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To be a hanyō was to live with death racing at one’s heels for the rest of their existence, as an uncaring world preyed upon a hapless child for the crime of their mere existence. It was a truth Sesshōmaru had known for all of his life. One ingrained into his very being as he proclaimed superiority over his younger half-brother, a hanyō who received more than his fair share of dues from a father he claimed not to remember.
The person Sesshōmaru was would never have felt an inkling of pity for Inuyasha. However, time and defeat had a way of humbling even the tallest of mountains into a hillock. Strange, how the whelp he scorned would go on to become someone of great renown and the target of countless yōkai’s grudge. Even stranger, that same hanyō would become the beloved sibling of Sesshōmaru’s cherished person – a human woman he couldn’t help but adore. In hindsight, they were kindred spirits.
He who lost his mother at a young age and felt abandoned to the world’s cruelty, suffered at Sesshōmaru’s hands.
She who lost her family at a young age and was beaten within an inch of her life by the self-same people whom she once cared for, died in Sesshōmaru’s arms.
The two of them, alive and joyful, with children following at their heels. Children who looked to them as if they were the beginning and ending of this world. Enjoyed games or lounging around without any sense of time’s passage. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Rin’s closeness to Inuyasha, but he wouldn’t deny her that happiness. Nor would he deny his daughters who loved their uncle fiercely. They were hanyō just as he was, and Sesshōmaru would not hear anyone call them abominations or monsters.
Even if his feelings toward his brother would grow no further than recognition of their kinship, his daughters were his own. He would not deny them, and to accept them would invite reckoning upon his head.
Perhaps in this, he and Inuyasha stood on equal ground. His brother had enemies, far too many to count, as he’d been alive many years before his enchanted slumber. Such foes would take advantage of a weakness if they thought it would cripple his might – and what greater weakness was love. Sesshōmaru was certain the miko Kagome could hold her own, but their daughter Moroha was no older than Towa and Setsuna. And their son Yae was still an infant, dozing in his mother's arms with milk on his breath.
If they were left on her own, he hardly believed they would survive.
Strange, how the thought now sickened him.
Why was it that he was considering this now, as all of them were gathering: his wife and daughters followed by A-Un and Jaken meeting with Inuyasha and Kagome in the spacious field beside the taijiya’s home. He could see them all from where he stood, watching as the taijiya’s twin daughters and son raced out to meet the other children. The monk carried a steaming pot, assisted by the nekomata and a tanuki trailing at his heels. Kohaku helping his sister with bringing blankets and dishes to set on the grass while the kitsune and raiju bickered as they followed behind.
It was a perfectly harmless moment, but something within him felt disquiet. He looked to the skies, training his gaze on the gilded sunrays. Was it something lingering past there? He wondered, if he turned back and went to find it, what would he see? Just as he made up his mind to go, something warm wrapped around three of the fingers on his left hand
“Oji-chan, oji-chan…!” He stopped, then glanced out the corner of his eye at the little girl staring up at him. Moroha grinned widely once she had his attention, swinging their hands. “Rin-oba told me to come save you. But I thought that was silly, because oji-chan is really strong, and…”
Sesshōmaru blinked at her as she rambled on about his strength, then closed his eyes. Save him, hm?
“Moroha.”
At once, she stopped in the middle of demonstrating one of Inuyasha’s infamous techniques with her free hand, looking up at him with big round eyes. Just like her father once did.
Sesshomaru lightly curled his fingers around hers as he said, “... Let’s go,” allowing her to attempt to lead him in the direction of the others. Inuyasha’s choked gasp when he noticed them turned into gentle chiding for Moroha to come to his side. His startled yell at her not to run too fast when she broke away from Sesshōmaru’s hold reminded him of a distant memory.
“What are you thinking about?” Rin asked as she approached him, giving Moroha a smile when the little girl ran past her toward where her father was waiting to scoop her up in a hug. “Sesshōmaru-sama?”
He turned his focus back to her, then glanced down at her stomach. The sound of a heartbeat fluttering beneath her own like the wings of a hummingbird graced his ear. “… Rin.”
“Yes?”
“Have you decided on a name?”
Rin blinked, unconsciously laying her hand on her stomach. “Mm… I believe,” she smiled, “it will suit our son just fine, Sesshōmaru-sama.”
He stared, flicking his eyes between her stomach and her face. “Son?”
Rin giggled, pressing a finger to her lips. “Kagome-neesan calls it a woman’s intuition. Knowing when something’s wrong,” she winked at him, “and what the children may be doing…”
Sesshōmaru huffed a laugh. “.. So that was it.”
Rin giggled, holding onto his sleeve as he looked down at her fondly. If she was able to smile like this despite all she endured, then so could he find peace in her.
A wife who blessed him with children – gifts bestowed by the woman who defied death.