Disclaimer: InuYasha is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and The Count of Monte Cristo is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexadre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.

Rising Sun

Chapter Thirteen—Reunion

The setting sun cast a blaze of red across the campsite; Totosai skirted away among the shadows, hoping that no one had noticed his egress. A stone's throw from where they were settling for the night, a stream gurgled, the trickling of water beckoning to the ancient fire demon and his aching feet.

That damn Sesshomaru was a task master when it came to travel. Were it not for Rin's presence, Totosai doubted whether their entourage would even bother stopping at night, which was a great inconvenience to him and his arthritic bones. The demon emperor kept a rigid pace without any regard for others, the party's daytime progress interrupted only by the increasingly frequent advents of various allies.

They had been arriving in droves, representatives of demon tribes from all over the northern lands; some of them joined Sesshomaru's entourage, while others were dispatched to their own kind as his emissaries. Totosai wondered at how quickly word of the inuyoukai had spread, and at how many demons presented themselves as his loyal subjects. Apparently the current regime left much to be desired.

Nevertheless, the blacksmith was tired of the newcomers and tired of travel in general. He still didn't know where they were headed, and he wasn't certain that he cared. At the moment, all he really wanted was a homey cave on the lava plains, with an anvil and a year-supply of sake at his beck and call… And he was just near desperate enough to risk his neck sneaking away to get it.

Tonight, though, he settled for dipping his feet in the cool, rushing stream, sighing as it coursed over his bunions and blisters. At times like this, he envied Rin with her two-headed dragon, Ah-Uh's rancid smell notwithstanding. The little girl had not walked more than twenty steps since the creature's arrival; as such, she was bouncy and full of smiles and chatter, while the rest of the company trudged along in morose silence.

Totosai settled back on his elbows, listening to the muted sounds wafting over from the campsite, as well as the buzzing of insects in the falling darkness. He closed his eyes, humming a tuneless strain and half-wishing he'd been left on Takeshima with Inuyasha.

A low, moaning sound pierced his thoughts and caused his eyes to fly open.

He sat up abruptly, seeking the source of the noise in the field stretching before him. The tall grasses waved as the wind rustled through them, the crickets chirping blithely, with no sign of anything amiss.

He must have been mistaken, he thought after a moment when nothing out of the ordinary presented itself. He was finally going senile, hearing things that weren't really there.

As he closed his eyes and once again relaxed, the call sounded a second time, rising in timbre as one asking a question. Totosai scrambled to his feet in an instant, scanning the field, eyes alighting on a dark shape some twenty meters away. A surge of disbelief pulsed through him, wrenching his heart as a choked cry clawed itself from his throat.

With wanton disregard, he scudded across the stream, ignoring the splashes of cold water that soaked his clothes in his frenzy to reach the opposite bank. Soon enough, he was closing the distance between himself and his quarry, the world around him slowing to a snail's pace when compared with the frantic beating of his heart. He felt like he was running through molasses, that the very air had become thick and viscous as he made a mad dash forward.

He reached the source of the moans at last, throwing his arms around its thick neck and weeping like a child.

………

"Lord Sesshomaru," Rin piped up, dark eyes peering into the dusky horizon, "why is Lord Totosai hugging a cow?"

The dog demon's amber gaze followed hers, but he merely grunted, turning away once more.

"Sometimes it's better not to ask," Jaken muttered nearby.

The blacksmith's voice floated over to the campsite, infused with joyous overtones. "Momo! Precious, sweet Momo! Where on earth have you been?"

In response, the demon bull simply lowed and snorted.

………

"Now, now, Inuyasha, I know you're upset, but try to contain yourself." Miroku held up placating hands, his expression one of earnest pleading. "Remember, it's bad luck to kill the messenger…" His voice trailed off as he dropped the defensive position and frowned deeply.

"No, no," he muttered, "that's much too cliché." He struck a nonchalant pose, clapping an imaginary figure in front of him on one shoulder and reasoning with a grin, "Aren't you glad now that you didn't marry the treacherous woman yourself?" He raised one eyebrow and added, "And besides, there are so many other fish in the sea…"

Instinct caused him to wince, and he resumed his pensive stance. "Definitely not. That would get me disemboweled on the spot."

"Look, Inuyasha," he apostrophized once more, "you can't really blame her. I mean, she thought you were dead, that she was never going to see you again! And got married only three months later," he added in a small voice, "to a man you despise. So much for everlasting devotion and fidelity…"

It had been hours since he had left the old woman's house, and he'd seen no sign of the hanyou. Granted, he hadn't exactly been looking. At first, he'd wandered aimlessly, wondering how he could possibly break the news of Kikyo and Naraku's marriage to Inuyasha. Then, he'd come across a small inn and suddenly remembered that they would need somewhere to stay that evening… One feigned exorcism later, he'd secured a couple of rooms, but he had felt compelled to make certain they were up to his standard and had spent some time inspecting them… Then, he had gone to find something to eat, since he didn't want to face such a difficult confrontation on an empty stomach…

Okay, so he had been stalling. All afternoon he had been playing the prospective conversation over in his imagination, and he had yet to get a good outcome. It always ended with him somehow getting maimed. And with Inuyasha being heartbroken, but that detail was obviously secondary to Miroku's physical well-being.

Speaking of physical well-being… "Oh, not another one," the monk groused as a now-familiar stinging sensation pinched his arm. He slapped the spot, glaring down at the tiny smear adorning his hand. That old woman's dogs had given him fleas. He'd killed five already, and was itching—literally—to get back to the inn and take a long, hot bath.

Night was descending, though, and he felt a growing worry gnaw at the pit of his stomach; the innkeeper had made a point to recommend he be indoors before dark, and Miroku could already see the streets clearing of traffic. He needed to find Inuyasha, needed to face the music and just get the whole ordeal over with. And yet, the hanyou was nowhere to be seen.

Who knew? With any luck, he'd already discovered the dire news from someone else.

That very thought struck Miroku, and he stopped dead in his tracks, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him before. Inuyasha had doubtless been out looking for leads on Kikyo's whereabouts; who was to say he hadn't found them? The monk suddenly contemplated, with a touch of annoyance, if he had spent the entire afternoon anxious over nothing. Inuyasha could have easily discovered that information from someone else…

And even if he hadn't…

Well, why exactly was Miroku bound to relay it? His shifty thoughts latched on to that idea as though it were a lifeline; sure, he traveled with Inuyasha, but it wasn't as though he were beholden to him for anything. Actually, if anyone was beholden, it was Inuyasha, since Miroku had been the one to provide for their escape from Takeshima.

"Yeah," he huffed, to no one in particular, "if it wasn't for me, he'd still be sitting around on that damned, clammy pile of rocks! That ungrateful…"

"Since when did you start talking to yourself, monk?"

Miroku jerked in surprise as the hanyou in question landed next to him, glaring at him with subdued contempt.

"Where have you been?" the monk inquired, ignoring the query posed to him. "I've been looking for you all afternoon." He searched the half-demon's face, hoping to discern some sign of enlightenment, but was met with a distant expression and a slight tightening of the mouth.

"Obviously you didn't bother checking the wharf. I've been down watching the ships sail in and out of the harbor."

"So you… you didn't find out anything about Kikyo?" The question was posed in a tenuous manner that caused Inuyasha to shoot a curious frown in the monk's direction.

"No," he said shortly. "The only thing I found out was that Old Man Myoga's shipping company, along with most of the others, has been run out of business. Looks like the stupid flea got himself cornered out of the market by one of his own employees."

Miroku opened his mouth to respond, but before any words could leave his tongue, another voice shattered the atmosphere.

"Just who are you calling 'stupid'?"

The hanyou froze, his eyes going wide as a tiny creature leapt from the folds of Miroku's robes, launching itself across the space between them to land on his neck. Miroku himself could only stare in shock, vaguely gesturing that something should probably be done about the talking parasite.

The pinch of a fleabite snapped Inuyasha from his stupor, and he immediately smacked the site, drawing back his clawed hand to peer down at the youkai now nestled in his grasp.

"Myoga?" he intoned, his voice hollow.

The flea had certainly seen better days. His hair had thinned and his mustache drooped sadly, his clothing worn and frayed at the ends. From the tiny, choked sounds he was making, he seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"It really is you," the parasite whimpered. "This monk has been saying your name all afternoon, and I was certain there was some mistake… But no one else's blood tastes like that…"

"Where the hell did you pick him up?" the hanyou demanded of Miroku, who could only splutter in response.

"He came to visit the house I've been living in," Myoga babbled, wiping tears from his eyes with one tiny hand. "He started asking questions about Kikyo, so I got suspicious and thought I'd follow him." Miroku was now the one making choked noises, trying to figure out how to shut the flea up.

"Questions about Kikyo?" Inuyasha repeated sharply, his keen amber gaze boring into the monk. "What questions? Did you discover anything?"

"Of course he did!" Myoga moaned, and Miroku despairingly abandoned the hopes of withholding the dire information from his traveling companion. "He discovered that she married Naraku years ago, and that she's living in Kyoto, the wife of a wealthy man!" the flea blurted, unceremoniously letting the proverbial cat out of the bag.

The air suddenly grew still, as though the world itself had grinded to a screeching halt; Miroku helplessly watched as Inuyasha registered the divulged information, the only manifestation reflected in the shocked, distant expression in hanyou's eyes. The monk steeled himself up for the anticipated disbelief, the barrage of questions, the inevitable burst of rage… but none of these things came.

"I-Inuyasha," he prompted, possessed with a gripping terror at the half-demon's seemingly frozen demeanor. That expression… it would have looked more at home on Sesshomaru's face than here on the typically brash hanyou. "Inuyasha, I've retained some rooms for us at the nearby inn," the monk ventured, motioning vaguely down the road. "We should… we should go there; we can discuss what to do next…"

"You go," Inuyasha interrupted, his voice quiet but slicing the atmosphere like a knife. He mutely held out his hand, depositing Myoga onto the palm Miroku grudgingly stretched out in response.

"B-but the inn…" the monk faltered.

"I'll meet you there," Inuyasha pronounced as he turned and strode away, his face unreadable. "Don't worry. I can smell where you are a mile away, monk."

"But Inuyasha!" Myoga's shrill voice rang out in the twilight air. "You mustn't be on the streets after dark! It's too dangerous!"

A low grunt was his only answer; the hanyou didn't so much as glance back, but just kept walking, his posture straight and his attitude closed.

"Thanks a lot," Miroku quipped to the youkai resting on his upturned palm. "Very considerate of you to break the news to him like that."

"At least I didn't tell him he should be grateful he didn't marry her," the flea huffed, folding his two sets of arms in an affronted gesture.

"Well, there is that. So what exactly happens after dark around here?"

"The Thunder Brothers happen. Or rather, Manten happens. Hiten's usually in Kyoto, but he leaves his brother behind to wreak havoc across this area. I hope for Inuyasha's sake that tonight is quiet."

Miroku nodded, frowning as he shifted his own steps back toward the inn. "So tell me," he said in the falling darkness, "exactly how many of your friends are currently inhabiting my robes?"

………

He didn't know where he was going, but then, that wasn't really important at the moment. Inuyasha wandered through the streets, his mind a blur and his thoughts tumbling through it without any seeming order.

Kikyo… married…

He had considered it. In fact, he'd spent the entire afternoon watching ships and reflecting on how nothing in the world was as it should be. Caught up in that vein of logic, he had forced himself to consider the possibility of Kikyo being married, but he hadn't actually believed it to be true. The very idea had seemed so foreign to him before, but now it burrowed into his mind, taking root. Of course he'd been a fool ever to believe that she would wait for his return, but to marry Naraku…?

The hanyou found himself plagued with a strong impulse to smash something into tiny pieces.

How long had she waited? How long after he was gone before she turned to that loathsome man? Or maybe… maybe it had been planned from the start, maybe Kikyo had…

He shook his head violently. "No," he ground out. "No way. She would never… would never…" But he couldn't finish the sentence. She would never betray him? But hadn't she done just that in marrying his rival? She had always sworn that she and Naraku were friends, nothing more. At what point had that changed? After Inuyasha's imprisonment, or… or before…?

After all, he had spent months at a time out on the ocean, months away from her, months when she could have been doing anything. He had only her word as proof of her fidelity, but he had trusted her implicitly. Her declarations of love had been so sincere; her memory alone had sustained him through his darkest hours.

Now in the light of day, so to speak, doubt rankled and festered deep within him, and he wondered if everything he had once believed was in actuality a lie.

His sudden urge toward destruction amplified tenfold.

With a frustrated growl, he glanced around at the deserted street, seeking out some inanimate object upon which he could exercise his pent-up wrath. The windows in most of the buildings were black, though he knew they weren't abandoned. The people here, for whatever reason, apparently did not use lamps after dark. Perhaps the oil was too expensive…

A couple streets away, a loud crash sounded, and Inuyasha could make out the unmistakable sounds of a skirmish of some sort. A smile twisted itself across his face, revealing his fangs as his eyes took on a hardened glint. He needed a distraction at the moment, after all; how fortunate for him that one seemed to be presenting itself.

Senses heightened, he took off in a run, listening to several crashes and shouts. A blinding flash of light appeared behind a far corner, streaking across the space in front of him in a crackle of energy as it disappeared again behind a row of houses. He heard it impact with a building, saw the cloud of dust and debris puff up into the sky as a telltale sign of destruction.

Better and better – there were youkai involved.

He bounded forward, growing ever more eager to enter the fray, when a single cry shattered his focus; it was a child's cry, filled with terror and desperation. Inuyasha stopped dead in his tracks, staring ahead, wondering just what was happening on the next street over.

To his astonishment, a tiny figure scampered around the corner at breakneck speed. Inuyasha felt his jaw go slack as he recognized the sight and scent of the kitsune child he had encountered earlier. Gone was the sullen and superior attitude, though; the kit fairly radiated panic instead. He had been looking behind him as he ran but turned forward at last, skidding to a halt when he discovered the hanyou standing in his path.

The child's eyes were wide and tear-filled, and his mouth gaped, quivering as he looked first at the obstacle before him and then back the way he came, as though trying to decide which route was preferable.

"What kind of trouble you in now, runt?" Inuyasha demanded, keeping one eye on the trembling kit and another on the corner from whence he had just come.

"M-muh-muh—" was all the child could manage as he backed up a step.

A loud roar sounded from behind, causing him to jump in trepidation, whirling to face the impending threat.

Sure enough, a large youkai bounded around the corner, eyes momentarily darting around the street before zeroing in on the kit's location. "Thought you could outrun Manten?" the newcomer leered, baring two rows of sharp teeth in his hideous head. He was quite possibly the ugliest youkai Inuyasha had ever encountered—which was saying a lot—with a huge, bald head and reptilian face. His bulky girth exuded elemental power, and his scent needled at the hanyou's mind, so similar to one he remembered all too well. No doubt this was Hiten's brother, though any resemblance between the two ended with their inherent smells.

Manten, for his part, hadn't even registered the second presence, so intent was his attention upon the whimpering kitsune. He advanced slowly, the air around him sparking with electricity. "Thought I wouldn't be able to catch up to you? Thought I would give up my delectable snack so easily?"

He blinked and stopped short upon discovering his quarry quite suddenly blocked from view by another body.

"D'you always pick on runts?" Inuyasha asked, flexing one set of claws as he glared a challenge to the elemental demon.

Manten's astonishment melted away into a sneer. "Get out of my way," he growled. "Mind your own business, or you'll regret it."

"Better run now, while you have the chance," the hanyou cast over his shoulder to the wide-eyed child. "I got an old score to settle with your brother," he added to the youkai he was about to fight, "though I don't mind practicing on you."

His opponent's response was an angry snarl. In a wave of adrenaline and overconfidence, Inuyasha leapt forward into the fray, exchanging blows with the demon. They seemed equally matched, each blocking the other's attacks, and in a fit of frustration, the hanyou finally pulled back his claws for a more powerful assault. Manten blocked the movement with one arm and smashed his other into the hanyou's stomach, sending him flying back in the direction he had come. Inuyasha skidded and came to a stop, lying on his back halfway down the road.

A whimper in the nearby shadows momentarily took his attention away from his advancing opponent, and he was able to discern the hunched figure of the kitsune watching the fight as it progressed.

"Hey, runt!" he growled. "I'm trying to protect you! Run away, already!" He didn't wait to see whether the kit obeyed or not but jumped to his feet, positioning himself in a defensive stance, willing himself not to get overzealous and careless in the fight.

Manten was laughing as he approached, satisfaction etched into his grotesque visage. "A mere half-demon is no match for my might," he scoffed, then lunged into another attack.

Inuyasha defended himself much better this time, though he kept getting distracted by an odd feeling coming from his belt, from Tetsusaiga. It was almost as though the sword were pulsing, calling to him to be used. He dodged a blow from his opponent and leapt back, pulling the weapon from its sheath and briefly inspecting it.

To the naked eye it still appeared to be a chipped, rusty old sword. He could feel a strange sort of power coming from its hilt, however; it felt sluggish as though just awakening. His grip unconsciously tightened as he tried to tap into that power.

A loud guffaw brought him back to the present. Manten had stopped short when the weapon was first produced, but he was now nearly doubled over with mirth. "You think you can even scratch me with that piece of junk?" he demanded. "It looks like it hasn't been sharpened this century, or last! Come on, then!" He straightened his posture, arrogantly gesturing the hanyou forward.

Inuyasha hesitated momentarily. In all his practices with Tetsusaiga, the sword had not cut so much as a blade of grass; it would likely just bounce off the skin of his demon opponent. Then again, in all his practices with Tetsusaiga, it had never displayed any sort of inner strength, had never pleaded for combat as it seemed to do now. Determination set into his face as he tightened both hands around the sword and took a running leap forward, raising it high in the air for a mighty swing.

Manten lifted one armored arm to deflect the attack, a laugh gurgling in his mouth. Just as Inuyasha was descending upon him, though, the demon's eyes widened, and he threw himself out of the way.

Inuyasha swung the weapon, feeling it graze his opponent as he rolled to one side. The hanyou whirled as he landed, his feet skidding into a set position as he raised the sword for another attack.

"What trickery is this?" Manten cried, wrath causing his eyes to blaze bright.

Inuyasha's own gaze moved to the sword in his hands, and his jaw nearly dropped. He had felt no change in weight, but the weapon had somehow shifted into a huge blade, nearly as tall as himself, its presence exuding a powerful aura. He could sense that this wasn't a complete transformation, however; Tetsusaiga's power seemed to fluctuate, as though he hadn't fully tapped into its true source. It was unstable, just as a new weapon would be in the hands of an amateur.

Still, it was something. He felt a sudden surge of satisfaction as he made ready to strike again.

Manten, though, had other ideas. The inside of his mouth began to glow, and Inuyasha felt the small hairs on his arms stand on end as electric energy gathered around him. The massive attack burst from the demon's wide-open jaws, an enormous ball of lightning that coursed straight at its target.

Inuyasha braced himself for the impact, planting his sword in front of him in a vain attempt to block some of the demonic energy. To his great surprise, Tetsusaiga diverted the attack to either side of him; only the edges of his robes were singed, and not enough to get upset over.

Suddenly he felt quite grateful for his inheritance.

There wasn't time to dwell on that, though, for Manten hurtled toward him with the intent to finish him off. Inuyasha leapt forward, eagerly slashing his weapon and feeling a rush of satisfaction as it met with flesh and bone. He ripped it away, and Manten stumbled back, holding one hand to his bleeding shoulder, his arm nearly severed at the joint.

Inuyasha would have attacked again, but his opponent retreated even farther, loathing in his glare and wrath upon his lips.

"This isn't over," Manten snarled, even as he backed away.

Realizing that the fight was ending for the time being, the hanyou slung his sword carelessly across one shoulder. "Tell Hiten that Inuyasha sends his regards," he sneered.

The elemental demon didn't seem to recognize his name, nor was there any reason he should. He simply vanished around the next corner, fleeing to nurse his wound.

Inuyasha turned his attention then to Tetsusaiga, looking over the transformed sword and trying to memorize the feel of its power; it seemed both part of him and wholly independent from him. "Totosai, what the hell?" he voiced his thoughts aloud. He glanced between the enormous sword and its comparatively tiny sheath, wondering where he was supposed to keep it now.

With a shrug, he decided to try simply putting it away. As Tetsusaiga's tip slid into the miniscule slot, Inuyasha felt the power drain away, the sword returning to its original state as it slipped into its resting place.

"Rusted piece of shit again, huh?" the hanyou mused, pulling it partway from the sheath once more to view the scarred metal. "Maybe it only transforms when I'm fighting someone."

It was a mystery he would have to solve, he realized, before Sesshomaru came looking for him. His brother expected him to master the Tetsusaiga, and Inuyasha had the sudden, sneaking suspicion that that was going to be even more difficult than he had first assumed.

A poorly suppressed sniffle caught his attention, and his nose told him the kitsune child was still crouched among the shadows nearby. Annoyance swelling within, he stomped over to the huddled figure.

"I thought I told you to run away," he scolded, crossing his arms over his chest. The child didn't move, didn't so much as acknowledge his presence. Inuyasha scratched his head, tempering his voice to a less hostile tone to say, "Anyway, it's all over. You can go home now, runt."

His only answer was a miserable sob as the kitsune curled in on himself even further.

Inuyasha felt a twinge of worry. "Hey, kid," he said, squatting down next to the boy and extending a hesitant hand of comfort. It hovered above the child's head for a moment, as he was uncertain how to progress in this situation. "You'd better get home," he advised, pulling back his arm and seating himself cross-legged on the ground. "I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you."

"G-g-got n-no home," the kit stuttered, shuddering with every word. "H-he killed my pa! D-destroyed the house! P-Pa was trying to p-protect me!" He trailed off into a miserable wail, tears streaming from his eyes.

Inuyasha wasn't exactly an expert in dealing with tears—or with children, for that matter—and it certainly wasn't his business what happened to this brat. As he looked down at the sobbing kitune, though, he experienced an uncomfortable flashback to his own life, to that period of time just after his mother had died, when he had lived on the streets of this very town, scrounging for food among piles of trash and dodging away from malicious strangers who meant him harm.

"You don't have any other family?" he ventured hesitantly. "No one else you can go to?"

The kit buried his face in his hands and shook his head, his shoulders convulsing.

For a moment, the hanyou looked around at the darkened street, feeling helpless, wondering if there were any houses along this road that would open their doors to the orphaned boy. No doors stood open at the moment, he realized. No windows were parted, no lights shone. For all the clamor he and Manten had made in their battle, not one of the residents along this road had so much as peeked out to see what was happening.

Everyone steers clear of the Thunder Brothers. Hadn't the kit told him that this very afternoon? So this was what the town had degenerated to: people huddling in the warmth and safety of their own homes, closing their eyes and ears to the dangers that lurked around the corner, leaving the weak to fend for themselves.

Disgust welled up in his throat. The kitsune continued crying, the sound muffled but unmistakably filled with despair. In one swift movement, Inuyasha swept him up into his arms and stood, heading back down the road.

The choked sobs broke off as the child gawked up at him.

"A friend of mine reserved a couple rooms in an inn near here," Inuyasha explained, wondering why the hell he was referring to Miroku as a friend all of the sudden. "You can stay there tonight, at least. I don't know how much longer we're going to be here, but we can decide what to do in the morning."

The kitsune continued to stare.

"Ya got a name, runt?" Inuyasha prompted.

"Shippo," he managed with a hiccup.

"Well, Shippo, if you make any cracks about my 'hanyou filth' I'm tossing you back out on the street, understand?"

The boy nodded and settled down into his hold, his body relaxing as the evening's tension drained away. Inuyasha had no doubt that he would be asleep before they reached the inn, and wondered what he was supposed to tell Miroku.

"Keh. I don't owe that idiot any explanations," he told the stars, and they twinkled back their hearty agreement.

………

"You did what?" Miroku exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Keep your voice down," Inuyasha shushed him, glaring. "The kid's asleep, and these walls are thin."

"I'm afraid the esteemed monk is correct in feeling such distress," Myoga spoke up, hopping up and down as though to emphasize his presence. "This is indeed a terrible occurrence!"

"Trust me, that monk is in no way 'esteemed,'" the hanyou responded dryly. "And why's it such a big deal? I got into a fight with one of the Thunder Brothers and left him a little worse for wear. I woulda done more if he hadn't turned tail and run."

Miroku was pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a sudden, massive headache. "Inuyasha," he pronounced, as though speaking to a three-year-old, "Manten is the district magistrate. He could have us all arrested and executed."

"District magistrate?" he repeated as though he had heard wrong. "Shippo said he destroyed his house and killed his father. What the hell kind of district magistrate is that?"

"One who is extremely secure in his position," said Myoga. "Hiten and Manten have some sort of connection with the government—that's how they were able to run every other shipping company out of business, too. Hiten acquired a ship of his own a couple years after you were ex—after you disappeared," he corrected himself, "and suddenly he had all the government shipping contracts. Then, the private merchants started going to him as well, saying only that he was 'highly recommended.' Manten was made district magistrate when Lord Kagewaki received a promotion to a higher position and moved to Kyoto. And ever since then, he's done whatever he pleased with this town."

"He got what was coming to him then," Inuyasha huffed, staunchly folding his arms.

"That's hardly the point," Miroku spoke up, impatience thick on his voice. "He has command of the local military! We could have soldiers pounding down our door at any time! Did you think about that? We're not safe here anymore!"

The hanyou grunted, clenching his jaw. "Yeah, well, it ain't as though we got any reason to stay. We can leave first thing tomorrow morning, be on the road before the sun's up."

"And what about the boy?" Miroku pressed, obviously not adverse to this course of action.

Inuyasha shrugged. "We'll take him along if he wants. Or leave him behind if he doesn't."

"That's hardly a plan," the monk reproved him with a frown. "Do you even know the first thing about taking care of a child?"

By now, though, Inuyasha was tired of being scolded. "All I know is that a kid his age shouldn't be abandoned to the whims of society – especially in a town like this that doesn't give a damn. As far as I'm concerned, he can come with us, and we'll make do. Besides," he added with a wry grin, "Sesshomaru's got that runt tagging along after him, and he hasn't gotten overwhelmed and abandoned her yet, has he?"

Miroku conceded that point, recalling just how the dog demon had acquired his pint-sized shadow. "True. All right, the kid comes with us, then."

………

"But Rin wants to come too!"

"Quiet, brat! Lord Sesshomaru has decreed that you will stay behind, and stay behind you will!"

"But Jaken—"

"That's Lord Jaken to you!"

The little girl folded her arms in a rebellious stance. "Lord Sesshomaru said Rin doesn't have to give Jaken a title." As if to emphasize her point, she stuck her tongue out at the underling.

"Why you impertinent little—!"

"Jaken, enough." Sesshomaru's flat command brought the argument to a standstill. Jaken sputtered and attempted to garble an apology, but the imperial dog demon simply ignored him, turning his attention to the child. "Rin, you will stay here. Come, Jaken."

The toad took this opportunity to stick his own tongue out at Rin, who was too busy protesting to notice. "But Lord Sesshomaru! Rin wants to come too!" She took three steps after him, but her movement was cut short as he turned a decisively negative glare in her direction.

The inuyoukai held her attention with that austere gaze, his narrowed eyes daring her to contradict his decision again. After only a moment, the little girl lowered her head, submissive.

"But," she spoke up wistfully, her eyes lifting once more to meet his, "you will come back, won't you? You will come back for Rin?"

To the innocent bystander, Sesshomaru's expression would have appeared severe, unyielding. Rin, though, recognized the miniscule softening of his eyes, an almost indiscernible sign of reassurance. In response, she bobbed her head obediently and smiled.

"Rin will wait here, with Ah-Un."

Jaken's chest puffed self-importantly. "The dragon is coming with—"

"Ah-Un will remain behind," Sesshomaru interrupted, already walking away from them.

Totosai, sitting cross-legged atop his three-eyed bull, had watched the entire exchange with curiosity. "Don't you think you're being a little harsh on the girl?" he inquired as Momo fell in step beside the emperor. "She practically worships you, after all."

"Humans are weak," Sesshomaru answered coldly, his attention fixed upon the horizon. "To journey any further along this road would endanger her life."

"And leaving her behind with a pack of demons won't?"

Amber eyes slid askance to view the demon blacksmith. "She will come to no harm in my absence," the inuyoukai pronounced as though declaring absolute truth.

Totosai experienced the sudden mental image of what would happen if Sesshomaru returned to discover the child in some way injured. Mounds of mangled bodies met his mind's eye, and he winced. "You really do care for her, don't you?"

This earned him a full gaze from the emperor, whose expression seemed more than usually stony. "No more than I care for my clothing or my lands or anything else that belongs to me," he answered, which was explanation enough.

The blacksmith's bulbous eyes shifted down to rest upon the sword at Sesshomaru's side, Tenseiga. The demon had scorned it as a birthright, had openly voiced its worthlessness, and yet had kept it with him all these years, simply because it belonged to him.

"Perhaps she'll be of use to you one day," Totosai stated vaguely.

Sesshomaru made an almost inaudible grunt and kept walking.

A/N: I wasn't sure I'd be able to include a Totosai/Momo reunion in this story, but it worked so well at the start of this chapter that I couldn't resist. Maybe I should have… Oh, and Totosai's wet bunions are fondly dedicated to Nokomarie, who may or may not ever read this.

Questions to be answered in the next chapter: Just where is Sesshomaru headed? How goes Sango's quest in tracking down the treacherous monk Miroku? And where the heck has Kagome been? Yes, you read that last one correctly. She's officially entering the story. Finally.

Many thanks to all who reviewed!