Do You Believe? by Akita Inu

Chapter One

He stood on the bridge, arms crossed on a grimy railing.

It was raining, he realized dimly, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel much of anything, really. Not the bitter cold, the lashing wind, the torrential rain, or his breaking heart. He could only see the roiling waves beneath his bridge; he could only think of one thing.

Rin.

He could still see her smiling face, rosy cheeks, and beaming up at him with utter devotion.

But she wasn't here anymore.

He had returned home from is job as the CEO of his father's company a week ago only to find is home ransacked and his little ward . . . they had killed her.

No, butchered her.

He never would have recognized the bloody mass in the yellow and orange yukata as the little girl he had rescued from would-be muggers. Every day he had assured himself that the little girl was simply his responsibility; that was why he put up with her childish nonsense.

But now she was dead, and for the first time since the death of his mother he was . . . lost.

He looked down broodingly at the black waves. They churned and tossed in the autumn storm, but looked strangely inviting to him. He longed to simply jump off and have the waves cradle him, have the cold take him away from this terrible nothingness . . .

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

He whirled around, his silver hair spinning of droplets, and focused hard amber eyes on this creature that dared to interrupt one such as him . . .

A young girl smiled warmly up at him, sapphire eyes sparkling and damp, black hair clinging to her neck. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.

"What do you want?" He asked coldly. The sooner he escaped this meaningless girl, the sooner he could leave this world and its emotions behind.

"I asked you if you believed in reincarnation."

He looked at her carefully. She didn't look insane, but, as he had learned, looks could be terribly deceiving.

"No." he said brusquely. "Now go away."

"That's too bad. If you did, then maybe you could see her again."

His blood ran cold. What did she know? "What do you mean?"

"You lost someone, yes? If you believed in reincarnation, then maybe you could see her again."

In the blink of an eye he was in front of her, glaring. "How do you know?" he hissed.

The girl blinked and faltered, unnerved at his sudden closeness. "I . . . I guessed."

"That is a far guess to make, little girl."

He was almost amused when she frowned at his choice of words to describe her. "Not really."

"You will explain."

She glared at him again, but continued. "There's a look in your eyes. You can see it when someone has lost someone they love, or is helpless to save them. You it was really a 50-50 choice of guy or girl, and I opted for girl."

He nodded, his momentary anger soothed. He turned his back to leave and find a bridge without nosy teenagers on it.

"Tell me about her?"

He turned. "What?"

"Tell me about her. I'd like to know . . . If it's not too much trouble."

YES! His mind screamed at her YES! It is too much trouble! Let me die in peace! But his body somehow overruled his mind, and his mouth opened. He was mildly shocked when he heard himself tell the strange girl about his young ward. How he had saved her, how she had liked to play catch, even how she liked her sandwiches cut in her pink plastic lunchbox.

When he ended his story the girl's eyes were shimmering with tears. He turned to leave, vaguely disgusted with himself when he heard her speak again.

"You hate yourself don't you?"

He whirled around again and assured her coldly, "This Sesshomaru has no reason to hate himself, girl."

She looked up at him again. "But you do. I can see it. You hate yourself for not being there."

Now he was practically boiling with rage. How dare she presume to know him? "Woman," He snarled. "Leave. What I think has nothing to do with you!" he spun around again and began to stalk off.

"She wouldn't've wanted you to." He stopped and looked at her coldly again. "Jump, I mean. Or hate yourself."

"I may do what I please."

"Coward."

"What?" he snarled.

"You're a coward. You'd rather escape your emotions than feel them."

He burned with anger. No one called him a coward and lived. He raced up to her and lifted her off the ground be the collar of her jacket. "SHUT UP!" he snarled. "YOU KNOW NOTHING OF THIS! WHAT HAVE YOU LOST? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"

She looked him calmly in the face of potentially violent anger. Later he would be troubled at her lack of expression, but now there was nothing but his anger. "I had a father once too. He died when I was really little, so I don't really remember him, but I did have a father. If I had died before him, I wouldn't've wanted him to die because of me."

He dropped her onto the ground. "I was not her father." He explained in a disgusted tone.

"Then pardon my language, sir, but what the hell else were you?" He didn't answer. "Did you love her?"

"I . . ."

"Did you love her?"

" . . . Yes." As the word left his lips, he realized for the first time that it was true.

She nodded. "She loved you. Trust me on this. I am a daughter."

He stayed silent for a few more minutes. It was strange. His anger seemed to have melted away, leaving only exhaustion. He half fell, half sat down on the sidewalk and buried his head in his hands. "Tell me what to do." He hated how weak he sounded, but he wanted this pain to leave him . . .

The girl shrugged. "Adopt a girl."

"No. I will not replace Rin."

The girl let out an exasperated sound. "That's not what I meant. I meant to make sure that no other little girl suffers the same fate that Rin would've on the streets."

"It did Rin no good."

"Then set up a dozen security systems! Start an orphanage! Make it a good orphanage where the kids can be safe! Get married! Live your life instead of looking for money and power! The way I see it, Rin was the only thing that really ever made you happy. Rin wouldn't have wanted you to throw away your life. If you want honor her memory at all, then for chrissakes don't mope around or end your life worthlessly! Help others like her."

Sesshomaru looked up at this slip of a girl. She was so young, but maybe . . . her words held some wisdom . . .?

"We shall see."

She smiled at him happily. "Okay. I've got to get back home though; I think my mother is starting to worry about me."

She turned to go, but stopped at his voice.

"Girl, what is your name?"

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "Higurashi," she said, "Higurashi Kagome."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sesshomaru was only mildly surprised when he found himself taking the girl's advice. A few months after their meeting on the bridge, he founded an orphanage. He named, of course, after his deceased daughter. Yes, he thought of her as his daughter; he had taken the teenage girl's words to heart.

A few months later he met the assistant of one of his father's associates; a fierce woman his age named Kagura. After initial dislike and many heated 'debates.' He took her to dinner in an effort to make amends (at his father's demand of course).

A year and a half later, they were married.

Seven months after that, their first child, Rin, was born.

All of his four children either had silver hair and their mother's red eyes, or black hair and his gold eyes. He was very proud of them, and often took them to the orphanage, where they played more-or-less happily with the fifty or so other children there.

His youngest was a little girl no more than a year old. Her name was Kagome.

Almost eight years after his meeting with the mysterious black-haired girl he had named his youngest after found him back at the bridge from the day that changed his life. He looked apprehensively down the piece of paper clutched in his hand, which held the address of the Higurashi shrine. Eight years, and he had finally decided to thank the young girl.

He walked the streets, pausing every so often to check the address of the passing houses against the one in his hand, finally stopping at a shrine perched at the head of a flight of stairs.

When he finally reached the door, he rang the doorbell, slightly winded. He didn't really expect her to be there, but he hoped that the occupants of the shrine could point him towards her current place of residence.

He was jerked out of his thoughts when a middle-aged woman opened the door, a smile at hand.

"Hello sir, may I help you?"

"Yes, is this the Higurashi residence?"

"Yes, sir."

"Does Higurashi Kagome still live here?"

At the mention of the blue-eyed girl's name, the woman stiffened and began to bite her lip nervously. "Why . . . why do you want to know?"

"She helped me once; I would like to thank her."

At his words, the woman opened the door completely. "Please come inside sir. I need to talk to you."

Sesshomaru did so, mildly baffled at the woman's actions. He soothed his inquisitiveness by assuring himself that he would soon find out what was going on.

Once inside, he sat down on a comfortable old sofa and looked around as the woman-he supposed that she was Kagome's mother-bustled around the kitchen making tea. Ofudas and old ornaments decorated the walls, and a set of wind chimes sang prettily in the breeze blowing from an open window. The place was overall quite comfortable.

Kagome's mother came back into the room and handed him a cup of green tea, which he readily took and sipped politely. Mrs. Higurashi waited until he set the cup down to speak.

"You met my daughter on a bridge did you not?"

Sesshomaru nodded an affirmative. "She told you of me then?" The woman across from him nodded. "May I speak with her?"

The woman looked away. "I'm afraid not, sir."

Sesshomaru looked at the woman warily, fully aware that something was going on here that he did not know about. "What are you not telling me?"

Mrs. Higurashi breathed out a sigh. "My daughter . . . she was diagnosed with a rare and fatal heart disease at birth. The doctors told us-my husband and I-that Kagome would probably not live to see her twenties. She died many years ago."

Of all the answers he had been expecting, that was not it. "So . . . when she met me . . . she knew?"

"She had known since she was ten."

Suddenly, statements that the girl had said so many years ago made sense.

There's a look in your eyes. You can see it when someone has lost someone they love, or is helpless to save them.

Had she seen that look in her mother's eyes when her mother realized that she could do nothing to save her daughter?

She looked him calmly in the face of potentially violent anger. Later he would be troubled at her lack of expression, but now there was nothing but his anger.

She was so used to knowing that she would die . . . how could she be afraid of him?

You're a coward. You'd rather escape your emotions than feel them.

She HAD known, then. How many times had she wanted to simply not feel?

She loved you. Trust me on this. I am a daughter.

She had been a daughter. One who knew she would someday leave her mother behind.

"How long ago did she die?"

Sesshomaru's voice startled Mrs. Higurashi out of whatever memory she had been thinking about. She smiled despairingly. "My daughter was walking outside that night because she wanted to take a walk in the rain at least once before she died. It was a little romantic fantasy of hers. I . . . I am glad that she did. She died the day after she met you."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sesshomaru shed his coat and hung it carefully on the coat rack just inside the door of his house. He flopped down on his couch and ran a hand over his eyes. The day had, for him, been mentally exhausting. After telling him when her daughter died, Mrs. Higurashi had simply thanked him for his visit and showed him the door. He felt slightly guilty about being glad the woman had not started bawling on him, but, he realized, the woman simply had no tears left.

Suddenly his youngest daughter scampered up to him and jumped up onto his lap. He gave her a tired smile as she beamed and silently handed him the paper she had clutched in her tiny grasp. He looked at the picture and smiled at his daughter. Two stick figures had been drawn roughly in crayon, one with black hair and one with silver. He did not need his child's excited words to tell him who they were. He had told his daughter the story of her namesake many times.

"Do you like it Daddy?"

He picked up the tiny amber-eyed girl and settled her more comfortably in is lap. "Yes, Kaggy, I like it very much."

The small child snuggled happily into her father's lap and asked, "Daddy, did you get to see her?"

He sighed tiredly. "No, Kaggy, she wasn't there anymore. Her mother told me that she died."

"Oh." The young girl pouted sadly. They sat in silence for a few more moments before the one-year-old spoke again. "Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Sesshomaru frowned. Where had she learned that word or what it meant? Given, she was smart for her age, but she was only one . . . He heard himself reply absently. "Why?"

"Because if you did, then maybe you could see her again."

Sesshomaru's memories took him back to eight years ago, when an older girl had used almost those same exact words. But . . . he had never been that precise in telling the story . . .

He turned his daughter around and looked at her, really looked at her, for just a moment.

That moment was all it took.

For in that moment, his daughter's golden eyes turned into brilliant, sapphire blue.