The Fallen Azure: A Memory of the West
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline.
AN: This is my first Sesskag fic. I wanted to put more in the description but it was impossible without spoiling the oncoming chapters. I'll add more to the description as the story progresses. And so, happy reading!
He had been wandering in the forest for a couple of days. Or was it weeks? He could not even remember. It seemed like an eternity.
The young boy trudged his face towards the sky and was greeted, for the hundredth time, by random rays of piercing light from the forest canopy; the song of cicadas incessantly plaguing his sensitive ears.
After a moment of rest, Sesshoumaru begrudgingly moved on. He was near his limit and on the brink of collapse. The boy was thirsty, hungry, and dirty—all of which he never truly experienced before. As he stepped forward, he leaned on a nearby tree to support his weary frame. Mustering all his strength, he continued onward.
It wasn't until an hour later that he reached the outskirts of the forest. Up ahead, he noticed, was a human village. He eyed the settlement with contempt and disdain. Sesshoumaru tore his eyes away. A disgusting and filthy race.
With the little strength he had left, he retreated to a tall and aged tree. The tree, magnificent where it stood, welcomed him as he dropped himself at its trunks. He closed his eyes and, contented that he had at least found an end to the seemingly eternal forest, allowed his eyes to close and body to rest.
Sesshoumaru woke with a start. He had dreamt it again.
He lifted a soiled hand to his eyes and once more, it met with tears. Accompanying them was a passionate anger and bitter resentment. He was not surprised. After all, he was used to waking up in such a manner—ever since then.
Whose fault was it, again? Sesshoumaru tried to remember. He contemplated for a while before deciding.
"Father's," he whispered lightly into the thin air. Yes. It was entirely his father's fault. Everything.
If his father hadn't possessed a weak heart. If his father hadn't loved humans. If he hadn't believed them. If he hadn't given them chances.
There had always been conflicts between humans and demons. Humans were dirty, selfish creatures. Spiteful, deceptive, fearful little creatures that they are. Their existences were short but a curse. They fight among themselves, steal, cheat, and murder. To all demons, there was not a more disgusting race.
Yet his father loved them. His father defended them. When his comrades killed them, hunted them, he protected them. A noble in his court, he was the center of ridicule and jest. He was never much bothered by his peers and few still held respect for him, for he was one of the strongest lords of the land. However, he never found approval and his fondness of humans was greatly frowned upon.
A group of demon hunters had been organized by a human man who called himself Naraku. Such was the ugly heart of humans, fearful as they were of the strength of those far greater than they. They had attempted to storm his father's home and had failed as his father single-handedly defeated half of their battalion—killing no human.
"Stop this foolishness at once," his father had said, "if you truly value your lives. I wish not to stain my walls with your blood."
But the humans would not listen. They had continued to blindly charge forward, killing innocent maids and servants. They had streaked their faces with demon blood.
His father's eyes had reddened then as he made his way to the leader of the hunters.
"You are the leader, I presume, as you are the one who give orders." His had father lifted the man off his feet, his fingers tightly wrapped around the man's neck. "Naraku, I presume. I've heard of you."
The man had responded by spitting in his father's face.
Surprised and furious, his father had thrown the man to the ground and watched as he recoiled in pain. His father had then drawn his blade, which Sesshoumaru had rarely seen. The blade had not tasted human blood for many years, this Sesshoumaru knew.
As his father advanced towards the man called Naraku, the man had began to whimper and tremble in fear. "Please, my lord!" he had screamed. "Do not kill me! Spare me!"
"I have warned you once," his father had replied. "I have allowed you to live, but you have returned my favor with anger." His father had lifted the blade, ready to strike.
"Please!" the man had pleaded. "I regret that I did not heed your words. I regret that I have been ungrateful before you, my lord, who is so kind! Please, my life is all that I have left!" the man had relayed as tears streaked down his face. "Please, let me live! Let me learn from my wrongdoings. I will not do wrong again!"
And his father had believed him. "Then, I will give you one more chance." His father had smiled then, a gentle and forgiving expression Sesshoumaru would never forget.
Sesshoumaru had never hated before. He knew not what hate was. Until then.
His father had extended a hand to the man. In a flash, the man's eyes had changed—from tearful and desperate to triumphant and menacing. In that same instant, Sesshoumaru watched, paralyzed, as his father's blood graced the wall. As his father's head and body fell lifelessly to the ground.
Before he could react, Sesshoumaru was whisked away by his mother as the remaining servants screamed and ran. The lord of the house had been murdered and there was no one left to defend the household. The sinister laugh of the man who had murdered his father echoed throughout the walls. The once calm and peaceful place that was his home had been quickly replaced by fear, chaos, blood, and flames as the hunters, previously spared by his father, continued their massacre.
"Stay here, Sesshoumaru. You mustn't move or make the slightest of sounds." His mother had said, desperately but gently. She had hurriedly ushered him under a bed in a servant's quarter. He remembered the space was narrow and dusty, and that he couldn't move. But there was nowhere else to hide.
"Mother!" He had clasped onto her, before she completely pushed him under the bed. She had cupped his face in her hands and affectionately examined his small complexion. Sesshoumaru had tugged her sleeve, pleading her to stay, but she had sadly shaken her head. His mother had searched her neck and removed the beautifully jeweled necklace that he had always seen her wear. She had draped it over his head.
Sesshoumaru had glanced at the jewel. It had been his father's gift to his mother, when he took her as wife. The necklace was simply composed of a silver chain of the highest caliber and a small, pendant-like pink orb – the Shikon no Tama, his mother had once explained. He remembered that it was traditional for the heir of the family to bestow upon his mate this magnificently crafted accessory, symbolic of courage, friendship, wisdom, and love.
"Live, Sesshoumaru!" His mother had said as she roughly shoved him completely under the bed. A second later, she had risen. "May your father's and my love protect you!"
"Mother!" he had called after her. Tears had started to freely flow from his eyes.
"Do not hate your father," he had heard her say, as she made her way to the door. "Do not hate him for his love of humans, for he cherished you more than any other. Remember him for the man he was—kind, loving, and loyal. As I have."
His mother had reached the door and it had forcibly sprung open. He had watched as his mother was pushed and mercilessly flung aside. He had watched in horror as the man who called himself Naraku entered and scanned the room. When his eyes had fallen on his injured mother's form, the man had smirked and raised his sword. He had slashed at her and before Sesshoumaru could have process the scene, his mother had succumbed to death.
The man had licked his mother's blood off his blade and had laughed wickedly, almost howling.
Sesshoumaru had to muffle his cries as he pressed his hands harshly against his mouth. The man dashed a glance in his direction and took a few steps forward.
Sesshoumaru's eyes widened in terror. Never had he felt so powerless before, so fearful, so hateful. His mother and father, proud nobles of this unconquered land, were so easily murdered by a mere human. And he, their son, could do nothing but watch.
He had neither hated nor liked humans, but was aware of their immoralities. He had never cared much for them and what they did, so long as he was uninvolved. But now, he hated them with a burning passion.
No, he would not hate his father. He would hate this wretched, dirty race that had betrayed his father's love.
The man, satisfied with his inspection of the room, had retreated when his comrades called out to him.
"We're done, Naraku," he had heard the man's comrade say. "There are no survivors. We've set the whole place aflame."
"Good," the man had answered. "Get everyone. We're done here."
The sound of rushing footsteps had followed shortly and in a moment, the room was noiseless except for the crackle of fire and wood. It was only then that Sesshoumaru had crept out from his hiding place.
He had glanced over at his mother's lithe form, bloody and pale, under the poles that had previously held up the room. He had taken one last endearing glimpse of her before turning away and fleeing from the room.
He had arrived at the courtyard, where his father's head and body laid severed. Blood was splattered everywhere and the bodies of his servants scattered over the flowers. He had closed his father's eyes and had picked up his head. A boy of nine, he had not the strength to also carry his father's corpse.
Sesshoumaru had given one last glance of his burning home before running to a field not far from his home. It was a sacred and calm place, quiet and serene. His father had taken him there on several nights to watch the stars. It was his father's sanctuary, where he had contemplated, simply enjoyed the scenery, and had been at peace.
Sesshoumaru had fallen on his knees and gently placed his father's head beside him. He had dug a large hole and in the process, had unearthed a couple of nearby flowers. He had lowered his father's head into the hole and had covered it with the dirt he had dug up. He sniffed as he worked, his tears suppressed. When he had finished, he stood up. He had then taken a moment to engrain the mound into his memory.
"I vow to you, Father," he had whispered, his eyes fierce and determined. "I will conquer this land. I will restore your name and I will make proud the name you have given me." He would become the strongest in the land and avenge his father. He would be known by all and would have power over all. His name alone would set fear in both humans and demons alike. "I will become the Lord of the West."
Sesshoumaru's slumber remained dreamless for the rest of the night. He did not wake until noon the next day.
He lifted an arm to shield his eyes, unaccustomed to the sun's midday rays. Scanning the area, he found butterflies and various flying insects in his sight. Sesshoumaru moved to stand up and grunted in pain when gravity pulled him back down. His arms and legs were deadly sore from his long travel.
He leaned against the tree and closed his eyes. How bothersome it was, for his limbs to painfully respond when he tried to move them. And he had vowed so proudly before his father's grave to become the Lord of the West. Was his vow just an array of empty words?
No. He would not betray his words. Sesshoumaru tried to move again but stopped dead in his attempt when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of cracking branches.
Alerted, Sesshoumaru pressed himself against the tree. Someone was coming his way, from—where? The footsteps told him it was from behind. He was startled as the being started to softly hum a melody. As the being came closer and as the song became louder, he recognized the scent to be human.
Sesshoumaru scowled. Wretched creature. What was it doing here, away from its village? Forests were dangerous places, the dwellings of demons.
No matter. He would kill it before it saw him, before it could run back to its village and warn it of his close presence. It was only one human—a girl, he presumed from her high voice. He could do it.
The steps stopped before the tree. Sesshoumaru was grateful that the tree was grand as it was. It hid his small frame perfectly well. He took a deep breath and with demonic speed, jumped out from behind the tree and lunged for the girl.
Surprised, she let out a yelp when he made contact. Sesshoumaru successfully tackled her and had her pinned to the ground with both of his hands and knees. Surprisingly, she did not scream to struggle. Sesshoumaru took it that she was too shocked to quickly react.
He looked at her face for the first time. He was surprised to discover that she was but a child like he, appearing about six or so. Brown locks dropped about her face, accommodating various twigs and leaves. Her eyes, dark brown with a tint of reflected azure, pierced his gaze as they spilled endless tears. Her lips trembled in fear as she watched him.
Realizing that he had taken an instant too long, he growled and willed his eyes to turn crimson. He swiftly lifted a clawed hand, ready to slit her throat.
The girl, it appeared, understood his gesture. Sensing the end of her short-lived life, her voiceless crying involuntarily intensified. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side, prepared to accept her fate.
Quickly, Sesshoumaru seized the chance she had offered and made his strike.
AN: I never thought I'd write another fanfic – a Sesskag one, no less (even though I'm passionately crazy about the pairing). I have been so out of it for forever that I surprise myself. I just really had to get this out of my system. Thanks for reading!