Genre: Angst
Warnings: T
Notes: sorta Doa/Rin – remains. This means some almost-FEMSLASH, avoid it if you can't stomach it. Also, spoilers if you haven't met Doa and Isaku yet.

Rin knows they're not really reaching for each other. Doa stumbles in from the rainstorm, soaked and mud-smeared and frantic, holding out her hands, and Rin takes them; but Rin knows they're not the hands she wants to take, and she's not the person Doa wants to take them.

Doa's skin is surprisingly soft and fine, for the vicious little scrapper she is. Rin helps her take off her robe and herds her to go take a bath, and Doa sits like a little child with her face in her hands. Layers of dirt scrub away. The skin beneath is paler than it has any right to be, not swarthy.

"Poor thing," Rin whispers to her, because Doa seems so vulnerable right now, so willing to take comfort. Under other circumstances she'd never dare. "Doa, Doa, it's all right now, sshhh."

Would this be her life, Rin wonders, if she had a sister to be orphaned with? A younger sister to take care of. Maybe they'd have made a living weaving reed mats and fixing sandals and Rin would never have met Manji or pursued her revenge. Maybe they'd have found comfort in each other and the thought of obtaining justice for themselves would never have crossed their minds.

Doa seems almost like a spirit, something that should be flickering around the fields, walking paths at dusk, leading travelers astray and bestowing bad and good luck according to her whim. Definitely not someone sisterly. But Doa's face, her posture, everything, it demands comfort the way a babe demands to suckle at it's mother's breast.

Rin takes the hot little hands tightly in hers and uncertainly lets Doa draw close. The shoulders beneath her arm are tight with muscle but not as broad as they should be, and the skin of Doa's back is unreal with how smooth it is, not broken by scars. Her hair is short and dripping, not twisted up in a tail and tickling at her skin.

Rin closes her eyes and pretends. Doa isn't who she's reaching for, and she's pretty sure she isn't who Doa is seeking. But they have each other now. Beggars can't be choosers.

/end

6.16.08