Paper Thin

The late August moon, gorged and luminous, pushed its beams through the night, casting odd shadows in even odder places. Tsumi paced her room, hidden amongst these shadows, unable to sleep. The sweet air was hard to appreciate when it only exacerbated the wild hysteria that was tearing around her chest, running rampant through her veins. I thought this was over, she thought, fingers instinctively clutching her naval, where hot pain mounted. Why does it still hurt? To distract herself, Tsumi knelt at her vanity, examining the various cracks and nicks and stains that marred the mirror; thin tendrils of moonlight were spattered over the glass like ethereal spider webs.

Restless, Tsumi started pawing through the mostly empty drawers, not hoping for anything in particular. In her inventory, she glimpsed the shiny box that housed the jadeite comb and her stomach lurched. She slammed the drawer shut.

He hasn't spoken to me – hasn't even looked at me since our last argument. Her belly churned and the pain beneath her gut was overwhelmed by a pain in her chest, which blossomed like an unruly summer rose; its thorns pushed outward, scarring her sternum, pressing in on her ribs. Why do I care? For care she did, more than she'd ever admit. That he had managed to avoid her in such close quarters stung.

But tonight, when she turned her gaze out the window, Sesshomaru could be seen, still and stone-like, eyes fixed on some foreign constellation. His long, white tresses fluttered in the breeze, and his musky smell wafted into Tsumi's room, enshrouding her. She inhaled, wavering for just a moment before fully admitting defeat.

I want you, she thought, looking at him. As if he could hear her, he shifted slightly, almost as if to accommodate her desire. Inside her, the budding rosebush pulled back, having been ruthlessly clipped by her admission. The aching fire beneath that, however... Accepting her fate, Tsumi rummaged through the parcel of soaps, selecting a few at random and stowing them in her kimono. Nearby, the cactus flower was almost completely shriveled. It challenged her. I won't end up like you, she told it.

Sesshomaru wasn't so deep in thought; he was being evasive, avoiding meeting her gaze at all costs – but not so much that he didn't sneak a glance, once or twice when he thought she wasn't looking. He resembled a specter in this light, coddled between the stark foil of sharp, bruised shadows and soft, pale moonlight. His features, usually so angular, appeared delicate and diluted; his eyes were heavy with something Tsumi was too young, too ignorant to identify – and yet, their golden irises smoldered, rabid and ominous.

In her best imitation of respect, Tsumi sat – horselike – on the ground before Sesshomaru. She even forced out a sad, short little bow, but made no comment. When she looked up again, his eyes were still trained upward, and his countenance didn't suggest he even knew she was there. He really is angry with me, she thought, and was surprised at the chills of fear and hurt that ran side by side down her spine.

"You were right." Her voice dissipated into the depths of the night, ignored. "I have been..." she struggled, "ungrateful. And, and I have been avoiding pain. And I know I once said that pain prevented me from being human, but...but maybe, maybe not facing the pain is what prevented me from being human. I...I am afraid."

At last, Sesshomaru's eyes fell on her; he studied her, stoic, objective. His mouth was down-turned at the corners. "Are you afraid of enjoying a demon?" He posed it like a friendly inquiry. I have been afraid before, he admitted silently, hating himself for it, afraid that I might enjoy a human.

Without words, Tsumi answered him by scooting forward in the cool grass.

Sesshomaru reached out toward her, slowly allowing his hand to fall on her cheek where he caressed the scar he'd given her. It would likely never heal. A moment passed between them, disconnected from time and space, and he decided he didn't have any patience left. He pulled her into his arms, pressing the injured side of her face into his palm and put his lips over hers. It was a chaste kiss, but it was no less passionate. Tsumi's eyes flew open, her lashes tickling Sesshomaru's cheeks. He could feel her heartbeat thudding against his chest, and whether she knew it or not, Tsumi's fingers had tangled themselves up in his hair. Her grip had loosened some with the end of their kiss, but remained entwined in the snowy strands. She turned her head away from him, blush growing brighter when a cask of soap fell onto the ground.

Sesshomaru picked it up, examining it, amused.

"You said, with company..." she mumbled, cheeks glowing.

Taking her face in both his hands and forcing her to face him, Sesshomaru asked, "Do you want my company?" He searched her face for fear, but found only indecision: her eyes flickered back and forth across his face, flitting over his stare as she bit her bottom lip. At length, she nodded, but this was not good enough. He pulled her closer and said, "You must state what you want out loud."

"I want your company, Sesshomaru." She made as if to kiss him again, but he pushed her away, standing up, leaving her on the ground.

"Go ahead of me," he nodded vaguely toward the wood. "Go," he enforced when she hesitated. He watched her move though the dark for a moment before slipping inside the house. Like a ghost, he moved silently through the singular hall, into her room. Time felt frozen as he knelt before her vanity. His flowers lay on the floor, dried and drained of color; the moonlight illuminated the lacquered box that held the comb, sitting inside an open drawer. Holding it in his palm, Sesshomaru could see that she had been fussing over it, fingers irresolute.

Tucking it inside his haori, he turned to leave, but was stopped in his tracks when he saw something familiar, something yellow poking out of Tsumi's sheets. Half-buried under her pillow was the bit of sash he'd used to wrap up the comb. Sesshomaru permitted himself a smile – a real smile, with teeth. It was small, but it was the closest he might ever come to a grin.

Tsumi was already in the water when she heard Sesshomaru enter the clearing. She was glad for the heat of the spring, hoping it would excuse the color that blotched her face. It had been one thing to think about doing this, to seriously consider it, and even to consent to it. But now, faced with Sesshomaru – a demon, her captor – she was having reservations.

I'm already here, though, she thought, steeling her resolve. I may not have time to finish whatever I've started, if I don't act now.

"You seem tense," he mentioned offhandedly, beginning to slip shamelessly out of his clothes. Tsumi was taken aback by his complete lack of modesty, but couldn't bring herself to look away. He was stunning: so used to the usual bulk of silk, it was unsettling and just seeing a bare shoulder. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No," she answered, too quickly, turning another shade of scarlet. Sesshomaru wasn't even turning his back on her, just letting his hakama drop about his ankles as if it were nothing. She continued to gawk like an idiot.

He was smiling. Now that he had immersed himself in the steaming pool, Tsumi was able to focus on his face again. If she tried to separate her feelings, and then bury all her ill will, she could admit that it was a lovely face: his high cheekbones were finely shaped, and his nose was straight and slight without being delicate. And that smile... "Very satisfied with yourself, aren't you?" she crossed her arms, water sloshing along them.

"More or less," he said, submerging himself completely. A tingle of the likes she had never felt bolted up Tsumi's spine; her stomach churned with nerves. Sesshomaru broke the surface only a few inches from her, leaving her untouched. Seeing the frantic anxiety all across her face, Sesshomaru couldn't quell the sense of pride that was boiling around in his belly.

His long tresses dripped, clinging to his neck and shoulders, a few stray pieces idling along his cheeks. Tsumi approached him timidly. The moon was obscured by the tall trees, and with only the steam and stars to illuminate her, Sesshomaru thought she looked more fragile than usual. Gently – ever so gently – he pulled her closer so that they nearly touched. He felt her gasp against his chest, turning away. He waited for her to return her eyes to his, and when she did, he reached up, dislodging the wooden pin that secured her hair in its messy bun. It cascaded over her shoulders, wild and unruly, framing her face in sorrel waves. Scooping the hot water into his hand, he ladled it over her head, watching the strands darken as they soaked.

Tsumi was trembling with effort and fear; her body was at odds with her mind, and there were too many sensations at once for her to negate all of them. She bit her lip, sternly trying to repress her reaction to Sesshomaru.

He saw through this, though. Old habits die hard, I suppose, he noted, inwardly sighing. Deciding to speed things up, he plunged his fingers into her thick locks, carefully dragging his claws down her scalp, breaking tangles and ensnaring new ones as he went. He reveled in the way her body went limp against his, the feeling of her surrender. She was so much softer than he'd imagined, small and breakable. Fire rushed through him when he thought about it, and all that it meant. He leaned forward, tucking a mass of her hair behind an ear and whispered, "Turn around."

She gave him a desperate, pleading look before obeying him. It was strange to see her so obedient, but for once, she seemed to know what was good for her, and what was not.

Sesshomaru put his hands to her head, one on each temple, and lowered her gently backwards into the water, wetting her hair. She gazed up at him through the steamy darkness, eyes full, lips even fuller with anticipation. He brought a wet finger to her cheek, stroking her scar again.

"I am sorry for this," he told her, sincerity creeping into his even voice.

She shook her head, righting herself. Keeping her back to him, Tsumi waited patiently while Sesshomaru poured the oil into his hands, lathering it between them before putting it to her hair. They were comfortably silent as he started at the top of her head, soaping up the roots first before spreading the stuff all the way through her mass of tangled hair. As he worked, he found little ways to touch her: his lips beside her ear, whispering things she wasn't sure she understood; his knuckles, dipping into the water, brushing passively over her breasts; his mouth, covering a patch of her neck just below her jaw, soft tongue flickering against her hot skin.

Tsumi bit back a moan as he continued to kiss her neck, doing her best to contain herself, knowing she would eventually fail. When he nipped her softly on the cheek, she gritted her teeth, straining not to cry out, wondering if he would misread her pleasure for pain. He pulled her ever closer, and she could feel his naked body against hers, could feel him stiffening behind her. This was too much, and she let loose an agonized groan. She thought she could feel him smiling into her hair as he rinsed it. Growing impatient, she imitated him and threw herself beneath the water's surface. The heat felt so good, surrounding her on all sides. She couldn't see anything, and waited until her lungs began to ache before resurfacing. Opening her eyes, she found she was facing him now, and something compelled her forward; in the end, it was her body that claimed victory. Tsumi twined her arms around Sesshomaru's pale column of neck and pulled herself upward, drawing on the strength of his shoulders. Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she pressed her lips over his skin, tasting him, allowing herself the thing she had been denying for so long.

Sesshomaru felt his body uncoil itself, surprising him. His muscles seemed to know what to do without him, his arms rising to accommodate Tsumi, his hands – seemingly of their volition – scouring her up and down, pinning her to his chest. She didn't seem to mind. She sighed against him, trailing her kisses further and further up until she reached his cheek. There, she planted one last kiss against a magenta stripe, admiring it. She brushed it with her fingertips, cocking her head to one side.

"What are these?" she asked. Her eyes had left his stripes, however, to settle on his blue crescent.

Lowering her back into the water, he said, "I am a taiyoukai." That was explanation enough, it seemed, for she had tensed again. He stroked her hair while she hid herself from him. "Does that displease you?" he asked, genuinely confused. "That would be an honor, in the eyes of some."

Tsumi sighed hotly against his chest. "It is only, I do not believe in fairy tales."

He thought he understood, and felt a vague, painful sensation spreading through his chest and trickling into his stomach. He couldn't name it, and he didn't want to.

Tsumi watched Sesshomaru turn and hoist himself out of the water with ease; he was arched over the bank of the spring, rummaging quietly through his clothes. She tried not to stare too avidly at his backside, and failed miserably. When he slid back into the water, he had something in his hand –

"My comb," she said out loud. He was beckoning her closer, but her mind's gears were turning, putting two and two together. "You went in my room."

"Yes," he said, dismissive. "Which reminds me, why is my sash in your bed?" He was smiling though, knowingly.

You don't need an answer, she thought, you just want me to admit defeat. Stubbornly, Tsumi avoided his question, allowing herself to be turned around. She was right up against him, and he was combing out her hair; she could feel his muscles contracting against her with every movement. The comb, the kimono, the flowers, she counted, and this stuff of course, she watched a few suds slide down her wet hair as the teeth of the comb chased them out. "Four gifts," she said aloud.

"Hm."

"Thanks for the farewell," she said sarcastically, for gifts that came in fours were usually a death wish.

Sesshomaru shrugged against her; she shivered. "There's a fifth. I just haven't decided to give it to you yet."

"Still," she sighed, "four seems more appropriate." She groaned when Sesshomaru tugged hard on a lock of her hair. He growled low in her ear and whipped her around so that they were facing one another. His eyes seethed, the only evidence that she might have angered him. Without warning, he held her cheeks between his hands, silencing any further questions with his own mouth, allowing his tongue to glide over her lips. Tsumi almost opened her mouth, until a sharp pain in her side made her pull away from him, keening. His arms did not let her go, instead pulling her closer to him, as if trying to squeeze the pain from her body.

Tsumi went limp against him, shocked. Through wide eyes, she watched the shadow of night ebb as water seeped out of her eyes. She coughed a few times, a wracking, all-encompassing cough. Sesshomaru's claws dug into her back where he was holding her.

"I..." she faltered, "I thought the pain – I thought it was gone." She was gasping, hand clutched to her side. It was fading now, like a single stitch where there once had been a fractured fault line. Still, the memory of it was vivid and sharp, and her hot tears still fell onto Sesshomaru's shoulder. She buried her face in his hair, soaked as it was.

"You're still in denial." His voice rumbled through her body. He waited for a response, but got nothing more than stifled sobs. "You can choose to accept your pain." He paused, feeling her soft, fragile body rise and fall with his chest. "Know that it never goes away. You just learn to live with it."

Tsumi tightened her hold around his neck, worming impossibly closer to him. "Even demons?" she asked in his ear, nuzzling it.

"No." He hesitated, deciding the truth was just fine. "We don't feel that kind of pain. We embrace what we want wholeheartedly and without question." His blood ran cold when she pried herself from his grasp, turning her back on him.

"I see." Her voice, still weepy, crept around the edges of their pool, saturated in sadness. "For instance," she glanced at him over her bare shoulder, "you'll still hand me to Naraku, even after this." She faced him again, kissing his jaw. A drop of warm water trickled out of her hair and slid onto the ledge of his shoulder, running slowly, tortuously down the length of the phantom limb. The drop was only half real to him though, a ghost on his skin, a half-thing.

Without a second thought, he said, "Yes."

oOo

When dawn broke, it brought to Kanna a strange sense of emptiness. The sun's first light was sweet and pale, periwinkle and peach blanketing the sky; a dewy coolness clung to the air, mild and timid. The very earth beneath her feet seemed different somehow, the grass softer and the soil giving way too easily between her toes.

The girl's aura still clings to the air, though, Kanna noticed, tasting it with the tip of her tongue. It was weak now, almost as broken as the dawn. Tentatively, Kanna approached the hill. She extended a tiny hand, carefully offering her fingers up in experimental sacrifice, but was met with no resistance. The barrier, it seemed, had disappeared. Kanna stood back a moment to observe the hill. So, Sesshomaru, she thought, neither amused or concerned, you did not find what you'd hoped for. Beginning her ascent, she took no solace in the gentle blades of grass that tickled her feet. Or was it self-restraint? she wondered.

Either way, Naraku would be pleased.

Upon cresting the hill, Kanna could see Sesshomaru, stoic and trance-like, sitting between the roots of a great tree. Not far from him, the double-headed dragon slumbered, its snores like thunder in stereo. Only when she was a yard away did Sesshomaru crack open an eye and acknowledge her presence.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked dryly, taken aback by the curious little messenger. He had been expecting a visit, but not from Kanna.

Without the need – or perhaps the capacity – for small pleasantries, Kanna got straight to the point. "Naraku requests that you take the girl and leave. But do not hurry – you are to meet him in a place of his choosing." Her pale, little hands caressed her mirror.

Suspicion bubbled in his gut. Sesshomaru shifted amongst the roots, crossing his arms. "Why the change in plans?" Though his voice remained steady, he had to repress a hitch of irritation in his throat, where it splintered, festering. This was not the first time Naraku had misled him and he wasn't about to forget it.

"Complications have arisen," Kanna said, her eyes imposing upon Sesshomaru's own. "They must be overcome." It would not do to give away her master's secrets.

Reluctant as he was, Sesshomaru could feel his hesitation causing him physical pain in his phantom arm. It began as a buzzing, not wholly unpleasant, but not especially comfortable, either. But the more he pondered duping Naraku, the more painful the sensation became, and so he felt his resolve soften just a bit more. "Where is this place of his choosing, then?" he asked.

Closing her eyes, Kanna positioned the mirror so that the brightest rays of light caught its surface, and a hazy image was painted there for Sesshomaru to see. He watched as an insubstantial version of himself, and of Jaken, Rin and Tsumi arrived together at what appeared to be a vast, verdant plain. There was no landmark, nothing to indicate a precise location until Sesshomaru stared just a little more intently at the rolling, grassy hills. Deep valleys were carved from shallow lumps and the grass was so very, very green. During his travels, Sesshomaru had seen this place before, but he remembered it as insignificant.

"Very well. But if this too should fall through," he deadpanned, "I will have my compensation."

With that vacant stare of hers, she cocked her head to one side, observing him. And then, without a single cue, she turned on her little heel and descended, disappearing into the morning mist, leaving Sesshomaru to contemplate all possible routes to treachery.

oOo

The boy was waiting for her. Tired and fidgety, Kohaku was standing uneasily in the castle yard, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He glanced up, skittish, when she appeared seemingly from nowhere. He stayed still, stiff as a board. Still, he managed to stammer, "How is it?" Meaning, of course, the status of Sesshomaru's progress.

Kanna was many things, but stupid could not be counted among them. She knew he was fishing, and she knew from whose line he'd been cast. It might have pained her, were she anyone but herself. As it was, she glided easily past him, and answered in little more than a whisper, "The sun's light rises over a new day, as it does every day." While stupid certainly wasn't a term that could be applied to Kohaku, her meaning was lost on him, just as she'd intended. And were she anyone but herself, she might have smirked at the bewildered expression on his young face.

Kohaku stood, toes wriggling frustratedly in the dirt at having his reconnaissance thwarted so effortlessly.

The halls of the castle were quiet – too quiet. There had never been such a blanket of noise as there was in common castles: no commotion of servants or confusion of lesser nobles roaming the halls, but there was always some static undercurrent in the background, just beneath the surface. The rustle of leaves or the sweet whistle of the wind, the whisper of dust as it rolled along the barren ground. There was none of that today. All was silent.

Kanna padded through each of the hushed hallways, taking note of the absolute stillness of the air, her skin prickling. Yet inside, she did not churn as she should have. There was no inner chaos; she knew the rhyme and reason. And it settled blithely in her stomach, irrelevant.

She did not knock at his door. She paused for a respectful moment before letting herself in, offering no greeting. He was there, swathed in a cobalt yukata, his back to her. His shoulders remained relaxed, his back straight, neck elevated. And yet, there was a tension about the air around him, constantly working, never resting.

"Kanna." It was a greeting and a command all at once. Carefully, she sat before him, presenting her mirror. She did not meet his eyes – not in fear, but to keep a gracious distance.

Naraku gazed at the pool of glass intently, lines appearing on his fair face. He scowled at first, bemused with what he was seeing. A miniature version of Sesshomaru, standing tall over the girl's bed, gently waking her with a slender hand on her face. The mirror was concise with the details of the scene: Sesshomaru's claws tensing on the girl's fragile human skin, the sharp retreat of his chest as he caught his breath. Then the vision shifted, giving way to Tsumi, fully dressed and chasing after Rin, trying to convince the young one to clamber onto that ridiculous beast of burden alongside the impish green toad.

"So. He went without a fuss."

Kanna said nothing.

"Look at the silly girl, chasing after the little brat as if she were her own. How delightfully pathetic," he chuckled, watching the scene disappear in a smoky haze. His thoughts strayed to the arm, growing at full tilt – uninterrupted, finally – beneath them. "Perhaps Sesshomaru will consider taking residence with us, once he realizes who is pulling the strings." It was an amusing notion, one he could endlessly entertain himself with. "How quaint, for him to watch the girl's degeneration at my hand – and with no power of his own to stop me."

He hissed then, as a twinge of pain erupted inside of him.

"Damn it," he growled to himself, feeling the rebellious tug on some muscle, tucked deep and away inside. "I'll rid myself of your burden as soon as I have the girl." He reached for his cup then, and Kanna saw that it was steaming with the usual acrid, sappy concoction. He sipped it, cheeks hollowing at the bitterness, but relaxing as Kagura's assault died down. "Once Tsumi is mine," he relayed for her benefit, "not only will I possess and unyieldingly faithful servant, but one who does not – talk – back."

Kanna averted her eyes. Naraku and Sesshomaru – they are not so different, she thought, thoughts flashing to the scene in the mirror, to the soft change in the air at the hill, to the deep crag in Tsumi's aura. Sesshomaru, the deeper you drag her inside of you, the bigger the burden on your heart. Kanna glanced up at her master, appraising him from all angles. But should you allow her to stray too far from your reach, she mused, you will suffer indefinitely. This, of course, applied to either demon, and to Kagura and Tsumi equally. It is strange, how you live your lives in such close parallel, Naraku and Sesshomaru. Very strange indeed.

A/n: Please do review this chapter. I feel a little shaky about the story and I would like to know what y'all think I'm doing well and if there is anything I ought to consider changing/fixing. Be considerate though, please. I'm a writer: my ego is fragile :)