Being the Demon'

Being the Demon's Daughter
by Cat Who

I've had the idea for this one for a while. None of the characters belong to me, they belong to many respected companies and especially to Takahashi-san. Please do not sue; I've spent all my money on tankoubon and trading cards and trinkets anyway.

Prologue

The boys of the village -- those too young to join their fathers in fighting but too old to stay with their mothers in the evening -- often liked to sneak out on night of the full moon, in the hopes that they might catch a glimpse of her. Their older brothers had done the same for several years, and it had become something of a ritual to leave the village and watch the hillsides near the forest, in the hopes that she might come close enough for them to see her face.

No one really knew what she looked like. Everyone said they did; they said that she was a wild beauty, that her long hair was as deep a jet as any in Nihon, that her skin was pale and glowed in the light of the moon, that her eyes flashed with the fire of her demon father. They were all rumours, though. Even the oldest of the boys had only seen her two or three times, and those times, they had only seen the outline of her figure. She was shapely enough, it was true, and had grown moreso over the years, but no one had yet to truly see her face.

A cluster of the boys hid in the bushes at the edges of the forest, whispering among themselves, staring at the bright full moon that hung heavily over the hillside clearing. They each held their breath in anticipation. The air stilled, and over the horizon, a woman dressed in a fine kimono appeared, her hair lose and wild except for a single adornment on the side.

"She's here," one of the younger boys said in awe, finally believing all the stories that he'd been told. "The yokai's daughter . . . she really IS real . . ."

"Quiet!" his friend hissed. "If she sees you, you're dead!"

The boy immediately shushed, and the little group stared, wide-eyed, until the woman turned slightly.

"She heard," one whispered in fear.

The woman turned her head to face them, and they saw her features profiled in the moonlight for only an instant. She was as beautiful as the rumours had said, but her face held an expression of sadness and longing.

Their fear overcoming their curiosity, the village boys fled, leaving the woman alone on the hill.

Rin looked at the place where the boys had been, and shivered slightly to herself. She was a stranger to her own kind; Sesshoumaru-sama had never let her be near other humans.

They called her the demon's daughter. It wasn't quite true. Sesshoumaru loved her as his own, yes, but she was not his physical daughter beyond the fact that he had saved her life. For eleven years, she had lived with him, and as she had grown older, she had never once figured out why he had kept her, nor the way his mind worked. She could guess better than anyone, even Jaken, but she did not know for sure. Her lord was an enigma to all, especially to his human ward.

Rin spread her hands wide, letting the moonlight kiss her body fully through her rich clothing. Sesshoumaru had provided her with food, clothing, and shelter, and the closest thing to affection that his cold heart could muster. He had no idea how much she treasured each hint of a smile, each gentle flash of his eyes, each occasional kind word. Some part of her believed that it was she who was thawing his heart of ice, and she was gladdened by that, for she loved Sesshoumaru as if he were her own flesh and blood father.

Her brief meditation through, Rin began to gather the herbs she had come here for in the first place. The moon-flower, a magical herb required for many of Sesshoumaru's yokai spells, only bloomed in the moonlight, and was best when gathered by a virgin or miko, or some other girl with a pure soul. Rin was no miko, although due to her enforced isolation from human kind, she was indeed a virgin. Some girlish part of her hoped that someday, a man -- human, or even yokai -- might fall in love with her, but her prospects were nonexistant at the moment, and unless Sesshoumaru did something strange, they would stay that way. It didn't really matter, though. Rin was happy just to be the yokai's little girl.

Only I'm sixteen now, I think, she thought to herself, glancing down at the generous curves that had formed over the last few years. I'm not Sesshoumaru's little girl any more . . .

She returned to her lord's lair, her arms full of the moon-flower as well as many of the other herbs Sesshoumaru used to keep his territory under control. His home was an abandoned castle in the countryside east of Kyoto. Rin had never seen it in any state except perfection, although she knew that much of the apparent upkeep of the home was done by youkai magic and not physical labor.

She slipped her geta off in the foyer, and entered one of the work rooms, where she quickly sorted and labeled the herbs as Sesshoumaru had taught her. He had taught her so many things . . . how to read and write, how to heal herself if she was ever injured, how to defend herself from the non-magical creatures in the wood. Yet much he could not teach her. For one thing, he could never teach her how to be a youkai herself . . . she would never be one of the magical demons of the forest, like her lord.

"Good evening, Rin," he said in greeting as she entered the main room, which he used as an office. He was writing again. Sesshoumaru had spent much of his youth in Kyoto, and to Rin, he had never shaken the habits he had acquired there. For some reason, long ago, he had abanded his human disguise at Kyoto and until she had come along, he had despised humans. Sesshoumaru never talked about his life there, and Rin never asked.

"Good evening, Sesshoumaru-sama," she answered politely, and went into the kitchen area of the castle. Sesshoumaru's own eating habits were a mystery, and Rin had a feeling they were too grisly for her to want to know about, so she had learned to cook and eat her own food at an early age. She vaguely remembered her life before Sesshoumaru; most of that time she had been cold, and hungry, and alone.

I lack for nothing here, she reminded herself again. I owe Sesshoumaru my life . . . yet why am I growing more and more discontent with my life? Why do I yearn for more?

She served herself some steamed rice from the daruma she kept warming constantly on the fire, and returned to the main room to eat. He was still writing, but now Jaken was there, too.

"Oy, girl, you dare to eat in front of Sesshoumaru-sama?" Jaken asked, beginning their nightly fight.

"I dare," she answered with a glare at the gollum.

"Your habits and presence disgust him, you know," Jaken answered, his globe eyes narrowing.

"Your habits and presence disgust ME, Jaken-chan."

The gollum was getting steamed. Jaken-CHAN?

"Keep it down, you two," Sesshoumaru warned, glancing over at them. He then held up the paper he was working on, and studied it critically, then dipped his brush again and continued writing.

Rin, feeling like a child again, stuck her tongue out at Jaken, showing a few grains of unchewed rice. Jaken swatted at her knee with the Staff of Heads, and then went off someplace to sulk.

Once Rin had finished eating, she cleaned up her dishes quickly, and then returned to the main room. She sat at the low table and began her own writing. She was writing a "Pillow Book," as Sesshoumaru had suggested she do, to follow the pattern of a famous writer in the old Imperial Court of Kyoto. It was a diary, and more; it was Rin's thoughts and ideas on life, on love, on the world.

On the village boys: They came out to see me again. I don't know why I always go to the same hill on the days of the full moon, as the moon flower grows all over the forest. Perhaps it is that I want them to see me. Maybe one of them will have the courage to fall in love with the demon's daughter . . .

There it was again. The note of longing for a mate of her own. Sesshoumaru had yet to choose a mate. He had once muttered something about not making his father's mistake. (Rin, when she was little, had asked him about his family. She knew of his half brother Inu-Yasha, and she was vaguely aware that Sesshoumaru came from a very powerful clan, but Sesshoumaru had declined to comment on his parents beyond the fact that his father had ruled over all of Kyushu and his mother had died right after he was born. Rin had never asked again, because Sesshoumaru looked almost sad when he had spoken of it.)

I want to fall in love, Rin thought, her heart squeezing painfully. I want to love, and to be loved. Is that too much to ask?

Is that more than I deserve?

End Prologue