Notes: You should read "Human puppet" and
"Mirror to my soul" to understand
what is going on in this way, also to understand the style of writing or rather
the mind behind
my version of Sesshomarou. But you pretty much can
read this one alone too, just go to the
two stories anyway and tell me what you think. Yoko means "Sun child" by the
way.
Oh and feedback is welcome.
DisclimerNothing is mine, no money made.
Grace
He sits and he wonders.
Wonders how his father could ever do this; die for something like this.
It is gurgling and babbling, creating strange
cooing noises in the back of its throat, disgusting
and fascinating him at the same time.
He would call it a wailing and crying offence
to his fine senses, an act of total disrespect. And
disrespecting the Lord was a crime punishable by death. Oh yes, if one of his
minions would
have shown so unbearable much emotion face of him, he Sesshomarou,
would kill him slowly
and very, very painfully for their dishonour of his house and name.
He raises his hand and traces a thin bluish
line, almost invisible below the red puffy skin and
it shivers in reaction, dimming the sounds out into a broken whimper. It's
reacting to his
touch, looking up at him with big eyes in silence. The orbs are dark and
golden, sparkling
with a strange fire warmer as the sun, familiar and still unknown to the Lord
of the western lands.
'So warm
and shivering at the same time..' He thinks and pulls
his hand back as if burned by
the fire held in those eyes.
He ponders from where he knows this strange
kind of light; and why he, the mighty Lord
found it so intriguing to look at it and touch it to begin with.
'It is so
weak, useless, nameless, worthless…' He counts off and his senses tell him
that the
best option would be to kill it by throwing it into one of the icy lakes
outside. It was winter
after all and no being as weak and worthless as this would survive even one
hour unattended
in the falling snow. 'Dirty, helpless…
damned to die, not even born one hour…'
But he can't.
Those silvery hair - sticky with blood and slime - the
pale skin, bright red face the bulky head
and short body, those hands balled to tiny fists… ugly. No grace in the
movements, unable to
nourish or protect itself, powerless and useless – no demon would think this
being worth to
even survive the next hour. He could snap that tiny neck with only one hand,
not even using
all fingers and would laugh about the lifeless form below him, so fragile and
human.
A weak, honourless, dirty creature.
Still he lays his hand back on the small
creature, feeling the heart beat and the lungs fill with
air in an eternal struggle for survival. It makes him curious as to why it even
tries to do so –
why it wants to start this struggle which would last a whole existence. Sure,
it was probably
too stupid, or innocent to know what it will be in this cold world.
He raises his head and looks out, through the
thin curtain which parts his room from the
snowy court outside; many of his generals and underlings are out there, waiting
to strip him of
name, honour and rank on the first sign of weakness on his side. Waiting for
him to appear
and give command or repeat failures of his father – and frankly he knows he
really should kill
this being off- for the world it will be born in is that of a demon and not of
a human, or even
halfbreed for that matter.
But he does not.
He can't.
He returns his eyes to the small being before
him, meeting this fire again in its own eyes and
it warms his heart like only one other creature ever could.
It would be a hard struggle for it to survive, grow, develop and mature.
Fight.
But he would be there and take care of it.
So he looks down to the child again and she looks
back up at him with this eyes full of fire,
filling him with that warmth again that he first saw with his little Rin years back.
This infant will survive.
He would make sure of it.
Carefully and unused to the degree of fragility
he lifts the being on his arm, carefully wraps
his tail around it to give it a warm bed and raises as perfectly and gracefully
as he always did.
His steps are short and his underlings bow the
moment he moves the curtain; yet again his
eyes wander among those men before him and he narrows them with disgust. He can
sense
their hate and fury, their distrust and disgust… and he did not care.
"My lord…" One of his generals dares to begin
and steps forward. "I assembled someone to
dispose of it…" The green haired man raises his eyes and looks at the squealing
child on his
lord's arms with a seething sound of disgust.
The child does not shiver, does not even flinch
or announce the presence of the man, just
stares the demon down and he barely covers his rage at this.
Sesshomarou sees his daughter, strong and
powerful enough to startle a grown up demon with
only those big eyes of her, not even one hour old and a smile tugs on his lips.
This truly was his daughter.
He dog ears twitch lightly from the unknown
feeling of snow connecting with the sensitive fur
and he moves his tail lightly to cover her up more.
He doesn't meet the eyes of his general,
because a Father knows how to dispose of his
problems himself, beginning with severing the head of the man's shoulder with
his mighty
sword.
His men do not flinch or shiver sprinkled in
their General's blood, but he can smell fear now
as does his daughter. The little being sneezes and gurgles, tiny hands held out
for her father.
His underlings know he would kill them if he
saw it fitting and he would make sure they
would be always remembered on what happens if there was someone going against
him and
his family. He wasn't making his father's failures, he wasn't repeating a
destiny - he was
making his own.
"This is my daughter…" He stats emotionless but
clear, raising his sword out. The energy
crackles around the blade and melts the snow flakes before they even touch it. "You
will call
her by the name Yoko… daughter of Sesshomarou Lord of
the west…"
His minions fall to their knees, bow for the
new member of the family of their master. Bow
their heads and look down at the dead and fallen body of the General. His
daughter squeals
and yawns lightly, he puts his sword back into his
belt and moves his tail to wrap her up
tighter.
"Now leave…" He spits. "And get rid of this stinking thing…"
Sesshomarou turns his back to his minions,
ignoring them as they drag the body away and
returns back into the warmth of his
private chambers, returning his daughter to her mother.
He was not repeating failures.
Because it was no failure to love someone like this.
Never.