Regenerist

Look at me, I’m made of wonderful; it’s terrible

-Rob Thomas: Wonderful

December 2, 1990

Kyoto, Japan



Cracking one eye open Sesshomaru sighed hearing the annoying sound of a telephone ringing somewhere. It was high and invariable, the same tones repeated over and over again. He wasn’t really sure where he had left the blasted thing, and that was bad because he knew it was plugged into the wall. It could only be so many places, and he hated to think he was so tired that he couldn’t find something so noisy.

It rang again and he pulled himself from the couch to search for the cause of his annoyance. Digging through piles of crumpled newspapers, and piles of old dirty clothing he finally found the black phone in the corner of the room. Even the cord of it was cleverly hidden by cardboard boxes, and old tatami mats that he was too lazy to throw out even though he shoved them into the corner months ago.

 

Grabbing the damned ringing object in one hand he thought about destroying the thing. Or he could just unplug it and save himself from having to buy another due to the inconsolable annoyance. It rang again.

 

“Hello.” His voice was calm through his irritation. Fingers felt funny around the receiver. His greeting was never the polite Japanese expectancy. The only people who would call him did not need the lies of polite behavior.

 

“Sesshomaru, long time no see.” A feminine voice spoke on the opposite end of the phone.  At least Kagura did not pretend to be polite either. She was tangibly amused with herself as if talking on the phone was one of her favorite past times. Sesshomaru wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. It was her who insisted he had a phone, and kept a phone. Sesshomaru felt odd. Her scent was still lingering in his apartment. But he knew she was far off.

 

“You were here just yesterday.” Sesshomaru growled leaning back against the wall. Something crumpled against his weight. When did she leave anyways? Sesshomaru wasn’t sure; sometime in the night maybe.

 

“Did I wake you up, Sesshomaru? You sound cranky.” Kagura’s questions were friendly and light even though her sarcasm bled through. She just had one of those voices that made Sesshomaru think of the sultry, sexy jazz singers that had fortune in their eyes when they performed at less than reputable night clubs back in the day. Sesshomaru only went to one once, in Paris, shortly before Germany invaded in 1940.

 

“No.” He lied quickly even as one hand rose to rub at his heavy eyelids. The truth was he slept too often nowadays. It helped him escape what he felt was a horrific nightmare. “What did you call for?” It was not like her to call so soon after leaving him. Usually she let him alone. Usually she let him escape because she too knew the tribulation.

 

“I received notice a moment ago that the higher-ups have finally agreed with me.”

“Oh?” Sesshomaru wondered where this was going.

“You are a lazy bastard.” She spoke endearingly. Sesshomaru wondered when put downs began to sound like loving terms of endearment. She certainly made them sound that way. “They have decided to send you on a new mission.”

“Hm.” It was the only response he gave her. Lazy wasn’t really an accurate description of his character, Sesshomaru thought to himself. He was completely anti-lazy, when he had a goal. Goals were not his to make now, hence he wasn’t entirely interested in doing much of anything.

 

“Oh really? What is this one? Am I going to be sent off to destroy some foolish little youkai that showed himself to humans?”  Sesshomaru was becoming more unenthusiastic about this call by the second. His guess only reflected what the majority of his assignments were. He was a conscripted mercenary bound and tethered to the whims of others.

 

“No.” Kagura sounded cheerful on the other end of the phone. “They decided to give you an interesting job this time.” She too was only considered for mercenary work. They were so erudite in the path of destruction and death that their captors forced them to put their talents to work. Youkai like them were seen for nothing more than the work of spilling blood. Sesshomaru knew that part of becoming good at killing was knowing when not to. Now they didn’t have a choice. They took life or theirs would be forfeit. They took life and suffered the consequences of it every moment of their lives.

Sesshomaru needed to go lay down on his couch and stair at the ceiling until he couldn’t feel himself anymore, until he couldn’t think, or be.

 

“Hm.” Sesshomaru grunted. In the past he would not have made a sound to her. He would have expected that without any prompt she would reveal her knowledge in an instant. Telephone calls took a lot more communication effort. A smirk crossed his face as he pulled knots out of his hair. His fingers didn’t make really good combs, Sesshomaru decided before tossing his tangled locks over his shoulder.

 

“Field reporters in America have found a regenerist. I was told that they decided that you will train this regenerist.”

He could barely believe his ears, and looked to the telephone wondering if someone bewitched it as a prank… not that anyone could do that now.

 

“A regenerist? The demons who are born human?” Sesshomaru questioned. “Why would they want me to train one of those? I thought they didn’t trust me.” He said with a short laugh. “Besides I already told them I am not leaving Japan.” He still didn’t believe what he was hearing.

Kagura became really quiet on the other end. It was hard to discern what her quietness meant without sight or scent.

 

“You know what will happen to you if you disobey orders, Sesshomaru.” Her tone was depressed and dropping. He had defied his last orders for the comfort of his couch. Sesshomaru wished to forget that messy incident. He didn’t want to remember the ignoble way he was arrested by those weak human officers who smashed his face into the ground while expecting him not to resist. He didn’t want to remember the private court he was summoned to or the fact that in the end they did it to humiliate him.

You are no more above anyone else. We will treat you with only the same dignity of a dog roaming the streets… Oh and by the way you owe us lots of money for holding you. The Syndicate did not say those exact words. Their words were flourished with technical terms, legal terms, and a whole bunch of fancy fluff.

“This is not the time to act as if it is beneath your station. We don’t have that life anymore.” Kagura scolded without sounding angry. He wondered if she scolded simply because she didn’t want to see him get into trouble. She had a thing about that. Kagura managed to always find out when he got into trouble, and always scolded him for it. Her language, her scent, her body always betrayed her concern. The last time she even dipped into her own funds to pay for his apartment when he had no more left after court fees.

 

“Fine. Do you know anything more?” Sesshomaru gave in because he understood her concern. Kagura was… well they had been through many years together, and Sesshomaru could think of a million adjectives to describe what Kagura was, and some more to describe what she was to him. He knew that in situations where she was in trouble he would have her back, even if he refused to show it openly. He was not as expressive about his concerns.

 

“No, but the field reporter sent you all the information you will need to know. It should be in your mailbox by now, but I know you don’t check it often so I called to remind you.” Kagura paused. “Sesshomaru, please don’t give them a reason to take you out.”

 

“You worry too much.” Sesshomaru said before hanging up the phone. Her plea rang in his ears. Crossing the line too many times would put him in danger. Their world had no problem with summary executions. It was his job, and he could be replaced. Pulling back his long hair he hated the rough feeling of it though his fingers. It was jet black now, due to Kagura’s last visit. She had held him down and forced him to let her dye his hair black. This was the monthly visit, and ultimately what ruined his once soft silver hair. Frowning he tied it back trying to ignore knots and split ends.

 

The higher-ups were always a little aghast when he let himself go, and refused to dye his hair making humans all around stare at him and his silver hair like he was some kind of strange animal. It was all about conformity. He had to do everything possible to appear human when in the presence of humans. That was the rule. He had been forced to kill lesser youkai who broke that rule. He liked to imagine that he was too valuable in the new youkai society to be killed for his little offences. He, after all, was one of the very last inuyoukai left. But that was no protection in this world. In this world his connections were cut, and he lived poorly.

A great example of his fall was his living space. Once long ago he owned a huge swath of land encompassing seven prefecture’s give or take a couple of miles in boundary changes over the centuries. His castle was huge, and surpassingly still standing in the Aichi prefecture. Its grandness was diminished by the tourists that went to see its ancient splendor. Inuyama-jo; it was a reminder of the life that he had, and the life he lost. The humans went there to hear about the famous men who lived in the castle, but the most striking thing about it was massive stone carvings of dogs through out.

Once in the early 1960’s Sesshomaru went there with Kagura. There were a lot of memoires in that house. A lot of memories that inspired him to give the castle to a prestigious family, who produced a son that lead Japan out of the feudal era.

In this world Sesshomaru’s apartment was small only two rooms, one being the bathroom. Two rooms that were completely trashed were the only things he could claim as his territory now, and that didn’t count because he still had to pay to live there. It did not bother him that the rooms were covered with random papers, trinkets and pieces of the life that he now lived. He lacked the energy and will to clean it. He knew where almost everything was, except the telephone. The kitchen table was really a little fold out thing that had a heater underneath, and a skirt around it for winter months. It was on that table he found the rest of his money. Only enough for two days of food, and maybe some shampoo. Shoving a few flaky currency bills in his pocket he walked out of his apartment. Locking it would be a waste of time, he decided. There was nothing in there important enough to steal, and the few things that were important no one would think to steal.

An old lady walked by him in the hallway smiling. Her cane rhythmically hit the floor to help her step. Her wrinkled face lifted with the smile.

 

“Good morning.” The little old lady said softly before turning the corner to her own apartment. They had been flat mates for the last five years. And she was going to die soon. Sesshomaru could smell it. Her kidneys were destroyed. It was only a matter of time before toxins filled her body and entropy took over.

 

“Good morning.” Sesshomaru muttered back before walking towards the elevator. He looked human. According to many women he looked like a very handsome human. Spells were placed over him every year to make his normally golden eyes appear brown. Spells made his normal youkai markings disappear. Sighing Sesshomaru remembered the last time he had seen himself, for how he really looked. It had been the morning of his capture. That morning was the last day of the youkai war and the first day of the Syndicate’s dictatorship. The day when Nagasaki was leveled was the last moments of freedom for the world of those like him. He had been looking in the river which was tainted red by the sun. His last memory of his real face was tinted red.

It was useless to think of that day. He couldn’t go back and change it no matter how much he wished it.

 

The elevator stopped at the bottom floor. Stepping out he walked without a word to the dozens of humans in the lobby, and out the door. A few teenage girls in their school uniforms giggled ogling him as he ignored them. He had no interests now. And it wasn’t just women, it was everything. He knew he hadn’t felt right for a long time, but for the last few years it was undeniable depression. That was why he neglected orders before. He simply couldn’t see what was so damn important anymore.

 

The streets weren’t too crowded, considering the time of day. And for that Sesshomaru let out a sigh of relief. Once or twice when he had left his apartment during the busy hours for the city streets he had passed out from the combination of scents. Each time he had woken up to a migraine headache. There was just too much in the air of today. It made him wish that he was still five hundred years in the past. Back when there wasn’t so much pollution. He longed for the days without skyscrapers or cars. But those times were gone. The important things were lost and it seemed to him that every time something became significant in his life since it was smothered out of existence.

He was damned to suffer.

 

Half a block away was the post office for several apartment buildings along the road, including his. Almost everyone in the city lived in apartments. Space was a commodity with a high price. Sesshomaru couldn’t afford a house of his own here, so the crowded apartments had to do. Walking into the post office’s large glass doors he went straight to the counter. An older man in a pristine white shirt greeted him. The postal worker had good lines, lines of a good life slowly finding their way onto his face. Sesshomaru wondered if he would live to see age lines on his own face.

 

“Good morning, Sesshomaru. Today is the mail pick up?” The older man had been working in the post office for the last two years. Every time Sesshomaru went the man tried to start conversation. He was a pleasant old guy, and Sesshomaru conversed if for no other reason than to stop his boredom for a little. But even this was difficult.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You promised me you would tell me what you do that keeps you from checking your mail like everyone else.” Sesshomaru smiled at the old man shaking his head. There were some things that were better off not talked about.

 

“My job has me traveling a lot.” That wasn’t necessarily true. Japan had the highest population of youkai in the world. Most of his assignments did not bring him outside of the city, and there was a lot of down time between assignments. Sesshomaru couldn’t remember when he had his last assignment. His couch probably had a permanent imprint of his body because nothing in the world seemed important enough to get off of it. He was certain that it was years since he saw the world beyond the scope of this city. And that, Sesshomaru knew, was how the higher ups controlled him. A tight leash for the big bad dog. Be careful or you’ll hang.

 

“Ah I see. I can see you as a business man. You must know many languages.” The old man said handing him a plastic crate filled with letters and packages. He checked his mail infrequently indeed. Most of them were bills that Sesshomaru neglected to pay until the last moment. He knew Kagura would be back before the end of the month to do all of his bills, and to dye his hair again. He never bothered to learn how to go about paying bills or doing anything so mundane. Kagura always did it for him.

He was grateful for it, even though he never spoke of that gratefulness. He was grateful because in the first few months after the Syndicate… assimilated… him, he had lived homeless. It wasn’t right then, even though he hadn’t technically had a home for centuries, because then he was weakened and required the stability and shelter of a home. It was Kagura who managed to pick him up and offer him a home… even though it wasn’t her home either. Kagura’s sister Kanna seemed indifferent to the two shamed youkai living in her upscale home outside of Fukuoka. She was never there anyways, Kanna had moved to the cold expanse of Alaska before the wars. Kanna met and married a foreign demon, a seal demon named Sedna. Sesshomaru and Kagura had gone to the wedding, because Kanna and Sedna chose to get married in northern Siberia. But in 1952 Kanna abruptly sold the estate, and Sesshomaru was forced to get an apartment. Kagura was in on their deal for a while, and then her assignments got more erratic, involving much more travel. She snorted and told Sesshomaru that she was sick of living with his possessive ass anyways.

She needed freedom.

And he was too needy.

If he was so damn needy then why did she always come back!

“It’s a good skill to know English nowadays. I want to learn myself.” The postman was still talking on.

“I know a few languages, English is the newest.” Sesshomaru confirmed lightly. No harm in confessing linguistic aptitude.

Sifting through the mail right there he grabbed a waste basket tossing letter after letter. Most were trainings that the Syndicate sent. Human rights trainings they called them. It was a move to try and meld human and youkai society even more. Sesshomaru threw them out all the time, even though he knew he would be quizzed on the material as soon as his yearly evaluations were up. Eviction notices, electric bills, rent… all that was trash. He dared to laugh at the eviction notices. The landlord of his apartment was terrified of him. He wasn’t going to be evicted; true he didn’t pay his rent on time like the other tenants did. Kagura always went to the landlord personally and paid the rent plus some for the lateness of it. Sure she took it out of his paycheck, but Sesshomaru did not expect any more than that. She had much less to live on, because their pay rate was the same only she had to travel on it. Once in a while he would pause and put aside a white envelop on the counter.

Grabbing a small brown box he glanced at the address. It appeared Kagura was telling him some truth. There was a mission waiting for him. Sometimes that witch would just call him up with fake assignments to get him out of his apartment. It was annoying, and comforting that she kept checking in on him.

Sesshomaru was grateful, and maybe the next time she came over he’d buy her flowers.

Thanking the old man he took his mail under his arm and walked out of the post office onto the street. His white dress shirt rippled in the breeze. His black business shoes made soft sounds along the pavement as he walked leisurely back to his apartment. It didn’t matter that his shoes were almost a year old and scuffed. They were comfortable and he didn’t have the money to buy new ones. The scent of food from street vendors filled his nose.

 

A sharp pain filled his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since Kagura left his apartment late last night. He cussed softly digging in his pocket for the money he had shoved in there. Another act of sorcery that was inflicted upon him was the need for food. The youkai who imprisoned him were trying their hardest to make him human, he thought. Along with changing his appearances they had placed spells on him that made him require food. It disgusted him for years. When he first tried to eat human food he had ungracefully hacked it back up. It wasn’t so bad now that he knew what he could and could not eat.

 

The street vendor was new to the area. Sesshomaru hadn’t seen him before, but that was alright. New vendors were always welcome because the older ones who were more established on the streets would lower their prices to compete. Sesshomaru always thought food was too much money anyways. The vendor’s cart was filled with sticks that were impaled through roasted animal parts. The ends of the sticks were colored according to price. Sniffing the meat Sesshomaru found his favorite and grabbed up five sticks between his fingers. Chicken intestines roasted with a slight bit of teriyaki sauce. It was cheep mostly because it was parts that people usually avoided unless they were low on money. He was lucky that his favorites were also the cheapest.

 

Paying the grateful street vendor Sesshomaru bit off a piece of his meal careful not to reveal his fangs to the lanky, greasy man who sold the food. His fangs; he was happy to still have them. He had begged to keep his fangs and claws when he was captured. It was the only time he begged in his life, and he never wished to repeat it. He didn’t think he would be able to remain sane if they took those away from him. But then he didn’t think he was very sane when they captured him. That had been right after he survived the atomic bomb of Nagasaki. He had been in terrible shape then. The youkai who had done the actual spells on him laughed at him and shrugged letting him have his way with those counts. They were planning on using him as an assassin anyways. Allowing him to keep his claws only meant that they didn’t have to spend money on firearms for him. Luckily his fangs, if he ever slipped up and let a human see them could be explained away by dental problems. But he would never slip up, because he never ever wanted to say that something about him was imperfect.

 

Once inside his apartment he turned the lights on sitting with his feet up on the couch. Shoving all of his other mail across the coffee table where it landed on the floor he inspected the small brown package containing information on his next mission.

 

Ripping open the package he found it contained several things in it. On top was a pristine white letter, trash from the higher-ups, rules and regulations. All trash. He didn’t even bother to read that crap. It was the same every time after all. Reviews of policies and what was expected of him.

For a moment his hopes dropped. Maybe Kagura was mistaking? He was not going to be moved from his tedious life.

 

He came upon it under the trash. A copy of an American birth certificate. Eyes scanned the words. It wasn’t too hard to read despite the bad quality scan. Sesshomaru leaned English in the 1890’s, before he became the slave he now was. Despite his strong control over emotions, Sesshomaru felt his heart leaping up into his throat when he looked at the picture ID just under the scanned birth certificate. The face of a smiling child with one tooth missing looked at him.

Suddenly Sesshomaru found importance. Suddenly Sesshomaru could no longer look away.

He knew that face well. It was a face he could never ever forget even though time made his memories fuzzy and he became mad at himself for letting her fade away like an old drawing. The last time he had seen this face was so long ago that he almost didn’t recognize her.

 

“Rin…” Sesshomaru whispered looking at the child’s face. She looked almost exactly like Rin. He lost her to death, and from then on traveled on the path that lead him to misery. Shaking his head Sesshomaru looked over to the name, and then in disgust threw the papers down. Whoever was playing this trick was a sick and malicious. “She even has the same goddamn name.” His couch was no longer comfortable and he stood pacing. It had been years since he paced. What kind of strange fluke was this? He wondered wanting to believe the papers. Yes, he had known several girls over the years with that name, but none that even remotely looked like the little girl that used to follow him around. Sesshomaru muttered another profanity pulling up more paper. The papers were only reports of several hair and blood analysis. Scanning through these, normal procedure, the hair was collected from a hairbrush, the blood from a clinic. All these confirmed she was a regenerist.

He wondered if it was too elaborate to be a cruel joke. There were so few who knew of his Rin, so few who would know enough to create this scheme.

 

Shaking his head Sesshomaru looked back to the list of commands that were printed out clearly in bold type.

 

Dear Sesshomaru Uno,

 

Your instructions are as follows. Re-locate close to the regenerist’s home in Dexter, Maine of the USA. You will be paid in full for the relocation. Due to the youkai race of the subject she must be protected at all costs. Force may be used if necessary, and with proper documentation under Syndicate guidelines. She is only to be approached when her powers awaken. At such time you shall begin the teaching process as outlined in the following manual. Concurrently she will be unfit to interact with familiar humans, and shall have restricted access to humans during her training period. When she has satisfactorily completed the trainings in the manual she will be transferred to either the Tokyo, or Osaka school for youkai.

You are not to give any indication of your presence while she remains human, even if her youkai powers do not awaken in her lifetime. You will notify the closest office if any changes occur. If the regenerist faces serious illness, or injury you will contact the closest office so that a proper doctor can be assigned to treat the girl. If the regenerist dies before her powers awaken you are not to approach her, or her family. Notify the offices, and wait for your next assignment.

 

Tilting his head to the side Sesshomaru wondered what was the reason for such strict orders? He had no experience in regenerists at all. In fact he doubted if he had ever even seen a regenerist. Why would they choose him when there were some who were better qualified, and in much better standing than him?

Searching again through the papers he looked for a clue. Why him? First he saw the pay role paper. He raised his eyebrows. This was too much. Such an elaborate hoax… There was no way, after his last transgression that they were ordering him to a job that made almost three times the amount he was making right now. And it looked like he wouldn’t have to pay rent. They were placing him in a house owned by the Syndicate.

Rustling and digging through the box, he finally reached the bottom. A small yellow paper, carbon copy, his mind supplied was folded in the bottom. More lab work he presumed. He didn’t know how they could tell from the labs that she was a regererist, or how they even knew to test her. But then he didn’t know anything about that type of demon.

On the lab slip, highlighted was the word that made the world spin. Right under the assessment of her blood which tested positive for some protein he never heard of and probably wouldn’t remember was a line for the youkai species.

“Inuyoukai.” Sesshomaru whispered feeling the breath escape him. He sat in silence for a long time. It was drowning to do this. The slow kind of drowning, and Sesshomaru wasn’t putting up a fight. He fell asleep on the messy floor of the tiny space that was the extent of his false territory, with the picture of a girl who lived far away clenched in his hands.

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Thank you very much for the welcome back Taiki and Suketchi! I was humbled that readers would actually recognize the story/pen name.

I do have to say though that this is a complete rewrite. Years have passed since my origninal inspiration, and I have been through a lot of life changes that inspired me to take a new twist on the story.

If at any point people want me to post the original, just let me know! I am completely fine with letting people see the changes and development in style. Aside from loving to write (my day's are not complete if i can't write), many of my fics are meant to be practice. I would never be as good at writing if it wasn't for readers like you, and honest reviews.

Happy Reading!

Botticelliangel (BGH)