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The beautiful thing about love is that there isn't enough of it and more than enough to go around.
Ages ago, Sesshōmaru would have wandered the land without consideration for the season or time of day. His enemies had naught else to do but await his arrival and their imminent demise before he strode on to the site of his next conquest. Admittedly, acquiring vassals on his travels created a need to be somewhat aware of the position of the sun and weather conditions that could cause illness.
Despite Jaken’s earlier mutterings of their burdens in bringing Rin along with them, he was aware of such limitations. Yōkai were sturdier by nature, but humans, fragile and needing, were not.
However, it wasn’t a complete loss of freedom.
Human children, or perhaps children in general, had ways of seeing the world that he’d lost to the annals of time. Peculiar as her way of explaining to him was, Rin shared what she could about her version of the world they both witnessed, and Sesshōmaru needn’t feign interest in her ramblings. As time went on and she grew to be more than a vassal or friend— he found her way of seeing the world had a profound effect on him.
So far-reaching that Sesshōmaru indulged Rin’s desire to awaken with the sun, wrapped in his arms. As always, he hardly felt a loss when relenting to her whims. Rin’s scent calmed the very reaches of his soul, and with her tucked perfectly against the contours of his body, the sweetness she embodied surrounded him. A nameless bird warbled on the tiled roof of their home, its soft melodic crooning not enough to wake her just yet.
Without the fire crackling in the ash-filled hearth and Jaken’s quibbling to Rin as they prepared breakfast, the house was quiet. Sesshōmaru watched Rin’s chest as it rose and fell with each deep, even breath, telling how soundly she slept. She must have been exhausted from the night before. For a good reason, as well. While he couldn’t fathom the prospect of losing his senses and ability for even a short period, the reality for their daughters was no illusion. His hold around Rin tightened as he recalled the pair’s weeping as she tried to console them well into the night. His brave, understanding Rin earnestly dismissed Jaken’s attempts to help her with an exhausted smile.
Don’t worry, Master Jaken. After all, I’m their mother, I can handle this.
At the time, Rin seemed so confident. Her words displayed a mark of empathy and motherly love Sesshōmaru knew to be lacking in most yōkai mothers. However, there was also an underlying sense of agitation. Seldom did he feel open discontent from Rin. Such open discontent was expressed toward herself as she cared for their daughters with unrelenting fervor and love. Only after they’d fallen asleep, closer to sunrise, did Rin tuck them into their shared futon with a smile then drag herself into their bed-chamber where he waited.
Sesshōmaru could still recall how her weary smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. How she crawled on hands and knees to him then promptly collapsed with her cheek smushed against his chest. Without thinking, he asked what troubled her, so while combing his fingers through her hair, Rin blew a heavy sigh against his chest.
If they didn’t have human blood, they wouldn’t have to be in so much pain.
The thinly veiled blame had taken him aback. Tinges of shame brushed along the forefront of his mind as he thought of Inuyasha, and the words spilled forth from his lips before he could think better of them, “They are strong because of your blood.”
Rin pulled back from him, and the awe in her eyes was as relieving as it was damning. Did she truly think her blood to be a curse to them?
Resurfaced from his memories, Sesshōmaru tucked a loose lock of hair behind Rin’s ear and brushed his knuckle against its curve, watching as her eyelids fluttered. What dream was playing behind her eyes, he wondered. He hoped it was one where she realized the truth.
That their daughters were perfect because she was their mother.
Before he could turn the thought over in his mind once more, he heard dragging wood, recognizing it as their door opening. He peeked over his shoulder, eyes adjusted to the hazy silhouettes shaded in dawnlight’s faded blues. A small crack between the shōji and its frame allowed the natural light to seep into their bed-chambers. The space was wide enough for a child to fit through.
Sesshōmaru closed his eyes briefly, settling his head atop his hand as he parsed through who it might have been. Immediately the name came to mind when a little tug was followed by another, pulling at the blankets around him. He felt a small, warm hand slap against his forearm. His eyes snapped open, and he glanced out the corner of his eye when a weight settled atop of him.
A pair of bright, magenta eyes stared back at him excitedly despite the morning’s quietness. Though after seeing those eyes fade into honey brown and glaze with tears— he much preferred this.
“Towa,” he greeted.
“Papa!” His eldest daughter replied happily, beaming as if she hadn’t been weeping as if the world would end a few hours ago.
A small smile twitched at his own lips. Sesshōmaru could hardly be annoyed with her when she referred to him as papa like this. While he wouldn’t permit such an address in front of others, Rin insisted that certain leniences be allowed in the comfort of their own home. Towa’s insistence on the title stemmed from her friendship with his niece after all, and how she referred to Inuyasha.
Though Sesshōmaru felt odd having yet another thing in common with his younger half-brother, he could admit being addressed as papa felt less frigid than chichiue. Towa puttered about atop of him with palpable excitement radiating from her as she leaned up against his shoulder.
“Why are you awake?” When she almost fell to the side, Sesshomaru lifted his arm to steady her. Towa laid her hand over his own, seeming unaware of how she’d almost fallen off of his side.
“The sky’s awake, and Setsuna’s still sleeping..” With her legs kicked out on either side of him, she flopped forward with all of her weight resting on him. Her arms folded beneath her head as she peeked over at Rin, the glow of her eyes reminding him of the coming morning. As if remembering herself, Towa lowered her voice when she spoke again, “Mama’s sleeping too..”
Sesshōmaru huffed through his nose, amused by her sudden awareness of her surroundings. “The sky is barely awake,” he said to her, brushing his thumb against the shorn hairs of her hastily tied ponytail. She must have been in a rush.
Towa gazed at him as if he said something utterly stupefying, then her mouth fell open as she tried to sound out the word. “Barely.. ba.. re.. ly..” Her brows furrowed in concentration before she looked up at him and blurted out, “Barely!”
Sesshōmaru felt a measure of pride at her success, placing his hand atop her head. “Yes.”
He felt Rin shift a little atop of the arm he tucked beneath her and glanced down. Her energy had begun to change from the gentle rise and fall of a deep slumber to a half-awake doze.
Unaware of her mother’s stirring, Towa preened and rocked from one side to the other as he talked. “A little is still kind of and kind of means..” Her leaps in logic seemed to confuse her as well until she sputtered and shook her head, incidentally brushing his hand away. “The sky’s awake, and when the sky’s awake, it means we have to play!”
Sesshōmaru huffed softly, running his fingers through her hair. “Not while your mother is asleep.”
Towa pouted. “But papa…”
He curled his fingers in the back of her kosode and lifted her a bit, bringing her close to him. Towa closed her eyes as Sesshōmaru tapped his nose against hers then rubbed their foreheads together. Her hands pressed to his cheeks, a small rumbling purr answering his own in appeasement. Slowly, Sesshōmaru turned onto his back and set Towa upon his chest where she snuggled up to him and nosed against his jaw.
Sesshōmaru allowed his eyes to drift shut once Towa settled but within minutes, they opened again when he felt the blanket tug. He turned his head to look. Unsurprised to find Setsuna crawling onto the other side of the futon, bottom lip jutted out, and eyes narrowed with determination as she maneuvered on hands and knee toward Rin. Sesshōmaru opened his mouth to tell her to come to him, but he felt a light pat against his chest, effectively silenced when Rin peered up at him from beneath her bangs.
Rin turned onto her back, movements sluggish from her recently roused state. Yet she didn’t miss a beat as she lifted the blankets to accept Setsuna in her arms. Sesshōmaru eased the arm from under Rin around her shoulder to palm the back of their youngest daughter’s head, thumbing at the red streak woven into dark tresses.
Setsuna sniffled, burying her face against Rin’s chest. She must have been upset when she awoke without Towa. Sesshōmaru wondered if such dependency was proper for them, but Rin assured him that it was borne out of love. He could understand, in a sense. It pained him to be away from her as well.
Towa eased back once Setsuna settled, leaning over the span of Sesshōmaru’s chest to peek over at her younger sister. “.. Mama?”
Rin answered with a hum, acknowledging her.
“Is Setsuna okay..?”
She sounded so earnestly concerned that Sesshōmaru might have questioned the same if he hadn’t known better. In stride, Rin reached up to cup Towa’s cheek and stroke her thumb across the worried crease of her nose. “She’s fine, Towa. Why don’t you rest here with her for a little, so she won’t be lonely?”
Towa immediately leaped at the idea, her feet pressed to Sesshōmaru’s stomach as she scrambled off of him. He ignored the discomfort from her toes bearing down onto his sternum for a foothold. Grasping the back of her kosode to promptly set her down on the other side of Setsuna. Towa slipped beneath the blanket, wriggling around until she could throw her arms around Setsuna and hug her close. Mere seconds passed before Setsuna turned from Rin, her head resting against Towa’s.
Eventually, the twins’ breathing began to match as they wandered off into sleep together.
“Milord?”
Sesshōmaru turned onto his side, draping his arm around the three of them when he heard Rin speak. While he couldn’t see her face, he knew that she had to be looking down at their daughters. Often were they of one mind despite being separate beings, and even he couldn’t tear his gaze from them.
“Aren’t they beautiful?”
The first thought which came to mind was yes because, of course, they were. Towa and Setsuna were their daughters— they were her daughters.
“Yes.”
Rin giggled, tilting a glance toward him. “Just like their fa..” Her words died once their eyes met, and he could see the moment when her skin began to blossom red along the curve of her nose and the angle of her cheeks. She looked away from him quickly, and he arched a brow.
A small, private smile hidden from her as he rested his head against the arm tucked beneath his head, hugging the three of them close to him.