Rin x Sesshomaru, sort of, one-sided.

Newest Silk

I need not to need,
I've always been the tower
But now it feels like I'm the flower,
Trying to bloom in snow
Vienna Teng

She knelt silently by the side of the great chest in which she kept all of the finest clothes that he had brought her as gifts over the years, the ones nearer the bottom much smaller than those at the top, the rate of her growth only really noticeable to her when she saw such evidence as this. The lid lifted with well-oiled ease, and she stared down at the collection for a moment, before plunging her hands into the coloured myriad of fabric: vermillion, cobalt blue, cinnamon, lilac, the warm green of leaves dappled in the sunlight; silks of muted peach, vibrant cotton in shades of viridian, expensive and luxuriously soft wools for the winter. Delicate and beautiful, craftsmanship of great expense and skill had created patterns and images of all different types, flowers and leaves and birds and animals and wonderfully life-like people, all exquisite, each outfit perfect.

And each outfit never worn, some still folded in the exact way that their creators had done, some still with their wrappings of lesser fabric around them.

Not one of them had ever lain against her skin.

It had started, she supposed, when she was young- too young, her and Kaede had independently believed, to appreciate wearing such fine things daily. They were saved for 'special' occasions, but no time special enough came, except for her Lord's visits, and they never had warning of those, so she never dressed in preparation. She was too messy, anyway, too rough with clothes- she would only have ruined them.

And even as she had grown older, and would have taken greater care of them, she had never quite dared to put on these fine gifts, although she had worn other clothes that her Lord had bought her, and had always thanked him profusely for such presents, even though that logical part in her head wished that he would stop bringing such unnecessary things and would bring her more practical things: a sword, perhaps, so that she could practise and learn to be able to defend herself and not always have to rely on others. These gifts- and there was always one in every elegant package, some in winter patterns and other with brighter colours of the summertime- she just felt incapable of putting those clothes on, always had done, although it was only as she had got a little older that she had begun to understand why.

They didn't fit her.

Not in terms of size- she was sure that each would fit her form quite perfectly, but because they were not in keeping with her person that she was, the wilful creature that was too old to be a child but not yet quite a woman, who still ran barefoot through the grass and stuck flowers in her hair but had begun to stare a little longer in the looking glass each morning, wondering if perhaps today Lord Sesshomaru might visit her, and if he would be pleased with her. The girl that made chains of flowers with the children of the village and told them stories, but who also did her share of the work around the place, and who was learning to be a priestess and a respectable and good woman.

These were not clothes for any person such as that- these were fit for any great and noble lady, a lady with white hands untouched by labour, with a body without scars, and a smile that lit up everything and everyone around her with her beauty and her brilliance. Someone from any story, from any tale told at night of magic and wonder.

Those tales- oh, how they had haunted her! Since first arriving at the village she had become entranced with the tales that Kaede told the children, so much so that even now, when the priestess sat down with the avid children, there was always the enraptured Rin, too old for such things now but still sitting there, out of place in terms of age and size but fitting right in with the dazed look of wide-eyed wonderment.

She devoured them in adoration for the heroism and the passion, for the tragedy and for the happy endings, too. All of it, all of the people, all of the complete fantasy of the situations.

But, now… she picked up an obi, butter-yellow as it caught the light, and sighed, thinking of those beautiful women, courted by those wonderfully eloquent men who threw their declarations of love aloud, and felt strangely abstract from the whole concept, despite how often she had imagined herself in those scenarios. Her life, no matter how hard she tried, simply didn't work out the way that it would have done should she have been one of those girls. If her life had followed the story then she should have grown into herself by now: she should have had a willowy body, with skin that was as smooth as the finest alabaster, as smooth as some delicate flower petal. Her movements should have had the liquid grace of water, each turn of her head a work of exquisite art. Her hair should fall like a mane of tamed black silk, her eyes should burn with a beauty unrivalled…

He was supposed to look at her like she was the most incredible thing that he had ever seen, despite the many, many things that had passed under his brilliant gaze. He was supposed to touch her cheek with a unique tenderness, supposed to worship her movements, to adore her utterly and declare it from the skies that he did so.

But, no.

Real life, she was coming to understand, did not happen the way that it did in the stories.

She was still sort of awkward looking, for one thing, with legs a little too long for her frame that only made her look unfinished, and a little awkward. She had grown, but her knees still were scabbed and bruised from tripping over and kneeling on the ground, and she still, despite all her attempts to stop, bit her nails down to the quick. She still fell over her feet whenever she saw him, and still did not make many heads turn, and when they were together he still looked past her with his well-perfected indifference, but she thanked providence that he still let her walk beside him when they were together.

That was something, at least.

She pulled the newest out from the top of the chest, and stroked it a little sadly. It was the colour of shadowed sage, with a delicate silver embroidery of cranes, with a charcoal grey obi. It was beautiful in everyway, the sort of thing that she knew most of the women in the village would love to own, to wear. She had toyed, on occasion, with giving these gifts away, but something always stayed her hand- a selfish whim, she supposed, but this chest of brilliance made her feel closer to her Lord when he was away.

The fabric slid like water through her hands as she got to her feet. It pooled in her palms, and she rubbed her thumbs across it, smiling a little. She would never suit them, never be able to show anyone how she looked in them, but perhaps- perhaps just for a moment…

She undressed quickly, feeling a little furtive as she did so, as if it were somehow wrong to try on your own clothes in the privacy of your own rooms.

The air was cool against her skin, the season slipping into winter and the chill that came with it. She shivered as she let the silk fall against her bare body, shifting uncomfortably as it slid down her skin, laying against it, perfectly fitting- as she had expected it to do, although it was a little too short already, having been given to her nearly six months prior. She looked down at her hands as they fixed the clothes, surprised to realise that they were shaking. She disregarded the obi, not caring for it, and turned her eyes slowly to the looking glass, and saw…

A secret part of her had wanted to see someone new in the mirror, to see herself transformed, but this was life, and she was Rin, and she would never be a princess. All the glass reflected was a teenage girl wearing clothes a little too short and too fine for her. A girl whose hair needed combing, whose smile still lead into the dimples of childhood.

She sighed as she put her own clothes back on- a little dusty, a little worn, still a little young in their colour and pattern. Just right for her, she thought- she would not be that ember that shines through the burnt grey of a dying fire. She would always, resolutely, simply remain the ashes.

Not quite bright enough- and Lord Sesshomaru deserved only the best.

She sighed, and in a moment of maturity that made her feel incredibly tired, she folded the dreams away with the clothes.

It was another three weeks before he came again, his longest time away from her since he had left her here, counting the two weeks prior to that fated search through the chest. The hem of her kosode was fraying, and she sat perched on top of a fence pulling at the strands of fabric, not noticing the dismayed looks that the villagers were sending her as they passed.

The last few weeks had changed her a little, and they had all noticed it. Normally, she was as bright and lovely a young woman as they ever could hope to call one of their own, but now she was listless, and spent hours staring out at the horizon, not quite looking sad but simply resigned, as if something had taken her spark out of her, as if she was washed out from the inside out. They hadn't heard her laughter in weeks, and when Sesshomaru arrived, they noticed even from inside their houses (because despite Kagome and Inuyasha's conviction, they were still afraid of this massively powerful demon that had such a remarkable interest in their adopted daughter) that her welcome was not as warm, or joyful, as it normally was.

Whether the demon noticed or not they could not tell, but Kagome, who was watching the encounter, frowned to herself as Rin flinched when Jaken handed her the package of presents that always accompanied a visit.

Despite all her attempts to draw Rin out of herself, none had quite succeeded- she was being unusually sullen, where normally she would chatter on about how she was feeling and what new thing she had learnt that day to Kagome, all sorts of mindless things that proved a comfortable background to their activities. She had watched the girl- who she thought of as a younger sister, filling the hole that the distance between her and Sota had created- going to practice with the bow that she and Inuyasha had given her the year before, and she had repeatedly missed the tree she was using for a target until she had given up, not even with a huff or a stomp, just another of those upsettingly reconciled sighs and a crease in the forhead as she frowned.

Outside, at the edge of the village, Rin was staring in horror at the present that the Lord had just handed her. Since putting an end to her child-like fantasies, she had found herself unable to get excited or to care about anything, as if the magic had gone from her life. But despite that, she did not want to start dreaming again- unfulfilled dreams were not healthy, she had realised that- and these new presents, which she could tell already would be clothes, reminded her too bitterly of her reflection in the looking glass, still not quite complete or right or good enough.

"Rin."

She started at the sound of his voice- how long had she been staring at the gift? Had she even thanked him for it? To her horror she could not remember, and found her voice stuck in her throat, unable to say it to him.

He was looking at her now, and she felt herself wilting underneath the cool weight of his stare.

"Try it on."

Her eyes widened, but he was already looking away, obviously choosing to wait for her and accepting no argument in the matter. Jaken was already flapping at her for making him wait, but she didn't hear him. She did not dare to protest at the order, just nodded, and backed away from him before forcing herself to walk.

Kagome met her with an embrace, seeing the distressed look on her face.

"Rin, I-"

"Will you help me?"

There was more emotion in those four words than Kagome had heard from her in days, but it was not the right sort. The older woman nodded, and did as Rin asked, combing out her hair as she stood awkwardly in the new clothes, face pale and frightened.

"Do you want to see?"

Rin shook her head forcefully, eyes screwed tight and back to the mirror. Kagome sighed as she bit her lip, but did not push the matter, knowing that nothing that she could say would make Rin feel any better.

She let her go, despite her worryingly pale cheeks and the tears that were threatening to slip and stain the pale yellow that she was dressed in. She had to admit that though her older brother-in-law had many flaws (although few that he would admit), he did have a remarkable taste in clothes- and a perfect eye for what would make Rin look astoundingly beautiful.

Rin herself was feeling anything but beautiful as she walked back through to where her Lord had been standing, walking carefully so that the new clothes wouldn't trail in the mud. He had moved a little further away now, further out of the village, standing to the side of the rice fields looking remarkably out of place next to such a mundane aspect of normal village life. She paused as she left the path, and left the shoes that had come with the clothes in the dust.

She stepped barefoot across the grass until she stood just a little behind her Lord Sesshomaru, and then stopped, knowing that he would already be aware of her presence and would turn around when he was ready to do so. She shuffled her feet a little, clasping her hands together and squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to force the inexplicable tears back. She felt dreadfully uncomfortable looking like this, dressed up in borrowed robes that did not feel like hers- it felt like a thousand eyes were on her, watching her, filling her with a sickening dread. She couldn't stand the thought of him turning around, to see her, to see her looking so poor and unworthy of his attention in his wasted gift.

She blinked her eyes open for a fraction, but that was all she needed to realise that he had turned, with the silence befitting someone of such grace and tremendous control.

She looked up at him, and in the perfect darkness of his pupils she could see herself, reflected back. She did not look at all as she thought that she did, as she had expected. In fact, for just that moment, before he blinked and she looked away, she looked just as she had always hoped that she would.

His hand rested on her head, for just a moment.

She smiled, and though he did not smile back, there was a warmth about his eyes that spoke reams on his own feelings.

And that was enough, for her, for now.