A/N: The next chapter of Songbird is underway, but this story has been a little earworm, whispering to me for far too long. Like Songbird, it's a little bit different, and that's something that I like.

Prologue

Found(ry)

It wasn't the first time that humans had left things for him.

Totosai had lived on this volcano within the Western Lands, since before humans had ever settled there. And when they had, they had thought him some sort of God. They weren't so stupid now- they had grown and learned- but they still feared whatever wrath that he might bring down upon him.

It wasn't so much that he could control the volcano, but they didn't know that. They thought that the Volcano was alive, and paid fealty to it as such. And so, years melted into decades, and then centuries, and they still left him gifts, like it would stop the volatile nature of the land around them.

And usually they were baskets full of the things that he liked. Sweet breads and candies. Lengths of beautiful silk and large rugs that he liked to decorate his hut with. Cast iron skillets that he didn't need, but used nonetheless. What good was it to waste such charity?

But this year had been different. It had been scorching and so dry, that the crops dried up with whatever moisture had left the earth. Nothing that they tilled took, and days only breathed hotter and hotter as the season wore along. And the volcano rumbled.

It always rumbled, with a slow and steady growl, but this was more pronounced. You could feel it shake the ground sometimes, if you were still enough. Totosai had been there long enough to know that there wasn't a fear of eruption yet- he'd give it another half-century or so.

But the humans were new to this land in the grand scheme of things, and they did what they always did when things didn't go right. They blamed the Gods and then tried to fix it.

And so when he pulled off the cloth covering from the basket, he was surprised to find a baby, no more than a few months old. Fat and reddened cheeks, with a cloth diaper wrapped around its behind.

His mouth went dry. This was new, this was something that he had no knowledge of. Sure, he knew that humans elsewhere sacrificed their young, but to him? What had he ever done to incite such fear into the villagers down below? There was a momentary pang that blew through him; he'd meant to do no such thing. He kept to himself, tinkering away in his forge and he forged weapons for the youkai of old.

And then he thought rationally, remembering that even though they weren't stupid anymore, humans held the base instinct on blaming nature upon creatures such as himself. He didn't know what he was more sorry for- that they had fallen into times so bad that they felt the need to sacrifice their children, or that he couldn't do anything to fix it.

The child was awake, watching him curiously. It was quiet, too quiet. Weren't babies supposed to cry? He distinctly remembered a certain Western Lord, and his pup of a child, hollering horrifically as his father held onto him while he tried to place an order. He held his finger towards the child and it reached out, catching it in a small fist. And then it hiccuped and cooed and smiled at him, and Totosai's heart melted. He was in trouble, so much trouble.

Carefully he lifted the child, trying to support its head. Trying to remember what Touga-san had taught him, right after Sesshoumaru-sama was born. Many youkai were rough with their kin, but you couldn't be with humans. One squeeze too hard, and the child could be snapped into two, effortlessly.

But the baby didn't wail, which Totosai took as a victory. He stuck a finger into the diaper to pull it away, chancing a look. A girl, a little girl.

Some poor, poor family had given up their child, for a better harvest. Weather. Life.

A lesser youkai would eat it. Totosai would do no such thing. He shifted the child to lay against his shoulder, before kneeling to pick up the basket. He would come gather the rest of these gifts later. For now, the little girl was his sole focus.

And so, he turned on the trail to head back up the mountain.

The little girl didn't cry once.

Rin, the parents had named her.

You weren't supposed to name a child until they were a year old, but this family had broken tradition.

He was also fairly certain that you weren't supposed to write a letter to whom you sacrificed your child to. His fingers smoothed over the thin vellum, tracing the carefully inked letters. He found himself surprised that they could write, since many humans couldn't. There were splotches where water had dripped onto it, smearing the words slightly.

Tears, he realized.

Volcano-san,

We find ourselves without option. Breads and sweets, and our works have not appeased you. The days grow longer and hotter, and the soil dry and parched. Perhaps our life's greatest work will finally appease you.

Her name is Rin.

It wasn't signed. And Totosai was glad that it wasn't. He didn't want to know their names, he didn't want to place their faces. He glanced at the little girl, who lay quietly in her basket. He had rolled up a small cloth, tying it off in the rough shape of a doll. Enough to keep the child occupied. She snuggled into it, dozing quietly.

They expected him to eat her.

He couldn't, not that it would have made a difference if he had. He can do a lot of things, but control a volcano and nature itself, wasn't upon that list. A day had passed, and he needed advice.

Totosai packed the little girl up and took her to an old friend.

"Keep her," Bokusenou-san said to him simply.

Totosai wasn't sure why the thought had crossed his mind before that moment, but it seemed to be a logical thing. But… still… "A forge isn't a place for a young child," he replied with a sigh.

"Her parents didn't want her, correct?" Totosai wasn't so sure about that- he was still convinced that they had been forced into sacrificing her, but he said no such thing. "It would be cruel to throw the child away," the tree continued with. "What would Touga-san have done?"

"That old dog has nothing to do with this," Totosai groused.

"Of course not, but what would he had done? That old dog is a stellar example of how youkai should act. Humans don't understand it, but we were created by the Gods to protect them."

"And so the Gods threw a child at me," Totosai huffed. He could barely protect himself. There was a reason that retreating was one of his best talents.

If Bokusenou-san could have shrugged, he would have. Instead there was only the slight rustling of the leaves above them. "I don't pretend to know what they are thinking, Totosai-san. No one truly knows their nature."

"Hmm," Totosai hummed, tapping his knee thoughtfully. Rin was nestled gently into the basket within his lap, and he looked at her. She still didn't cry, only cooed with a toothless smile, as she wriggled slightly in her blankets. He reached out his finger to her, and she latched onto it without trouble. "I suppose that it has been lonely in the forge." Not to mention his little hut, at the top of the mountain. Mo-Mo, his faithful ox, had been his only family for centuries.

"Then there, perhaps, is your reason." The tree sounded almost bored.

"There is a complication though," the old smith muttered, as he played with Rin. "I know nothing about caring for human children."

At that, Bokusenou-san's lips twisted into a wide smile. "Luckily for you, there is something that would be more than pleased to help you."

Totosai cocked his head to the side as he thought, and when he realized, he stood up abruptly, holding the basket tightly to his chest. "Absolutely not!" he snapped. "I refuse to ask her!"

But the tree just laughed at him, and he kept laughing even after the smith left his clearing.

Despite his vehement vow to never contact her, he ended up writing to the Lady Izayoi anyhow.

It wasn't that he disliked the woman. No, he adored her. She had wit and creativity, and the sun shone wherever she went. The moment that Touga-san had introduced her to him all those years ago, he had instantly known what drew the old dog to her.

She was also the reason that his old friend was dead.

Touga-san had made him promise that he would protect her in his absence, and the best way to do that was to never contact her. It was one-half responsibility, one-half hatred- even if he could never fully hate her.

But after three days of barely getting the child to eat something and rather unsuccessful diaper changes, he had given up hope. He had penned a short letter and delivered it by a raven youkai, fully expecting her to not answer at all. He couldn't remember her exact age, but she wasn't a young girl anymore, and humans only became frail as they got older.

They gave me a child, he had written to her. And I have no idea how to care for her.

And so he waited. She ate what he gave her, but unhappily. He managed to change her diapers, but made a mess of it. And he still had no clothes for her. And despite it all, the baby hadn't cried once.

And to his surprise, the raven returned to him the next day, with a short reply.

I'm on my way.

The Lady Izayoi wasn't dressed in the finery that he used to see her in. She had shed her intricate junihitoe for an informal haori and hakama set. "Easier to travel this way," she told him, climbing down the side of Ah-Un. Touga-san had left her the dragon upon his death, and despite her attempts to set him free, the youkai was as loyal as ever.

Her hair was pulled into a simple bun, and gray streaked through the black strands. Her face was youthful, but carried the lines of her age. Totosai was struck by how time passed differently for her, than him. She had been so young what seemed like only yesterday.

It had been almost three decades since they had last met face-to-face, and the change to her was astounding.

She swept her gaze around the mountain, her eyes passing from his little hut, towards the cave where his forge was built. "This place hasn't changed a bit," she said with amusement. "Neither have you, Totosai-san."

"You're as lovely, as the last time that I saw you," he said, bowing slightly.

She tutted slightly, waving the thought away. "Nonsense. I know that I look ancient to you. Now then-" She paused, a conspiratorial smile spreading across her face. "Where is the girl?"

So much like Touga-san, even now. He waved towards his hut and led her there.

The knowledge that Izayoi imparted to him was invaluable. She couldn't teach him everything in the day that she spent there, but she had told him the basics, and suddenly he didn't feel like a bumbling fool when it came to things.

The most valuable wisdom that she gave him was when she left. She had swung her leg over Ah-Un, settling across his back comfortably. "Before I leave, Totosai-san, I will say this- there is no right or wrong, when it comes to raising a child. You will learn as much, as you teach them. Never forget that."

And as he watched Rin grow, he came to realize that she was right. With every year, new challenges were added, as old lines were crossed. Parenthood was a constant learning experience, and Rin taught him something knew with every day.

By the time that Rin was four, he loved her with every fiber of his being.

Rin was six, the next time the Lady Izayoi came to visit.

This time her hair had transformed from black into a beautiful silver sheen, sparkling under the sunlight. Rin was tall for a girl, already past Totosai's hip, and she regarded the woman carefully. Warily, even.

"Rin-chan, you know how you have clothes sent once a year?" he said, patting her head gently.

Rin's face scrunched up slightly as she thought. "Izayoi-san," she said. He had been teaching her how to read, and he had started with the letters that the Lady sent with her yearly packages.

"This is her, Rin-chan," he said to her.

The girl's gaze swept from him, to the Lady, her expression morphing as she realized that she was a friend, not a foe. She ran to her, stopping right before Ah-Un. Lady Izayoi scrambled down his back with grace, but there was a stiffness about her now that Totosai couldn't ignore. He frowned slightly.

"Hello Rin-chan," she said with mirth. "This isn't the first time that we have met, but it's the first time that you'll remember for sure. The last time that I was here, you were only a baby."

Rin thought about her reply carefully, and then she said, "Thank you for the clothes. And the books," she added as an afterthought. Then the girl paused. "May I hug you?"

Lady Izayoi laughed and knelt to the ground, holding out her arms. "Of course, Little One."

And Rin hugged her, and the Lady hugged her back. Totosai knew that Izayoi was thrilled, because the girl gave the best hugs out of anyone in the world.

In the blink of an eye, Rin turned thirteen.

Totosai hated it.

He hated how they lived on different life lines, how all he had to do was close his eyes for a moment, and the years have passed for her. He hated that he would outlive her, and then what? He'd be alone again, and it wasn't like he could just find someone else.

Rin could never be replaced.

"Totosai-san, what is wrong?" she asked him, having caught him staring.

They sat at the simple table in the kitchen, eating a simple stew. His hand was clasped gently around the bowl, frozen while he was lost in thought. "Nothing, Rin-chan," he said, pulling the bowl to his mouth for a sip. "Only of how much you've grown."

At that, Rin made a face and he laughed.

"Rin, we never did celebrate your birthday." It wasn't so much the day of the birth that they celebrated, but rather the day that she was gifted to him. He had long since stopped seeing it as a sacrifice. He didn't care for the day in truth, but Rin did, and so, he counted the days until the next year so she would be happy. "What is it that you want? I could send for the Lady Izayoi, if you would like to spend some time with her."

The woman was into her sixties now, but fit enough to handle the girl, if Rin wanted it.

Rin thought, twisting her lip slightly as she did so. It was a little tell of hers, and Totosai thought it adorable. "Can you teach me to smith?" she finally asked.

At that, he almost dropped his bowl. "I… er…. What?"

"I want to learn," she said simply. Then her brow furrowed, like she was afraid that she had said something wrong. "Is that… is that alright?"

Of course it was, he just never thought that she would have been interested. She spent hours at a time with him in the forge, just watching, but he had always assumed that it was because she was bored. There wasn't much to do on the mountain top, and she had read every book that Izayoi had sent her, ten times over.

"Of course it is, Rin-chan."

At that, her smile widened and she said, "I love the colors of the fire, and it's warmth. Spending a day in the forge, is like going home."

At that, Totosai grinned.

He hadn't even taught her anything yet, and she was already a head above any other apprentice he had ever taken.

They started with basic shapes.

Then Rin learned how to make knives.

And then horseshoes, which they delivered to the village down below. They never did so personally- the stabler ventured up the mountain once a month to pick up an order. She was sixteen now, and a young woman, and men were now interested. And they were curious about the woman in the mountains, who lived by herself. They had never seen him, and such assumed as such.

Totosai had told her to never say her name, and so she never did.

Eventually, she made a sword, and it was beautiful. Perfect in its balance, the steel hardened to perfection. Totosai took his hammer and tapped along it, listening to the ping of metal carefully. He wasn't sure that he could have forged anything better.

Rin wasn't an apprentice anymore, it seemed. And when he told her as such, she only grinned back, forcing a tight hug on him. He hugged her right back.

She was one year shy of twenty, when she finally asked him the dreaded question.

"Totosai-san, where exactly did I come from?"

He had never lied to her. She knew that he was a youkai, and that she was a human. But despite all of her curiosity, she had never asked. He vowed to tell her the truth if she ever did, but the question had never come.

That night, they were in the forge. Rin hammered away at a red-hot billet, filling an order for a simple kitchen knife. And Totosai sat on a rock to the side, puffing at his beloved pipe. Rin didn't smoke one, but she loved the smell of the tobacco.

He thought about his words carefully, listening to the rhythmic thump of her hammering. "What brought this question?" he finally asked. Not in anger, but curiosity.

"Keneda-san said something peculiar, when he picked up the order for this month," she replied. Keneda-san, the stabler. Totosai had never quite liked the man. Rin paused in her work, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief. She wiped at her forehead, smearing soot and sweat. "He always asks for my name, and I always tell him that it doesn't matter," she continued with, "To which he said, 'But if I don't know your name, how will I court you?'"

Rin made a disgusted sound. "Could you imagine? He's old enough to be my father."

Totosai wasn't surprised. Despite the lean muscle that Rin carried, she was pretty enough under all the soot and ash that constantly covered her. "And what you say?"

"That I wanted no husband," she huffed. She turned and leaned against the anvil, looking at Totosai seriously. "He went on about how it was improper to live up here by myself. Improper! Ha! What about the impoliteness of wanting to court a woman that you barely know?" And then her face fell sightly, the her edges softened by a meek sadness.

"But then it got me thinking, how it was that I ended up with you. It's never mattered, honestly but-"

"There's no harm in wanting to know," Totosai said to her. "I've never hidden it from you, nor do I ever want to." He puffed at his pipe for a long drag. "You came from the village, though I doubt that's a surprise. For centuries they've left offerings, and I've always taken them. I suppose that's why they know me as Volcano-san, even if we've never met. There was a bad year though. The weather was harsh and they felt the volcano responsible, because humans always have to blame something."

Rin watched him carefully, and he could tell that she didn't like where this was going. "They felt that their offerings were insufficient, so they sacrificed you."

The girl chewed on her lip for a moment. "What on earth did they think you would do with me?"

"Eat you? Throw you in the fires? I have no idea, just like I had no idea what to do with you. Bokusenou-san told me that I should keep you."

"The Old Tree?" she laughed incredulously. She held a fantastic relationship with the tree, often harvesting his branches or bark for specialty projects. A fair trade for conversation, the tree would tell her.

"I was out of my depth, and so I called upon Izayoi-san. She taught me some valuable things."

"I miss her." The last time that she had seen the woman was almost three years past. The Lady was into her late seventies now, and it was near impossible for her to travel. Rin had to go to her, which was easier said than done.

"That is how we ended up here though," he said, taking another drag from his pipe.

"I wonder what they were like," she said. "The ones who threw me away."

Threw her away.

At that, Totosai moved from his seat and set his pipe down upon the ashtray. He told her that he would be right back, and went to the hut. Under his bed, there was a box full of trinkets. One of them a small square of folded up vellum. When he returned to Rin, he handed it to her.

"They didn't throw you away."

He watched as her eyes scanned the parchment. "Her name is Rin," she said quietly. "They named me."

"They loved you."

"You love me too."

"Of course, but they loved you first, and that's why I kept you. You were a gift."

She ran her fingers over the words, careful not to smear them with soot. "This is why you told me to never tell them my name." No doubt the village would know of the girl named Rin, sacrificed to Volcano-san.

"It was a selfish request." Because he feared them taking her from him.

"I want nothing to do with them," she told him. Her expression made it clear that she was very firm in that thought.

"This old man knows," he said, leaning against the anvil next to her. "But this man also knows that humans are unpredictable."

Rin reached out, pulling Totosai into a tight hug. He fell into it, hugging her back. She always gave the best ones. "Thank you, Totosai-san," she said. "Thank you, and I love you."

"I know, Rin-chan," he said, pressing his hand against the back of her head.

"You love me more than they did."

"It isn't a contest."

And it wasn't. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that they still loved her just as much. Rin was young and didn't understand. Maybe she never would.

Rin didn't cry though, she never cried. Not once, had she ever shed a tear. She just held onto him tightly and thanked him over and over, for everything. And he just hugged her back.

Rin was almost twenty-three when his back started to hurt. Totosai was old, and while he didn't like to think about it, it was getting harder for him to forge. As of late, Rin was taking on more and more of his projects.

His youkai clients didn't know such a thing, for they would never come back. Humans had always assumed it was her work to begin with, so it didn't matter to them.

But it mattered to Totosai. He leaned on his rock, puffing at his pipe, watching as Rin worked. The lean muscles of her shoulders rippled, as she struck the molten steel with the hammer. This wasn't a woman that men wanted to marry, he thought. She lacked that soft curves and roundness that they liked. A human her age would already had several children.

She was a spinster. Once, he asked her about it. She just laughed and said, "Do I look like a woman who wants to be married?" No, she didn't, and that was okay.

"That is the sword for Ryukotsusei-sama, yes?"

"Yeah," Rin grunted, sticking the metal back into the forge.

"Is it nearly done?"

"Not one bit. His list of requirements is quite extensive."

At that, Totosai smiled. "I would love to see what you would have said about Touga-san's list of requirements." The Old Dog used to put his skills through the wringer, requesting the most and ridiculous things. He had never once failed to deliver them though.

"The Lord of the West?" she asked, wiping at the sweat on her brow. "Izayoi-san's husband?" She took the tongs and pulled the metal out again, setting it against the anvil.

"He was a man of unique taste, I promise you."

Rin only hummed in response, setting back to work with her hammer.

The next day, she met Keneda-san at the fork in the path, halfway down the mountain. Totosai hid himself, always watching from the side. It wasn't so much that Rin couldn't protect herself, but he couldn't ignore the protective instinct that flooded through him.

He had complained about it to Izayoi-san once, and the woman had laughed at him.

That's what being a father is like, you stupid old ox.

Mo-Mo was the ox, not him, but that wasn't the point.

"Keneda-san," Rin said amicably, reaching out to shake his hand. The stabler took it, and after shaking it, flipped it over to survey the skin.

"Truly my lady, you shouldn't have such callouses." His tone was almost mocking.

Rin frowned at him. "It's never stopped you from reaping the benefits of such callouses."

"Ah but-"

"You are married now, Keneda-san," she said to him. "How is Emiko-san?" His wife had journeyed with him last month, to see the eccentric Rin who lived on the mountain by herself. She didn't delight in being a sideshow act, but she had said nothing, receiving the woman with friendship. And really, Emiko-san wasn't half-bad.

"Worried about you, you know. You shouldn't live up here alone," he said. And to his credit, he sounded genuinely concerned.

"I'm perfectly fine up here," Rin said, beginning to load his orders into the cart.

"She has this friend," he started with. "A very nice man-"

"Keneda-san, as always, I'm not interested. Not to mention I'm too old."

"He's your age and interested," Keneda-san said. "If you would just tell me your name, I could-"

"My name doesn't matter. I'm perfectly fine," she told him, "Volcano-san is the perfect companion. He provides for me and never asks nosy questions. He never tells a woman that she would be more, with a man by her side."

Totosai smiled at her words.

"I wasn't implying such a thing," Keneda-san said, but his genial tone seemed forced.

Rin hefted the last bag of his order onto his cart, patting it slightly. "Keneda-san, that's the last of it. I'll see you next month."

"But-"

"Next month," she repeated.

At that, Keneda-san snapped his mouth shut. "Of course, Ladysmith. Next month, then." He climbed into the driver's bench and hoisted the reins. "Know that you are always welcome in the village though, even for a day."

Rin shot him an incredibly rude gesture, and the man scrunched his lips into a disapproving frown. A moment later, he had spurred his horses into action, and was heading back down the trail.

Once out of sight, Totosai left his hiding spot. "Ladysmith, huh? That's a new one."

"I suppose I'm not dainty enough for 'ma'am' or 'my lady' anymore." Rin waved the thought away. "Trying to pawn me off onto another man, the nerve!"

"Ah well, perhaps he means well."

Rin grunted at that. "He would do well to leave me the hell alone."

At that, Totosai laughed. "Come Rin-chan, let's go make dinner."

He slipped his arm around her shoulder and they began to walk the path back up to the mountain.

He was lucky, he realized. For over twenty years, he had not eaten alone. This little girl, now woman grown, had been thrown into his life, and against all odds, they had made it work.

No one knows their nature, Bokusenou-san had told him once, when talking about the Gods.

The forge is lonely.

Then perhaps, there is your reason.

His forge wasn't lonely anymore.

Perhaps our life's greatest work, will finally appease you, the letter had said to him.

She had. Totosai thanked the Gods for Rin that day, which was quite unlike him.

A/N: A foundry is a place where metal work is done.