A/N: Earlier this past week, I came down with a stomach flu. Although time spent leaning over the toilet could've been better spent writing (could've been better spent doing anything), I crawled away with a new idea.
Poison
"It's not possible," Sesshomaru growled through gritted fangs. On cue, the nauseating sensation rippled over him just the same as the assuring dread – he, the great Western Lord, had succumbed to poison.
To say Sesshomaru was miserable was a gross understatement. He was plagued by fever; his stomach lurched and sloshed; his chest would swell with sudden pressure. The dog-demon desperately wished he had the vomiting capacity of other species – anything to expel the waste inside!
Vaguely, Sesshomaru remembered having this state of weakness once before, but he'd been a pup then. He hadn't really noticed, not with his father present.
Talons cracked.
Why, centuries later, did it choose to strike now?
Were it anyone else, the irony of a venomous daiyokai falling ill would have been laughable, but Sesshomaru killed as naturally as he breathed so Jaken kept his beak shut. Then again, with Sesshomaru's stoic mask one never thought he suffered anything at first glance. Not even the most intense pain flickered across his ever-impassive face. The poison hadn't wrested that from him – yet.
"Good morning, Lord Sesshomaru," Rin greeted him.
"You're awake," came the bland observation.
The girl grinned lopsidedly. "You know, I caught you smiling yesterday when you thought I was chasing that hummingbird. You should do that more often, my lord – smile, I mean. Makes you look more charming."
She trotted off and Sesshomaru's face fell.
Gods! Now the poison was distorting his flawless facial features?!
The formerly fearsome demon lord propped himself against a tree as his stomach knotted and churned.
"Love truly is the worst malady by far."