"I don't know how it is you are so familiar to me — or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How ever smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before. In another time, a different place— a different existence." Lang Leav

—

"Rin…"

"It's alright Sesshomaru.. I'll be with you forever. I know it.." she whispered weakly, her thumb brushing the stripes of his cheek one last time.

"Rin." It was a rare crack in composure, his voice strained, both a prayer and a curse. But all the power in the world could not make will her to obey his words and with a final slip of breath she was gone.

—

An explosion sent shrapnel and rock flying, stinging his eyes and filling up his throat. Another, closer this time, shook the ground and knocked him off-balance.

He had to get away, find somewhere safe to rest. If he was hit now, he'd be unlikely to survive.

The air was thick with dust and acrid, black smoke, the sound of gunfire and shouting echoing in the distance as the tall figure made its way unevenly away from the city and into a patch of forest. It wasn't often he ended up in a position like this. People sought him out specifically because he never made mistakes, never got caught, never left anything unfinished.

A perfect assassin.

He'd been overly confident this time. Heh, something that wasn't usually a problem for him. And this had been simple mission after all, nothing more than a band of rowdy mercenaries. But they'd gotten the better of him.

"Curse them..." the figure hissed, gripping his shoulder tightly as he staggered into a small clearing. Blood, hot and thick seeped through his clothing and over his fingers, staining them red. The scent was so strong he could taste traces of metal on the back of his tongue. He stumbled down to the ground against the roots of a large tree, groaning and slumping against them. Every muscles in his body felt like it was about to snap, the adrenaline from the initial blow was wearing off little by little. He took in his surroundings, sharp eyes searching for any sign of danger, any areas likely to allow ambush. When he was satisfied he was safe enough he worked to steady his heartrate and breathing. There were people being slaughtered not far away and yet this place seemed so quiet, almost peaceful. Didn't the birds know what was going on a few miles away? He couldn't imagine what there was to sing about at a time like this. He lay still for awhile against the tree, a dull throb developing in his shoulder. His fingers were still able to move, so no catastrophic nerve damage but it wasn't good. There'd likely be permanent damage of some sort. He managed to tear a piece of cloth from his shirt and tied up the bleeding shoulder sloppily with his free hand and his teeth. Confident he wouldn't bleed out, he let his hands drop down to his sides, his head slumping back against the tree… he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. His eyelids fluttered closed, the red paint on them smudged and caked with dirt and ash.

He just needed to rest for while…

He woke to another chorus of chatter from the birds, the clearing around him painted with reds and oranges, though whether it was due to the nearby fires or the sun setting he couldn't tell. A few hours must have passed since he'd drifted off and that would make it… around seven. Maybe eight. His shoulder was still aching loudly but he tentatively he tried to move… to his annoyance his muscles screamed at him in response. He resigned himself back against the tree once more.

Arrogant fool.

He let himself drift back in the memories of the battle. He'd been taunting them, letting himself get carried away. But he'd been sure the enemy was no threat… perhaps he was losing his touch. Admittedly he had been… distracted as of late. As though he were waiting for something, but certainly had no idea what that might be. His life had always been this way… it was unlikely to change now.

A slight shift to make himself more comfortable sent a great, stabbing pain down his arm and chest. By the time he got himself to a hospital or a doctor… he cleared the thoughts from his head. There wasn't any use worrying about it now. He would see to it when he was able and that was that. Until then… he needed to rest, frustrating as it was.

The events replayed in his mind once more, and then again and again for some time, his words, his mistakes… until he heard a rustle in the brush nearby. With a great effort he forced his body up slightly to look in the direction of the sound, gritting his teeth tightly.

A few moments passed, his mind in a whirl until a pair of large brown eyes peeked out at him followed by the rest of a young girl. She had a thick head of messy, tangled black hair, part of which was tied up into a small ponytail at the side of her head and long, unkempt bangs which fell into her face as she stared at him. She was filthy, and covered in what appeared to be bruises and cuts, all over her face and limbs, though his vision was still somewhat fuzzy.

He frowned at the child. If he was lucky she was just lost and had stumbled upon him in the confusion of the fighting. The alternative was… less ideal. This was war and children were just as likely to kill you as anyone else. Sesshomaru thought, with bitter amusement that he couldn't have been much older than her when he'd started training. The girl slowly emerged from the brush and approached him cautiously, holding a beaten up water bottle wrapped in duct tape tightly in her hands. She took another few steps toward him, clearly wary.

He took a measured breath and stared back at her. This was the end, was it? He was going to perish here by the hands of a child? Only a coward would send a little girl into war with a bomb in his stead, Sesshomaru seethed to himself.

She stopped next to him and stared down at him for a long moment, as though trying to decide what to do next, before opening the water bottle. Sesshomaru felt himself tense instinctively until something wet connected with his head and he jolted forward with a start. The girl stood beside him, holding the water bottle upside down over him until she had completely emptied its contents onto his head.

He sputtered, hissing and glaring at the child who flinched and took an unsteady step back, anticipating being struck. It took a moment for him to calm down, breathing raggedly and eyeing her from under his now soaking hair. The painted stripes on his cheeks and eyes began to run and drip red down along his jaw. Was that it? Just…. water?

Was she attempting to help him?

"It would have been more useful to let me drink it." he huffed at her. She blinked, surprised by his sudden words before turning on her heel and running off the way she'd come. He watched her go, sighing in annoyance and leaning his head back against the tree, pale hair plastered to his face.

After all that, she just left?

Ridiculous.

Of all the things to do… she'd dumped water on him. He wished she'd dumped it on his wound if she felt the need to do something so stupid, although he didn't trust how clean it was.

"Useless." he huffed. With his bangs dripping onto his face he'd suddenly realized how thirsty he really was. He'd lost his supply of water somewhere along the way to the clearing. He'd been more concerned with staying alive than keeping track of his gear. A few moments later he heard the rustling again and his eyes snapped over to the disturbance. The small girl emerged, more confident this time, still clutching the water bottle tightly and making her way over to his side before holding it out toward him.

"Mm." she made a muffled noise and shook the water bottle lightly to show it had been refilled.

He regarded her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity before slowly reaching up and taking the water bottle. "Can't you speak?"

She simply motioned to the water again, urging him to drink, and after watching her for a moment longer he emptied the water bottle quickly before handing it back to her.

Eventually, he spoke again. "Did you get caught up in the fighting?"

She blinked at him curiously.

"How did you get those bruises?" They had been bruises after all. There was a nasty one on her cheek just below her eye, and he could see a few others on her knobby legs and arms. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine at most, he thought.

The girl stared at him for a long moment before smiling widely and plopping herself unceremoniously at his side. He blinked, glancing down at the top of her head.

"What are you doing?"

She reached into pocket of the ratty, oversized coat she wore and dug out two rather stale looking crusts of bread, reaching out and offering one up to him. He raised a thin brow, glancing down at the crust in her small first.

"I don't need it. Eat it yourself."

Her cheerful expression fell slightly. She glanced at the crust of bread and then back to him, offering it again.

"I told you I'm fine. The water was enough." He huffed, staring off into the forest.

The girl looked unsure for a moment but eventually gave up, sitting by his side and eating the crusts herself. He let his eyes travel back and glance down at her. She was foolish or fearless, walking up to a soldier and dumping water on his head, regardless of intent. As though there wasn't a war happening all around her. He might have killed her. Where were her parents or guardians? He supposed with her ratty clothing and hair she could have been a war orphan. She would not have been the first and certainly would not be the last. He was sure he'd created a few of her kind himself. It would certainly explain her unusual boldness around soldiers, though she hadn't seemed to want anything of him. She'd had her own water and food and an orphan or a beggar child would usually be hoping to get something off a soldier; food or something to sell. She seemed to be in search of neither.

He was pulled from his thoughts by movement at his side. She'd finished with the crusts and stood up, smiling at him again before taking her water bottle clutching it close to her chest.

"Mm." she waved to him before turning and walking back out of the clearing. The light was fading quickly, and he imagined she knew better than to be out at night in this area. His eyes lingered in the direction she'd left for a short while before he turned his attention to his wound. He wouldn't be getting much sleep himself tonight. He was too vulnerable out here in the open, and still largely immobile. If he was lucky by morning he'd be well enough to get back to the city and find some black market doctor willing to treat his shoulder off the record.

As the light in the clearing dimmed, giving way to night, he allowed himself to rest his eyes, only to find the strange little girl's face running through his mind every so often… she seemed oddly familiar to him, though he was sure he'd never encountered the child before today. He'd ever been here before, and he had very little contact with anyone, let alone children, outside the battlefield. He'd likely killed more children than he'd ever interacted with. Her fearlessness lingered behind though… and that smile.

He gave a sigh. It didn't matter, ultimately. Her kindness was wasted on him. He would be of no help to her. He was a killer, nothing more. She had been fortunate to escape the fate most suffered at his hands. He would not see her again.

And yet still an odd feeling settled with him for the night, as though something important had occurred. Something he'd been waiting for.