Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky above the bathhouse remained its usual soft twilight, but the corridors buzzed with quiet urgency. Rin adjusted the sash of her work robes, palms damp with nervous sweat.

Today was different.

Today she was on her own.

Kagome had walked her down to the supply corridor just after dawn, placing a folded map and a checklist in her hands.

“Your assigned hall has only three rooms today,” she’d said, her tone gentle but firm. “Two are vacant, and one... well, be careful with that one. He’s temperamental.”

“Who is it?” Rin had asked.

Kagome hesitated. “A thunder demon. Manten, of the Thunder Tribe. He’s... picky. Just follow the instructions exactly, and don’t linger.”

That should’ve been enough of a warning.

The scent hit Rin before the door even opened, charred air, burning oil, and something smoky and sour, like scorched cedar. The brass nameplate above the sliding door pulsed faintly with static.

Manten, Thunder Demon. Do not use the blue incense.

Rin clutched the checklist Kagome had given her and took a deep breath.

She slid the door open carefully, stepping into the bath chamber.

Steam clung to the walls in thick curtains. At the center of the room sat a massive stone bath, obsidian-dark and filled to the brim with churning water. Flashes of electricity flickered along its surface like trapped lightning.

And lounging in the middle of it all, arms spread across the rim, horned head tilted back in pleasure, was Manten.

His massive body was slick with water and power, his fanged smile twisted in lazy satisfaction. Wisps of white hair floated around his thick shoulders like a storm cloud.

Rin said quickly, bowing low. “Forgive me, Lord Manten. I was assigned to refresh the room.”

Manten cracked open one glowing eye.

“Another human girl,” he drawled, voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Naraku must be running out of real help.”

“I’m only here to clean, my lord. I won’t be long.”

Manten grunted. “Fine. Just don’t touch anything. Especially if you want your own limbs.”

Rin bit the inside of her cheek and moved quickly.

Salted tile. Coin offering. Obsidian polish. She worked silently, her movements precise, her breathing steady despite the thundering presence behind her.

Then, incense.

She reached into her pouch, praying the amber coil was still intact.

It wasn’t.

The coil was cracked. Crushed.

She glanced at the blue incense. Still coiled, still flawless.

No. Kagome said not to—

Another flicker of lightning hissed across the surface of the bath.

She panicked.

Just a moment, she told herself. Just until I can finish and I will replace it, surely he will not notice it.

She lit the blue incense and placed it on the silver tray.

At first, nothing happened.

Then—

The water in the bath surged.

Manten sat up slowly, his smile gone.

“You burn that in my room?”

Rin froze.

“I—I only meant…”

“You think your weak little hands can handle thunder?”

The room exploded.

Electricity flared from the bath, crawling across the tile like snakes. The incense ignited, sending shards of flame spiraling through the air. The steam thickened into a choking cloud as the water rose , not spilled, not sloshed, rose , like it was alive.

Manten stood from the bath, towering and furious, lightning coursing across his skin.

“I should’ve eaten you the moment you walked in.”

The water coiled around Rin’s ankles.

She screamed as it yanked her forward, dragging her across the slick floor. She clawed for grip, but her fingers scraped uselessly against the tile. The bath surged and swallowed her whole.

Dark. Crushing. Ice-cold.

The weight of it stole her breath instantly. Her eyes snapped open beneath the surface, lightning flashing all around her, Manten’s face twisted in hatred above the water.

She kicked hoping to loosen the grip. Struggled. Her vision blurred. Her lungs burned.

Help me. Please. Someone—

A blast of light split the water.

A hand pierced through the water, strong and steady, and pulled her up in one swift motion, lifted her as if she weighed nothing.

Rin gasped violently as air filled her lungs again. Her head broke the surface, and she collapsed against a solid chest, coughing and sobbing, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Silver hair brushed her soaked face.

Golden eyes met hers, narrowed, furious, not at her.

Sesshomaru.

He held her in his arms, one arm around her back, the other braced against the floor. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was firm, grounding her. Present.

Lightning sparked above them. Manten growled low, stepping out of the bath.

“That girl disrespected my space. I have the right—”

“You have no rights here,” Sesshomaru said coldly.

He rose, lifting Rin with him.

“She lit the wrong incense—” Manten began.

“You endangered her life. You crossed the line.”

Sesshomaru turned slightly, placing Rin carefully on the floor behind him. She collapsed to her knees, soaked, shaking, but safe.

“I suggest you leave,” Sesshomaru said, stepping forward, his aura pulsing with quiet, killing intent.

“Now.”

Manten snarled, sparks dancing across his skin. “Naraku will hear of this.”

“Then he and I will speak.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Manten looked past Sesshomaru at Rin, still gasping for breath.

Then, with a final crack of thunder and a flash of light, the thunder demon vanished.

Sesshomaru stood still for a moment longer, his back to her, his energy beginning to fade.

Without a glance, he turned and walked away.

The last thing Rin saw of him before her vision swam with dizziness again was the slow curl of his silver hair disappearing around the corner.

The bathhouse corridor spun around her.

Rin leaned against the cool stone wall just outside Manten’s former chamber, soaked from head to toe, her hands trembling in her lap. Her hair clung to her skin, her lungs still fighting to steady themselves after nearly being drowned.

The floor felt like it might tilt beneath her again.

But she was alive.

Because of him.

Sesshomaru.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. His face flickered behind her eyes, calm, sharp, untouchable, and yet… when she had gasped for breath, it was his arms holding her up.

“Is this what gratitude looks like?” came a sharp, nasally voice.

Rin’s head jerked up.

Standing at the end of the hallway was a small, green-skinned demon with bulging eyes and a staff nearly twice his size. His robes were embroidered with Naraku’s crest, and his sneer stretched across his face like a drawn bow. I think Kagome called him Jaken.

“You’ve been here a single day and already cost us a paying guest,” Jaken said, voice laced with smug disapproval. “Well done, human girl.”

Rin forced herself to stand, the wet fabric of her robes heavy and uncomfortable.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said quietly. “I was trying to follow instructions—”

“Yes, yes, they all try. But you’re not just anyone, are you?” Jaken’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the girl with the mark. The one who shouldn’t remember what she does. The one who’s somehow survived drowning, wolves, and now a lightning-charged spirit bath. Curious.”

Rin stiffened. Her hand moved unconsciously to her ankle, where the crescent mark still faintly pulsed beneath her soaked robes.

Jaken hobbled forward, tapping his staff with every step. “Let me offer some advice. Stay out of places you don’t belong. Keep your head down. Do your work. And most of all, don’t attract any more attention from Lord Sesshomaru.”

Rin blinked. “What?”

Jaken scowled. “He’s already given up enough for creatures like you. Don’t give Naraku a reason to question why he keeps saving you.”

And just like that, he turned and hobbled away down the corridor, his staff echoing like a ticking clock.

Rin stood frozen.

He keeps saving you.

Her fingers curled into her palm.

It wasn’t just the forest. Or the bath.

There was a pattern here, a connection she couldn’t name yet, but one she felt.

Deeply.

And now… others were noticing too.

The door to Kagome’s quarters slid open, and Rin stepped inside slowly, water trailing behind her.

Kagome looked up from a small writing table, her eyes widening the moment she saw Rin’s drenched form.

“Rin?” she rushed over, reaching for her shoulders. “What happened?”

Rin opened her mouth to explain, but the words caught. Her throat tightened.

Kagome didn’t wait. She guided her to a cushion near the glowing wall orb and knelt beside her, already tugging at the heavy outer robe.

“You’re freezing. Spirits, you’re soaked through.”

Rin nodded faintly. “It was Manten. I used the wrong incense.”

Kagome paused mid-motion. “Oh no.”

“I didn’t mean to. The amber coil was cracked. I panicked.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t—” Kagome stopped herself, her mouth flattening. “He tried to drown you, didn’t he?”

Rin didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

“I’ll get you dry clothes. Sit still.”

When Kagome returned, she wrapped Rin in a thick blanket, handed her a cup of hot tea, and gently dabbed at the damp ends of her hair with a cloth.

Rin sat silently, the warmth of the tea a slow balm to the chill still coiled around her spine.

“He saved me,” she said finally.

Kagome paused. “Sesshomaru?”

Rin nodded, eyes distant. “He pulled me from the water. Carried me like I weighed nothing. He didn’t even look angry. Just… like it was expected of him.”

Kagome lowered herself onto the cushion across from her, setting aside the cloth. “That’s... very like him. But also not.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t interfere. Ever. Not unless he has to. But lately…” Kagome trailed off, studying Rin carefully. “There’s something different.”

Rin clutched the warm cup between her palms, her gaze falling to the charm still tied to her wrist.

“Do you think he remembers me?” she asked quietly.

Kagome exhaled slowly. “I think... he never really forgot.”

Rin blinked away the sting in her eyes.

“I don’t understand why he keeps protecting me. He doesn’t even know me.”

Kagome gave her a soft smile. “Sometimes we protect what we can’t explain. Sometimes it’s instinct. Or something older than memory.”

The room fell quiet except for the sound of the tea cooling.

After a long pause, Rin whispered, “Jaken said I was drawing attention. That I need to stop.”

Kagome’s brow furrowed. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re surviving.”

“But I’m putting everyone at risk. I cost the bathhouse a guest, and now Naraku might—”

Kagome gently placed a hand over hers. “You didn’t ask to be marked, or saved, or remembered. You’re just trying to stay whole. That’s not something to apologize for.”

Rin looked up, her eyes wet.

“I miss Granny Kaede,” she admitted.

“I know.”

Kagome gave her hand one last squeeze, then stood. “You should rest. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

Rin nodded, her voice gone.

As Kagome dimmed the lights and slipped into the hallway, Rin stayed curled on the cushion, watching the faint glow of the charm flicker in the low light.

She let the tears fall, quietly, quickly. 

The bathhouse had gone quiet.

Lanterns dimmed to soft amber glows. Spirit footsteps had slowed to the occasional shuffle or the distant rustle of silk. Even the pipes, usually groaning or whistling, had hushed, like the building itself had settled into sleep.

Rin lay awake on her mat, staring at the floating orb above her head.

She couldn’t stop replaying the way the water wrapped around her. The stillness of Sesshomaru’s face. The warning in Jaken’s voice.

She sat up, unable to bear the weight of her own thoughts. The charm on her wrist pulsed softly, like a heartbeat not her own.

Drawn by a feeling she couldn’t name, she slipped quietly into the hallway and padded barefoot toward the eastern corridor.

The hall of doors.

She’d found it once before, lined with rows of sliding panels, all identical, all closed. Some said it was where memories went to sleep. Others whispered it was where Naraku kept the names of those who no longer belonged to themselves.

Tonight, it felt... alive.

She turned a corner, and the door she’d seen before stood ajar.

Faint light flickered from within, candlelight or something older. The air was thick with a scent she couldn’t place, salt, smoke, and something colder.

She stepped inside.

The room was small, barely more than a storage closet. Scrolls lined the walls in neat rows, and dusty shelves sagged under the weight of forgotten things, old masks, chipped bowls, bells that no longer rang.

She didn’t know why she knelt beside the floorboards.

She just did .

Her fingers brushed across a loose plank near the back corner. It shifted easily.

Beneath it, wrapped in faded silk, was a single scroll.

Rin swallowed and carefully unwrapped it.

Inside, the parchment shimmered faintly, the ink still bold despite the age. A name was written in elegant, flowing kanji—except the final character was blurred. Smudged. As if time or magic refused to let it remain.

She traced the beginning: Prince of Dog Demon Clan S—

And stopped.

Her heart thudded.

Suddenly, the air around her dropped in temperature.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The voice was low. Familiar.

She spun, scroll still in hand.

But the doorway was empty.

The room was silent.

She stepped into the hallway, but it was already fading back into stillness. The doors were all shut. The flickering light inside the room winked out, the scroll trembling slightly in her grip.

She looked down at the name again. Her breath caught.

The mark on her ankle glowed faintly, and for just a second, the missing kanji reappeared, only to vanish again as quickly as it came.

Later that night, Rin sat on the balcony just outside her quarters, knees pulled to her chest, the scroll hidden beneath her blanket.

Below, the spirit world shimmered in its unnatural dusk.

But her eyes weren’t on the city.

They were on the rooftop across the way, where a familiar silhouette stood, still as stone, hair like starlight in the dark.

Sesshomaru.

He hadn’t spoken a single word to her today.

But he had saved her life.

Again.

Rin rested her head against the wooden beam, eyes half-lidded.

“Why do you keep saving me?” she whispered into the wind.

No answer came, of course.

But across the rooftop, golden eyes flickered in the dark, vanishing into the night shadows.