As he stared down at him, Sesshomaru realized he had never considered this scenario to be a possibility. Frankly, Inuyasha had proven himself to be extraordinarily resilient to things that should have put him down long ago. Himself, for instance; before the hanyou had taken his arm, he had fully intended to bite his head clear from his body.
Inuyasha was strong.
That was not a statement he had ever made aloud, but it was something he was forced to acknowledge after that encounter and subsequent events. It was not so difficult these days to accept. They surely did not get along, but Inuyasha was no longer hostile to his presence. Sesshomaru, likewise, had ceased goading him into fighting. They had acquired a mutual sort of understanding that they could acknowledge each other plainly on the occasions he came to visit Rin, and though the return of Kagome had soured that somewhat with her insistence on calling him brother, they seemed to have come to terms that they were connected in some fashion and truly did not desire the other's death.
He had never imagined Inuyasha dying after a certain point. Defeated, yes. Groveling, absolutely. Lifeless… no. Lifeless was wrong for him. Lifeless did not match his character. Inuyasha was brash and loud and immature. Inuyasha survived, faced down Naraku and lived, faced down him and lived. His brother could not die even by his own hand, and that had somehow given to him a false sense of the hanyou's immortality.
Inuyasha was dead.
He was slumped awkwardly on the ground beside the body of a no name demon who had made the mistake of attacking his pregnant wife, who now bowed over him wailing for him to come back, that he shouldn't have protected her, that he wasn't allowed to leave her. Those cries were what had drawn him here. Kagome hadn't even noticed him, but then he had frozen several feet away, unable to approach further. The sight was absurd. He was having a difficult time processing the entire thing.
Inuyasha is dead was a statement he did not realize could shake him so thoroughly until it ran through his mind.
Sesshomaru could feel his hands trembling at his sides, a ghost of a chill passing through him. Inuyasha was, in many ways, so unlike their father, but here… He died to protect his love and their child. He died for a human woman and a bastard child…
Inuyasha died just like Father.
He had never acknowledged that Inuyasha could die by anyone's hand but his own. He had stopped imagining a world without his stain gracing it. He understood the mortality of a lot of things these days; Rin mostly, as she grew quickly while he was away, and he had witnessed her dead twice. It was easy to imagine her gone even if the concept of a world without her was difficult to accept.
Sesshomaru had hated Inuyasha for many things, for many, many years. He didn't really understand when that hate had been replaced. He had lost track of the moment Inuyasha had become synonymous with brother, or when the veil of keeping him alive so that he could kill him himself had dropped.
He couldn't recall when he decided Inuyasha had to live.
He didn't realize his breath had foregone its even pace or that he had lost himself in the empty gaze before him until Tenseiga pulsed at his side and broke the trance. He drew the blade quickly, too quickly to keep his mask of composure intact, and the sound drew the woman's gaze up to him.
Shock and understanding flitted across her face until he realized they shared the same thought.
Inuyasha is important to me. He must live.
It didn't have to be said. He didn't know when the thought had taken root in his mind. He didn't know if or when it would be appropriate to completely acknowledge it.
Sesshomaru could not save his father.
Sesshomaru could save Inuyasha. He must.
The sight of the pall bearers made him angry, and it was all too satisfying to watch them bisected by the heavenly fang. He contemplated cutting the ones of the dead demon beside him, if only for the chance to kill it himself.
He did not think revenge suited his character, but then why had he even gone after Naraku?
The moment between the pall bearers' demise and Inuyasha's breath returning felt like an eternity, and for a ridiculous moment, Sesshomaru thought Tenseiga had failed him. The blade worked as it was meant to, though, and his brother gasped and then coughed as if death had simply been a bit of water in his lungs, and Sesshomaru felt unnecessarily relieved. Kagome showed enough of that relief for both of them, he figured, watching as she cried and clung to her husband.
"Kagome, calm down! I'm breathing here, I promise!"
"You died, you idiot!" she berated him, holding him out at arm's length by his bloody haori.
"What the hell do you mean I died? How would I be…?"
Realization dawned in his voice, and his head slowly turned until he met his gaze. Sesshomaru hadn't yet sheathed Tenseiga, but even if he had, he knew what had happened would have been obvious. He wasn't entirely sure what Inuyasha could read from his expression. He wasn't entirely sure what he was showing.
Their relationship had gone from hatred to contempt, from contempt to acknowledgement, from acknowledgement to something neither of them had defined, and it had just evolved again.
"…Tenseiga works only once, little brother," he told him evenly. "Don't sacrifice your life again."
There were many unsaid things behind those words. It would likely be some time before either of them understood that or bothered to acknowledge it.
I may enjoy shoving these two into complex emotional situations a little too much.
