Promise in the Park by susie

Promising

He made it to the park in record time, but he was only delaying the inevitable.

A wary look to the sinister southwestern skies told him the storm would be rolling in soon, though it felt like it was already upon them. Sesshoumaru grimaced.

It was worse than he thought. So much worse.

He fancied himself a keen observer to the turmoil raining down on the city - in fact, he knew that he was - but all the atrocities he'd witnessed up to this point looked almost innocuous compared to what he had just been exposed to.

It all seemed obvious to him now, of course, and hindsight was always 20/20, but as furious as he was with all those complicit in the vile machinations of what was apparently the status-quo, he was upset most of all with himself. He should have seen it.

But there was no time for that now. The important thing was that now he knew, and there was not a moment to waste in remedying things once and for all.

Maybe some men could be bought – and by the looks of things, they all had - but that stopped right now. Kami knows he didn't need the money, and he didn't fear the powerful.

He had talked a big game, but he would admit that he had no idea what he was in for. He knew he was going to have to hit the ground running, but the meeting he just left - stormed out of in a rage, more like – unveiled many odious truths, one of which being that he needed to rearrange his meticulously constructed plan and start over from scratch.

He would not even be awarded one day to bask in his glorious triumph, but he never intended to. He had given his word, and he needed to get to work immediately at honoring it - swiftly and thoroughly. But when made aware the disgusting realities of which he was now entitled to be privy, a brief reprieve was in order... alone.

This park served as his haven for instances such as this. Small and secluded, it was one of the few places left he could go without being recognized or swarmed. It was sparsely attended even in the summer months, so a chilly autumn day like this was sure to afford him the privacy and silence he required.

Approaching his favored bench, it was the very place he sat while he pondered all the most important decisions in his life, and this one would be especially consequential - and not just for him.

All of Tokyo would be affected by his next round of choices, and though all their fates rested in his palm, they would never know the true extent of it. This burden was his alone to bear.

What was he going to do?

He slumped onto his bench with an uncharacteristic sigh and let his catered box lunch rest unopened on his lap. Shocking even himself with the behavior, he chanced a look around to ensure no one was there to witness his rare lapse.

Not far down along the shore of the picturesque pond, another wooden bench was granted the same view of three mallards splashing playfully, creating ripples in the large man-made body amid a sea of contented quacking. Until now, he hadn't noticed its occupied status, but forgave his lack of awareness just this once; he had a lot on his mind today.

The lone intruder in his little personal oasis was unconcerned with his presence, however - if she was aware of it at all. With her knees hugged tightly to her chest, she looked as if the fish she had to fry were much too big to pay heed to her fellow bird watchers - let alone the noisy ducks themselves. He recognized that glazed look in her eye - he knew it quite well - and to see it housed within her otherwise youthful features gave it a haunting quality that rivaled perhaps even his own.

Wistful and worried, she looked as if she had the whole world on her tiny 8-year-old shoulders, and he – who actually did bear that weight - found himself very curious as to why.

He felt tons lighter as he shelved his terrible burden, and the result had him all but floating up onto the well-made souls of his leather wingtips. Box lunch in hand, they carried him the short distance down the shore until he intruded on the troubled girl's privacy.

With her chin on her knees and her gaze going right through the little ducks, she didn't acknowledge the tall stranger looming at her side. She must have truly been distraught not to take note of his imposing form, he decided. He knew he was stealthy, but at that distance, a man of his stature and status was impossible to ignore.

"Are you alright?" He almost felt bad for disturbing her. He knew how valuable his peace was, and he was loathe to rob it from another. When she turned to finally regard him, that distant gaze went right through him just as easily. The hollowness of it was chilling, and reinstated his resolve. Something was wrong here; he could feel it.

"Where are your parents?" he tried again, tilting his head in concern... but she returned her inattentive gaze to the pond.

"I came here by myself." Her reply was listless, with her chin still resting atop slightly scraped knees.

"This One as well," he offered, also shifting his gaze to the bathing waterfowl. "I often come here when I wish to be alone."

Despite what that implied, he forwent awaiting invitation - which seemed about as likely at the moment as him asking permission. He could sense her brief flash of annoyance as he fluidly claimed the empty space beside her, though he appeared as oblivious as the flittering ducks his eyes were trained on. The familiar feeling of scrutiny, and subsequent awe did nothing to distract his laser-sharp, deceptively disinterested focus.

"Why do you talk like that?" she asked, finally showing interest as her somber spell appeared to have broken.

"Like what?"

"This One," she parroted, but not in mockery.

She watched as Sesshoumaru made himself comfortable, unhurriedly removing his professionally prepared sandwich before placing the box aside.

"Where I am from, that is how people speak," he informed her simply. "I suppose it is uncommon these days."

"Where are you from?" She adjusted to face him more fully. He did not respond in kind, but discretely managed to observe brown eyes widen in curiosity.

"The West."

"How far?"

When he shifted his attention back down to her, he heard her soft intake of breath. She held it until he mercifully replied.

"Very."

It was clear to him that the girl had manners when she waited for him to swallow his modest bite before firing off another question. "Everyone talks like that there?"

The subtlest twisting of his mouth so easily relayed his sudden displeasure, and he looked down at his lunch with disdain. "Not everyone." He tore a portion of bread away without transferring any to himself and made happy ducks absolutely ecstatic.

"My parents were especially strict, of course they would simply call it 'traditional.' My manner of speech is a byproduct of that traditional upbringing." Sighing softly, he readied another piece of his lunch and aimed it at the pond. "I suppose we can never escape our past fully, no matter how far we go."

Whatever he'd said, it appeared that her brief reprieve was over. As if remembering herself, the girl resumed her previous posture, knitting her resentful brows together and drawing up her knees once more. "I hope that's not true," she uttered softly. She sounded as if she was warning the fates.

She reminded him strikingly of himself in that moment, but Sesshoumaru could not fathom what he would possibly have in common with an 8-year-old girl.

He supposed she exuded a maturity rarely seen in one so young. Solemn and reserved, her turbulent eyes told another story. And then there was that obvious defiant streak kept just scarcely contained beneath her skin.

She was independent... but maybe it only seemed that way because she was there on her own. She was a tad thin, but not dangerously so. Her groomed appearance and nicer than average clothing proved that someone cared about this girl- or at least cared for her. It wouldn't make sense why anyone with a vested interest in the child would allow her to venture on her own. Anything could happen to her in this city these days - a reminder he was not pleased of at the moment.

She was fortunate he came upon her, before a man of less honorable intentions.

"What brings you to the park alone today?" he asked casually.

"I ran away."

"Ah." With his undesirable lunch relocated to more appreciative bellies, he opened his wet nap with his hands and set off on cleaning them fastidiously.

His apparent lack of interest seemed to relax the tension in her shoulders a bit. At least, that was how it appeared out of the corner of his eye. The liberating strangeness of being ignored was something he remembered well, and a staple of a child with overbearing parents.

"What about you?"

"The same," he answered while inspecting his handiwork. Sanitized to his liking, he discarded the napkin.

"Aren't you too old to run away from home?" The way her brow creased sharply in obvious confusion was cuter than he would ever admit aloud.

It took work to keep his lips from twitching in amusement, so he opted for a distraction. "Are you hungry?"

Without waiting for a reply, he rummaged past a bottled water and what was surely a very bland apple. When he produced a large, chocolate-chip laden confection and extended it to her, he recognized the covetous nature of her gaze. Her response pleased him - someone should get some enjoyment out of his lackluster lunch. He was sure someone out there worked hard on it, and he absolutely despised waste. Between her and the ducks, his conscious could rest easy.

"I don't eat chocolate," he assured her.

Small fingers twitched as she lifted her hand, only to withdraw it before reaching the cellophaned treat.

"Kagome says I'm not allowed to take things from strangers," she all but pouted, and he recognized the resentful tint she used earlier. Resentful, but resigned, and that was just enough to let a smirk past his defenses.

'Even with no one around, she adheres.' It was the marker of a good kid, of good character. The similarities were just piling up.

It was also the marker of something else - a mentor worth honoring. Worth emulating and admiring.

"Kagome sounds very smart." He pulled back the rejected cookie lest he tempt her into forgetting her convictions. And, he supposed, before setting a dangerous precedent. Little brown eyes followed as he placed it back inside the box. "Your sister?"

"She was my babysitter."

He noted the past tense, the sad tone, and put two and two together. "What happened to her?" he asked carefully.

"My dad fired her. I hate him."

That went without saying as well, as her expression darkened in a way that nearly startled his eyebrows into his bangs. 'Impressive.'

"Is that why you ran away?" he ventured evenly instead, but she didn't answer. Not with words.

When she strangled her encased legs so tightly he thought she may lose circulation, she revealed something she surely hadn't intended to.

The brave face she put on kept her fear well concealed, but what he could now see helped him detect her self-soothing pose for what it was. Curling in on herself for comfort just as she had in the womb – when she was at her most vulnerable and employing freshly forged instinct for the very first time. Ignorant of the world and what lay in wait; she only had herself to allay any discomfort. Or so it had seemed.

In reality, she was being cared for and protected by her mother all along - unaware that a being she'd yet to meet was helping her thrive from afar.

So where was that woman now? And how in god's name had she allowed this?

When she hugged herself even tighter, the collar on her checkered dress strained enough to reveal another piece to the puzzle. It was just a fraction of skin poking out above her shoulder, but it was all he needed to solve this abhorrent riddle. He made sure to remain composed even as he felt his nails puncturing his palm.

"Where did you get those bruises?"

She stiffened tensely despite his soothing timbre, hunching her shoulders almost to her ears. Unable to form a response, panicked eyes shifted uncertainly to his... only to find them regarding her impassively.

While he tried to determine just how much damage she kept covered up, and where, he retained his stoic mask as he'd become quite adept at by now. A rabid demon inside him was frothing for justice - he always was - but becoming excitable would do no one any favors, least of all her. Not yet.

There would be a time for that - oh yes, there would - but for now, his cool visage and calm demeanor would prevail. The last thing he wanted was to upset her further.

After holding her gaze meaningfully for long, patient seconds, he mercifully removed it from her all together. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He wished she would. He wished he could tell her that she was safe with him - that she could trust him. But those things must be proven through demonstration. Earned.

Respecting her space and her privacy was a necessary start, one she'd had violated plenty already – most recently by him, when he encroached upon her bench and invaded her solitude.

An ill feeling was settling heavily inside his stomach as guilt twined with emotions he'd left for dead long ago. Reanimated after enough dormancy to forget their voices all together, and he was no more grateful for the reminder than he was prepared for it.

He was scowling deeply when the silence stretched too long, and he braced himself for what awaited him when he chanced another look at the child he shared a bench with. Even still, when he did, she managed to startle him anew.

He hadn't anticipated her to be leaning so close. He certainly hadn't prepared himself for her silly, gap-toothed grin. He could think of none to rightfully claim catching the stoic man off his guard, but he must have made quite the picture. Soft giggling snapped him out of his stupor enough to remember himself and correct his appearance, but it was already too late.

It seemed the morose girl did have the capacity happiness. That he had brought it out was a very warming feeling. Perhaps now he could understand his own mother's reaction to his rare moments of levity.

He knew better than anyone how difficult it was to express joyfulness, let alone actually experience it. Until very recently, he would accuse any who could of simply not paying attention.

He did not fault the cynics for their bleak outlook - he even occasionally walked among them - but it felt like defeat to just accept the world how it was. He had never been good at simply accepting what he was given.

"My name's Rin."

He was fully intending to play it off like it never happened, but a slight tug at his lips betrayed their secret exchange. He bowed his head slightly. "Mine is Sesshoumaru."

Her genuine smile encouraged his own, and he saw her eyes drift down to the box sitting between them.

"Now we're not strangers."

The covetous gaze returned and lingered tellingly, prompting him to reach again for the cookie she had refused. This time, she was quick to relieve him of it.

He watched on fondly as she made quick work of the wrapping. "I hate my father as well."

"You still have a father?" Her incredulous question was mumbled around chocolate and sugar, as a third of the huge cookie was somehow already missing.

'Very impressive...'

The tactless honesty of children was something he'd grown to appreciate over the years. If you wished to know the cold hard truth of how you appear to the world, simply ask a child, and they will tell you. No sugar-coating, no ass-kissing. In his world of ever-increasing boot-licks with neither spine nor shame, not only was that honesty refreshing, it was invaluable.

He would not be where he was today without it, for how could anyone trust you if you lie to even yourself?

And if you can't bear to hear the truth from a mere child, your perception is the least of your problems.

Still - for his age - he thought he looked phenomenal.

He smirked his amusement while she tore into her cookie again. "He died. Long ago, but it has not softened my opinion of him. Some things can simply never be forgiven."

"What did he do?" she asked, and he found another thing he liked about children. They did not feign sympathy. He did not mourn his father, and neither did anyone else. If they really knew him, they would not think he wished them to pretend to.

"He was cruel," he admitted easily. "He hurt... This One's mother, before I was grown enough to protect us." Sesshoumaru clenched his fist tight upon his well-tailored thigh as unwelcomed memories floated to the surface. "It was terrifying how strong he was," he recalled darkly, "but then one day, I was stronger."

"And then he couldn't hurt you anymore?"

He could feel himself smiling ruefully. "He couldn't hurt anyone after that."

"My dad is strong too." The regret was clear in her tone as she slunk down into her seat. "And cruel. I don't think I will ever be stronger than him."

"Then you must simply find someone who is, and ask them help you." His advice was matter of fact, knowing.

"Kagome already tried," she grumbled. "But even the police won't help me."

"Why not?" He turned sharply, arching a high brow.

"Because they're afraid. Everyone is afraid of him."

"Is that why he fired Kagome?" Sesshoumaru ventured. "Because she told the police?"

A quick nod from the girl affirmed his guess. "She got really mad at him. She's the only one who isn't scared of him, and that's why he hates her. But he still made her cry when she had to leave," she recounted sadly. "Then, he got mad at me."

And he was quite sure he already knew what that had entailed. Containing all of his rage forced an edge to his tone that he couldn't blunt.

"Where is your mother?"

"She died when I was little," Rin said softly, powerlessness stripping away her accelerated maturity and finally showing her true age. "He was really mean to her, too... and my big sister."

"Where is your sister?" he asked for good measure, but the haunted look she betrayed left little doubt in his mind. He narrowed his eyes. "What is your father's name?"

"Rin!"

Before he could turn to the owner of the excitable voice, Rin was on her feet to receive her. He quickly followed suit.

"Kagome!"

"Rin! Thank the kami."

Paying no mind to the dampened grass - or its effects on her thin leggings – the woman kneeled to envelope Rin in a hug that exuded relief as if trying to transfer it. She hugged her back fiercely, yet mindful enough to keep the rest of her cookie out of her long, silky tresses.

A fleeting smile spelled the end of the reunion, as Rin's attention shifted back to the tall stranger watching quietly within grabbing distance. Realizing this, Kagome's eyes widened in a start, despite the small, pleasant smile on his handsome features.

"What are you doing with this man? Get away from him!" she demanded, maneuvering between them protectively while using her body as a shield. "Did he bring you here?"

He straightened when she stood, and though her hands were keeping tabs on her very unconcerned charge, her distrusting eyes never left him.

"He saw me sitting by myself, so he sat next to me!" the girl explained, prompting Sesshoumaru to as well.

"I am-"

"Did you give her a cookie?" She asked incredulously, and Rin whined her displeasure as Kagome snatched what remained of it from her hand to inspect for herself. Her suspicious glare tinted thickly with disgust when it returned to him. "What, do you creep around the park looking for lonely kids to lure back to your van? I have the authorities on speed dial, just so you know!"

He only had time to lift a brow as the irate woman fumbled for her cell phone, presumably to prove her claim. She paused scrolling a moment to shake the cookie in the young girl's face.

"And what have I told you about taking candy from strangers? You know better than that."

"He's not a stranger, he's Sesshoumaru!"

"I don't..."

Her frantic search slowed to a stop, and for once, he felt relief as he watched recognition's life cycle inevitably bloom - albeit a bit later than he was accustomed to. "...Sesshoumaru Taisho?"

He knew he didn't need to answer by the pretty shade of pink she suddenly sported, and couldn't help thinking she would prefer if he were the degenerate she'd assumed.

"You must be Kagome," he said, bowing at her slightly. "Rin has spoken fondly of you."

She quickly returned the gesture, a little lower and longer in deference.

"I'm sorry, sir," she breathed guiltily. "I'm just kind of freaked out. I've been looking for her for hours, I was worried that..."

"No need to explain," he assured her, letting his disarming smile do its work as it fell into place effortlessly. "I saw her here alone, and we began talking about our fathers."

Both looked down to the girl in question as little hands disappeared into the large handbag Kagome carried. She seemed to know what she was looking for, and eventually helped herself to a small device with long earbuds dangling off the side. She put them on with practiced ease and began excitedly working the buttons as she reclaimed her seat behind them.

"That son of a bitch always gets away with it," she hissed.

Sesshoumaru's attention returned to the seething woman. "and those damn cops are too cowardly to stop him. He's going to kill her one of these days, just like her sister, I know it!"

"I will not let that happen." Despite the absolute certainty of his tone, Kagome seemed hesitant to believe him. He was eerily calm when he spoke softer. "Tell me his name, and I will ensure he never hurts anyone ever again."

She only considered him a second before deciding she had no reason not to. Why she seemed to think she had no recourse confounded him.

"Naraku Onigumo." Until it didn't.

He knew that name well, and the look on his face seemed to alert her to that. "Yes, that one."

"I was unaware that filth had a family." He sneered his distaste, brandishing the larger than average canine teeth his family was known for. "If I had, I would have taken care of him much sooner."

With no shortage of deplorables taking advantage of the city's downward delve into chaos, it was impossible to keep constant tabs on any one malefactor - let alone all of them. Some were bound to slip through the cracks, but lately the street was so broken, manholes were swallowing them up in droves.

He knew about Naraku - he'd even met the man before. And while he was on his radar for the various unconscionable pies he had his vile thumbs in, he admitted he had not ranked very high on his urgency scale.

Until now. He only regretting letting him slip through his fingers and into the shadows like he had. Who knows what kind of damage could have been prevented?

"What can you do about him?" she asked, mirroring his own thoughts. Except while she seemed skeptical, his were taking a more logistical route to include the how's and when's.

"The people elected me to restore this city to order," he said, exuding the same confidence that swept him handily into public office. "Unfortunately, my predecessor left my task a rather large and messy one." His eyes glinted ominously, and the accompanying smirk lent him a sinister air he rarely let out in public. "Naraku Onigumo," he spit it out like bile, "will be a fitting place to start."

Naraku would be the perfect way to begin instating his new order. The ties he had to crime and power were so clear cut and gratuitous... it would make his point for him quite loudly. Taking him down fast and hard would be a hell of a way to begin his councillorship, and relay a thousand messages to the masses without him having to utter a single word - just the way he liked it.

It was just the direction he needed to go, and it would instantly put all those in his crosshairs firmly on notice. He would make an example of him.

Not to mention, getting him off the street would take a huge chunk out of trouble off his very full plate.

This little side mission had proven very worthwhile. He had only intended to assist a distressed child, but found himself the recipient of her aid instead. The unassuming little girl had handed him the answers to his troubles delivered via silver platter, and all it cost him was his cookie.

The unsurmountable burden he'd walked into the park with was melting off his back like mountain snow in the spring, and it gave the atoms in his brain the energy needed to get him right back on course. Newly refreshed, he felt excitement ripple through him as his plans began to take shape.

"Excuse my pessimism, but I've heard that song before." Her doubting tone and flippant cadence quickly drew him back. "You talked a real pretty game on the campaign trail, but you already got what you wanted." She cocked an eyebrow. "Are you really telling me you weren't just saying all that stuff to get votes?"

The practiced smile that won over the voting public in these last tireless months showed how little heed he paid to the faithless - and how little he faulted them for it.

"Your skepticism is warranted," he conceded. "Men in my position do not have the finest reputation as of late, but I will change that."

He spoke in absolute truths the way only a politician can, but it was his fierce determination – that complete unsinkability – that had given him an edge, and the win.

Plus, he wasn't terrible to look at. If you were going to be lied to for four years, it might as well be coming from that face.

"And you are incorrect; winning my bid was only the beginning." Turning haughty on a dime, he lifted his strong chin. "I will not 'get what I want' until each and every one of my promises is seen through to the fullest. I meant what I said, things are going to change around here."

He held her gaze unblinkingly, and as she returned it, she seemed to be scouring its honeyed depths for anything that shouldn't be there. It was a dare and an assessment all in one, stiffening his spine and driving him feral to meet it.

He wanted desperately for her to find what she was looking for - or not find it, if that were the case. The challenge he'd set for himself all those months ago left his success in her hands - in all of theirs. It would be measured only by their own, and his satisfaction by theirs.

When she seemed reasonably so – at least for the time being – it placated him as much as it drove him onward. It was a perpetual motion machine, and he had no idea how it would end. He loved that feeling, though.

"I'll believe that when I see it. It's gonna take a lot to restore my faith in this broken system, and being only half as corrupt as the others just isn't going to cut it."

But despite her jaded outlook, he could tell she was trying to keep even a slight smile from her features. She willed it away, strengthening her resolve, and he did the same. "You have a big job ahead of you. I hope you're up for it."

He was more than up for it - and people like her ensured he would never become complacent. No matter how much good he did, there would always be more. People in this city had become accustom to accepting less, but he would show all of them how good it could be - how it was supposed to be.

As it so often did, his mind drifted to the future, and his eyes simultaneously to the little girl on the bench. She kicked her legs happily to the music he could hear blaring across the short distance, but his concern went beyond the harm to her eardrums.

"Is there another family member she can stay with?" he asked. "I will obviously not send her home to him."

"No. He saw to that personally." Contempt easily maneuvered past lips weary from restraint, but the helpless look she gave could only be read as a plea. "He's all she's got."

Pursing his lips, Sesshoumaru nodded once. As it was, the system – his system – had very little to offer a girl like Rin. Orphaned and discarded children were piling up faster than he could count them, and the stigma ensured that even those who could afford to take them in rarely were willing to.

There were a few organizations that did so, but they left much to be desired. Besides being overcrowded and underfunded, too many operated for the tax benefits - or as a laundry for other ill-gotten gains. But it was better than leaving her with the likes of Naraku... for now. His hands were tied.

"Then I must arrange for-"

"I will take her."

Her sudden interjection cut his game of mental orphan tetris short, and he wondered if she could read his thoughts. Eying her dubiously, he raised a brow. "You are equipped to take on a child?"

"My mother can help me," she insisted. "I live on her shrine, and my niece is her age."

He followed her line of sight once more, before settling back on the woman's fond expression. "They're friends. She can stay in my brother's old room - that's where Mei sleeps when she visits us on the weekends. It's perfect for a little girl."

"Does anyone else live with you?" he wondered aloud.

Kagome shook her head. "No, not anymore."

The mournful note she employed was easy enough to detect, but he found himself curious as to who she had lost. Most likely a father, or grandfather. Though not too young to marry, she was a bit young to be a widow. Though, with how the city had been spiraling...

"Look, I know there is a lot of red tape-"

"I will take care of it," he said, making a split-second decision. "The important thing right now is getting her someplace safe."

He would be making a lot of tough calls in the days to come, and though he'd just met this woman, he couldn't afford to look a gift horse in the mouth.

His thoughts were distant and troubled, but he gazed with softness down to the 8-year-old allegory. This time, Kagome didn't prevent her smile from breaking through.

"Thank you, Councilor Taisho."

"Sesshoumaru," he insisted, returning her appreciation silently as their arrangement became settled.

The dark clouds in the distance were almost upon them, and his eyes shifted from them over to the street to confirm that his car remained the only one parked there. He gestured to it.

"Allow me to give you a ride. I would be negligent to not inspect your shrine before leaving a child in your care." And then, that election-winning smile returned. "Not that I don't trust you."

She didn't appear prepared for the offer. "Of course," she tried not to stammer. "No, that makes sense."

What didn't make sense was how such a busy man had so much spare time to handle his due diligence personally, but she wasn't about to question it.

Taking Rin's hand, she let him lead them over to his sleek black town car. The driver easily beat them to the door and then shut it behind them.

On the bench seat opposite them, Rin was dancing to her music as much as she could with a seatbelt on. Sesshoumaru, meanwhile, had pulled a card out of his pocket.

"This is my cell," he said as he scribbled on the back of it. "Call if you need anything at all."

He could see the unasked questions trying not to tumble out ungratefully as she accepted his card. Chronically suspicious, this woman was conditioned to be mistrustful - which was smart on her part. He just hoped that one day, a stranger's kindness and a public servant's compassion were not such a bewildering thing to behold.

"I did promise to make myself accessible to the masses," he reminded her. "How can I represent my constituents unless I am kept abreast of their needs?"

"I have to admit, you've already done more than the last slimeball that held your job." As she slid his card into her purse, he assumed the jab was considered high praise coming from her; he would take it.

"The city compensates those who take in children like Rin," he said, turning his attention to the distracted girl. "I will make a few calls and get the ball rolling, but I confess, it may take a few days."

It was a strange feeling, apologizing for inefficiencies in the system instead of attacking them. But as of yesterday, it was his responsibility now to make it actually work for people - one of his many, many promises.

But he wanted ownership, and he'd gotten it. And until he built something he could be proud of, the shame would just have to be his to shoulder. It was an uncomfortable feeling he was not accustomed to, and would serve as a fine motivator- not than he needed another one.

His brief lament must have slackened his guard enough to let his frustration show, and it must have rung authentic to soften the mistrusting woman's features into a genuine smile - though he somehow doubted she wore any other kind.

"You are the first person who's ever seemed to give a damn about what happens to her," she said gently... then sneered. "At least the only one with the balls to do anything about it."

"No child should have to endure what she has," he proclaimed firmly, meeting her eyes. "I will make sure he gets what is coming to him."

She scoffed. "You'd have to kill him to manage that."

When he managed to catch her eye, whatever she saw gleaming in them provoked an equally thrilling reaction. He could feel the crisp rush of energy shooting up her spine, making the hairs on her neck stand on end in a way he usually associated with danger... but she certainly wasn't afraid of him.

He was no stranger to the curiosity and intrigue of those brave enough to hold his gaze, for even in the rare occurrence someone didn't recognize him by face or name, the strange coloring was uncommon and beautiful enough to warrant an involved inspection.

The gold he possessed was rarer and more coveted than any bar or trinket - yet another staple of his unmistakable pedigree, and a reason he bemoaned not inheriting his mother's soul-rending silver. Only those born of his father's blood had ever been touched with the stunning trait, but as far as he was concerned, it was just another resemblance he didn't ask for.

Now, for the first time ever, he got to experience the awesome sensation for himself as he realized this young woman before him held at least one thing in common with himself - something that would set them apart in anyone else's company.

He'd never seen eyes that color before. Not in this part of the world, and even the westerners who could claim some shade of that dazzling blue would be so unremarkable and dull in comparison, he would consider it a comedy to associate them. Perhaps even a crime.

He knew his gaze had overstayed its welcome when she finally buckled under the weight of it - though he had to admit, she'd withstood it commendably. He would normally find relief as she averted her eyes shyly, and annoyance, perhaps boredom, at the pretty blush he considered standard practice. But he was oddly gratified by her response to him, and suddenly felt uncharacteristically inclined to prolonging the exchange.

"Are you seeking new employment?" he asked safely as she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her skirt.

She sighed. "I'm gonna have to. But it's so hard to find work that accommodates my rigorous class schedule. I'm working toward my doctorate... after I get my masters, that is."

Lest he offend, he masked his surprise. What were the odds that two strange females had managed to knock him off his game in the stretch of one hour?

Was his stressful job already taking its tole? He'd hate to see what will become of him after his term was over.

Then again, if she were to react as Rin had to his being stunned stupid, it might be entirely worth the humiliation. Would her responding smile fill him with that same warmth Rin's had achieved?

"Your major?" he asked instead, and received a beaming smile from her anyhow. He was rather pleased with the result.

"Physics. I'm studying to be an Aeronautical Engineer." She made her claim proudly, which only made his flat response sound more dubious in comparison.

"... A rocket scientist."

"In layman's terms," she chuckled, "but nobody really calls us that."

More at a loss for words than stunned silent this time; he didn't try hiding his disbelief, but that she misconstrued the nature of it said more about her than him, in his opinion.

"What? Don't think women can design complex machinery?"

"I did not say that," he said smoothly - trying to not sound as defensive as she did. "It is simply quite a leap up from part-time babysitter to the low and loathsome."

She made an indignant sound, and somehow managed to adjust self-importantly. "Not all of us have a famous surname to open all our doors for us," she thought to inform him. "The rest of us actually have to earn everything we have, and that means taking what we can get until we prove we are worthy of it."

As she looked pointedly out the window at the world passing by, she was not privy to his scowl. But the air in the car became as menacing as the dark clouds above.

"Everything I have, I have earned a thousand times over." The chilling edge to his tone earned back her attention, wary as it was, and her condescension fell away guiltily when she saw she'd upset him. "I have worked incredibly hard to ensure I never needed anything from my father, including his legacy."

"I didn't say you did," she sighed in apology. "but it's called being born on third base. Everyone recognizes your name before they even meet you, and it gives you a major advantage."

He was still glaring at her unhappily, so she looked back out the window to continue her explanation. "Most of us had to strike out a lot before even getting to first, and then, we still had to be lucky. When you're not in the club, you have to work twice as hard for things that the ones who are just get handed to them."

It was nothing he didn't know, but the accusation stuck in his craw most uncomfortably. He'd worked so hard to be his own man - a separate, completely different, unquestionably better man than the one who had sired him – but no matter what he did, his father's vast achievements and status would always be his albatross. His inescapable shadow. But it was more than that...

Sure, he'd been born into power and privilege, had every advantage, every connection he required. But where his father used his influence to garner the gratuitous wealth he now had at his disposal, Sesshoumaru vowed to redisperse it where it would do the most good - benefit society and its inhabitants the most. Put it where it belonged.

And as an ignorant mind guided a foolish hand, he used what he needed to make himself better, so that he could disperse his fortune wisely. Still, without his fruits born, people would never understand it, and he could not blame them. But one day, they would see. He just had to keep working.

"Luckily for us, the things you want benefit more than just yourself."

The small hand suddenly resting on his arm was gentle, yet bore a substantial weight - enough to make his gaze linger there before rising to meet a stranger's in a way that was far too comfortable to be comfortable.

The moment was brief, likely due to its intensity, and the warmth of her hand was quickly withdrawn. He could still feel the ghost of it, but his lasting stare verified her absence.

"But you haven't inherited the finest economy to preside over," she continued, "and unfortunately, that means I have not inherited the most robust workforce to enter into. So until I get that fancy degree, I need to take what I can get to pay the bills."

Despite resenting her outlook, she was hard to resent - and impossible not to pity. Though money was never an issue for him, the demands of higher education were ones he would never forget, no matter how much he longed to. If he had to go through all that again, even he wasn't so sure he could manage to. He straightened his tie unnecessarily - a nervous habit he'd adopted in prep school.

"I just hope that next time, you will choose your employer more carefully." Eyeing her a moment, he frowned slightly. "Speaking of luck, that could have ended a lot worse for you. Especially with the way you betrayed him. Apparently, much of the police force would not attempt such a feat."

She smiled again and shrugged. "Well, I guess that means you have a bunch of pussies on the payroll then, Councilor."

"Indeed," he replied with a smirk as she went back to looking out the window.

"I fear things are not looking good for our dear city."

"Would you be willing to assist?" he asked. "I need at least one officer with some balls, apparently."

Her responding burst of laughter was rife with mockery and condescension, and he smirked all the wider for it. "They couldn't handle me. Half the force would quit on my first day."

"Perhaps that would be for the best." He was only half-joking.

"Sorry, but you know... physics." But her unrepentant grin made her look less than remorseful.

"Typical," he dismissed, taking his turn to stare out at the passing scenery. "It is easy to point out the flaws in our system – to that I can attest - but no one is willing to do the hard work it takes to fix it."

"You are."

He turned slowly, so as not to show his cards for yet a third time that day. She sounded so genuine, looked just so, that if she were not, she certainly had what it took to thrive in politics for sure.

Only because he knew she had brighter ambitions, he smiled. "The efforts of one man will not be enough." Then, for good measure, he lifted his nose. "Impressive as he may be."

"What about me?" she laughed. "Taking sweet orphans in off the street out of the kindness of my heart - when I'm not working tirelessly to launch humanity into the next frontier... I help when I can."

"You do," he conceded. "Though Rin is not exactly an orphan."

"Not yet." Shifting in her seat beside him, she looked at him like she knew something he didn't. "Sometimes, good things happen."

"Rarely," he countered. "unless you make them."

His words were cautionary, his smirk knowing. There was a threat in his tone, but a promise in his eyes, and the combination sent that thrill all the way back up her spine once more, he could tell.

She repressed an outward shiver – but just barely – and kept her composure, save for closing her eyes just long enough for him to notice.

"Councilor Taisho, you and I are finally in agreement."

The deep blue ocean of her gaze was pulling him in with the tide, and instinct broke him free of it despite having no desire to.

"Just promise me you will be more discerning in the future. Even though a job pays well, you mustn't undervalue your safety. I should hate for anything to happen to you. So should Rin."

It was unclear if she recognized the well of his concern, or if she simply just realized in that moment how her life was not hers alone to gamble with. He was certain she had people who cared about her, and she likely knew it. But a young child - particularly one with nowhere else to turn – suddenly had a tangible stake in her wellbeing now, too. Should anything happen to Kagome, Rin would now suffer... even more. It was a large responsibility, a sobering one, and hopefully, a motivating one.

"So," he twisted to her, crossing his leg over the other, "which manner of rocket do you intend to one day build?" The change of topic seemed to relax her, and that pleased him.

"It's pretty complicated," she said dismissively. "you wouldn't understand."

"On the contrary, theoretical physics is one of the three scientific disciplines in which I earned a PhD."

His face remained passive, even through her answering snort. "Sure. How long did that take you, twelve years? You look kinda young for that."

Her merriment endured through what he was sure she intended to be an insulting once-over, but so did his disaffected countenance. He was well accustomed to her dismissive skepticism by now, not that he wouldn't have relished it anyhow.

"Eight," he replied causally, "and thank you, but I began my formal training at fifteen, so I had a bit of a head start." Her amusement fell away when his smug smile never did, and he looked out the window again.

"All those years in England, but I was too deep inside my books to visit Big Ben, can you believe it?" He didn't have to look to know she was just starting to. "I may return someday, but I cannot leave Tokyo until I get it up to par. I hear it's not that great, anyway."

He did a poor job sounding regretful, but her reflection in his window made it terribly difficult.

"Are you serious?"

"Painfully so, I am told."

After failing to intimidate or impress her with his power or his money, his fame or his poll-winning looks, his scholarly achievements were enough to finally do the trick. Or at least, win her respect. Not until he knew he had it did he realize it really meant something to him.

But despite his immense gratification, he only straightened his cufflinks indifferently.

"Perhaps there are some who use their advantage on third base to simply coast their way to an easy victory, but I never cared for the American pastime." His eyes flitted to hers briefly to find her sufficiently dumbfounded yet enraptured.

Was that how he had looked to her earlier? Did she feel as warm inside as he had?

"I much prefer the rules of golf, where a winner is decided in relation to each player's handicap. That is how success is best measured, in This One's well-educated opinion."

His reward of silence quickly drew tiresome, so he effortlessly changed the subject.

"Tell me about your rocket," he demanded, pulling back. "What is your objective? Exploration?"

She shook herself back easily, and that mocking grin returned. "All science is exploration, Councilor. My field in particular."

"Those in your field tend to dream big," he informed her needlessly. "Hoping to reach strange new worlds? Touch what no man - perhaps no living being - has yet to?"

"Not exactly," she answered cryptically, despite his obvious interest.

"Launching satellites, then? I am quite anxious to finally see Hubble 2 out of the gate."

"No."

"You desire to aid in crewed spaceflight?" It would have been the most pedestrian guess, but to be honest, it was by far the most intriguing.

"Hmm... not quite," she teased, "but warmer."

She was having a bit too much fun drawing out his torture and reveling in his ignorance, but his genuine interest kept him invested. He played along.

"Autonomic mission," he guessed next. "Go beyond where the human body can travel."

He thought he had it when she appeared to consider her answer carefully. "Let's just say, what I want to do would take a human body far beyond what is currently considered possible. My ambitions are what people only fantasize about."

"Hn, that is exactly what I told my homecoming date junior year."

His smug statement drew her from her reverie, and the accompanying grin inspired her own devious glint.

"Then you understand why I work so hard. Expectations are high, and I'd hate to disappoint someone."

"I have told you," he leaned in again, still smirking. "This One never makes a promise he does not intend to keep."

Her attention drifted to the seat across from them, whether it was for confirmation or distraction, he could not say.

"Intentions are well and good, but worthless if you can't deliver."

"I have never made a claim I have not seen through, and then some."

Rin's childish chair-dancing had apparently become incredibly interesting, and when her former babysitter squirmed a little in her own seat, he pulled back. The woman was far too enjoyable to banter with, and quick enough to force him to guard his tongue, lest it outmaneuver his brain for once.

"Well then, I am curious; how far do you think a human can travel?" she asked. "In your wildest dreams?"

Shrugging, he leaned back further in his seat. "That depends on whether you intend to exit your craft upon arrival." A simple nod was his answer.

"Mars, then," he said confidently. "Everywhere else is either too far, or too inhospitable."

"If that is the extent of your imagination, your homecoming date really is to be pitied."

Returning her coy smile, he conceded defeat with a deferential wave. "Pray tell, then. I am dying to hear where your fantasies take you."

"I'm afraid we don't know each other well enough for that."

After a beat, when he realized she truly did intend to leave him out on a ledge, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been baited so beautifully.

"Just tell me which method of thrust is employed. Once I learn what you are working with, I will know everything I need to."

"Hn, that's what I told my prom date senior year."

"What classification?" he asked again, not allowing her inuendo to derail him in the slightest. When she didn't answer, he pressed further. "I bet I can guess."

"What do you wanna bet?"

"Whatever you wish." He waved his hand carelessly. "If I don't get it, you may choose your prize. It is a moot point anyhow."

"Confident man."

"And with good cause."

"It will be your downfall."

"So they say," he countered. "However, it has yet to be demonstrated."

When she appeared to be considering him with new eyes, he felt new. Though the way he lifted his chin in response predated many of his learned habits.

"As a man of science, you know that theories are just facts waiting to be proven."

With the gauntlet thoroughly thrown, he dove right in.

"Is it a bipropellant system?"

"No."

"Nuclear thermal propulsion?"

"Nope."

"Nuclear electric?"

She shook her head. "Huh-uh."

"Are you planning to-"

"Sorry." She silenced him by putting up her hand. "Three strikes, you're out, Councilor."

But that didn't stop him from swinging. After a few more guesses, he'd reached the extent of his vast mental catalogue.

Had he really been out of the game that long? He tried his best to remain current in all his areas of expertise, but he'd just been so busy lately...

"Nitro-cellulose nitroglycerin system," he tried again, and with a pitying bottom lip out, she shook her head yet again. He managed to contain his huff, but just barely.

"I have named every plausible method of carrying a manned machine through space - even those which remain in the theoretical." She didn't try to refute him. "Unless the unthinkable has occurred and something has slipped past my notice, you must have an original prototype."

"Guess so," she shrugged casually, much as he had before. "Maybe you can guess it by Friday."

Creasing his brow, he wondered, "What is Friday?"

"My prize. You're taking me to dinner."

He blinked. "Am I?"

"And it better be good, too. It's been a rough week; I need something to look forward to."

He'd definitely heard of worse debts to settle. It didn't feel much like he'd lost at all.

"I am a man of my word; you will learn yet."

It was only after it left his mouth that he realized how she would interpret it. He thought to backpedal, but another long, considering gaze killed the words in his throat.

"I hope so, Sesshoumaru."

She'd managed to stun him silent one more time before his driver slowed to a stop. He looked out the window and, sure enough, they were parked in front of a surprisingly steep stairway leading up to an old family shrine.

He reorganized his thoughts enough to take note of his surroundings and commit the location to his memory. Knowing what he did of Naraku, security detail would need to be assigned... at least until he took care of the vermin properly.

A brief tour was all he had time for, unfortunately, but it was more than enough to satisfy him as far as its suitability. The residence was already childproofed, and her mother was kind. There were no drugs, no dogs... and no husbands, he noted.

His excursion had gone on long enough, and had proved quite invigorating. There was a lot of work to do, and he had important orders to issue as soon as he got back to his staff. But she had his card, and if nothing else, he would see her Friday.

After bidding Rin and her mother farewell, Kagome walked him back to the top of the stairs, and with a thankful smile, she began to head back inside.

"Kagome..."

She spun, wearing her nerves on her sleeve even before seeing the intensity in his gaze. And then he grabbed her wrist. "You've got to give me something until then."

He could hear her breath quicken suddenly, see her pulse jumping out of her throat, but he was still, and beseeching, and absolutely desperate. She instantly relaxed, and a smile warmed her features.

"You have to guess."

He tugged lightly with his gentle grip, but it was enough. "If I die of anticipation, your dinner on Friday will be rather dull." He softened his eyes to rival a sad puppy's. "Have I not earned that much?"

When she pouted at the guilt trip, he could practically hear her thoughts: 'Damn, manipulative politicians. Dirty, shameless...' He finally released her.

"Where in space do you intend to travel?"

She didn't owe him anything - taking care of the people was his job now. But he'd certainly earned it, and really, it was not very much to ask.

She seemed to agree. "You're putting too much emphasis on space, Councilor."

He found himself both disappointed by the use of his title once again and thrilled by its return. He'd never yearned to hear his given name so badly, and became enthralled with the prospect of hearing it from her lips again. Where, and when, and how she would say it was already blooming into an obsession, but it was what he would have to do to earn the privilege yet again that already had him reeling on the inside.

Outside, he was cool as always. Calm, at least.

"Diminishing space is not an unpleasant notion to This One," he rumbled lowly. "at least where you and I are concerned."

Her hand absentmindedly went to stroke her wrist where he had touched her, and when they locked eyes, he wondered if she was finding the same things he was. If she was losing the same things.

"I meant that I find time much more fascinating," she clarified, sounding slightly flustered as she did so.

"Do you?" he demanded quickly. With her, you had to be quick. "Then how about seven? Friday night."

A few calming breaths helped her pulse rate to slow, and in that time, she managed to gather herself.

"It's a start." Her nonchalant answer sounded more than a little forced, but fearing the husk in his own tone, he only smiled back devilishly.

He watched her walk back to her home, and relished when she reached the door and threw one last glance at him over her shoulder.

"No, Kagome," he said quietly, returning her parting wave. "It has already begun."

*

A/N:

Things I am not an expert in: Japanese politics, university degree paths, child welfare systems...

I do work in aerospace, but you'll be surprised to know I'm not a rocket scientist, so don't look to me for accuracy there either ;o)

And I know no one refers to it as aeronautics anymore, I just liked the way it sounded better lol.