Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

AN: Please note, I haven't read the manga, and in the anime, I'm just to the episode "The Panther Tribe and the Two Swords of the Fang". So there's still a lot I don't know about the characters and what happens to them, and therefore my stories might have some incorrect ideas. For the first part, at least, I capitalized "He", "Him", etc, to show Rin's basic worship for Sesshomaru.

There are no true memories, before my Angel. There are vague pictures: pictures of a man and a woman who loved me, falling to their deaths at the hands of evil men; pictures of people who told me how lucky I was even as they beat and kicked me; pictures of a tiny run down hut and a river. But my memories become startlingly clear from the moment I first saw Him.

To me, He has always been an Angel of Life. To most others, He is the Angel of Death. To me, right from the moment I saw Him, when even the Beast within Him chose not to kill me, I thought of Him as my hero, my idol, my lord. When the wolf with the wicked smile came, when his minions hunted me down, I ran into the forest, blindly, desperately seeking my Angel. He did not come.

I died still having faith, faith that He would come for me.

When He saved me, when I woke with His arm cradling me, my life began anew in more than one sense of the word. I remember Him ordering His imp vassal to dress me properly; I remember loving the soft texture of my new kimono, compared to the ragged rough old cloth I was so used to wearing. I remember walking behind Him for almost a week without a word from Him, listening to the imp chatter endlessly and mindlessly. Then, one day, He turned to me and spoke, His voice even then my favorite sound in the universe.

"I wish to know your name, girl. Tell me, if you wish. I will not force you to."

I would do anything for Him. Even speak. From the day my mother's blood ran across the floor to where I hid beneath my parent's bed, staining my kimono and mixing with my tears, I had never spoken a word. I had no words to say. My life was not worth speaking about, and the villagers reinforced that knowledge in me. At first, I had tried to speak, tried to convey my hurt in hopes of being comforted, but I was brushed off, sent to do chores, ignored, scorned. Yet here was this Angel, this Great Lord, wishing to know my name. I spoke. For him.

"My name is Rin, my Lord."

He did not smile, just tilted His head and nodded slightly.

"Rin."

From that moment on, my life changed completely. My childish innocence and joy was returned to me. The memories of my past faded, replaced with Him: with His voice; with His eyes; with the constant, soothing, swishing motion of His long hair as He walked always a little ahead of me. We walked through forests full of green, through meadows full of sunlight, along rivers full of lovely multicolored fish. He always left me when He went to the dark places; leaving me to wait for Him in happy confidence, knowing He would always come for me. No matter what evil threatened, no matter what dangers lurked, I always knew He would care for me.

I went from being the mute orphan ward of an indifferent and sometimes cruel village to being the talkative and happy resurrected ward of a cold and cunning Demon Lord. I never thought of Him as my father, nor even as my guardian. He was my Lord, always. The one I respected above all others, loved above all others.