A/N: This came to me in a huge burst of inspiration and I wrote it in less than two hours. Thank a bunch of really sad songs and one of the saddest stories I've ever read for this (if anyone has ever read "Magic's Pawn" by Mercedes Lackey, you know what I'm talking about). Don't hate me for this.

He had to wait until full dark. The villagers only left when they could no longer maintain their vigil and were falling asleep standing. He would not dishonor her by interrupting their ceremony. Even the sniffling toad that accompanied him agreed with his decision, calmly waiting a short distance into the forest.

She had been well-loved by her people, that much was painfully clear. She was no priestess with holy powers, but she had been trained by the best and her skill was apparent to anyone who she had healed. No one was ever turned away, no one unworthy of her help. After all, she had once worked her will on a moody demon; an ill human was nothing in comparison.

He refused to feel what his soul demanded.

She was only supposed to stay with the old miko until she came of age and then come away with him. But war had called him to defend his lands from the encroaching east. He could still see her smile and wish him luck as he delivered the news. Neither one knew it would be nearly fifteen years until he returned. By the time he had been victorious and come to collect her, she had been married to a lordling from a neighboring village.

Pointed teeth ground in remembered anger.

She had looked up at him with those deep brown eyes and smiled sadly as she told him. If she had begged his forgiveness he would have destroyed the lord, their children, and most likely her in the process. But she had stated the facts in a calm voice, anticipating his rage and accepting the consequences of her decision, only asking that if he was going to kill her family to make their deaths quick. She asked for no such mercy for herself.

Claws flexed with the need to lash out at something, anything.

Ten more years passed before he allowed himself to see her again. He watched from the trees as her daughter wed. The girl had her mother's eyes. Her son also had her defining feature, somehow managing to not look feminine. The older man next to her looked at his wife with love written on all of his features.

Regrets of not killing the human who had touched her spun through his mind.

He watched her quite often after that, always from a distance, never letting on that he was there. More than once he had seen her look towards the western sky and sigh deeply, as if in sorrow. On those days he was hard pressed to not snatch her away from her mundane life.

An unfamiliar tightness grabbed his chest.

On the same day every year she would pack a basket and walk to her old village. She never went inside, but made her way to the small hill above the river where he had taken his leave of her and left for war. She never said his name, only saying 'Jaken' and 'Ah-Un' over and over. He had strained his hearing and heard a sobbed '-sama' in her muffled cries.

The tightness crept into his throat.

The next morning she was always fine after sleeping under the stars. Then she would go into the village and visit her old friends. The next day she went home and didn't return until the next year. When she grew aged enough that the yearly journey was too much for her, she moved the ritual to a hill just outside her own village.

A strange burning started behind his eyes.

Finally, the time came when she could not even make the short trip to her own hill and that was when he knew the end was near. Less than a week later her son and his sons started digging the hole in front of him. He would not be welcome in her village and respected her enough to not force it. His turn would come soon enough.

Assured the humans would not disturb him, he motioned to the toad and walked to the raised mound of dirt. A large rock was laid at one end of the grave, with several more on the other side of the clearing, ready to be moved into place once it was light enough. His servant fell to his knees and made no attempt to hide his tears.

The burning increased tenfold as he stared down at the dirt.

An idea struck him and he seized upon it like a lifeline. Slicing through the cloth at his elbow was the work of a second. The sound of cloth tearing made Jaken look up in confusion. "Milord?" Ignoring the imp was second nature as he spread the arm of his kimono on the grass.

Demonic pride warred with foreign emotion as he gathered his knee-length fall of silver hair in one hand. One swipe of a razor-sharp claw allowed the thick mass to fall limply to the ground. He rolled the hair up in the kimono cloth and knotted it so the flower she had loved to trace when he carried her was visible.

"Leave me."

The toad, for once, knew better than to protest and sniffled a final goodbye before retreating to the trees. Sesshomaru waited until Jaken was out of sensing distance before placing the precious bundle carefully next to the stone marker. A purple orchid, carefully held against his heart, was put on top of the cloth. He wanted to rage, to kill, to damn the man that took her from him and allowed her to die to the lowest pits of hell. If she had only waited…

A small voice inside him insisted that she would have if he had only sent word once during those fifteen years. She mourned her decision her entire life, you idiot! There was the anger he needed. He raged at himself, berating his stupidity and belief in human loyalty. Untrue, dog. She was more loyal to you than you ever deserved, you ungrateful cur!

A solitary tear slipped from his eye, marking its way down his cheek with a hot streak. A second followed as he punched the ground in despair. A single anguished sob escaped him before he regained control. Heaving breaths marked the passing time as he calmed himself. He stood and gave a formal bow to the stone.

"Farewell, Rin, my love."

He never wiped away the evidence of his tears.