A/N: This is a real short chapter, but that's mostly 'cause there was a point I was tryina get across, could only get across in a short way.

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Chapter Eight: Golden Tubes Faintly Glow

Kohaku came home and it was like a rush of awful shame washed over her from top to bottom, rushed over and became horrible embarrassement for her. He came through the door quietly, while she was tossing utensils on the table. His jacket was on; he looked silent, hurt, frail, like a wounded animal. She looked in his face but couldn't look long.

"Dinner's ready," she said, out of the side of her mouth.

"Cool. What is it?" he asked, shrugging his jacket off and moving to the closet to put it away.

"Chicken and broccoli," Rin answered, putting out two plates, and thinking about straightening out the papers on the table.

"Yuck. Chinese?"

"No, I made it," she said, pushing her hair back, "It just sounds funny."

"Oh, okay. Oh yeah, lemme get the mail," Kohaku answered, starting quickly to the door when he saw the papers on the table.

Rin looked toward him and her hair fell forward. "You can go get clean while I get it," she offered, finishing up the settings. Everything in place. She hated to be in two mindframes at once. It happened a lot; to be thinking of one thing impeded while she was doing another- so that abstract time conflicted with real time, brain slowed down by a thousand years. It was getting dark outside, and the fall wind was picking up.

"You sure? Okay," Kohaku conceded, then he went with his awkward grace out of sight, into the darkened living room. Rin got out to get the mail, looked through it with delicacy before putting it in the stack on the dining table.

Kohaku came out in his yoga pants, sans shirt, wearing his necklace...he looked something awful, so skinny. She looked over his face; under his eyes the space was dark and purple, and you could see the bones of his cheeks. He had always been like that- raw in the face, angled, pale- but he looked tired, especially. He didn't even have the energy to complain. "Hey," he said, as she smiled at him. He sat down aloofly at the head of the table.

She put his plate down in front of him. "Thanks," he answered.

She smiled at him; the smile fell weak and sleepily. She looked at him as she sat down. "Oh, Ayumi wants to take us out for our anniversary."

"Huh? For what?" Kohaku answered, his tone brash. She couldn't help but really smile at his attitude, that balking rudeness that gave him such a fire.

"I guess just to take us out," she shrugged, her eyes dropping down to the table. To him, Rin was perfect- she was right on the money, but she was more than that, she was full to the brim and she filled him with everything he needed. The dropping of her eyes, the way her hair fell...the smiling mouth, small windy movements. He couldn't make her notice, but that was how he felt for her. He didn't notice any change though. "She's inviting some people."

He snorted. "Why doesn't she just have a street fair," he scoffed. But his tone got serious. "Did she really do that already?"

"Yep," Rin nodded.

"Crap," he answered. His mouth widened and he smiled; laughed that hoarse, gentle laugh of his. His cracking voice..."That blows. I guess we gotta go...well, if she's paying, I guess it's okay."

Rin nodded. She took a glance out the window at the swelling darkness. There was nothing outside, nothing to look at, anyway. "I would've wanted to spend it alone, anyway," Kohaku continued, like a confession.

Rin nodded again. "I can make dinner," she offered.

"Shit, you do that already- I'd try to make it, but I'm all thumbs," he answered, holding up his hands to show the bandaids, the new cuts, the burn marks, the odd crooked way his fingers ran. He looked like an amateur boxer, with his pale rugged face, his bandaged hands, that low-down favela way he moved. "We coulda just ordered in...hey, you got something from your sister," he commented, and reached over to pull out a big envelope. The handwriting on the back was straight, strong, bold.

Rin wondered where Kagome was and nodded. Still in the desert- its low-sky heat, the road always on the horizon...Rin looked it over, the light surrounding it, then put it aside.

"I'd invite Sango," his voice continued idylly, "but I hate her." Rin laughed. He gestured pointedly with his fork, waving it like a wand. "Besides, she should go out and do some stuff on her own, now that's she's okay."

Rin nodded. "Okay," she said distractedly, looking around the room; all empty, except for them.

Kohaku ambled. Rin was thinking about something; she couldn't remember what, but she knew her mind was on something. It wasn't on something so much as it was trying to shift away. She couldn't have done anything to Kohaku. Oh, but she did. Her mind was reeling around, decoding the structure of things, had to find out the shapes and the character; decode a path, if two roads were really real- if the yes-no divergence was true at all. A steady drizzle was making rythms against the house, trickled softly down.

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It was getting colder. A small wind chilled her skin. The radio was on in the kitchen, but for now, it was just spitting out commercials.

The phone rang- thin tinny skeleton sounds echoing in the white halls- and Rin went to pick it up. Half stumbled, kneeling on the couch and leaned across the table to reach the receiver. "Hello?" she said into it, her hair brushing over her face and a long train of thought blowing silver steam behind her.

"Hello," came Sesshoumaru's level voice, obscured in machine blue.

"Hi Sesshoumaru," she said, keeping her voice markedly casual...she looked at her nails, at the ceiling...no response. "What's up?"

"I'm coming over in ten minutes."

"You are?" she asked with a grin, tone of a tease, lapping it up. "I'll be ready," she agreed, signed the contract. She folded her legs under her.

"Alright. Goodbye," he said.

"Bye," she answered, and pressed the phone down. She got up and went into the bedroom to see what she could wear. She hadn't even thought twice; her mind recognized this dimly, a lighter flickering low.

Sesshoumaru's car swung in; cool and low-down. She closed the blinds and went down the stairs. In the core of her there was something she was questioning; but her head said forget it, and she left the worry there. The lock on the door popped up and she got in.

"Hi," she said, with a smile, far away from him in the green light from the street as she slid into the passenger seat. There were doubtful shady pools in the car, but no hints.

The night was shadowy, but at the end of the tunnel, there was a neon light flashing strong and bright. Rin looked at Sesshoumaru and smiled. "It's a nice night," she said, with the miles of dewy rain behind her.

Sesshoumaru's eyes held steadily in front of him. His mouth was cool and lax. "It's been raining," he commented.

"Yeah," she answered, looking out the window to the waxing moon, bright and white as a lamp in pale winter through the solid rain, the soft pulling humidity, "It's been okay though. Not a torrential downpour, or anything." She scratched her purse handle.

"The road has been slick," he answered. His voice glided in and out of range as she watched out of the windshield. They got on the wide commercial street...she wondered where they were going, but it would be too easy to ask now. Something about him...

"That's true." She hadn't really looked at him since she got in the car; highway lights glowed on the bones of his face, but there was a steady look in his eyes that was different from the fragile pale of his skin. There was something close about him. She felt like he had created this thing in the air, that made their bones closer, that made her feel like she could touch him and he'd be tangible, and as real and shocking as electricity through a copper wire- not ethereal or spun-up. But it was a quiet croon in the undervoice, a throbbing note that was cautionary. She didn't like it.

But what could she do. She sat by, hanging out, waiting for something to happen. Next to her hands, black lace; on her left, king of gold. The car bumped and shimmied over faulty pavement, and then slid off to the left, exiting near a grove of pine trees that swayed like liquid near the tar...

Sesshoumaru pulled the car over and got out. He wasn't in a talking mood today; he seemed very close, but he seemed to be wanting for something- maybe comfort, although the square-shouldered look on his face wasn't really compatible with that. She stepped out. The night was on a heavy perfumed swing, it swung back and forth almost like a pendulum, sprinkling its dust all over. The streets were quiet- but there was a buzz from underneath, carried in the slow cabrones and hooded kids who sauntered along the late sidewalk.

Oh- this street had only been a walk away before- this was the coffeeshop street, and the thought made her bubble happily. Sesshoumaru lit a cigarette and they walked it. "Wow- it is a nice night," Rin said, feeling the small weight of thick air and the coolness of the breeze together.

"It'll rain soon," Sesshoumaru answered.

Rin laughed, shadows, flickers in the night room. "How can you tell?"

"It smells like it," he said, blowing smoke out his nose- silver bull, dark blood on water...

She nodded. "Yeah, it does."

The lights were on in the cafe. She wondered at its pink mystery. "It's still open?" she asked.

"For them," he answered, nodding toward a vulture who loped toward the open door, a droopy, soggy cigarette bitten between his dry lips. A red-eyed clown was behind him, sick with feeling inferior. Then a girl, with her hair tied up, blue eye shadow and dark red lipstick, looking like as caricature, a freak reflection, looking like she'd lost something and she had put her hopes on it. Almost-late-night crowd. Rin laughed. "They have a reservation."

Sesshoumaru stayed behind to order and pay while she got a table. A Spanish family sat in the corner, the red-eyed father and his children laughing while the mother was silently smiling. A group of high-tone people were there, their purple and their smiles were like violins and lavendar. The Reservation People put together two small tables so they could sit, and a blonde girl with a crucifix in her hand walked by with a young Turk, strong coffee in their gazes. Nobody knew anybody, but a cheerful buzz was in the electric lights hanging above. There was friendliness, but there was lonesomeness, too. Rin felt melancholy. She sat there and wondered what she was doing here- wondered how stupid she was- and the Jewish violinist came back in to play. He had been outside, looking at the moon. She had just been resting her head against her hand, trying to pull apart the pieces to this dusty puzzle.

Sesshoumaru came to the table- light between the spaces, his valor, strength, and color threw themselves between Rin and staring anonymous, and she was grateful for him. She looked colorlessly at him, and his eyes surveyed her quietly, but with that certain kindness he had about her. Was there any turning now, and more decisions to be made...?

He looked tired, though. She didn't say anything about it. "This is good," she said, exhaling a melody that blew up into the air with the swinging violin. "It tastes like today...dark coffee. I like it better."

Sesshoumaru nodded, but he didn't say anything; poor weary, seemed tired, seemed worn-out- but you couldn't see that clearly. It was in the way he held his head, that gentle way he looked around him. But he lifted up his head and his eyes flashed over, a gold lava gleaming over them, washing away his tiredness with a challenging spark. Rin's eyes were loving, but cautious, an iron veil was pulled across them tight.

He sat coolly, looking over the crowd like you'd look over a magazine. Still this achey feeling washed upon her. "I like this place," she said, her tone smoky. There was something important in that tone- she was saying more than she meant to, again, as on the steps that day- Sesshoumaru's eyes flicked calmly up like perfect cat boredom. She looked around- that calamity of baseness was all around.

"I'm not really a good kinda person anyway," she said; she was young and cinnamon, turned the cup warm in her hands- the high stealing, romantic notes churned and crashed into the steel moon, and Sesshoumaru was looking at her...she didn't look back, didn't feel really any need to. "I like places like this- I don't like to have a face in a crowd."

She knew that it wasn't his way to talk- that it wasn't his way to negate feelings and meaning with worthless garbage that made the air tight and barely breatheable. In all of this, she only had one safe home, she knew that, at least. It wasn't a matter of anything big- maybe it was just the company.

He didn't even breath an implication- was laying, surveying in wait, to see what he should judge. The warmth spread into her eyes, and for the first time that night she felt the long black feeling of staring into an abyss. "I used to hang around these places- seem to like the anonymous," she said, still turning her cup. Nearby the gypsy violin scratched some wild sad chord, and the nearby masks were turning on their masters. The paper lights were crinkling in warm colors. She paused, and let out a laugh, shrugged it off easy. "I don't know," she said, with an uneasy look in her eyes.

Faces were mocking in the wide expanse of the darkness although the rain outside was soft; shapes were hollowing out into neon space. It seemed like all the light was sucked in by the rafters, and it only left the tenderness in its wake. Rin felt like she had reached one last stop sign- felt like she had been told to go back without a map. She let out an exhalation that felt like tears and sounded like rain.

Then she turned her eyes up, felt a drumming in her ears that was like a premonition, and looked at Sesshoumaru to see in him what was her fate. She made a movement like gasping back to see the way he was looking at her, a quick, startled movement- with a shadow of red light casting its reaper hand along his face like sweetness, and a white light pouring down on him from the left...his eyes were not lost, but rather just had no home, and didn't want one; but he was looking over her with something deathlike that seemed to reach out to her with tenderness, and the look washed her clean and warm. In the quiet thunder of his stare, something cracked and bore into her.

The lantern light spun over him, looked like it was embracing him at his permission. He took his cup in a measured motion, his eyes level, his face breezed and cooled off. She hung on a nail, scratched at the surface, wondered what he would say next: there was a small movement that reached out to her and echoed the rain. "This isn't your lot," he answered simply.

The answer rang bells in the distance of memory- long-off and chord copper sounding. The warmth of his voice, his body, echoed into her mind; she looked up at him and nodded through steam- with the shadow of a smile. "I guess you're right," she said, and by the latching of their eyes together (like an electric key), she learned how things were going to be.

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Thunder like mist over the pavement, blowing onto the scene that seemed to stand still under the pooling of lights. The moisture in the air made a white powder glow over the street as they walked back to the air...clowns, Venetian tragedy, dying back all around them against a background of urban brick.

His body was slim and shadowy looking, and electricity was thrown off into her nerves- though she didn't know exactly where it was coming from, the masses or the king. Anyway the high gloom was playing all around, rising pink emotions...

The car was still at nighttime- coiled for action. Darkness closed in; she stopped on the sidewalk as a small rain sang down from the night sky, watching him as he moved like smoke over the tar, beginning toward the car.

The doors clicked open with a small beep; the lights flashed on then off. Sesshoumaru went to open a door, but noticing she was still on the sidewalk, he turned, and looked at her without expression.

"Sessho-" she began, then turned her eyes up to him.

He moved forward in a catlike motion that burnt away doubt as though it were irrelevent; some ganja kids made a catcalling noise. The look in his eyes stilled abruptly- water touched by the cold, frozen across. Stationary heartstrings pulled with life, nerve drums sped down and bulked up as he moved near to her. Those eyes were cold but his face was soft and like light; even in the presence of all these faceless players, his pulse was atomic radiant. The space between crowded and turned into warmth and their eyes were just met with a cosmic conception that only knew the sidewalk and that life was hard.

He, quick and light, as pervading as air but warm to her, moved and raised the dead. She was caught stifling in his kiss, light and effervescent travelling from her nerves to her brain. There was a feeling, quiet and dark, that sat nagging at the pit of her stomach, but the feeling of the kiss negated it, pushed it aside as though it was the ragged orphan at the midnight door. The midnight door- all the talk, all the looks; her eyes met his as the neon flashed by in the slickness of the street, and she felt the tearing feeling of the storm in her veins. Her mind was double Rolex and it was switching lanes fast, straight down the line and into the shadowed darkness.

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So there were no questions, no doubts in the quickness of the lightning air that skimmed the tops of trees as it bullied along. There was only rain now, rain and silence dying as the leaves were falling on the ground. Every step in this house felt like a choke to her. Every turning moment, every movement without thought, hit her like the dark coming on, blindfold on a horse. But there was something worse, something hidden in the corners of her chest...

A sigh felt like a punch in the ribs, and she fixed her mind on other matters. It was bright out now, that clear autumn crispness in the white wind. "Fuck," Kohaku whined, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he had a headache too long to stand. "This is gonna blow."

She smiled disconsertedly- smiled out of a dream. He threw a glance back at her, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "Who's coming to this thing, anyway?"

"Oh,- a lotta my high school friends, I guess," she answered, with a small shrug. "Shippou, too."

"Shippou? That's kind of awesome," he mused, leaning forward; then the quirk of electricity came into the corner of his eye, and he smiled wolfishly. "Though, your high school friends sucked."

She laughed like a concession; threw the black light off her eyes- could pretend, sure, that was possible. "It's gonna be awkward," she said, like the thought was still under construction. "The last time I saw any of them was...a couple months ago, at that party..."

Kohaku paused; "Should I invite Sango?" he asked, eyes serious. "-It's just gonna be really weird if there's like .2 people there. I mean, like, why have a stupid 'get-together' just 'cause it's been a year? That's so stupid."

"Sure, that should be fine," she reasoned, with a small nod. "It'll probably be more fun with more people anyway."

He shook the subscription cards out of the magazine he was holding; smiled at her simple logic, her child's mouth. Looked at her with that measured look in his eyes. "You invite somebody too, then. It'll teach Ayumi to throw us parties."

Rin gave a laugh, momentarily forgot about this gradual forgetting; leaned against the window and looked out onto autumn. For a brief blink of time it seemed to still-

"Oh yeah," Kohaku said from the couch, as if spun off from a memory, "The last time we saw that girl Jun- remember? We were out fuckin' shopping and she goes, 'You're still together?' Like it was a question!"

The words fell like soft poison on her shoulders; he didn't realize the darkness in them, but it seemed to swell inside her brain- seemed to create this dark-hued pain. So what was empty- what did electricity mean?

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Stick around!