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undermine-the-instinct · 7 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader

Read on A03...

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.

Ise/ Ise/ Narihira/ Ki No Tsurayuki/

#my stuff #my writing #writing collab #spring fever #spring fever 2024 #inuyasha #sesshoumaru #sesshomaru #lord sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x reader #reader insert #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #tw: a/b/o #a/b/o au #tw: omegaverse #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale

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undermine-the-instinct · 6 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader Part ||

Masterlist.../ Previous part.../ Next part....

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.”

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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.

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#my stuff #my writing #writing collab #spring fever #spring fever 2024 #inuyasha #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale #sesshoumaru #sesshomaru #lord sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x reader #reader insert #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #tw a/b/o #a/b/o au #tw omegaverse

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