Proglogue
The Tale Begins
I was born to two powerful fox demons, in the most powerful clan known. My father ruled over the Southern region of Japan, a taiyoukai that rivaled even Inutaisho, great Demon of the West. My father's coat is what I remember most. It was the purest white I think I ever saw. It was like snow falling from the heavens. My mother was a beautiful fox, with fur like fire. When she took her human looking form she was truly the most beautiful living thing on the earth. I remember her voice as she wished me sweet dreams on warm, summer nights. She would sing too, out on her balcony when she was sure no one was there to hear. I always listened; staying up until the dawn broke, her words washing over me like a warm blanket. Her song was bewitching. No other song could compare.
I recall that during my younger years of life my family was at peace with the Western lands. I may even go as far as to say that my father and Inutaisho were friends, often vanishing for weeks to hunt, or scour the land. Often times my mother and I would be left with his mate and young son, Sesshomaru. His son was older than me, but only by a few years. He couldn't have been more than three years my senior. I was only thirteen at the time. It's hard to remember so far back in my life, but a few key moments stand out in my mind, like bold letters on a blank page. One thing I remember is how cold he seemed to be. His outward expression being one of cold disconnection from the world. It often frightened me, though I was never to show it. To show fear for another would disgrace my father, my family, and my station. I remember once that I stayed up to listen to my mother sing while they were staying with us. I sat on the railing of my balcony, which was just above that of Sesshomaru. I fell from my balcony as a gust of wind from the north buffeted against the building. I landed with a cry of pain on his balcony and looked up to see him watching me. One of his brows was raised; his eyes were slightly droopy, as though he had been resting. It was, I recall, a very seductive scene. Had I been older, and less than straight, I may have been turned on by it. His kimono was slightly askew, showing one of his shoulders and part of his chest. His hair was wild and long, sparkling in the moonlight.
I remember feeling frightened as he rose from his bed and began to approach, believing he would strike out to kill me. But as he moved, his hair swinging slightly behind him, his foot caught on one of my mother's imported rugs, brought to her from India. I watched, shocked by the fact that it was even possible, as he stumbled, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. Something between us changed that night, though I could never quite put my finger on it. It was as though I had witnessed his moment of weakness, and he respected me a little more. After that he never quite frightened me. But only days later, as our fathers returned, did I realize we would never truly be friends. Our fathers seemed angry with each other, and just as they left, Inutaisho's eyes red with rage, I pressed a medallion into Sesshomaru's hand. He looked at it questioningly, his eyes darting to the identical one I wore around my neck.
I managed to mouth four words before the three dog demons took to the sky, " Always peace between us."
I never saw him again after that, but none of that matters now.
After all, I'm dead.