievousness that was present there is gone.
“No. No, I'm appropriately grateful. And there's only one woman; the girl is still a child.”
“Yeah, I guess you're more his type.”
You slam your fist down on the table. “Repeat that.”
You forget though, the men in this era haven't ever been taught to heed a woman. So he just looks at you oddly and says, “I assumed that you served him as steward or maid, though I guess I was wrong.” He points towards the table, the pot of tea that has been sitting there.
“The pot has been sitting for a few moments now, and you have not served. I figured you were enraptured by the grand stories of your Lord, which is understandable. You are a guest here, yes, but as eldest son here it would still be rude for me to serve. Your Lord must be an odd one.” He sighs.
“Were you a sacrifice, from your village? Is the child yours? Oh, is she both of yours? Forgive me for my earlier comment then…Maybe that's what the Tanto is for–I heard Samurai give the Tanto and Naginata to their wives and daughters to defend themselves and the home from enemies. That must be the reason, right?”
“...”
“But again, he is a demon. Who is he to follow human conventions? Perhaps you aren’t a ‘wife’, exactly–” You stand so quickly the table is jostled, and he reaches out a hand to steady it, looking up at you unperturbed and confused at your outburst.
“...Do you not think before you speak?”
“Excuse you?” He frowns. “I’m making basic observations. You are really pretty, and not too old, so you must have been with him for some time, if the child yours. Are you his concubine? Your teeth aren’t black, obviously you’re not a wife,” he sighs.
You want to smash the chipped cup into his face. You want to pour the hot tea into his lap and burn him. He looks so satisfied with himself for this genius conclusion, not even considering the truth of the matter. You are a companion–not concubine.
But you breathe, you reign in your temper. Calm down, he doesn't know any better.
“I…am not a concubine. Nor a wife. No, I do not serve him in those…ways. I am simply a traveling companion. Nothing more.”
“But you are a woman. What else do you offer?”
Just before you throw the tea pot into his face, an old frail frame strides into the room with purpose–and when you look up you stare right into the hard eyes of the apothecary, and the wrinkled face of the man who walks in with her.
“Oh, Father! Doctor!” Takashi-san rises to feet like he’s going to embrace one of them, but she just looks at him and he backs down. Her gaze turns to you.
“Ah yes, you, young lass. Put down that pot before you spill it. What are you doing this far from your hotsprings and futons and mochi?” You’re ready to snap at her but the old man speaks before you do.
“Oh, you’re that girl who came in with that Demon Lord, right? How about you sit back down and tell us what you came all the way here for.” His wrinkled face is spotted in moles and cherry, and you can’t help listening to the old man.
“Father–”
“Shh!” The old man hushes him, and Takashi-san rolls his eyes, playfully, but you see the exasperation in them. You all sit, and the apothecary is the one who pours. Takashi looks at you.
“I’m just running an errand for Numachi-san, I don’t feel right just sitting still and relaxing when she has so much to do.”
The old man gives a precious wrinkled smile. “Oh, what a kind girl you are. And what a generous Lord to allow his servant to help others.”
“I don’t think he did allow it, Father,” Takashi cuts in. “You weren’t there but I saw him; A Lord of that caliber wouldn't allow his… servants, to run off to do manual labor.”
“And what were you doing so early in the morning, before even dawn, that you saw them go inside the honjin, hm?”
“I…I wasn't! I was here, sleeping! I saw him after, when I was in town delivering!”
“Sure you were.” Old man Taiga, as you know he is, looks up at you, and so fast you almost miss it, winks. “Must have been taking mighty long if you had time to ogle at some demon Lord.”
“He's the Lord of the Western Lands Father!”
“Yeah, yeah, how about you go now and gather up that rice now for the good lady, and pack her an order too, for that Lord you so admire.” You like this old man. Takashi-san doesnt even look at you, he just grumbles under his breath as he shuffles from the table to go to fulfill his father’s orders.
The apothecary grins. Her teeth are white and straight as a US military cemetery. “One good thing about being a haunted town–at least we don't have to pay any taxes! We can eat all the rice and mochi we want and not have to worry about any Daimyo coming to raid the town.”
“A bad thing is that we don't have that many workers for the fields, so we often work more than we eat.” Taiga sighs, patting his back. He looks at you.
“The last Daimyo came to collect taxes since we had not paid for some time, and stayed at Numachi-chan’s inn– Well, it wasn't hers at the time. But he came with some few samurai, which were more than enough for a town like this. But not enough for the demon.”
The apothecary huffs over her tea cup. “I bet he ate well that day. And hasn't eaten that well since.”
“‘He’?”
She shrugs. “Female demons aren't so voracious. Or maybe they are–maybe she’s got a brood she needs fed.”
“What kind of demoness still feeds her kids for thirty, forty years? They’re grown and out now, if they exist.”
“If they exist. I'm betting it's a male demon though.”
“And how would you know?”
She slaps the table. “I’ll find out when I get eaten of course!”
“With how bitter you’ve become over the years? Ha!”
“And with how sickly and tough you are? You got a few good years before your time Taiga. And it won't be by demons!” They laugh, while you look at them over the rim of your cup. They seem to be pretty old friends, if the way they talk is any indication.
“Ah, I still wanna see my son and daughters get married though,” Taiga huffs. “Four daughters and one son…I wouldn’t mind if Takashi was sneaking about to meet a Lady, but instead he’s training, like the next Samurai that comes in will notice his potential and take him on,” Taiga shakes his head.
“He thinks he’s gonna be the one to slay the demon of this place. He has more luck minding his business and keeping his head low. I’m still here after all, my children and all.” You notice no mention of a wife though, and tamp down your curiosity.
“Does…anyone know anything certain about the demon? Like, what type, or how old?” The apothecary and Taiga look at you, look at each other.
“Only the dead,” she supplies unhappily. “Though, we have seen the marks they left behind… the ones who fight back. And the wreckage the demon leaves behind, like the wrecked buildings in town”
“The demon seems cocky, to openly go into town and just into random buildings to eat people.” Like knock knock, delivery. Oh! You're the meal.
“Arrogance, yes, but no ones seen nor caught em’ yet. Been here for years and will probably move on when we’re all gone or eaten. A mighty demon to be sure, most definitely.”
“But stronger than her Lord?” Taiga points his cup towards you.
“Lord of the Western Lands…I grew up hearing the myths of this Lord, never thought I’d ever be so close to him… You must be honored to be able to serve such a Lord.”
“Uh…I guess?” What was he, some God? “He’s actually pretty frustrating and pretentious but to each their own.”
That didn't give you the reaction you thought it would. Instead of chuckling, they gape at you, moon eyed.
“...I don’t think it would be wise to talk about such a Lord in that way… Imagine if he heard you, girl!”
“I’d say it to his face.” Again, that doesn't give you such a good reaction. They both just stare at you, though the apothecary’s eyes narrow.
“Hm, well…he must be lenient with his servants…very lenient! Maybe he just is unaffected by a human’s words!”
“No, he’d just tie me to the back of A-un, our demon steed, if you will, and make me walk a few miles. Or cut my food rations. But honestly, he needs to be taken down a few pegs. Everyone is walking on eggshells around him, singing his praises, he needs a dose of reality.” You grin sneakily. “Just a small dose though, so he doesn't realize I’m just blowing hot air and he really is all that.” The old man looks like he could choke, poor him, and the Apothecary shoots to her old wrinkled feet.
“Come on now,” the apothecary grabs your wrist, and with more force than you expected, drags you up and out. You’re only able to pull your wrist back when you’re leaving the front doors of the house, leaving old man Taiga behind.
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
“No, what are you doing?” She throws your hand back. “You’re dumber than I thought if you think you can get away with talking like that in front of that kinda folk.”
“What do you mean-”
“The only reason they’re not ganging up on ya is because they think if they butter up the Demon Lord’s concubine, then maybe he’ll slay the demon for them. Do you even know how rare it is for travelers to actually arrive here, intact, this close to a full moon? It's either intentional or luck, and I'm betting on the former, in your Lord’s case.”
You scoff, but you can't really argue with her words. You’ve seen this sort of thing play out before, so it's not implausible.
You’ve seen plenty of desolate towns, both with and without your Lord, you’ve been driven out of a few of them. But with your lord, they always beg aid, offering up their most valuable goods, resources, wares…people. Your Lord has always rejected them all. It's very rare if he decides to take them up on their pleas.
Now that you think about it…wasnt it always whenever you were running low on something?
There was one time a rather prosperous village asked for aid in a demon that kept eating its women. Sessoumaru refused, and you nearly left, if not for one merchant, who offered some sweets amongst the things he could trade. You and Rin had perked, Jaken had scoffed, and your Lord...accepted. You and Rin were feasting on mochi for days.
The Lord had killed the demon quickly—but still called it a waste of time.
“I’m not his concubine…” She clicks her tongue at you.
“Yeah, it figures. I assume he wouldn’t let ya wander around on your own if you were.”
“He hardly lets me do that now,” you gripe. “He just always avoids me during these times so I got some leeway now.”
“You mean you can't let yourself get caught out here like this.”
“...It’s not that serious, I just don’t want to deal with him, that's all.” She coughs out a laugh, and slides a hand down her face.
“Oh girl…you might not be a concubine, but you must be something to have the courage to talk about him like that. Out or to his face.”
“Yeah, I’m a traveling companion.”
“Dense as a rock too.” Why do people keep saying that about you?! It's not true.
She waves a hand. “I know haughty types like that, and they’re not the type to take your kinda attitude girly.”
“How would you know? You know nothing about me.”
“Of course I know you, I used to be you.” She sighs and leans back against the walls of the house. You’re staggered into silence, and she takes the opportunity to talk again.
“Same attitude, same talk, same naivety. That's why you ought to take advantage of the things you have, and not leave them to chance. You got something going with that Lord of yours. Do something before he changes his mind–if not for yourself than that girl you got.”
“Rin? But he…” You know he cares. He brought her back to life for goodness’ sake. “He wouldn't do anything.”
“But he could. And if he could then there's always a chance he will.”
But you remember. The look in his eyes as you and Rin feasted on mochi. The almost teasing way he nettles at Jaken, who is none the wiser. The golden shade of his eyes in the lantern’s shine, in moonlight, the dim gleam of dawn. They way he murmured and breathed against your skin, like he wanted to–
You stop that thought right in its tracks.
Your fingers rush up to press against the bruise. The sore throb is a reassurance.
“But he wouldn't.”
She pauses, and she coughs a little in her incredulity. “Oh, girl,” and her face twists in sympathy. “You’re in love with him.”
“...It's not that serious.” Was it?
“Well, so much for your bluffing, you’re already too far gone,” she scoffs, like you didn't say anything.
She clicks her tongue, something lighter, and almost…fond? She walks closer, and starts fixing your clothing, like a grandmother would, adjusting things this way and that.
“Did you try the tea?”
“Huh? Yeah, I had some this morning.”
“Take some when you go back, It’ll be good for you.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Hm. Then take this word of advice too girly,” and she wipes her hands down her front. “Besides talking about your Lord of course. Don't get too chummy with that innkeeper. You don't like being called a concubine, fine, whatever, you can afford that. But some people aren’t given that choice. She’s one of them.”
“What? She’s a widow. Her husband died.”
“By her own design. Why do you think her sons left her? Normally I wouldn't fault her–do you know how many potions I sold to all sorts of women? But her? I can’t forgive her. I won’t. ” With those ominous words and her hawk gaze, she walks away.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Takashi-san, whose Father insisted on ‘assisting’ you, who had insisted on carrying the rice bag because’ it’s much too heavy for you, you’d probably make it to the inn by sunset!’, nevermind that it was barely noon now, is annoying you. Damn chauvinist.
You didn't let slip the change in attitude he had, since you mentioned the Lord and the tanto thing. Before was the politeness and cordial attitude of a person talking to the servant of a nobleman or something. And yeah, you were used to that. That attitude, and even the cloying, patronizing way that this boy spoke to you was better than the outright venom that people spat at you with, when you dared to call yourself his travel partner…
It was still no less frustrating.
“Shouldn't we head to the inn as soon as we can?” he called to you, as you left him near the bottom of the stream.
“I wouldn’t want to upset your Lord because you’re not where you’re supposed to be.” A vein could pop from how tightly wound you are.
“I have chores to do, and then you can ‘escort’ me back. You followed me, so we’re going by my schedule.”
“Did your Lord grant you permission for you to be on your own?”
You pause, and turn to him slowly to show your displeasure. “...He doesn’t care. What does it matter?”
“But still…I should at least accompany you on your way.”
“You really shouldn’t. I'll be fine on my own. I've lived nearly the same amount of days on earth as you have, and I’ve definitely traveled farther. I'm good.”
“You’re very audacious for a woman.” And he wants a rock to his head, doesn’t he. “I'm offering my help. Even if you were being bashful, trying to deny me, you could be more pleasing.”
“...You have a shallow ego don’t you?”
“What?”
“....Takashi-kun, I appreciate how kind you are, but I would be remiss if you were to aid me any further. I want to please my Lord by bringing something pleasing for dinner, but if you help me it would just ruin all my efforts. Please wait here for me, please?” You make your voice sickly sweet, and bat your eyes. Though his brow twists, he doesn't offer a rebuttal, struck dumb by whiplash.
…Is it really that easy? “That…does make sense. He’s already letting you stay at a honjin, you should do something to thank your Lord.”
“Yes of course. Now, I have to hurry so I’ll be quick, alright? I’ll be quicker on my own anyways, and then the Lord will praise you for your efficiency. I’ll call you if I need you Takashi-san!” And you scamper away with your basket and a wave, letting the wide smile you put on drain away as you roll your eyes. You were sooo fake, did he really not notice?
Twenty, thirty, forty or so paces upstream, just underneath a few big rocks, nestled in the low current, the traps lay. Just where Numachi-san told you. The current was lazy, about waist high as you hopped along the rocks dotting the banks. You set your basket on a tall rock. There, you strip to your innermost layers, and stride in to catch your fish.
You have to be quick, and careful, odd high waves often rolled over, Numachi-san warned you. There were also other animals that came here to hunt, so you had to scurry.
There are only three or four bright red snapper fish as you checked, and pretty young by the looks of it, barely over a foot long, and weakly trying to swim free; despite your sympathy you know it was your job to bring them back. Alas, why must so many of the tasty foods come from things alive?
And then you realize something. Beyond the bumbling stream, you can't hear anything.
And no, the water isn't loud enough that it blocks everything else out, no. It's just silent. No birds, no shuffling, no wildlife. Silent.
Somethings here.
Your hair stands on end as you reach for your tanto. There's nothing on the banks, and no movement in the undergrowth but there–
For a second, a blur races out of your peripheral vision. Cold dread followed by a flush of heat under your skin. You bring up your knife and whip your head to chase the sight, but it runs quickly and you only see a dark smear slither into the trees.
A few moments pass in tense silence, before you hear the birds again. You untense, and lower your knife. The blur was pretty large, probably…a bear cub, wandering from its mother.
But that silence… Still, you need to hurry, lest you want to wrestle with some bears over fish. There's a specific way to untie the part of the net that would free the fish-of course, you grab onto the tail of one so it can’t slip away, already flipping around in your hold. But you can't pick at it.. You’ll have to go under to do this.
So you hold your breath, and plunge.
The water is just hitting the edge of too cold as you go under; It's rocky and craggly under, and quickly you untie the net and grab your fish, one by one; The first two you grab by the tails and stride over, hurriedly tossing them into your basket and closing the lid after. The other two are harder. With extra room to move they fight, and you barely get the third in before you notice the water receding.
You’ve read enough to know when an incoming current is gathering. Quickly, you duck back down to untie your last fish, fumbling your fingers over the knot. You get it loose, but the fish, smarter than its brethren and slippery, darts around your hand and tries swimming off.
‘Oh no you dont–’ you turn under water to chase it, just grabbing the ends of its tail and holding on, but your foot gets caught in a crevice between rocks.
You get your face to break water right as the current comes in, knocking you back, hard. You don't land on the rocky bedfloor, but you’re thrown off balance, your foot stuck. You’re left floundering, you don't know how you don’t let go of the damn fish, but you don’t.
You try to reach up again, lungs burning, only to snort water as another wave smacks you dead in the face, pulling you back under. You’re losing air, and fast. You reach a hand, trying to break the surface, and kudos to your incredible luck, someone grabs it.
You are yanked out of the water, ankle scraping painfully against the rocks, choking on air on your way up.
“What are you doing?”
“Takashi-san?!” He pulls you up, your arm socket protesting the movement; He gathers you into his arms and drags you onto the banks.
“You followed me?!”
“What was I supposed to do, leave you on your own?”
“Yes, that's exactly what you were supposed to do.” You wrestle in his arms, they way he just lugs you over to the banks like…like a bag of rice. Of which he had, now you cannot see. You look around and reach for your basket that teeters dangerously on the rocks.
“You thought you could sweet talk me into acting like some…some–!!”
“Some what, Takashi-kun.” You wipe the droplets from your brow. Takashi-san sees this, the inner robes you wear. You’re still in his arms. He goes red.
“I knew you were just faking that demureness. How shameless.”
“Oh? And what gave it away?”
He drops you like hot coal.” You called me Takashi-san. Normally I wouldn't question this, it's only proper, but you’ve been calling me Takashi-kun. You slipped up.”
“Oh darn,” you roll your eyes. “And here I was thinking I could ditch you.”
“I couldn’t just leave you be, you know there's a demon lurking around here–”
“Like you can fight off a demon?” You rub the hip you landed on, and grab your basket. Seems he tossed rice to the side, presumably when he went to rescue you.
“I’m more capable than you are?”
“I'm not in danger of drowning now, am I?”
“Listen woman,” he hisses, his mirth replaced with irritation. He reaches out to grab your arm but you dodge out his way. “You’re a stranger here, you don’t know these parts. No one comes up here to fish, it's too far away and if you screamed, I wouldn't have heard you over the water.”
If you scream now, no one will hear you.
“Then fine, let me just grab my things and we can head back, alright?”
But his eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.
“No. We’re going back to my father’s house, it's closer. Then you’re going to wait for your Lord, or that Imp to escort you back.”
“I am not a child, nor do I need a chaperone–”
“You were taking too long!” He keeps advancing and you keep retreating. “I was waiting, and the woods went silent. That’s never a good thing. I had thought a demon had gotten to you, and then what would I say to your Lord!”
You roll your eyes. “Glad to see you’re so worried for my well being.”
“Good! You’re welcome!”
A harsh sigh drags its way past your teeth. “I did hear that odd silence, that’s why I was rushing. But maybe if I didn't feel so rushed, I would have waited until the high wave rolled over.”
“But you didn't, instead you almost drowned. Should you even be out? I mean, hunting surely isn't your strong point.”
“And keeping your mouth shut sure isn’t yours.”
“Excuse me?” You know that drop of voice. You could recognize it in this century or the next. So before he could get on with his next tirade, you snatch your outer layers, hurrying them on and making your way back down with your basket.
“Where are you going?!” you hear him fumble with the rice, but he decided to carry it, so that’s his fault.
“Back to the inn, where else? Are you following me or not.”
“You need to do as you’re told! You're not going to–”
“Listen Takashi, you're a rather pretentious prick, so if you have nothing of value to say, then be quiet.”
“You are supposed to–” you whirl around and he stops in his tracks, brow furrowed and one hair away from a full blown scowl.
“I didn't ask you to be my escort, protector, or chaperone. You were the one who decided to take the roles on yourself, so don’t get upset that I'm not playing into your little fantasy of being some noble village boy helping the poor maiden. Who are you to tell me what I'm supposed to do? You, some village boy?” You would poke his chest to emphasize the words, but you’re not getting as close as needed for that.
“And for the record. The Lord isn't going to acknowledge you just because you ‘escorted’ me. I’m not his pet.”
“But you are a woman,” he grits. “And you are his. There are basic rules you must follow for order–”
“Rules are meant to be broken.”
“You shouldn't even be wandering out on your own. Look what happened when you did, you nearly drowned!”
“I didn't nearly drown because I'm a woman idiot, my foot was stuck in a crevice.” Your ankle which, now that you’re on land, smarts. You can feel the blood dripping, not yet clotted over.
“Thank you for your aid in getting me out of that, honestly–Your attitude could use some work though.”
“My attitude?” And you turn away from him. That is your mistake.
A hand yanks you back by the back of your collar and you choke, dropping your basket. Your instincts kick in when he tries to wrap his arms around you. You drop, and while he fumbles with your dead weight you grab his ankle and topple him over.
He must fight with his sisters a lot or something though, because it's hard keeping him down, even as you claw red lines into his face and skin, making sure he doesn't pin you instead. He seems to know where you’ll kick, the vital points you try and dig your fingers into. But you persevere, you get the upper hand when you get him face down in the grass and pin his arm behind his back, a knee in the soft dip of his spine.
He huffs against the dewy grass, a soft angry-laugh. “I'm going to make you regret this.”
“Oh yeah?” Your tanto knife looks deadly against the skin of his throat, and he stills. “Repeat that for me.”
“Your Lord–”
“Can you not imagine any woman’s choice or actions being independent of anyone? What about my Lord? If you've forgotten, he’s a demon. He’d care less about me killing some human than whether it’s going to rain in the coming days.”
“Guess you don't know how crucial rains are for rice growing.”
“Save me the metaphors.” You huff. You tap the knife against his neck as you speak, if only to make him flinch.
“You know? I used the little blade on more men than I have demons. Isn't that something?”
“...I bet you don't even know how to use that.”
“That's for you to figure out. Try me. And do I really have to know how to use a blade to be able to stab you?”
“Your Lord-”
“I call him that out of gratitude and habit, but he is not my Lord.”
“You still must obey him.”
“Because he offers me protection, shelter, food, whatever else I could need. Mostly, because he is a demon.
“ou and I are on two very different boats, in two very different waters. So. you’re going to get up, and pick up the things you dropped. You will walk in front of me. You will not speak and if you even try to pull a stunt like that again, I will make you bleed. How much depends on what you do, but you will bleed. Understand?”
And it takes him a moment to quell the hate in his eyes and swallow, but he jumps as your blade digs in, red dripping down, and stutters out a “Y-Yes.”
“Good. Thank you. You can do just that.” You stay close, in case he tries to get some distance on you for a hit or grab, but he just does as you told him, hateful eyes cast to the floor, and starts walking.
You follow him back down to the inn. You don't sheath your tanto.
You don't parade Takashi through the streets, but enough people stop in their tracks to stare at the way Takashi walks in front of you, face stormy and pace brisk. He probably did that to spite you to run after him, but again, you’re used to traveling so it is no issue for you.
In no time at all you reach the inn, and Numachi-san is already pacing the entrance, wringing her hands in worry, she rushes up as she sees you two approach.
“I’ve had a few people come up to the inn already to tell me something odd has happened. J-Jaken went with the Lord into town and should be back soon. Rin is here…So is everything alright?” She rubs at the side of her neck, like theres a kink there. You shake your head.
Word does travel fast in small places. “Everything is fine.” You had long put away your tanto when you entered the village, but kept it in your sleeve, flashing it whenever Takashi looked back.
“We got the rice and the fish–”
“I would like to sit inside and rest, if I may, Numachi-san,’ Takashi cuts you off. His face is cool and he doesn't look at you.
“I’m tired from walking all the way from my home to here with such a heavy load. Will you let me inside?” Her dark eyes flash between you two, her hands worrying that spot on her neck. She meets your eyes, and you shake your head, warning her with your eyes.
But she looks back to Takashi-san, the tense way he waits like a coil about to spring, and sighs. “Perhaps… just for a cup of tea, before you go?” You throw your hands in the air, and stomp after him as he walks in.
He settles down, and Numachi-san is ready with the tea quick enough. But he goes on talking, or stalling rather, and you’re not stupid enough to wonder what he is stalling for. You glare at Numachi-san, who only has the courage to meet your eyes for a few seconds at a time, keeping her head bowed to the young man.
For someone who might’ve killed her husband she sure is meek.
“I’ve never seen the inside of this place, but it's wonderful, Numachi-san!”
“Thank you, Takashi-san.”
“I mean, I was just a child when the last owners, erm, moved on, but the building seemed damaged beyond repair. The fact that you restored it, and ran such a thriving business before the demon attacks increased–just proves what a dedicated woman you are.”
“You’re much too kind Takashi-san.” She refills his cup and he sends you a pointed look, like you’re supposed to feel something other than annoyance. Out of the corner of your eye you see Rin poke her head into the room. She’s not sly though, and Takashi catches note of her.
“Is that the child that accompanies you? What's your name girl? You don't have to be–”
“You have no right to speak nor look at her, and I suggest you leave before you dig yourself in any deeper,” you shut that down real quick, and Numachi-san’s shoulders hunch up to her ears.
But he just tilts his head at you, like he’s looking at a bug.
“Speaking without being spoken to, such base manners. I’ll be sure to bring this other point up to your master. I hope you’re teaching the girl to be better than that.”
“Am I supposed to be scared?” You take the pot closer to your side so Numachi-san can't refill his cup, knowing he wont do it himself.
“And it's still better than a prick who derives his worth from how well he can be served by a woman. Or one who attacks another from the back because their pathetic ego was injured.”
Takashi-san slams his cup down. “Better than one who doesn't know their place or lot in life.”
“What place? What lot?” You laugh. “If anything, take your own words to heart. You just can't handle seeing someone else living your dream while you waste away in a place like this. You can't handle your fragile ego being challenged by a woman, no less. That's why you attacked me.”
You grin as he leans forward. Your voice drops to a hush, a loud whisper. “I'll be sure to savor it more in your place when we leave.” You see Rin dart away from the corner of your eye, gone like a leaf in the wind. Good. Better she doesn’t see this anyway.
“You are so insolent. Your Lord allows this?”
“And you're a simp. Always mentioning ‘my lord’ this, or ‘my lord’, that. It’s like you’re the one that’s in love with him.”
“I’m going to–”
“What? Try me, make my day!”
“Please!” Numachi-san cuts in, waving her hands between you two. “Let's just settle down now. There's no need to get so agitated. Look, the tea is getting cold.” She tries to take the teapot back from you but you don’t let her.
“I would love to Numachi-san, but someone has to tell this one that their manners are uncouth,” He grits, “Befitting of a low class sow.”
“Aha, you’re mad,” It's childish but you poke your tongue out. “And jealous too. It's not a very pretty look, you know?”
“Be quiet!”
“Make me!”
“What is going on here?! ” Both of you turn, and Jaken stands there in his bug eyed glory, that eerie two headed staff in his hands, eyes narrowed. Takashi immediately gapes– for a resident of a town stalked for decades by a demon, he acts like he never heard nor saw one of one until this very point.
“Human.” He points the staff at you, and both Numachi-san and Takashi flinch. “Explain.”
“The boy overstays his welcome,” you drawl, “though he was never welcome to begin with. He took it upon himself to be my chaperone and insists on staying to meet the Lord.”
“Ha!” He squawks, and Takashi’s eyes dilate at the sound.
“You? Meet the Lord?”
“I just…I-I just wanted to, to explain! Yes, explain what happened today. His servant nearly drowned in the streams–”
“I did not–”
“And t-the silence… I just wanted to advise the Lord that maybe it's best that she remains…here. Women aren’t suited for manual labor, you know…?”
“I know?” Takashi pauses, gulps. “So I just…wanted to offer my services, is all!”
Jaken doesn’t look impressed, but he rarely does. “You’re trembling in front of an imp, and you think you can be of service to the Lord?” Takashi shoots you a baleful glare as you snort, and draws his shoulders up.
“Yes. Yes I do.”
You see Takashi-san tremble when Jaken smiles, perfectly too wide and uncanny, and on purpose. “Well good. You can plead your case to the Lord then, he is here.”
“What?”
“And that's my cue to go.” You rush to your feet, and don't bother with bowing or muttering your goodbyes.
“Wait, excuse you?! Where are you–”
“Human–”
“Don't forget to tell the Lord how you tried to pin me down on the banks. And everything that we’ve said to the other. Everything.”
“Running, are you?” He grins. It shakes at the edges.
You just smile, really smile; Wide, and with your teeth, gleeful and mischievous, pulling at your cheeks and crinkling your eyes.
“You know, you’re much more tolerable, and cuter, when you keep your mouth shut. Remember that.” And as the confusion settles on his face you go.
You hear the sliding door rushes open, and you disappear around the corner quick enough not to be seen. You can hear the muted, frightened, greetings of the two you left, but that's none of your concern anymore. Numachi-san should have never let them in and he shouldn't have been such a sexist prick.
You bathe first, the day's dirt and sweat sloughing off your skin in the water, and you wash quickly, eager to soak in the hot springs. You clean off the dried blood on your ankle. You dip your toes in when you’re ready, it's a touch too hot, but nothing unbearable, and you dip into the water with a wince, then a sigh. The heat smooths away your aches and pains, and you sit in the spring, content.
You don't know how long it is, but moments later, you hear banging, and rushing, yells. A man’s voice, Takashi-san. It doesn’t sound like he’s being murdered. The Lord is efficient enough you wouldn't hear him scream. Maiming it is then. Takashi-san sounds high pitched and afraid, and you listen to the sounds of crashing and screaming throughout, and then, silence. Nothing.
Nothing else. Rin appears, comes over to the edge of the pool you're in, toiletries in her hand.
“...You okay?” she nods. “Where did you go earlier?” She points back inside. “Went to get L-Lord Sesshoumaru.”
“That was you?” A nod. “He was actually c-close b-by.”
“...Okay. Okay, thank you Rin.” She hums when you pet her hair. “That guy was being a j-erk.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t stop going on and on about what I should or shouldn’t do, because my Lord,” You groan and roll your eyes. “What happened after I left?”
“That guy told on you,” her breath is hardly above a murmur, but steady. “You were in trouble at the stream. Wood went silent so he followed. Fought with you. He said you, y-you shouldn’t be on your own. No common sense. He said he could h-help.”
“Ha! Stupid.” You roll your shoulders as she lays out the towels.
“And what did our noble and regal Lord say to all that?” She gives you a look like you don't know exactly what he did.
“Are you alright?” She nods again, then thinks, shrugs. “The Lord l-looks upset. He took his ear.”
“...I asked about you. Did you eat, bathe already?”
“Yeah. A-And Numachi-san gave me snacks. So it's your turn n-now.” You smile at your girl as she reveals what she hid in the bundle of towels, a cup of tea and some mochi.
“Wow, wonder where Numachi-san got Mochi from in a place like this.”
“She made it.” Oh. Maybe that's what the rice was for. Rin supplies. She sets down her wares and pats your arm.
“Don't take too long, or you’ll faint. Dinner w-will be ready soon.” And her feet pitter patter away.
You don’t know how long you speak there, but the light dims from what peaks under the rag, oranges and red slowly bleeding into evening. You hear nothing save the water and crickets and the wind, Jaken on the inside scurrying to do who knows what. Rin said that dinner should be done soon, so Numachi-san is fine, and the Lord was either in his room, or long gone, back to find whatever demon was plaguing this town. You sink deeper into the water.
When you open your eyes, Sesshoumaru is there at the brim of the spring, staring at you.
You gasp, and choke, consequently.
He watches you flounder, as you hack up the water you inhaled.
“Almost drowning twice in one day. A record for you.”
“Not on purpose!” you flick water at him and speckle his cheek with water drops. But he’s unperturbed.
“I heard,” he drawls. “That something happened at the stream.” and his eyes, so they dilate?
“Tell me.” He leaves no room for rebuttal or refusal. So you tell him what happened at the Old man Tianga’s place, at the stream. You don't mention the odd silence, mainly because he didn't ask yet.
“....The boy is not wrong in what he said. But he put hands on my belongings; That warrants punishment.”
“Belongings?”
“You are my servant, and he deigned to put his hands on you.” He takes your wrist and pulls your arm, gingerly, out the water. He turns it, this way and that, and only now do you see the faint marks from your scuffle in the banks.
“They’re not that bad.”
“The problem is that they are there at all.” His eyes are bright, and angry. You only know that lookin passing–whenever you would annoy him too greatly. This is ten times that.
“Not only that, he insulted you, b y extension me. And to have the audacity to ask to be my disciple? I should have taken his hands and his tongue, not two simple fingers.”
“And an ear. Which I wonder about…you were lenient with him, my Lord.”
“I was,” he lets your arm slip back into the warm waters. “The child was watching.”
“Ah.” Rin was no stranger to gruesome sights- they were unavoidable with a demon samurai Lord for a master, but at least he had some discernment, if not compassion for the young girl.
“So why the ear?”
His jaw is tight, as is his voice. “The boy didn’t heed his senses. He continued to spout nonsense.”
“Haha! That's what you tell me all the time.”
“Yes, those inane tales you drivel on about… at least they serve a purpose.”
You cross your arms on the lip and rest your arms in their cradle, looking back at him. “What, entertaining Rin and staving off her nightmares?”
“No. Beyond that. You speak of the future–that I will live to see.”
“Like, wait what? That's… hundreds of years in the future, Seshoumaru.” You almost slap a hand over your mouth over the lack of honorifics, but he doesn't correct you.
“I will still live to see it. These things you speak of, skyscrapers, electricity, automobiles, public parks and libraries and sprawling cities. I will be witness to it all.”
You didn't think he paid any attention to the things you rambled about. You didn't think he listened. Or cared. “So what am I, like, your seer?”
“Exactly.”
“...I never thought of it like that.”
“Dense.”
“Stop calling me that! I am not dense.” You huff and pout, but he ignores you, as he often does, choosing instead to lean over, looking into the waters for…something.
“You’re injured.”
“Huh?” What? He just saw your arm. It takes you a moment to realize he probably means your ankle.
“Oh yeah.” How did he know? You almost forgot. By now the wound wasn't so fresh, not yet scabbed over and just starting to heal. Soft and pink and shiny.
Sesshoumaru looms over you.. “Show me.”
“...?” How? Are you supposed to do a handstand underwater? He sighs, annoyed, and reaches down–
And suddenly he has you by the collar, pulling you up and out of the water to sit at the brim. You splutter, but he pays it no heed, just crouching down so he could inspect your ankle closer. Despite the furrow to his brow he sets you down so gently.
“It's fine, it's already started to heal.”
“That's for me to decide.”
“Oh really, of course, of course. Tell me when to breathe too, I’ll keep your words in mind.” And, quicker than you could blink he reaches for your ankle, pulling you forwards a bit. You almost topple back into the waters, your third drowning of the day, but right yourself in time, casting a glare at Sesshoumaru. Your ankle is bird thin and fragile looking against his pale hand. This touch too, is careful.
You're still technically in your underclothes. If he lifts your leg up any higher he's going to see something.
He just…stares at the wound, soft from the water, something pointed and uncanny in that gaze. He looks at it, this way and that under the mellow torchlight, evening deepening into a darker hue of blue, sunlight gone.
“I should have taken both his hands…”
“I think that would have been a tad too much.” Yeah, he's a prick but you didn't want his life ruined.
Sesshoumaru hums under his breath, a light note. “You defend him?”
“Like any good samaritan will do,” you respond cheekily. “Plus, he’s the only son of old man Taiga, so he stands to inherit the rice paddies.”
“So?” The tone he uses is still light, but dangerous for its levity.
“If there's no more rice how will they make any mochi? This is the best we found in recent months.” You reach behind and snatch a piece from the plate Rin left you, humming at the treat.
“I can forgive any slight so long as I’m awarded treats in return.”
“Glutton,” he pushes out a breath. “I knew you were never loyal.”
Oh, was that a joke? You laugh. “What can I say? I have needs that must be satisfied.”
As he looks over your ankle you take the moment to look over the contours of his hand, the elegant wrist disappearing underneath the robe, the crips collar of his Kimono. Even here, like this, he looks so unruffled.
“Needs?” And he lifts your ankle higher. “Do I not account for them all?”
“...My most pressing and immediate ones.”
“Hm. And seeing as those are met, which others might I satisfy?”
Oh.
And your heart pounds into overdrive.
He brings your ankle closer to his face… and licks.
You flinch back in reflex, but that only amounts to an inch within his grip. His eyes flash over to you, but when he meets no more resistance his tongue darts out again, lapping over the wound.
It doesn't hurt– his tongue is wide and flat, and thin, like a dog, you think, and just swipes over, cleaning the skin almost. But it feels weird, and you’re puzzled, and his grip tightens as you flinch back.
You’re trying not to tremble, but when his mouth moves to the thin part on the back of your ankle you gasp. There's a pause he takes, before he bites down. It's just a nip really, but you gasp again, and then his teeth are trailing, up, up your calf– then he stops.
Well, only for a second. His hand moves, smoothing along the soft skin of your leg, underneath the wet cloth. It slides to your thigh, and he pulls up and back. He slots forward in the open space between your thighs, leans forward, and suddenly you're folded up tiny against the grass and his chest, one leg on his shoulder and the other pretty close.
You squeak, hands flying to his shoulders, while his nails trail softly over the back of your thigh, raising goose flesh, creeping on dangerous territory.
Something soft rumbles in his throat.
“You still smell like that boy…”
“O-oh?” you squeak, breathy.
“I don’t care for it.”
“Well, it wasn’t like it was on purpose.”
"I should hope not." And he moves even closer. The spikes of his armor press into you and he's all around you--His hair a curtain that blocks off the outer world, a few strands dipping into the springs. Like earlier, he goes straigh to your neck. He trails the tip of his nose along the conturs of your neck, the under curve f your jaw, dipping down to your collarbone and starting the journey over again. Almost like he's nuzzling you.
He takes slow, deep breaths through his mouth. He breathes in, holds it...and releases it steadily, like he's trying to make your scent stick to the back of his throat. You smell nothing on him but cold, and metal, and silk. But beneath that frigidness is something...softer. Not gentle, more refined, almost. fresh, not unlike linene, or fresh cut greenery. You like it.
But you can't really move, and it's getting hot, and not in a good way. You feel his weight, yes, but it feels more imposing thatn comforting. The gurgle of the water is all you can hear; that and the blood in your ears.
If you scream now, no one will hear you.
"Wait, wait," you gasp, your voice a pitiful breath. "I can't...wait a moment." For a second you think he's not going to move, he presses closer into you, further pushing the breath from your lungs. But with a growl deepening in his throat, he moves away.
You can't help feeling like his gaze is accustaory when he looks at you
"You breath is scarce. Calm yourself."
"I am calm."
"Hm." And he takes your wrist, presses his thumb to your veins. For a minute you think he's going to slide his wrist across yours in that soothing motion, he moves to, but he doesn't. Its disappointing.
"No. Your pulse is too quick." He lets you go. "I can smell your lust. But above that, your fear. I told you, I wont have a tearful servant girl in my bed. You must be willing or not at all."
He rises to leave, but you panic, leave, dont leave---you're confused between the two. But you grab onto his sleeve, and he stops.
"Im not...Im not scared of you, not exactly...not really."
"I can--"
“Just--!! I don't understand. Why do you want me? What do you get from me?” You scoot back.
“Everyone keeps calling me your concubine or wife but I want to hear you. You said I was your seer, but what is that? Is that all you want from me? I don’t think it is.” Beads of water stumble down the cradle of his jaw, and you watch them instead of his eyes.
“You said 'willing or not at all'… Why do you care so much if I'm willing? You can just take.”
“There's no pleasure to be had when it’s forced,” he says. “And there is no need for force. You wouldn’t have come to my room if you weren’t enticed.
“And are you enticed?”
“I am. But that's not the issue here.”
And you think he’s going to sigh harshly, glare, or worse yet, leave. You don't want him to leave now. You see his furrowed brow and his waning patience, and you want to huddle into yourself against the brisk cold he’s sure to blow your way.
And he does sigh, but he doesn't leave. He lends back, and lands you back your space. “Then what is?”
"You're going to listen to me?"
"Yes."
"...Why?"
"Because I want to."
The emotion that swells in your breast makes you duck your eyes, if only to hide the tears that have suddenly, embarrassingly, sprung. "Does a mountain need to heed the clouds?"
"The clouds dictate the skies. Even mountains are weathered by storms, and thrive in sunlight." He extends an open hand to you. "No more of this timidness. Speak plainly."
And so, you try.
“....I know this world is different from mine. In just the way I’m perceived. I am not your servant, your steward, or a disciple. I am not a companion, but a concubine. A wife if I’m lucky.” You snort.
“....But I’ve always been more than just my body, my Lord, and I do have my pride, meager though it may be. I've never belonged to anyone but myself. Whether this pride is at odds with you depends on your answer,” you sigh.
“I’ve named so many titles already. But what exactly am I to you?”
—------------
Torment. Lovely. Inferior. Endearing. Mine. Mine.
Damn instincts. Instead he asks, “...What need is there for specifications?”
“Forgive me my Lord, but…it is needed. What I am dictates what I can give.” You fumble with your hands, before clasping them together and holding them between your thighs, where he was moments prior. He should be back there, lapping at the slick dripping from your core, tasting it, tasting you but--- Ah, you're speaking. You said something. He has to listen.
“What do I give that is of value to this group? To you? Actual value, not those silly stories. I can neither set up camp quickly enough nor forage, fish or hunt better than the others can. My etiquette, or lack thereof is obvious. I'm much too insolent, in Jaken’s words. I take care of Rin and I love the girl to death but she’s mostly independent... She prefers Jaken anyways.”
Rin, who you took under your care and nurture, The same girl who could barely look him in the eyes or utter a sentence running in the middle of a dilapidated, haunted town to find him, for you.
“...So what do I offer you, that makes it so that I’m pulling my weight here? I don’t want to be useless.” And I don't want to be coddled either, he hears the unspoken words. So he answers you.
“Spring wears
A cloak of mist.
A thin fabric,
For the mountain breeze
Would, doubtless, disarray it.”
Your brow furrows. “I don’t–”
“An exercise in subtlety,” he remarks. “And an answer to your question.” He gestures. “Go on.” Ariwara again? So you reply,
“In my yearning
I am fading completely as
The morning dew;
This morning to arise
Was beyond me.”
He ‘tsk’s’. “Again, with the dew?”
“I mentioned it, what, once last night? You can't fault me.” You say it a bit too defensively; You wish he would just answer you, or leave you be, but he does not. You just have to stay there and listen as he recites, your breath stuttering when his hand moves to your face, a finger over a cheekbone, nothing more.
“More even than the dew
From an illustrious house come
This chrysanthemum, so
The flower’s Mistress
Will live longer still, I believe.”
Chrysanthemums… Sunlight?
“The colour of this flower
Has already faded away,
While in idle thoughts
My life goes by,
As I watch the long rains fall.”
He responds back, just as quickly,
"At Yoshino River
Waves crash high above the rocks
The rushing water
Swift as your
Lodging within my thoughts."
“...I nearly drowned today my Lord, is that not inappropriate?”
“Something more tasteful then,” he comments.
“If it be so, Then so be it
I thought once, but
As white snow falling,
With the passing day
My yearning grows ever stronger.”
There's no mistaking the context of his words. But also not the roiling emotions in your heart. You reply,
“...An ancestral home
It is not, so
Towards me why
Is his heart
So cold and distant?”
His body language goes stiff, the ease in which he held himself something you hadn't noticed until it was gone. You are sorry to see it.
“...Don’t respond so hastily if you don't want to be answered in the next breath,” you exhale. You could wonder at your own audacity, and you might have imagined it, but he pauses before he recites another.
“A secret it is, but
When I feel love rise,
From leg wearying
Mountains, the moon
Sets out, and so do I.”
“...My Lord, please, don’t.” You don’t even know what he’s asking, but he’s running his fingers over your neck, the dip at the base and pressing onto the mark he left. It makes you shiver. You notice it for a soothing habit, and it makes you wonder. But he continues.
“This world of men
Is such a place:
The gusting wind,
Invisible, as she I’ve never seen
And yet do love.”
“My Lord, w-wait--”
“Do you wish to reply?” He’s just petting you with that stray finger, and stuck between your passion and hesitance, you can't speak.
“...I, I just…” he hums a note, too low to be anything more than a vibration in the air.
“Night deepens
With the sound of calling deer,
And I hear
My own one-sided love.”
“It's not!” You rush, your hand coming to the one at your throat. You lean forward. “It's not!”
“Then why this hesitance? Why do you care so greatly for the words of others?”
How do you explain that kind of fear, that kind of insecurity, just like that? “...I’m scared that their words will prove right. That I'll just be another woman of circumstance.”
“You’re unlike any woman nor demon I’ve encountered in this era. If I haven’t killed you yet, what makes you think I would now?”
“...I’m scared of more than just death, at your hands any less. I’m wary of your ire, and the slow rot of my self under domestic subservience,” you admit. It feels like being flayed alive.
“You were never subservient,” He shuts that down. “Why would you start now?”
Why would you start now?
…Yeah. Wait, why would you?
"What...?" Wait...
“I can barely keep you tethered and quiet in one place for an hour, or keep enough sense in your thick skull to keep you out of danger. If anything, this is more work on my end,” he drawls. “So again, why would you start trying to be competent now?”
You start laughing, big, belly shaking laughs that have you holding yourself together. Yeah...yeah! Why would you?
And that, that realization, that relief, is like a breath of fresh air. What were you even worried about?
“What is this–”
You rush forward, laughing still, lacing your fingers in his hair and pulling him down into a kiss.
>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>
You rest easily, in his futon, under his sheets. He has no pressing need for slumber, now or otherwise, so he’s never used the bedding here. He regrets it almost–There so much you’re missing, that you don’t know. You deserve a nest–full of pillows and quilts and whatever strikes your fancy. Clothing articles, his, naturally. You don't have the same sense of smell but he’s sure it would be just as effective. Because even now, you burrow into his side and sigh contentedly in your slumber.
A new bruise sits above the one he first gave, darker, and larger. They’re joined by others, varying colors of bruises. It's not a mating mark–not yet. He plans to give you it when you mate, so that the pleasure could override the worst of the pain.
It doesn't matter if you're human or not. He has decided that he wants you. He finds the emotion is reciprocated, and thus, you are his. Honeysuckle scent and annoying behavior and all.
He smooths over the faint marks with a finger, under the curve of your jaw and your parted, kiss swollen lips. Your lashes flutter under his touch, ghosting over your skin and the scent glands right beneath your ears. He bit here too. Not as deep as he'd like.
You just sigh deeper, but dont wake, a steady wash of honey over him as he presses against the glands. He can still taste your skin on his tongue, the way you shuddered.
“Sleep here,” he demanded. But it was not forceful, because he knew you would agree.
“And what about Rin?”
“Tell her, and come hither after she falls asleep then.” He clicked his tongue. “You and your fretful worries…”
But he doesn't mind it. A faint scent of milk lays over your skin, and it’s endearing, for how familiar it is. It doesn't vex him as greatly as it should.
Alpha children are born with more mild versions of their scents, which mature quickly with age. The mild sweet milk scent fades a few weeks after birth. For betas, it stays a year or so, before settling into something bland and weak. For omegas, the scent lasts up to teenhood. Rin has barely finished her first decade.
Two omegas under his ward. What are the chances? He dreads the day of her maturing, twice as many demons following their trail. Perhaps you were right in wanting you both to learn swordplay. If anything, a person should be their own last line of defense.
And you two are especially weak.
He has to tamp down on that dark satisfaction that builds, in your case particularly. Rin is a child, he will ensure her safety and comfort. But you…He has to remind himself despite his instincts. You are not some soft, pampered omega mate he keeps in his abode. Your weakness is not what draws him to you. And neither will it ever, he detests the weak and aimless. It's your fearlessness he favors. Your mind, thick as it is.
A man threatened you and you didn't simper, you pinned him down and drew your blade against his throat. He’s disappointed in you that you didn't decide to draw blood, but he’ll take care of that on your behalf. The thought of the boy and his murky, spicy scent over yours makes his eyes bleed red. He insulted you. Put his hands on you. He cannot let this insult be.
He needs a proper lesson. So he slips away from your lovely warmth, your aroma, and slips outside.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It's easy to find the salt and musk trail of the boy, even easier to walk his way to the rice paddies. But the boy isn't there– He hears the struggling breath of an old man, and four sets of gentle, even breathing. Not there. There's a hidden path leading from the house, down to the streams and into a secluded area. It looks like only one set of feet made this nothing trail, and it's exactly who he’s looking for. Though, It's still close enough that should he scream, people will hear.
He plans to be quick.
He’s training, with a bamboo sword that must have been hand made, decent, despite its crudeness. Sweat and blood and the stressed scent of pain lacerates the air, his skin flush with exertion. He practises a basic set of moves, efficient, but lacking proper stance.
He stumbles, and when he pauses, Sesshoumaru notices he leans towards the side missing an ear, bloody bandages around his hands, gripping onto the makeshift weapon. He lacks talent, and manners, and dicipline, but holds no small amount of tenacity. Which unfrtunately will remain unrewarded.
Sesshoumaru stalks. He doesn’t crouch nor hide–he moves too fast for the discernible, human eye as he circles his victim, looking for the best angle to slice him. His nails and teeth lengthen.
The wind stills and the animals silence themselves. Insects no longer cricket or tribble, and the birds still, ready to burst into flight at the slightest movement.
The night is at standstill. But he is not the reason why.
He steps away. His blade slips out its sheath like water poured out a glass. It rests above the pale throat of its target, the faintest red line rising underneath its honed edge.
The demon raises its hands, a Naga; White scales that would stand out in the pitch darkness, he must use demonic energy to hide himself. The scent of it is thin and acrid, rot-sweet. An alpha, but a weak one.
It spreads it's raised hands, not in surrender, but supplication. It tilts it's head down the slightest bit, even if it digs its throat deeper into the blade.
“You are the demon hunting this town.”
“That is I,” He expected a thin, hissing voice, but the naga sounds like any normal human male. Again, weak.
“And you are the Lord of the Western Lands, the Great Daiyoukai Sesshoumaru. I am honored to be in your presence.”
“And foolish.” Skin parts like butter under the blade, dripping a thin red.
“I let you live so long as you stayed out of my sight. Now you lose your head.”
“Ah ah!” It tries to placate. “I truly apologize, my lord, but If anything, I was hunting here first. You came to me.” It hisses low as Sesshoumaru presses. “And you came to meet your end.”
“Didn't you come here for the boy?” The naga points back. “I’ll, I’ll back off! I was planning to eat him and one of his sisters, or two, but I’ll go! You need not see my face again!”
He seems a pretty weak demon.
But the luminosity of those teeth and scales belied the cowardice It had shown. The wreckage left in the town discredited it further.
Strangely, there is soot over the wrecked buildings, like something had been burned. This would not be difficult to believe, if a demon trespassed into a home and knocked over lighted oil, but there is no sign of fire damage around the buildings; The grass is still fresh and green around it. The buildings are a few years old, yes, but if there had been a fire there would be more pressing signs, Jaken stressed.
“The female head of the staff spews water, and the old male head spews fire, so I know the destruction both could wreck,” the imp pondered. “All the buildings have soot, but very slight burn marks. With how close and tight the community is, there would have been more obvious tells. No one in this town seems to have any breathing problems, or limps, and with these many ‘fires’, this town should have been burnt down, no matter that they live so close to a mountain stream,” He squawked.
“Something is suspicious with this town…”
And he was looking at that something.
“Tell me, why should I not kill you now and ensure that future myself?” A hiss slithers in the Naga’s throat, but It doesn't bear It's fangs. It's tail slashes the air anxiously.
“Because…Because I have done you no wrong nor do I intend to.” The blade presses in and It fights, Sesshoumaru sees, not to lash out. It knows attacking means earning his ire, which is certain death.
In most cases, not yours.
“B-Because I have information!”
“Lower your voice,” he says in low tones. “What information?”
"You, you must swear not to kill me afterwards. I want your word as a samurai!"
"You have my word I wont kill you if its not useless." He gripes. "Now speak or lose your life."
“That, that innkeeper…she's an omega as well.”
“The hag?” He can't even recall the color of her eyes, her head always bowed, let alone if her scent had the telltale sweetness of an omega.
“She’s human, and a widow.”
“Yes, and old, so the scent withers off to nothing. If some desperate alpha re-mated her, it might make a reappearance.”
“Re-mated,” he said. “She was mated by a demon?”
“Well, humans couldn’t mate with each other even if they knew how. Yes. That's why she was driven out her village, and came here.”
“And you made her a widow when you killed her husband.”
“I ate him for power, yes, he was very strong. And delicious."
Hm. She does show all the typical signs of an omega, if he recalls. He just can't imagine her paired with a demon. She should have more a backbone, if so. She seemed a pretty meek thing when he confronted her after the boy had ran from the inn.
The boy drips blood and tears, sobbing pitifully as he staggers from the inn, holding his parts. When Sesshoumaru turns the innkeeper is kneeling in seiza, trembling, head to her hands on the floor.
“M-My Lord–” He tosses her the cut off ear, still warm and dripping.
‘You stand to lose much more if you allow anyone else inside.”
“M-My sons are coming to visit me, tomorrow or the day after, my Lord.” More nuisances.
“I don’t want to see them. I don't want to catch a scent nor sound. Understood?”
“Y-Yes, yes, my Lord. Of course, My Lord.” And so he goes to you.
"And what of her children?"
“Her sons?" The naga's nose wrinkles. "They are hanyo’s, half bloods…disgusting, I know. One of them is a beta, and the other is an alpha.” It casts a knowing look. “So I suggest you keep your little omegas from wandering about too far.”
His blood spikes. Yes, he has the demon of this town at blade point, but it was a weak and a coward, and now there were two others, no matter that they were the innkeepers' sons, heading straight for the lot of you.
So he sheathes his blade. He turns and shows his full back to the demon, a blatant insult.
“The next time I see you will be the last. You have my word.”
“Well, I sincerely hope it wont be,” he can hear the relief in it's voice. “And, were you not stalking the boy…?”
“Take him, his lack of situational awareness is his own undoing.” He thinks. “But leave the rest of the family be. Just the boy. That and your life is the reward for your information."
“The only thing better than a daughter is an oldest son,” the naga laughs. He bows where his waist tapers into scales.
“And it's always good to live one more day. Thank you, my Lord.”
“I intend to know the name of the next demon I kill.”
“Oh, my name?” the naga grins, each tooth pointed sharp and gleaming.
“It’s Shingetsu Numachi.”
________________________________________
Taglist: @tanspostsblog . @xmenteria,
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Poetry links
Ariwara no Yukihira / Ariwara no Yukihira / Fujiwara no Masatada / Ono no Komachi / Ki no Turayuki / Ariwara no Narihira / Ise / Tsurayuki / Tsurayuki / Ono no Komachi
A/N: I used a lot more poetry in this one, but can you believe I cut it down? I wanted to add more but stuck with the ones that lent more to the plot. So I stood with the really romantic 'era accurate' poems (smh Sesshoumaru has to confess via poetry bc our mc really is that dense) lol.
Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab!
Masterlist.../ Next part....
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
NOTE: Rin and Sesshoumaru are so found-family core to me, so I absolutely DO NOT ship SessRin.
Content: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshomaru, HumanOmega!Reader, AFAB READER, FEM CODED READER, period mentions, era appropriate misogyny, servant/master dynamics.
Length: 8.9k
Part 1 out of 4
Listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the book of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.
The inn that Sesshoumaru leads you to is weathered but sturdy, and most importantly, empty.
You’re surprised at the fact that the inn is a honjin, and not a cheap Kichin-yado, like the ones you've seen sparingly in other villages. This is a post town though, so it makes sense.
It is late, but beyond that the night is still, stale. The wind hardly moves, and you know the signs of a desolate town before the wariness in the residents' eyes can tell you. Scared perhaps, and desperate.
The woman who runs the inn is much like it, a bit old, but grounded, and elegant, as she stoops into a low bow and accepts the pouch Sesshoumaru hands with due reverence and trembling hands.
“Four days. Attend to their needs, whatever they may be. Your head depends on it.” You hand Rin to him, and he sets the child down on her feet with care that belies his stern brow. You take his hand next and hop down from A-Un, and he retracts his hand as soon as you are steady on your feet.
“Get inside now. It's late.”
“Yes, My Lord.” You usher Rin in behind the innkeeper, and for just a moment, you turn to look back at your Lord who doesn't follow.
“Will you be joining us?”
His eyes flash like lanterns in the darkness before he turns away. “...Just get settled in.” And he slips into the dark.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It was hard adjusting.
Leaving the 21st century for 1500’s Japan was enough of a shock, but apparently, demons existed. Yeah. Actual Demons. You’ve tried to adjust and find shelter, and a way back home, with no luck. You've been kicked and chased out of villages as mad or an ill omen (For washing your hands so often???), and you've escaped death and harm so often you swear there is either a deity who favors you, or favors your eternal anxiety over this whole situation.
It was by complete chance that you stumbled upon the Lord, in which you listed your capabilities and usefulness with the frazzled energy of a court jester at threat of beheading, the first demon to not drool and try to devour you on sight.
He cut off your rambling with an odd head tilt and a ‘accompany me then,’ despite the furious squawking from the green imp you've come to know as Jaken. You just grinned, relieved at finally finding yourself secure in this foreign place, and followed along.
You’re fine doing chores, or calling him Lord, in return for protections and shelter. You've learned how to talk in a 'appropriate manner for a woman' as the Lord ordered, but sometimes you push your luck–but you can’t help it! That reckless attitude followed you from your first life to this one, and that silky pale hair was just sooo pretty not to touch, and the barely perceptible shock in his eyes when you call him by his given name, no honorifics, is worth being forced to walk on foot for a few (dozen) miles.
Perhaps he might have thought of killing you, a few times, the sniveling thing that you were, if you hadn't piqued his interest with your charming and witty banter...that he often rewarded by cutting your rations.
He’s gotten more lenient about it now when you ‘slip up’ and you think it's like an exposure therapy sort of thing. Except the exposure part is friendship, which you think he’s never had before. It is something the both of you have to adjust to, him, with your friendship! You, with the fact that you were most likely never going home and that demons exist, and probably, subsequently, Hell. Existential crises for everyone, yay...
Yet, another thing that was hard to adjust to was…your monthlies, Things were thrown out of wack when you landed here; Your circadian cycle, sense of appropriate social interaction, your menstration, etc, so it all took a few odd weeks to come back. Your period, that is you still don't know how to talk to people or wake up early. When that happened, Sesshoumaru had already been eyeing you strangely for days you swear, even if you never really caught him in the act.
It was only when he made himself scarce, did you recall how your friend's dogs could smell your stuffs before you even could, and you promptly wanted to cringe yourself out of existence. He’s an Inuu Youkai. Dog demon.
The blood stuff started, you freaked, and Sesshoumaru promptly disappeared far ahead, leaving you to the sneering and bemoaning of Jaken. You didn't have your preferred toiletries or heating pads or anything! It was never a fun time.
The only thing that hinted to Sesshoumaru’s continued presence was the corpses of demons left in his wake, drawn in by the heavy scent of your blood, the thick trail you had left behind. He started shutting you up in an inn somewhere whenever the time comes along now, even if he’s more often late than not, which was still… oddly considerate? Well, one time you all were too far inland so you had to huddle up in a cave and that was not a good time.
Futon and tatami mats might not be a duvet, comforter and down pillows, but it was much better than a cave.
As you’re thinking, Rin trots into the room, and you brighten, immediately waving her over. Joining the group the girl was a selective mute, speaking a few precious words here and there. Surprisingly, even with Sesshoumaru being the Leader of this group and you being her favorite (obviously), the one she spoke the most often to was Jaken. She trailed and played with him often, even if the imp would call it more tormenting.
Still, the girl has done wonders on brightening this dull little group, and you adore her more than you thought you would.
Rin’s eyes light up with familiarity, and she skips over, plopping in your lap. You let out an exaggerated huff.
“Woah, I think someone had a bit too much to eat at dinner…” She pouts, shakes her head.
“Really? Because it seems like you put on a few pounds already…” She shakes her head harder and kicks her feet, so naturally you reach to tickle her toes. She screeches in laughter as you hold her in place and count off the little stubs.
“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy got roast beef, This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee!’ all the way home!”
“What sort of nursery rhyme is that?” Jaken sneers as he trots inside.
“What kind of stank face is that?” you snap back. Rin gasps against you, trying to get her breath back, and flinches back in laughter as you fake-reach for her feet again.
Tiring her out and settling into bed is easy enough, and you regale Rin with one of the many tales of your world. You tell her about electricity and skyscrapers, blimps and airplanes and lakes within caves, caves with pink salt and love stories and anything that you can recall. Even Jaken doesn't interrupt, content to sit along and listen to your tales.
In no time at all, Rin droops against you, breathing evenly, eyes barely slitted open in that way that all young children fall asleep. Jaken snores in his corner, that creepy two headed staff in his arms, but you’ve all gotten used to that so you ignore him. Slowly, and carefully, you tuck Rin in, and move to blow out the oil lamp.
But Sesshoumaru is already there, staring down at the both of you, and you jump.
“...!!” Putting a fist over your pounding heart, you just manage not to scream, and you frown at the Lord.
“You almost scared me into a heart attack!’ You hiss. You can swear he rolls his eyes– but the motion is too swift.
“Humans and their weak organs.”
“And yet we’ve managed to survive this long, and longer yet.”
“Yes, like crickets. Or roaches.”
“Hey,” you frown. “A roach can survive nuclear fallout. You and I, however, cannot.” He rolls his eyes again, and you definitely catch it, and maybe this time you were meant to.
Rin snores gently, and his eyes are drawn. “These inane stories you tell the child are senseless and impractical.”
“She likes them, they ease her. You know she’s been having nightmares recently–that last batch of demons brought back some…bad memories.” Sesshoumaru had told you how he had come to keep the girl, after he brought her back to life with Tenseiga.
You know you’re not the only one who cares for her. Sometimes, if you’re keen enough, you would look over and catch the Lord looking over the child.
She’s be caught in some silly antic, like trying to braid flowers into A-un’s double mane, or refashion Jaken’s clothes to something more fashionable; And the Lord wouldn't smile or laugh no, the Demon is a practically made of marble, but there would be a fondness in his eyes. Then he'd catch you looking and that stony wall would slide back up.
But that did a lot to humanize him in your eyes (ha). He liked to gift both you and the girl new clothes in bright colors, and on especially good days, he would pretend to be asleep as she braids his hair. Jaken would critique her technique and flower placement, it was very found-family core.
You only caught that once though and you bemoan your loss of modern photography. You would’ve loved to get that on camera.
“The stories help get her mind off of that. And did you say ‘impractical’? I would say they’re inspiring–maybe she’ll reinvent planes and be the next Amelia Earheat, traveling the world.”
He cocks his head down at you. “And what exactly happened with this woman, did she live a fulfilling life?”
“Uh, no…whilst trying to become the first woman to complete a circumnavigational global flight, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean.”
“Hence, why women should stay in the home.”
You scowl. “She didn't fail because she was a woman, she failed because she ran out of fuel for her plane. And if you must be misogynistic, she had a man with her!”
“Who let her take lead. Hence, their death.”
You click your tongue. “The inventions of women have revolutionized the world! Wireless transmission technology, central heating, kevlar fabric, the fire escape, mint ice cream; Women can be just as capable if given room to thrive.”
He waves your words away. ” I suppose then I shouldn't let you out of my sight, lest you recreate your lightning in a bottle again.”
“It's called electricity. I almost got the hang of it.”
“Hence.” He walks the length of the room, opens the sliding door to look outside of it. He stalks back in a moment later.
“There are no other guests in the inn, and I paid the old woman enough to keep it that way. After these four days we leave for the mountains.”
“Mountains…” You sigh, burying your face in the blankets.
“Can't we just fly over with A-un?”
“No. There are demon nests I must quell inside. We pass through.”
“Ugh,” You groan, flipping over. “Why? It's gonna be so hard…You know, this isn't how I imagined my life to go. So much hardship,” you whine. “If I wanted to climb mountains I would have joined a hiking group up Mount Everest or Fuji or Hiroshima or something…”
“How did you expect your life to be?” You stop your pouting, turning over to look at him, and the light from the oil lamp paints him in shades, a chiaroscuro of silver and gold.
“...What do you mean?”
“What did you expect out of life? Do you have dreams? Or did they die out when you came here?”
He waits, and you can't seem to muster up the words under the confusion you're under. Staring at him upside down, you wonder, ‘when did you ever want to know about me?’
He’s the one who breaks eye contact first, a harsh sigh pushing past his teeth. “Never mind.” He reaches inside the lamp and pinches the fire out. The room is enveloped in deepening shadows and cool tones; All moonlight and deep blues, softening into Dawn.
He turns, and his hair swishes, like a curtain of silver. A full moon, gleaming brighter here than the waning one in the lightening sky.
“Go to sleep.”
“...Goodnight, My Lord.”
“To sleep with you.”
_______________
Inu Yokai are more attuned to their senses than most demons.
It is their nature, as dog demons–their senses are what lend them their extra strength in battle, in the company of other demons–and He is a master of them all. He is a pure blooded Daiyōkai, Lord of the Western Lands. It is expected.
He has honed and sharpened and used them like any weapon, and they serve him just fine, as well as any tool or instinct.
He did not expect them to betray him like this.
The scent of your heat is a heavy, disorienting thing–but still weak compared to the true cycle of a female Inu Youkai. But where a female of his kind would enter estrus twice, maybe thrice a year, you enter it every month.
He caught the tell-tale ends of it, the day you stumbled onto his path. Faint and still unripe, rare, and no less precious for it-Omega. You wonder why so many demons chase and clamor after you, and that is why.
He found himself appalled, disgusted. But not surprised. Mortals are weak and slaves to their own biology. Such a rampant cycle must be their evolutionary way of ensuring that their population does not die out. Yet even he has to scoff at the luck you must have had to survive unblemished. A young, unclaimed, unattended Omega, even if they are human? How crass. How delightful. Like impure jade, saturated and cloudy. He keeps you anyway. He wants you anyway.
You fall into slumber easily, but fretfully, and he watches you alternate between a light and deep sleep. It is not pain or discomfort that ails you though, and he tries to tamp down the rumble in his chest at your drawn brow. He wants to soothe it. He wants to slip beside you and savor your heat.
Instead, he settles for brushing your hair back from your face, arranging it in a neat manner so that your neck stays cool, and the child won't step on it in her hurry. You’ll wake up late, more sluggish than the other two, but he’ll excuse you. Rin will rush out first, intent on cooking breakfast, which Jaken would take over, with the innkeeper's aid. You’ll wake up next, blurry eyed and guilty, intent on pulling your weight. He has instructed Jaken to make sure you rest, but recently you’ve cowed the imp into some leniency. He’ll have to check on you.
But he won't be staying in this inn, or around you long if he can help it. The scent of you before was irregular, heady and dark like blood and earth. It's a stroke for his ego (and what does that say about him) that being around an Alpha, a complimentary presentation, has helped you to…stabilize. You must have been surrounded by Betas, to have such a weak scent. But now that it's settled, your scent is something more floral now, mature, warm. ‘Like honeysuckle’, he compares.
Pungent, thick, slow, very particular. It could be mistaken for jasmine, or vanilla, but no, honeysuckle. The scent thickens now, in your estrus, trails behind you in wafts. Further fuelled by the blood residue of your menstruation. You smell like wounded animal. Maddening, enticing, frustrating. Lovely.
Blasted instincts. They demand he steps forth and assuage them, but you are human. However his urges, no matter this damn longing, you will never be on equal stance, despite your presentation. That is reason enough. It should be reason enough.
Humans like to pretend that they are better than animals, or mindless beasts, but your body relays those basic desires pretty clearly.
He wants to taste.
Four days. Four days until the worst of this passes, and he can continue on his journey. Perhaps he should have left you for dead, ages ago. Or killed you himself, to prevent anyone else the right. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and you’d still belong to him.
But he’s not going to kill you now. He’s come too far for that.
He exhales, and slides the door shut seamlessly. It is near dawn, you all arrived rather late, so he will leave you to your slumber. That dizzying scent of yours heckles at his nerves, raises his hackles just the slightest bit–lengthens his teeth and claws, he cannot meditate like this.
He stalks from the inn, irate. There were plenty of low class demons he saw on the way to this backwater village. He needs to shred something apart. He needs to put his claws in something.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The next morning you wake up late, which is surprising, because usually Rin wakes you up by stepping on your hair rushing out. It lies neat around your face, and you’re left to wonder who did it for you, because it certainly wasn't you.
Rubbing the dredges of sleep from your eyes, you still as an image comes to mind; A dream, the glint of something sharp, like a whetted knife, and…something else, a soft rattle in the dark. A weight on top of you? But kinda nice, like a warm, weighted blanket in winter. Hm…White scales. The heck?
“Whatever…? Weird dream…” You would have looked up your zodiac sign for any clues in your era, but there are things to be done. The Lord doesn't shut you in an inn so you can idle about. Maybe you can find some chores to help out with.
You shake your head at the images, and get ready for the day. Jaken and Rin are nowhere to be seen, and your body aches sorely like you did a full cardio workout the night before.
You only just finish getting dressed when there's a knock, and the sliding door opens, revealing the innkeeper kneeling beyond it.
“Forgive me for intruding upon you, honored guest. Breakfast is ready in the common area. Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”
“Uh, no, I‘ll head down, thank you..” You follow her down the empty hallways, until you reach the common room. Rin and Jaken have already set up all the plates; Jaken huffs when he sees you, lifting his sleeve to his nose while Rin just beams. You decide to focus on her, Jaken has always had a sore spot with you.
“Good morning Rin! Did you help set this all up?” She nods, before gesturing wildly with her hands, your eyes flitting to catch it all, the odd few words spilling out. You can understand her easily, by now.
“Oh, and you helped cook too? Well why didn't you call me?! I feel horrible that I just slept in while you were working so hard!”
“It wasn’t hard; You would know if you weren't so incompetent. This is just something any person can do.” Jaken lifts his chin in the air, self vindicated, nose still covered. You are not impressed.
“Thank you for the snark, this early in the morning Jaken. Anything else you would like to add?”
He scoffs. “You should be taking my criticism with due gratitude! I mean, what sort of servant sleeps in and doesn’t even help cook breakfast?”
“I am no servant, I am a companion. And so what? Are you going to take breakfast away as my punishment, Jaken?” You smile and take the bowl of rice Rin hands you, lifting an eyebrow.
“Why, I should!”
“But you won't. Because you know the Lord wouldn't approve.” And with that, he shuts up, the click of his teeth snapping together audible. The innkeeper flinches, and draws back.
And, alright, you were only half bluffing; Sesshoumaru would be upset, but only because Jaken has no right to dole out punishments. That's his job.
You see the owner lady bow and start to head out, but you call to her before she could leave.
“Hey, have you eaten yet? You should sit with us.” She smiles politely, shaking her head, still bowing. She isn't that old actually, now that you look at her. Laugh lines and crow's feet, salt and pepper hair. Fifties, perhaps. Her eyes keep flickering towards Jaken, and she breathes shallowly.
“Esteemed guest, I am honored, but I could not dare to impose.”
“I’m asking you to impose. Don’t worry about Jaken, I can punt him like a football at any given opportunity.”
“No you can’t!” Before Rin can fill it, you take your empty teacup and beam it off his head. It lands with a satisfying crack and the imp falls with a sad cry.
“See? Also, the Lord is the esteemed guest here, not us. And, he’s not here. Please, sit and eat,” you tilt your head, peering just a bit closer at the woman.
“You look tired, actually. Are you alright?” Luckily, it doesn't take much more convincing before she sighs, and slides in the seat next to you, across Rin and Jaken.
“It is fine. There is much to do when you run an inn.”
“But you don't get many customers in this shack of a town, do you?” You glower at Jaken, who flinches back. You turn back to the innkeeper as he mutters something about “hormones and lady cycles’, in which Rin scolds him for you, and introduce yourself.
“And the little girl here is Rin.”
“H-Hello,” Rin stutters the word out, and bows. You watch the innkeeper for any sign of reproach, but she just smiles and bows back.
“I am pleased to be in such fine company. I am Numachi.” She smiles, and easily looks ten years younger.
“‘Numachi?’” Jaken always has to ruin things though.
“Odd choice for a family name.”
Her brow doesn't furrow, but she closes her eyes, inclines her head. “It was my late husband's name.”
“Well it's still–”
“ANYWAYS,” you cut in before he has another chance to be crude, “Not to validate Jaken, but it does seem you don't have many…patrons. So why do you look so tired?” She laugh-sighs, shoulders slumping, and the words spill from her, easily, like she's been waiting for someone to lend an ear.
“It was easier when I had my husband and two sons. But… after my husband passed, they left to travel to a more prosperous town, leaving me here…I run the errands by myself now.” You frown.
“They just left you alone when you needed them most?” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, they wanted to bring me along! But I’m much too attached to this place. It’s where I worked and stayed with my husband, after all. They are not far away anyways, they visit me every few months to check in. In fact, I received a letter at the beginning of this month that they would visit soon!” A smile paints her face, before consideration crawls over it; She lifts her sleeve and moves closer to you.
“Though, it's only after the new moon, and for that, I worry less. This post town used to be very prosperous, with many travelers and smaller inns. You can see the wreckage of them further into the town. But there's a demon, who's been eating all the residents for the past twenty years, under the veil of every new moon, and only then. The victims numbers keep increasing as time goes on, and soon…we will also be gone.”
Your mind quickly flashes to Sesshoumaru; The new moon will be soon, but for the next few nights at least, no one would be eaten, the demon wont get close unless they have a death wish. You think to tell her that but she goes on.
“Now we mostly trade amongst ourselves. It takes such a long time for me to finish all these chores, cleaning the rooms and the bathhouse, checking the hot springs and collecting my small wares to trade, or collecting the things I've traded in advance for.” Numachi-san looks at you, almost conspiratorially, though it's hard on such a soft face as hers.
“I…have traps further upstream the river than anybody goes. It's where you can catch the fattest fish, though I only catch a few every couple of days. It's very far upstream, so that nobody may stumble upon them and steal them, a little aways from the rice paddies Taiga-san owns. Though, I supposed the fish make their own way out of the traps, with how long it takes me to sneak up there.”
You pick at the fish on the table, seasoned with herbs and salt and vinegar, and take a mouthful of rice. Chew, swallow.
“There isn't much I am currently needed for, or need to do. I'd be happy to help with some chores. And please–” you cut her off, “don’t refuse because of hospitality. It would be kinder for the both of us if you received some help, and I find something to keep myself busy with.”
Rin immediately bounces up in her seat, rice grains stuck to her cheeks and waving her hand in the air. You laugh.
“And it seems like you have another eager helper too. Three, with Jaken.”
“I did not–” He withers under the blinding smile you shoot his way.
“So,” you grin back at Numachi-san. Please. what can we do first?”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The empty basket bumps against your hip as you rush into the village. Jaken had kicked up a fuss, had wanted you to stay inside, but Rin had wheezed past him, wiping the floor with a rag, and started chasing his feet. While he was distracted, you memorized the list of things you were supposed to get, and made your escape.
The village really was tiny, even in the midst of such a sunny day. In a time when the village should be bustling, people just kept their eyes forward and went about their business. Oh, there was of course the ladies in their tight knit groups, knitting and gossiping. There was the odd maiden who glanced longingly at some fellow or another, a couple cute village boys, all stereotypical bullshit, yeah yeah, but this town felt…hollow.
Or rather, drained. Like an old, cracked egg.
Numachi-san was right, you saw a few wrecked buildings as you made your way through town, following her instructions. They looked old and fragile, like houses made out of matchsticks. You hurried past these buildings, set on your way.
First, you had to get to the apothecary, for the bundle of herbs she owed the innkeeper, then, to old man Taiga for the rice. But the rice paddies were on the other side of town, where the streams ran from. You could get the rice and check on the traps tomorrow.
Apothecary and cleaning today, rice and fish and cooking tomorrow.
The apothecary was a small, but a long nook of a place, dimly lit and crowded with plants, hanging vines and drying bundles of other things. The woman who ran it was a frail old lady, white haired, who hardly spoke a word of greeting to you before she dropped an assortment of…things into your basket. You checked it over–expensive things. Honey and pears and mushrooms, spices–Parsley, chrysanthemum, kaiware, …some other plants you haven't been in this era long enough to identify.
You were just sorting the basket on your arm when the lady slipped a few extra stuffs into your basket.
“Oh, was that also–”
“Extra.”
“Extra? For wha-”
“You're bleeding aren’t ya.” A woman of few, but blunt words. All knowing and terrifying in that knowledge. You nod.
She inclined her head towards the basket. “Ginger and ginseng to revitalize and heal the body, make it into a tea. You’re gonna need it, with that Lord of yours.”
“...What about him?” She rolled her eyes, a strange dark oak.
“Don’t be dense girl. He shut you in that inn for a reason, right? Take advantage! He doesn’t seem the type to wanna go at it in a cave or some sort. “ And she leans in grinning, sharp and white toothed.
“You gotta watch out though, those types are the ones who pretend to be all dignified, but they’re the ones who go at it like beasts.” And yeah oookay you get what she means.
“Oh, no no no no nooo, we’re not here for that. I’m just a companion! And…my period just ended and I need rest, you know?” But she doesn't buy it.
“So you’re not his wife, or concubine?”
“No.”
She nods. “Not yet then. How ‘bout that little girl, she yours?”
“Rin, the child? No, no, we just took her in.”
“We?" You catch your slip of tongue a moment too late, and flush red. The old lady’s edged eyes seem to stare right through you, sharp and inscrutable, as she grinds and cuts her herbs.
“Having trouble carrying that Lord’s child then, are you? That why you adopted her–”
“Goodness, no! I said it’s not like that! She is just…part of the group.” Even that sounds weak to your ears, and you start to back out of the shop.
“‘A companion’...” She clicks her tongue. “How naive. He’s a high class demon and a man. You’re either a snack or a concubine, and with that sweet young scent and body, you might end up as both. Best take advantage before then."
"What?"
"If you're on or near off your bleeding, you're at your most fertile. If he hasnt already he's gonna try to pop a litter in ya." You make a sound of disgust and she rolls her eyes like a grandmother at an unruly child.
“Listen, I’m a part of this group. He's not that depraved to do that, you dont know what you’re talking about!” You're shocked at the volume of your voice, bouncing off the walls, and the most this lady offers you in a raised bow.
“Ah, I see. You like him but you’re scared–of what? Or is it a pride thing?”
“I don’t-”
“You're naive, but not clueless then. But pride is an easy price to pay for a good life. Make a move if you haven't already. Seems he already cares for ya, if he’s feeding ya and shutting you in an inn for your bleedings.”
“It's a two way street sort of thing. I get rest and he doesn't have to fight all the demons attracted to the blood.”
“Really? Well I bet he gets the days wrong, always shuts you up when the bleedings already ending. Leaves lots of bodies on the way too for ya, huh? It's like when my kitty brings me birds; It's about proving strength and showing he can provide. Demon and a man, remember?”
“You don't know him like I do. You don't know anything.”
“I know most women don't get a choice between comfort or a pleasant partnership; you got the chance for both and you’re not making any moves. If I was young as you I'd kill to take your place. Many women have.”
“So I should, on their behalf? He’s arrogant and aloof and looks down on humans,” you counter. “Why would he want me?”
“He’s sympathetic enough to take in a human woman and child and an imp, so maybe he’s not all that. Maybe you should ask why exactly he shuts you up. Or why you want him in the first place?” She resumes her chopping, the scent wafting up as bitter and sharp as her eyes. She pauses.
“If you live to make a decision, come back here. I got things to help you, whether you want to give him a baby or not.” She doesnt look up as you scoff, or run out the shop. You try to cast her words from your mind.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It got your mind running though.
“Numachi-san,” The innkeeper elegantly turns her head towards you, prime and ready to serve. It kinda irks you, her effortless grace and subservience but you ignore that.
“Why do you think the Lord dropped us off here?”
“Hm?” She tilts her head. “Honored guest…I wouldn't dare to presume, it is not my place.”
“I'm asking you to presume. I won't hold any offense, so please.” Her eyes slowly slid over to Jaken, who was busy telling Rin off for the mess she was making. Rin just grins him away.
Numachi-san slides over to your side, lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth.
“Well, if I may be audacious…Are you not the Lord’s wife?” You would choke, if the apothecary had not shocked you with this presumption earlier.
She hesitantly went on as you remained silent.
“The Lord has demanded your comfort. You rode in on the back of a mule demon with the child, and you were…bleeding. I saw the spotting. Oh, honored guest, do I go too far?” You shake your head, waving your hand at the crease in her brow.
“No, it's a...reasonable idea to come to. But it is none of that, I assure you.”
“Oh? You are a…servant of the Lord then? How generous he is.” Generous is the last thing you would call him but you can't find the words to correct her.
Curiosity pokes at you. “Numachi-san, sorry if this is too much for you, but what was your husband like? Was he kind to you?”
She bursts into laughter, and the sound of it is so sudden and bitter, your eyes widen. She looks at you with something like pity, like you’re some young thing.
“Kindness is a rare thing in this world, honored guest. That's why we call it graciousness– because it always comes at a price. No, my husband was not kind, but he was gracious.” Her eyes seem so far away, and she sighs in ages past.
“He helped me with the hotsprings and the fish traps upstream. Getting firewood and supplying the inn with whatever we needed, rice, grain, barley, herbs, meat. My sons, when they were young, preferred to help me inside, at least until the younger twin started joining his father outside more often. They both didn't like people that much, busybodies. It was very crowded in those days so I understand.” And her eyes flick to the sides.
“But my husband…I cared for him, and he protected me. I’ve always been a frail thing, so I think he took it as ensuring my safety. I wasn’t madly in love with him as I was in my youth, but we enjoyed each other's company, which is more to be said then most marriages. Even so, after my sons were born…My duty as a mother overrode my duties as a wife. Not that it ever amounted to much, now that they all left me…” Another sigh, just pushing a small sob, her lipid eyes wet.
Wife. You’d never be a wife, in this era at least. Much less a willing mother. The chance of finding a decent partner that won't try and force you into domesticity is low, and lower still with the chances of Seshoumaru ever letting you go.
If you asked him, would he let you go? Maybe as you get older. Maybe if you ever found a way back to your world. But what about Rin? It's not like you could take her with you.
That night, after Rin has fallen asleep after another tale, you go wandering to the end of the hall, where the more opulent rooms lay. It's been unoccupied, but waiting a few minutes in the room yields results; Sesshoumaru appears as if he teleported, face forever calm and blank.
“What are you doing in my room?” The room you haven't been using? You want to snort, but rein that particular response in.
“Forgive me my Lord,” you incline your head. “I just had a bit of an…inquiry I wanted to bring to you.”
“And what ‘inquiry’ do you bring me?”
To your credit, you only hesitate for a second at the infliction in his voice. Almost a challenge, but with none of the wariness to suggest he expects any real threat from you. You press.
“Why do you send us to an inn during my bleedings?”
---------------
It's not a particularly shocking question, but he wonders why you asked it. And why his pulse spiked ever so slightly.
“The blood scent attracts demons.”
“...Forgive me my Lord, but you are strong enough to deal with them; The corpses you leave behind are plain evidence. And I suppose it's more than that…” So you noticed. You bite the nail of your thumb, already red and agitated like it's a habit, which it is. He wants to tell you to stop, you don't need to lose any more blood than you already have.
“It's just…We always stay at an inn towards the end of my period, always. If it's the blood that attracts predators, why not shut me up while I'm bleeding then? I know you…scout farther ahead but I bet you can tell when or before it starts, with your superior senses. We can plan better for this, y’know.”
How nonchalant, so self satisfied you seem with yourself that you meet his eyes head on. But as he stands there, holding your gaze like water in his palm, some shame finally finds you, its red flush crawling over your neck and ears and face.
How lovely. “You don't know, do you?” Your shame, that is.
“Huh?” Even now, honey wafts throughout the room. It's all he can smell–blood residue and earth, honeysuckle and moonlight. He inhales so slowly, so carefully, to not disturb it, lest it spreads throughout the room and stick to everything.
“I don't know…what?” He doesn't answer you. He looks about; certainly one of the better rooms, still paling in comparison for his tastes. The futon has not been brought out, good. He doesn't need any more temptations.
How clueless you are to his yearning, desire let sit to simmer for gods know how long.
Maybe from when you first stumbled onto his path, or how he noticed you never cowered near Jaken nor A-un, or even him; Cautious, but never fearful. Perhaps when your scent mellowed out with the addition of the child, or when you handed her flowers to braid in his hair. He wonders what the both of you would have done, had he dropped the farce of sleep, content to breathe in milk and honey. Would you jump back in shock, the child in your arms, or would you have grinned cheekily, teeth and all?
You're going to be the bane of his existence.
As he gazes about the room, he strides over to you in that way that makes you falter; Too swift and smooth to look like anything more than gliding, the illusion of being too fast to track as he stands before you; He tilts his head at the little squeak that leaves your lips as you stand eye to eye with his shoulder pauldron.
Everything about you screams acquiescence, submission, fertility. Your smell, the extra luster to your hair, the extra plump to your face and hips….
He sighs. He finds himself pressing the flat of his tongue against his fangs, the roof of his mouth, to catch that cloying fragrance. There is a sort of fondness he holds for you that he is not sure is wise, nor gentle; It's a kind of fondness that demands both your tears and your desperation.
“Attend to me.”
------------
“Attend to me.”
You mind blanks, before you spring into action. He walks over to the low table and seats himself, while you try to figure out how to take off his metal shoulder pad..thingy. It's attached by these red ropes, which are attached to that other black metal petal…thingy–wait, you should probably undo that yellow sash first. And that fluffy cape (it's sooo fluffy. But also literally alive? What is it?)
Sesshoumaru doesn't aid nor correct you, he hardly sighs as you fumble about, shutting his eyes as you work. He inhales deeply, once. He must be tired. Maybe that's why he’s entertaining you and not throwing you out the room. There's been a few close calls of that, so you know the warning signs- he emits none of them. He’s calm.
Finally, you get to that cherry blossom patterned Kimono, a crisp white and red pattern. Expensive. Hm. You wonder what his thread count is. Must be high. He lifts a hand as you hesitate for his undershirt; He just loosens the collar (and, skin!), and gestures towards the sake on the table that just suddenly appeared, a single cup to match.
As you pour it, a thought pops into your head.
“You can repair your armor and clothing with demonic energy, yes?” He actually raises an eyebrow, but only by a few millimeters. “Yes. And?”
So you couldn’t just like…Magic it all off?
You only shake your head and pour the alcohol into the flat sakazuki cups. He takes it from you and drains it immediately, and you refill it quickly. He drinks, and you look him over.
Your eyes trail down his form, not for pleasure, (because yeah, he’s beautiful, but he’s so beautiful it’s kinda scary, you know?), your eyes fall to the empty sleeve of his left arm, and you sober.
He had dropped you off in some village one day, where you stood for a few days. Jaken was the one to retrieve you, and you came back to a demon lord with one less arm and a tiny child with matted hair. You did your best, but you were only able to fix one of those.
He catches your gaze before you can tactfully retreat, and his eyes narrow, daring you.
You cringe back. “Okay, okay, no need for the death glare. Just…curious.”
His unspoken question prompts you to answer.
“Just…um…Does it feel any different?” It's stupid even before it leaves your mouth, and you see the growing irritation in the set of his mouth, You set down the sake to wave your hands.
“No, no, I mean…! Like, there's stories, from my era I mean, and other stories from before obviously, but amputees each recall their experience differently. One thing that's common though is this thing called Phantom limb; It's like…they have the feeling of still having their limb, even though it is not there. I was just curious if you had…experienced that…” Your voice trails off, meek.
When you look up, he’s looking at the loose sleeve. His hair covers whatever expression he wore before he turns back to the lowrise table.
“Oftentimes, I could swear my hand would be curled, but when I look it is still gone.” A clawed hand raises itself, and removes the shoulder of his undershirt, revealing the ragged scar marring the milkiest skin you ever saw.
“It aches, and not just the old wound. Phantom limb is accurate. I have to look and remind myself of what I lost.”
You try not to wince. “At least you have your life. I wouldn’t say you lost.” Nobody said anything of what happened to him, how he got so injured. You had to bribe Jaken with some rice cakes to even know it was another inu youkai, or hanyo, as Jaken sneered, so it's kinda scary to think there are demons stronger than the Lord in front of you, whose face and skin is smooth, but his eyes stony, like gilded marble.
“No, I lost that battle.” Sore loser then? You shrug.
“Well, I count it as a victory if I’m still alive at the end of it all.” And your impassive Lord actually snorts, closing his eyes.
“Spoken like a true loser then. Weakling.”
“Yes, and a coward. But alive still.” Silence threatens to fall, so you rush before it.
“Could you, possibly, regrow it?” He is a demon after all…
But his fist unclenches, settles back in his lap. His face is calm again, like a freshwater lake.
“There is something halting that.” And still, Silence falls like a dull knife.
This time, he takes the sake bottle and serves himself, quickly downing the drink and serving himself another. Are…demons impervious to the effects of human alcohol or…?
Maybe he’s just trying to get plastered???
Slowly, an idea forms in your head, so slowly, solidifying like fog. You act on it before you can lose the courage, opening your mouth to recite.
“Countless,
My Lord, are the years
That stretch before you;
In such an illustrious house,
A dewdrop is what I would be”
…People in this era are big on poetry, right? They’re not supposed to look at you like you just spoke in a dead language, right?
“That is Ise no Miyasudokoro. You know of her, in your modern era?” You ignore the snide.
“I was in college, working on getting my Master’s degree. One of my electives was a poetry course.” You shrug. “So yes, I know of her.”
He affords you a look, an actual look; He checks the planes of your face and the depths of your eyes, and you don't know what he's looking at exactly, but he responds,
“The everlasting (moon):
Growing in its midst
Is my home, so
In its light alone
Can I place my trust.”
Oh! You perked up at the mention of a moon, y'know, people here really like using it as a metaphor, another poem ready at your lips;
“As a general rule
I would not praise the moon
For it
Piles upon men
The burden of increasing age.”
“And now Ariwara no Narihira? Was he also part of your curriculum?” You notice it, the regard in his voice, like a drop of paint in a glass of water, settling.
“Anyone interested in literature can't skip over Ariwara. He’s a classic.” Again, bluffing a little; your teacher passed him over very briefly, and you hate leaving any stone unturned, so you did some research on your own. (And thank goodness)
“I know of him and his work, but he is far from my favorite. Do you, perhaps…hold any favor to a poem in particular?”
A nail, long and sharp, trails the flat rim of the sake glass. He seems to be contemplating, before he answers you in that impassive voice of his, even and toneless.
“In the summer mountains
From the treetop heights
Cuckoos’
Calls fill the sky
As does my love.”
Oh wow… “Ki no Turayuki? That's oddly…passionate.”
“Do you think I'm incapable?”
“Of passion?” What a loaded question. “No my Lord just…restrained.”
“I prefer…longanimous.” You laugh at that.
“What adversity do you face to show such restraint then, Lord Sesshoumaru? The world is already at the tips of your fingers.” He doesn't answer, but drinks. The silence that sails in is more weighted than you expected, and you regret your choice of words, already. Maybe he would have spoken of these ordeals. Was it the alcohol, or is the Lord being more…indulgent this night?
You turn your head, and notice the shoji door left ajar. So you stand, and draw it back, letting the night breeze filter throughout the room. It's nice. The perfect temperature, and the moon is just short of a perfect waning crescent. Soon there will be a new moon, and there will be no demons attacking this month. How lucky.
“Poems from the Sengoku era focus mostly on the tanka and renga format. In my era of modern technology, there is access to many forms of poetry, from all over the world. It's hard for me to pick a favorite.”
“Indecisive as always.”
“Oh, is that mirth I hear? I consider myself enamored with the written word. Even if I can only remember bits and pieces, from here and there.”
“Then what can you remember?”
“Bits and pieces,” you repeat, “lines and quotes. And if I must recite them rapid-fire I fear I’ll only prove redundant.”
“I want to hear you, nevertheless.” You have to calm yourself, otherwise you fear your heart will leap out instead of your words if you speak. You wrestle it back down your throat, but there's still a tremor in your voice.
“Bits and pieces, hm?...It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants’, by Vladirmir Nabokov. Nizar Qabbani, ‘Because my love for you reaches higher than words, I've decided to fall silent.’ Venetta Octavia, ‘I say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise’. Andrea gibson, ‘come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.’ ‘Will you remember that i existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’”
“That last one was by Haruki Murakami,” you sigh. “...You can imagine, I got high grades for my poetry elective.” You try to laugh, to make light of this moment, but it feels stilted and awkward.
The cool air stings a little as you breathe, but you hold it in, and exhale. And when you look up, you jolt.
He finishes closing the last bit of distance, looks down at you from his imposing height. How old is he…? His face you wouldn't call youthful, despite its softness. It's those eyes- they’re too pointed.
“Do I displease you, my lord?”
“No, you do not.” A knuckle taps at your head. “But your denseness frustrates me.”
“You mean…?” He rolls his eyes, a soft snarl building in his throat.
“You are not one for subtlety, are you.” His nails, like razors hovering closer. You could shiver, and not from the cold. Not from fear. Even when that strange hesitancy of his melts beneath a scowl, and he reaches forward more assuredly, yes, but rougher too. You speak before he touches you.
“You don’t have to hurt me, y’know.” His eyes streak back to yours, breathless and bright at your own boldness.
“You don't have to hurt me to justify touching me. You can just…”
Slowly, you tip your face into the open plane of his palm, cool, like all the rest of him, you’d imagine. His fingers flex, his hands so large that his nails brush your hairline.
His hand isn’t smooth, it’s rough and calloused and cold, but the coolness feels nice. So you press your face closer and use your hands to hold it there.
You don't expect the sharp exhale, or for when he pulls you closer, and you jolt at the suddenness. A finger strokes at the hairs on the back of your neck and you shiver, again.
“I’m disciplined enough to restrain my desires, not curb them when they are released.” And just as quickly as he pulled you close, he let you go. “Tell me now. I won't have a tearful servant girl in my bed; You must be willing or not at all.” He almost sighs the words, continuous and melodious in that voice.
Is it taking advantage, if you give in? Lust was easy, easier to indulge.
You aren’t going to deny the butterflies you stomp down, in these quiet moments. And these moments aren’t infrequent– whether you continue to talk around a dying fire at a campsite, or taking shelter for a storm within a cave. It was a bit of a girl crush you had on the Lord, and you could give in, very willingly.
But should you? What would the ramifications be…?
“I…” And you pause, because you hear something. You perk up, turning back to the door you came from. You listen, both of you, and then you hear it again–muffled cries. Rin is having another nightmare.
“My Lord, Rin is…” You hesitate to go, the moment clinging to you like a mist, but then you hear your name.
You’re already detangling yourself from his hold and making your way towards the door when you remember yourself, and turn to bow towards your Lord.
“I’m sorry, I have to go make sure Rin is…” He waves you off, turns towards the open window where you can't see his face, see him gather himself.
“Yes. Go. See to her.”
You nod and step back, but a part of you feels off, leaving him like this. What timing.
“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but I haven't told you my favorite poem yet, my Lord. I hope we can continue this conversation at another time.” You bow, one last time, before you hurry out.
------------
Sesshoumaru sighs, viscous longing in his chest like hunger pains.
How dense are you? Must he lay out each of his desires for you for you to understand? You speak words of affection so easily, that when he does the same they fall upon deaf ears. He is not one to be overt. You are horrible at looking in between the lines, though.
It is wrong to feel this way over a human. Weak things, inherently inferior, yes, but perhaps you are all the more enchanting for it. It would be more unnatural if he were to let you be, to not taste the salt of your skin or the honey that wafts from you. The hint of arousal he caught, when he towered over you. You are an Omega in heat. He is an Alpha. What else is there? You serve him anyways, should you not be rewarded so?
His skin crawls, where it has touched yours.
And still, that honeyscent sticks throughout the room.
A/N: Was the poetry a bit too on the nose? I feel like sesshoumaru isnt the type for grand dispalys of affection or confession, he's way more lowkey lol. But here are the poems I used in order.
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab! This was soooo fun to do, with the contrasting POV'S and repressed feelings~ Writing Sesshoumaru for the first time really stumped me first, because he's so aloof and stoic, but that just means i have to give him a cottagecore girlfail darling he cant resist lollll
Content/Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshoumaru, Human!Omega!reader, reader doesn't know that they're an omega, but Sesshoumaru does, FEM CODED READER, smut, Female anatomy, Period mentions, era apropiate misogony, aphrodisiacs, blood, animal death, character death (not main characters), Servant/Lord dynamics, etc. I'll tag the warnings properly in the beginning of each part.
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
A.N: Again, only a preview, not the full thing! likes and comments are appreciated!
He wakes up, hours later, in the dead of night, with the wind blowing and the cicadas screaming.
There is a storm brewing. He can smell it.
The twins, Toyotamahime sleeps to his right and Tamayorihime to his left, breath soft and even, faces peaceful and identical. He hears his father, the stilted, uneven but deep breaths, and when he rises, head ringing, he sees his youngest sister, Ohatsuhime beside him. There is one missing.
He struggles up, ignoring the pain of his missing fingers, his ear. He tries to be quiet, but he stumbles into a wall, biting his tongue at the cry of pain. No one wakes, so he goes on.
Kushinadahime sits at a table, with tea ready, and mochi. She doesn't acknowledge him with more than a wave over to the table. He stumbles over, and sits.
“I knew you would be up at this time. You're always tense this close to the new moon.”
“Yes, well, what if a demon comes inside?”
If she were any less put together she’d roll her eyes. “You sound like Father. That's only happened once in a case of extremely bad luck, Takashi-kun.”
“That's how mother died.” Chased through these halls until a child with a ronin’s sword tried to play hero.
He wasn't alone then. But he wasn't able to do much– his mother still died. The sword leans against the door leading outside, touched by age and use.
“...Mother led him outside the house, she protected us.”
“She still died.”
“She drowned. And the demon is dead now, drowned with her–”
“Just replaced–”
“And he is not as bold as the former. We’re all alive, aren't we? Now, drink your tea.” Takashi glares, and she sighs.
“I know, Takashi-kun, I was there and I'm old enough to remember what happened. But if a demon comes, If this demon decides to finish the job, there isn't much you can do now with a missing ear and finger on each hand.”
Takashi scowls harsher as he takes the mochi. It's fresh, as it always is, of course. A rice farmer should have something to show the bounty of his harvest.
Rice cakes, mochi, sake, they had it all. And while others didn't bother to put in the work, Takashi-s sisters labored to remove the bran from the rice, so they often dined on white rice like elite nobles.
“You don't need to worry, these will grow back soon enough,” he teases through a mouthful. She breaths a laugh. This too is quiet.
“If only! Tell Masaki-san your secret, I'm sure she’d enjoy having her left foot again.”
“Really? I’m not so sure, if she’d have to go back to working in the fields then.” They both go quiet again, and she urges the cup of tea towards him.
“With the storm, we have to make sure to work quickly.”
“We’ll do that tomorrow.”
“You will rest. We have enough people, and you need to heal.”
“I heal fast. Remember how I got my sword?”
“It isn't a wandering ronin this time Takashi-kun, it’s a high ranking demon. The Lord of the Western Lands. You’re lucky to even still be alive.”
“’Lucky?’”
Her shoulders curve inward at the tone of his voice.
Taglist: @tanspostsblog . @xmenteria
And thats the end of the preview!! ill be releasing the full chapter in the next few days, so sit tight!! Also, please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
