Chapter 10

Lord Atsuo stalked back and forth in front of the subdued slaves. Oh, this stubborn, pesky half-demon! He vowed that even if it took his entire army, he would force it to serve him faithfully. No one, absolutely no one, much less a lowly half-breed, would ever get the better of him, Lord Atsuo!

But first, he needed to deal with this mangy lot. They were lined up in rows, forced to kneel at his feet. Many of them were bloodied; their eyes were all cast downward. Countless armed men surrounded the area, all ready and willing to dole out further punishment if they even so much as twitched wrong.

He'd been required to gather almost all of his men from every decimeter of his castle to put down this rebellion. Revolts had never been an issue until it came here. Atsuo pinched the bridge of his nose as he paced. He couldn't focus on these stupid slaves right now. Whenever it was found, it would pay dearly. It would learn to never, ever incite a riot again or to disobey him in any way. Damn half-breed!

He planted himself before the slaves and waved tiredly. "Just get them out of my sight. Punish them as you see fit." He paused and added, "Don't kill them. They still need to be able to work."

Oh, what was he thinking? These men need his direction. "Half of you take care of these. The rest of you, hunt down the half-breed and its companions. Bring them before me. Alive." He marched back to his mansion, taking but a few guards with him.

"So, Sango, where do you suggest we look?" asked Miroku as they traveled away from their friends, moving toward a shaft of light falling between two buildings. His staff made small indentations in the soft dirt. He casually reached over with his left hand to fondle her curvy butt.

Smack! A vivid red handprint appeared on the monk's left cheek. "Don't you touch me, monk!"

"Yeah!" Shippo chimed in enthusiastically. "You womanizer!"

Miroku chuckled and suggestively caressed his flaming cheek with the tip of his forefinger.

"Incorrigible," grouched Sango. "I don't care where we look. Maybe over by the barracks?"

Miroku nodded. "That makes sense. Perhaps our weapons would be among the soldiers'."

The party skulked off, winding around and between structures in search of the samurai's quarters. Light from the west threw sharply defined, deep shadows. Currently about a hand span away, the sun edged ever closer to the horizon.

Watching Miroku, Shippo, and Sango disappear, Kagome mused quietly, "How are we going to find Tetsusaiga?"

Inuyasha snorted. "Don't look at me." He jerked, startling her. Flicking his ears, he sniffed the air. "Soldiers!" he hissed. "Hurry, Kagome!" He grabbed her arm, dragging her along behind him down the alley. Kirara meowed loudly and dug her claws into Kagome's shoulder, making her wince as she ran.

He swore. "There's some here, too!" He slid to a stop a few meters from an intersection; she smacked into his brick wall back. "Damn it! Why didn't I sense them sooner?"

Kagome gasped as a marching platoon of samurai emerged from around the corner. She whirled. "We're surrounded!" Inuyasha backed her up against a wall to their right, and then faced his enemies, brandishing his claws and snarling. Kirara joined him, transforming into a deadly, saber-toothed carnivore. Oh, she was such an idiot! Why hadn't she taken that monk's bow and quiver with her?

A man to the right bellowed over his shoulder, "WE FOUND THEM!" The soldiers from both sides advanced, joined by yet more reinforcements. They flooded into the small passageway, seemingly without end.

Kagome spotted an elaborately dressed officer merging into their midst. "Inuyasha," she whispered to his back. He turned an ear toward her. "To your left – there's a sergeant. I bet he has a ring!"

Inuyasha growled angrily deep within his chest. "Kirara!" he rasped. "Take care of Kagome!" With that, he leapt over the heads of the startled men, landing directly in front of the officer. He slashed, amputating the sergeant's ringed right hand to the sound of his screams. He awkwardly unsheathed his katana with his remaining limb, striking the space Inuyasha had already vacated. Blood gushed from the stump, saturating the earth. He collapsed to knees, gazing around in shock – his men were falling, wounded, all around him.

Kirara's fur bristled as the samurai approached. She grabbed the neck of Kagome's shirt between her teeth and flung the human onto her back. Charging headfirst through the melee, she reached Inuyasha, throwing him on as well. Then she launched herself skyward. Shrieks of pain and anger drifted into the air after them.

The mountainous landscape beneath them slowly darkened as black thunderclouds spread out from the eastern horizon. They swirled and twisted threateningly. Lightning flashed silently in their distant depths.

Shippo, Miroku, and Sango stopped moving as one. War cries and screams assaulted their ears. Deep animal growls and snarls scored through the cacophony.

Shippo spoke in a horrified whisper, "That's Kagome, Inuyasha, and Kirara!" He clutched Sango's shirt tighter.

"It's okay, Shippo; I'm sure they can handle themselves," reassured Sango shakily.

"Yeah. Inuyasha's with them," said Miroku faux-confidently. "He wouldn't let anything bad happen. But us? We should get out of here!"

Sango exclaimed, "Agreed!" She ran, followed closely by Miroku. Walls flashed by in a blur of sun and shadow. "Stop!" she yelled suddenly as she staggered to a halt. "Soldiers!" She and Miroku dove behind a building.

Shippo swayed back and forth, trying desperately to hold on. He jumped, lying down and grasping fistfuls of dirt. "Ugh, no more!"

Sango and Miroku spared him no attention, on high alert as the soldiers marched past. Adrenaline flooded, pounded through their veins. They stood stiffly erect, watching. Miroku's left lower eyelid twitched repeatedly. Sango's pinkie finger had a tic. As the last samurai swaggered by, they relaxed by degrees.

"Let's go," Sango said, peeking around the corner. Miroku picked Shippo up by the back of his shirt. He cradled the dazed fox kit in the bend of his left arm.

The trio walked a very long time, wandering in unfamiliar, then vaguely recalled, then unfamiliar areas. But at last, they found the barracks. Huddling behind a small, nearby shed, they studied their target. It was a long, two-story structure made of wood. Its pagoda roof sharply curved inward. Simply made, it served its purpose and little more. A few utilitarian windows broke up its monotony. A single entrance was visible from this vantage point. Several torches had been lit against the encroaching darkness and rising wind.

Men flocked to and fro, often emerging in fresh clothes, hair wet and slicked back, helmets in hand. Some yawned and staggered inside to sleep – even at this distance, the incredibly loud snores were audible. Men greeted their comrades familiarly as they walked by, slapping them on the shoulder and making rough remarks, at which the friend would chortle.

"Oh no!" said the revived Shippo. "Look at all those guards! How will we ever get in there?"

Miroku twisted his lips in disgust. "That's a good question."

Sango asked, "Couldn't we just battle them?"

"You've been hanging around Inuyasha for too long." Miroku rolled his eyes. "Though they probably wouldn't expect it."

A voice behind them cried, "Like you didn't expect this?" They pivoted. A young, nervous samurai, helmet- and mask-less, held his wavering katana at the ready. He yelled that there were slaves on the loose, and you men better get over here quick. Trotting over instantly, the soldiers clanked and rattled in their heavy armor.

Sango swiftly drew her sword. "Miroku, take care of the brat!"

"It's done!" he answered, whirling his staff as he stalked toward the boy soldier. His dark, torn robes fluttered in the wind.

"Hey! Don't be so sure of yourself!" the lad exclaimed. Yet his sword trembled more and more as Miroku approached. When he was still a meter or two away, the boy broke, sheathed his weapon, and ran. The monk lowered his staff almost dejectedly and turned back.

Sango and Shippo were engaging the dozen or so samurai. Sango cut, slashed, thrust, and parried expertly. Shippo hollered, "Smashing Top!" The soldiers screamed, pathetically high-pitched, as they were attacked by a massive, spinning, child's toy. Others emerged from the barracks, sleep still filming their eyes. They gaped briefly and then ran back inside, snatching up their maces, halberds, katanas or naginatas (spear-like weapons). Rushing out, their presence bolstered the morale of the panicking men. Then, the gigantic top shrunk rapidly, twirling to a stop at their feet. Tricked, they furiously brandished their weapons, bellowing war cries while they dashed as one.

Joining his comrades, Miroku shouted, "Prepare yourselves!"

Shippo skittered behind his two friends, digging in his shirt for more tricks. This should work, he thought. Then Sango and Miroku clashed with the soldiers above him, sidestepping, twisting, and in general trying to trample him. "Yah!" he cried, scurrying out of the way. "Fox fire!" He threw small green flames at the legs of the soldiers. Panicking, they shrieked, fell to the ground, and rolled. The weak fire sputtered out quickly.

"You stupid demon!" one man exclaimed. Snatching him up by his bushy tail, he drop kicked the little fox. Shippo cried out, sailing over the heads of the combatants. He impacted onto and through the roof, landing in a dazed ball on the second floor of the barracks.

"Shippo!" yelled Miroku and Sango together. They fought harder, whirling, twisting, skirting, striking. "Hang on, Shippo!" Struggling not to kill their opponents, they had some difficulty making permanent progress. Miroku smacked his staff down on a man's hand; his sword flipped into the air. Stepping and thrusting the wood into the man's soft belly, Miroku dispatched another one, if only temporarily.

Sango hissed as a blade skimmed across the ribs on her right side. Blood began to trickle from the thin cut, soaking into her clothes. Turning her head to the right and thrusting her katana straight out from her side, she stabbed through the shoulder the samurai who hurt her. He cried out and went down, sliding off her blade. She gracefully revolved her sword a quarter turn, herself as the center of a circle, to block an attack from behind. Their swords rang. She brought her left hand back onto the hilt and strode to his left side. She lifted her katana as she did so, sliding it alongside his. Then Sango cut down and through his weapon hand, severing it. He joined the screaming wounded on the ground.

Miroku stopped an overhead strike with one of his own, holding his staff in both hands, parallel with the ground. Twisting his pole down and to the left, he flattened his left hand along its length to slide the blade off. He then turned his hand to point with both thumbs in the same direction and brought the cylindrical piece of wood back up. He succeeded in knocking out an inattentive opponent to that side. He then evaded, stepping around with his right foot and pivoting on his left a full 180 degrees. In the same motion, Miroku slid his left hand down to join his right like he held a sword, knocking the first man's sword thrust down. Then he swung his pole to the left, whacking him on the side of his head. Unconsciousness overcame one more enemy.

The two friends continued their smooth, intricate dance, moving ever closer to the barracks. Sustaining only a few small wounds each, their opponents persisted in striking where they'd already left.

Inside, Shippo sat up slowly, shaking his head to remove the haze. He blinked and looked around. Eyes widening, his mouth formed an amazed "wow." Weapons littered the entire length of the single room, which stretched from outside wall to outside wall. Leaning haphazardly against walls or stacked neatly on shelves or hung from ceiling hooks, the tools of war were varied and plentiful. Standing up, Shippo brushed roof debris and dust off his clothes. He wandered the quiet, deserted second floor with curiosity, his satyr-like paws silent on the wood floor.

He craned his neck up to look at some of the swords on higher shelves. Spotting a promising one, Shippo crouched and jumped, landing gently like a cat. This particular katana looked a bit rusty and battered – much like Inuyasha's untransformed Tetsusaiga. This wasn't Tetsusaiga, though; it was just another piece of junk. Disappointed, he wilted and hopped down again.

He continued searching down the aisles. Look! Maybe that was Tetsusaiga! But on Shippo's closer inspection, he discovered that that wasn't it, either. That one? No, the hilt was the wrong color. He sighed. There were so many old swords! He supposed that he'd just have to look at them all. And he shouldn't forget about Miroku's shakujou (Buddhist staff) or Sango's Hiraikotsu.

That was it! Hiraikotsu! Such a large boomerang, a highly unusual weapon, would be much easier to find than a rusty old sword. Shippo charged off with new vivaciousness. He happily sang, "Where, oh, where has Hiraikotsu gone? Where, oh, where could it be?" He dashed down six very long aisles before spotting it. He screeched to a halt.

"I found it! Yes!" Then, in a sing-song, "I found it, I found it!" He pumped his right fist in the air and did a little dance. "I found it! Yeah, that was me! Whoo!" Breathing hard, he faced the shelves again. He gasped. "The others are here, too! Oh, that is awesome!" He lifted the shakujou, but it towered and swayed far over his head. Finally, he lost his balance, and both he and the staff fell backward with a clatter. He stood up and gazed at it in disappointment. He struggled to manhandle it back into its original position.

"Well, at least I found them. I'll just go get Sango and Miroku!" He perked up again. He dashed back to the Shippo-sized hole. Looking around, he jumped up onto successively higher shelves until he was as close as he could get to the ceiling. Then he squatted briefly and leapt straight up, aiming carefully. He flew right through, alighting on the slanted roof. Using his leaf, he transformed into one of most-used forms – a pink, spherical version of himself, with short, spindly limbs poking out. (Being so young, his transformations aren't the best, to say the least.) He floated above the battle, drifting lower and lower. He was buffeted to and fro by the strong wind, fighting to stay in position.

Shippo called, "Miroku, Sango! I found the weapons!"

The few remaining, skittish samurai went to pieces at the sight of Shippo. They fled, screaming about demons and warriors from hell. Sango and Miroku relaxed their stances and lowered their stolen weapons. "Shippo! You're okay!"

He poofed back into his normal self, bouncing and rolling onto the ground. He sat up. "I found them! I found the weapons!"

"Really, Shippo?" asked Sango excitedly, sticking her bloodied blade through her belt. "That's awesome! Way to go! Where are they?"

"In here! In here!" He pointed behind him. "Come on, come on!" He whined, "Hurry up!" He was already pulling the door open.

Miroku laughed lightheartedly and ran after him, staff in hand. Sango chuckled, too, and joined them. They sprinted through the deserted first floor, darted up the stairs, and raced down the aisles of weaponry. They skidded to a panting halt in front of Hiraikotsu, Sango's wakizashi (short sword), Tetsusaiga, Miroku's shakujou, and Kagome's bow and arrows. Sango snatched up Hiraikotsu and hugged it to her, stroking the length of its smooth bone surface. She sighed happily. Miroku took up his staff and shook it, listening to the familiar jingle of the golden, metal rings hooked at the ornamental top.

Shippo looked on proudly as the two reacquainted themselves with their old, trusty weapons. Sango drew her stolen sword and placed it on the shelf. Taking up her old one, she slid it into place at her left side. Then she slung Hiraikotsu on her back, its attached strap diagonal across her torso. Miroku laid down his own confiscation. He also picked up Kagome's things, sliding both the bow and quiver over his left shoulder.

Distant, muffled thunder rolled from the sky.

"You should probably take Tetsusaiga, Sango. You can carry it on your belt," Miroku said.

"Good idea." She did as he suggested, resting it against her own weapon. "Wow, I have a daisho!" ("big and small" set of two samurai swords)

Shippo chortled. "Yeah, you do! Cool!"

Miroku smirked. "You know Inuyasha would thrash you if you tried to keep it." He paused. "But then, before, when you stole it to save your brother Kohaku, he wasn't very angry…."

Sango rolled her eyes. "I'm not keeping it, silly."

"Right." He smiled at her. Turning to leave, his eyes passed over shelf after shelf of armaments. He halted, cocking his head.

"What is it, Miroku?" asked Sango.

He looked up. "Oh, I was just thinking that this seems a good opportunity to unleash a little something." He raised his right hand, clenching it and rattling his prayer beads. "Since there's no one here… I can strike a blow for our side and take out this arsenal."

"That's a great idea!" Shippo cried, clasping his hands together in delight. "Come on, let's do it!" He scampered toward the staircase.

Once outside, they found that the storm was approaching fast. Thunder boomed through the air, and lightning illuminated the black landscape in flashes. The setting sun had been obscured by cumulonimbus clouds. A drizzle fell. Gusts of wind nearly made the torches sputter out.

Miroku directed Sango and Shippo to stand behind him.

"Wait!" Sango shouted over the noise. She snatched a torch and trotted back, nodding at him.

Miroku unwrapped the beads from his hand and held it out, fingers spread, yelling, "Wind Tunnel!" Instantaneously, a gale formed, sucking everything in its path toward the small hole in the monk's hand. He supported his wrist with his left hand, feet spread, one behind him, and braced himself. The barracks began to break apart. Raindrops and chunks of wood flew into the endless, black hole. Swords, arrows, bedding, armor, and whatnot vanished into his Kaza Ana (Wind Tunnel). In short order, the entire building and its contents vanished from the face of the earth.

He fisted his hand, cutting off the destructive power. Expertly, he rewrapped swiftly the beads which held it in check. He rotated, grinning at Shippo and Sango in triumph.