Disclaimer: Unless otherwise corrected, Inuyasha's fire-rat "jacket", as well as Sesshomaru's flower-printed "jacket", will be referred to as a "suikan".
The General
Chapter Twenty One
If you whispered, it'd hurt me.
He was asleep but still so cold. Imaginary arms wrapped around himself and squeezed. The cold actually hurt. It was dry and deeply penetrating. He supposed even the very pores of his skin had ice crystals within them. But he didn't shiver. He hugged himself tighter and was engulfed by the cold's strange pain.
Around him was darkness. The cold came from there, he knew. Where there was no light, there was no warmth. He was terrified of it and yet wanted to stay, because the darkness seemed like power and the cold seemed like protection.
Even though it hurt so badly.
His name was called. He turned his dream-head towards the sound and instinctively understood that his name had been repeated continually since his arrival into sleep. It was only now did he heed it. His name in the echoing chambers of his mind sounded forlorn and pleading. Yes, he answered. This was not the first time he had had this dream. His name had been called for quite some time, every time he slept.
But this was the first time he had answered. Just on a whim. His name sounded like it was in pain from the cold and the darkness too.
Yes?
In front of him, the black started to gray and form a silhouette of a person he could not recognize. Nonetheless, there was a pang within him that beat and beat and beat as the silhouette solidified and was lightened to reveal who the person was. Once recognition did hit, the pain intensified, the cold heightened, the darkness swelled.
It engulfed his head and filled him with an incomprehensible fury. But the fury wasn't hot. It was sharp. So sharp. So painful.
He howled.
NO! I will kill you! I will kill you! I will make you hurt! I'm going to make you hurt like you did to me!
He lunged at the person. Even in his dreams, his brother stood so regally, so contemptuously. This was how his brother would always be. This was how he remembered his brother and probably always would: with a look of boredom. But if you looked closer, if you knew his brother long enough like he did and knew how to look, you would see the slight furrow in his brow, the slight edge in his eyes. That disdain. That hidden mocking. That disgust.
FILTH.
He howled again but even within his mind, it had the crack of a sob.
His brother did not disappear from his attacks. In a dream, he expected that. Instead, he felt the ghostly touch of fabric and skin and muscle; he felt the ghostly thuds when his brother fell and when he followed suit with imaginary gravity. The fall did not knock away his momentum. In a flurry of knife-cutting rage, he childishly punched away at his brother's face and chest. He had no sword, no weapon, and he wasn't even bearing his claws. But just punching felt good to him. It didn't lessen the pain of the cold and the darkness. But this was something he had always wanted to do: just attack without military precision or hard-practiced tactics. Just hit. Just hit and feel the angry gasps shoot out of him like cries. He had always wanted to do this. Since he was a child and he had first seen that disdain, that hidden mocking, that disgust.
By the time he had met his brother, he'd known what that looked like. He knew how to find it. His brother did not fail to express it. Damn you! Damn you. Damn you…
Soon, even within this dream, his movements slowed. He grew weary and felt engulfed once more. But this time, not by rage. But by a much worst thing….
Helpless sorrow.
He landed one more good punch against his brother's cheekbone, raised his hand again, but it fell down onto his brother's chest. He panted between his teeth and tried to fight against the swelling within his rib cage. It felt like the pain from the cold…but sweeter. This pain held an inkling of the emotion he tried so hard to eradicate. It held the light of who he used to be before the mistake he'd committed. It held the weak light that used to be him before his brother hurt him so deeply.
He hadn't even known that there was more to dig out of his heart to still hurt him.
He turned to his brother's face. He wanted to glare at him but he couldn't make his imaginary face make the movements. So he continued to pant, his lips pulled tightly back, from weariness but mostly from the pain in his ribs. He expected to still see that disdain, that hidden mocking, that disgust. He expected that from this dream. That was how he would always remember his brother after all.
His brother looked back at him. There was no wavering in their eye contact. That slight furrow remained in his brows but it didn't translate scorn. But pain. The same pain. And there was understanding on his brother's face.
He heard his name again, a whisper. His brother's lips did not move but he wondered if that's what his name would sound like if his brother said it softly.
In the background, imperceptible to his imaginary hearing, was the sound of two heartbeats.
They melded together right as he woke up.
Inuyasha remembered the dream for only a few minutes.
Inuyasha awoke like he had never slept. There was uneasiness within him and his brow was damp. He didn't know why. The answer was on the edge and he didn't really want to go get it. Releasing a sigh, he wiped at one eye and looked about his surroundings.
It was still night. Nagaharu and the rest of the grave-robbing gang huddled together nearby, unwilling to leave, and determined to be the continual pain in his neck. Miroku and Sango slept at the base of the tree he resided in. There were curled up in Kagome's sleeping bags of the future, weary from a long day of caring for the comatose and the injured. Weary from ignoring the sneers and the warning growls given by the conscious ones who didn't want a human's help and a hanyou's overseeing. Inuyasha found it a sweet revenge for their betrayal. If they wanted to take care of the demon dumbasses so badly, then they could take the brunt of their prideful abuse. Without him. There was no way in hell he was going to help them and it was smart of Miroku and Sango never to ask.
In fact, they were being very attentive to his wishes, uncomplaining. Kagome and the rest too.
What? Was seeing him killed so traumatic?
Inuyasha sighed harshly, clamping the fresh memories down with a massive effort of will. He arched his back against the tree bark and tightened his arms in the crossed position they were in. He couldn't see the sky through the branches but he stared anyway. His ears swiveled by the sound of a cleared throat, delicate, desperately trying not to disturb anyone's slumber. The uneasiness which lingered from his forgotten dream twisted and soured and became the new, more comfortable emotion of annoyance. Inuyasha didn't turn his head.
The throat was cleared once more. When that still did not raise a reaction from the hanyou, except an unseen twitching eyebrow, the person made a daring move and whispered his name. "Inuyasha-san? I know you are awake."
His eyes were open, weren't they? He scowled over to the one called Yasuo. He was an odd one. The demon smiled at Miroku and Sango's attentiveness to his injuries, thanked them, and welcomed Inuyasha back when he returned from the hot springs. He ignored all the scowls from his comrades. He was kind. He called the hanyou by name and not by his blood heritage.
He pissed Inuyasha off more than any of the rest.
Since overlooking the demon sorely failed, Inuyasha spoke. "Wha'dya want?" It was not stated as a question.
Yasuo smiled in that slow, endearing way that Inuyasha attributed to the brat now and desperately despised. But Yasuo paused, looked about at his sleeping comrades, and was silent for a time. He clearly made up his mind and attempted to stand. Inuyasha straightened up. "What the hell are you doing?" The demon's strength was returning due to Kagome's futuristic items and human effort but residue of fever remained on his skin. And he was weakened terribly by the loss of his arm. Yasuo paused again and looked at Inuyasha thoughtfully.
"I wish to speak with you," he whispered, "but you are too far away for a decent conversation."
Inuyasha nearly growled. "Then don't speak with me! Go back to sleep."
"Then will I be able to speak with you in the morning?" Yasuo's calm words disarmed Inuyasha, as it always did. He did not speak in a syrupy fashion, like many corrupt villains Inuyasha had met throughout his life—in meaning that there was no thick attempt in his voice to beguile innocents, or dimwits, into a crafty trap. He spoke slowly, picked the words out and strung them with an intense sincerity.
Inuyasha didn't like it.
He didn't know how to deal with it.
"We have nothing to talk about." He re-crossed his arms, lay back down, and even closed his eyes to indicate that his words were harshly true to him and should be to Yasuo. Yasuo didn't get the hint or brazenly ignored it.
"Then we will discover something to discuss through small conversation. Here is a good place to start: what is your favorite color, Inuyasha-san?" Yasuo's chin quivered slightly by his refusal to chuckle when the hanyou looked at him, aghast.
Maybe Tenseiga's miracle had actually been a curse. "It's Inuyasha. And you don't need to know."
"Ah, I am honored to be allowed to call you by your first name. Please feel free to call me Yasuo also!" He grinned happily and leaned forward. "And is it not red? You wear an awful lot of it."
"So what." Inuyasha sharply stated. He curled about his midsection a few centimeters, subtly covering the gaping hole in his undershirt and fire rat suikan. Going to Kaede would have to wait for tomorrow. It had been too late and he wasn't going to leave these raggedy demons alone on his territory. Besides…it got cold at night. His unprotected stomach was chilled. Damn you Sesshomaru.
Yasuo's smile faltered and became an expression of guarded concern. His whisper lowered. "Does it still pain you at all?"
Inuyasha tensed and looked away to the side. His hand unconsciously traveled there again, touching the deep burn from those fingers. The burn remained under the surface, unable to be truly touched and eased by the contact. "No."
The silent was long but not awkward. Yasuo was being polite, Inuyasha actually understood that. When he did speak, it was with utmost care. "It will anger you. But I wish to say…thank you for what you did today. As well as say sorry for bringing such pain upon you. I…uh, understand the difficulty of allowing us to stay here and what you—"
"Stop."
Yasuo did and there was no shame in his eyes, no embarrassment of what he'd said or of being interrupted. Inuyasha couldn't stand to look at him. He was like that blasted Nagaharu and the rest of them. Something must be up to treat him so…so…civilly. There must be something they wanted. His death? The annihilation of his half-breed flesh from this planet like every other person in his life?
Like his brother?
But they didn't act that way. They didn't demand anything that made sense—like the jewel or his sword or his blood on the ground. They had acted so cleverly when he'd returned from the land of the dead, actually concerned and utterly relieved. They must have acted. Because it didn't make sense. The rest made sense. The bandaged half-faced dog-demon made sense. That was how it was. How it always had been. How it should always be! Always!
He was filth.
Sesshomaru…had even made sense.
Inuyasha, cold but confused, and desperate for an escape into sleep…to anywhere, shook his head at Yasuo. "Stop…No more. Don't talk to me anymore."
Surprisingly, Yasuo nodded. His face was composed and soft. He didn't say another word but smiled at the hanyou and lay back down.
Inuyasha closed his own eyes and for a split moment, wondered about the feel of a normal conversation.
Red is not my favorite color.
It sung at him violently. It clawed and snarled through his veins, dragged away his lucidity and made him want to rear back and scream. Or vomit. It rose and ebbed off rhythmically but the interlude between panting clarity and a savageness he couldn't control was becoming short. Dangerously short.
He needed to get out, away from the others. He needed to leave before he didn't want to anymore. Because if he stayed, his feverish thoughts about ripping flesh and eating hearts and dismembering those he loved would rise and not ebb away. It taunted him, whispered in the back of his thoughts when he could breathe normally. His friends, his pack mates, would walk by him and a desire would tease him to grab at that calmly swinging hand and crack it. When his blood sung, it was worse. The desire was tantalizingly real like the desire to eat and procreate. Too real. Too sunk into his skin. It was like the quiet voice of his homeland's instincts, alive in his species since the beginning of existence. Impossible to ignore. Painful to ignore.
He had to get out now.
He could hear them calling his name. They had seen him. He should have been more careful but it was getting hard just to walk.
Because he wanted to run. He wanted to kneel over onto his hands and fly away into the night, letting go of his mind's rigid clutch on sanity. It hurt so bad to hang on.
They were getting panicked. They never were too good without his leadership. Maybe he should stop and explain…
NO! He gritted his teeth and doubled over as heat bubbled up over him and tore away at the fridges of his control. Oh, he wanted to tear into them. He wanted to, so badly, go and bury his claws deep into muscle, blood, dirt, bark, anything at ALL! He carefully quickened his step, sweating, panting, and feeling the unaccustomed prick of tears in his eyes.
He knew when he finally started to run and pulled fruitlessly back at his longing to go faster, that he wouldn't be able to return.
He was falling and didn't have the strength to crawl back up.
"LET ME GO!" Ukyou kicked his legs, bringing his whole body up with the momentum. The guards grunted but did not slow. They dragged him across the stone ground and down the steps. Ukyou hissed in pain as each flight bruised his tender tail. "Damn it! Listen to me! I have important news to tell the Royal Elders!"
"Sure you do, you mangy dingo mutt. But the Elders have no time for you and your conspiracies. Go back to the mud pit where you belong." The guards looked at each other and then simultaneously lifted Ukyou up and tossed him into a puddle. Laughing and tails wagging, they stomped back to their posts.
Ukyou glared at the Royal Palace of the Western Kingdom. Or the gate at least. He'd tried to do things the diplomatic way. He tried to make a reservation to see the Royal Elders. But everyone he asked simply laughed at him for the notion. Apparently, the Elders didn't take visitors, especially with a war and a plague on their hands. So he just walked up to the gate and started yelling. He was angry. He wanted to hurt that hanyou and he was tired of waiting! It had taken him forever to get here. It had taken him forever to sniff the place out since he couldn't see it what with its special charms which masked it from the prying eyes of humans.
Damn them all. He got nowhere, obviously, with all that yelling. Ukyou stood up, fruitlessly dusting away at the liquid on his clothes. What now? He thought. He turned to head back to the small bowels of streets and houses that surrounded the large estate.
He had been surprised to see the town so similar to that of human infrastructure. Perhaps the close relationship between humans and dogs even transcended into higher canine life forms. That made Ukyou smile sardonically at the thought. Most Youkai chose to live with and similar to their lower selves, like the wolf-demons in elaborate caves or forests. More natural.
However, even Ukyou had started to notice the continual effect of humans upon the Youkai landscape. Either the humans affected how Youkai behaved—such as the grave-robbing gang and their desire to live in make-shift tents, and this city of wooden houses—or they disrupted how the Youkai lived. Such as himself, who had been cast out numerous times by soldiers and monks and priestesses. Who had even been attacked by strange metal weapons that blew fire and hurt his ears. For thousands of years, demons ruled the land and the humans were enslaved.
But now…somehow…the measly little creatures were making a comeback, causing demons to become homeless, starved, or even dead. How could this be?
Ukyou crossed his arms and clenched his teeth. Humans. Whether full-blooded, or half-blooded, they were all so despicable and pointless.
So entranced was he with his dark thoughts, Ukyou did not see the dog-demon jogging towards him. They rammed shoulders, enough force to cause the dog-demon to drop what he had been holding and for Ukyou to stagger and to curse.
The dog-demon apologized profusely. Ukyou looked him over and placated down his ire. He was about his age, young, and a soldier. He wore the same garbs that Shirabaku's army wore. This irritated Ukyou—that hanyou lover!—but he bent down to politely pick up the large scroll from the ground.
"Oh thank you!" The younger soldier said. He held out his hand for the scroll but Ukyou did not give it to him.
The dingo Youkai looked over the impressively sealed scroll, at the elaborate texture of the paper. "If you don't mind me asking, who is this to be delivered to? It seems so important and you were in quite a hurry."
The soldier smiled, "Uh, I'm afraid that's classified. And if you could excuse me, I, uh, am still in a hurry."
Ukyou gave him his best disarming grin and pulled the scroll away from the soldier's yearning hands once again. "You must be a general! Or at least second-in-command for delivering such impressive news. Is it about the war?"
The soldier blushed. "Y-yes, it is. I, uh, am to deliver it to the Royal Elders straight away so please…could I have it back?"
Ukyou lifted a brow. Well this will be easy. "Yes, but I think I may have caused you to get it dirty. Please, just let me clean it off for you right quick and then you won't cause any disrespect when you deliver it." The soldier, exasperated, lowered his arms. Ukyou harmlessly stroked at the material for a few seconds and then rammed his knee up against the soldier's lower flank. He hissed from the impact with the dog-demon's armor but it caught the boy by surprise and gave Ukyou amble time to jab his temple with his elbow, trip him to the ground, and then swing his foot at the base of his neck. He promptly fell unconscious.
Ukyou pocketed the scroll and looked about. No one was traveling up from the town, the road to the grand estate was clear. He was in the clear. Finally, going my way. Ukyou dragged the soldier into some bushes and gave him another good kick to ensure that he wouldn't be waking up too soon.
With a definite hop in his step, he walked back up the stairs to the front gate. "Oh, guards!"
It didn't take long for them to return, a scowl on their faces, but an expectant glee in their eyes. "Begging for more already? Rather masochistic aren't you?" One guard quipped. The other clenched his burly hands, cracking the knuckles.
Ukyou blandly looked up at them and pulled out the scroll. They faltered by the sight of the seal on its curved side. "Take me to see the damned Royal Elders."
He paused and smirked.
"Oh, pretty please."
A day, and then two, passed and the members of the clearing learned well how to effectively lessen their interaction with each other, despite the close proximities. That is, except for Yasuo, and minimally Kasuhama. They were the only ones who would speak with the ones who looked after them.
"Thank you, Sango. That is very kind of you." Yasuo accepted the cup of tea and glowed from the experimental sip he took. He looked up into the tree where Inuyasha lounged comfortably above him. He had finally grown strong enough to be able to stand and make the short distance to where he now rested. "Neh, Inuyasha? Would you not like a cup?"
Inuyasha shook his head and stretched his arms. Although Inuyasha yet to have a long, normal conversation with the demon, he was no longer so visibly threatened by him. Yasuo found it a step-forward when the hanyou did not object to him sitting below the tree with his human companions. It was not a sign of friendship, per se, but of grudging acceptance. Yasuo didn't mind Inuyasha's silence or the occasional grunts and nods; he conversed one-sidedly without any trouble. He often included Inuyasha in the conversations he had with Sango, Miroku, or the grave-robbing gang even if the hanyou did not verbally partake in the conversation.
But Yasuo was determined to have his conversation with the famous hanyou one of these days. Being banished, he had all the time of the world now. And besides, little did the hanyou know it…but he had been a fan of his for quite some time. To possibly meet the most elusive hanyou on the islands was the opportunity the war gave him, and which he readily took. He was also finally able to leave his suffocating and constricting home. He scoffed delicately at his own foolishness, tensing the shredded muscles of his stump of an arm, but all in all he wasn't too upset. He was alive, wasn't he? And currently sipping tea with his idol above him. No, he was not upset at all. He sipped his tea again and smiled over the rim at his disgruntled comrades who glared at him across the clearing. If they wanted tea too, they could just ask.
"Yasuo," Miroku said, having dropped honorifics days ago at the demon's request, "Would you mind if we asked you some questions? That is, if you are feeling up to it."
Yasuo nodded, "Please. I would love to. What about?"
The monk stiffened and parted a glance at Inuyasha. "About the war," he whispered. Inuyasha didn't lash out or even tense, but they could still feel him listening intently.
Yasuo clicked his tongue, "Ah. I thought you would never ask. Now that things have finally calmed down…" he meant mostly that attending to his comrades was becoming less challenging for they were healing nicely but by Miroku's wince, the demon realized too late that it had a double meaning. He continued, ignoring the way Inuyasha had noticeably stilled, "This is a perfect time to explain. What would you like to know?"
"Well," Miroku paused when Sango poured a cup of tea and handed it upward to the demon that had meandered over. The monk nodded respectively at Kasuhama who then politely accepted the drink and sat with them. He did not drink nor say a word. Glancing up at Inuyasha, Kasuhama nodded for Miroku to continue. The man cleared his throat. "What is the reason for it? And how long has it been going on?"
Yasuo looked to his leader and they pointedly shared eye contact. Yasuo spoke, "It is difficult to say what the reasoning is. Many of the soldiers of the dissenting families have their own reasons and they are all different. But, generally, you could say that we are battling for territory, similar to how you humans are at this moment. For us…" He paused, "For Sesshomaru…it is to unify the territory again."
"Unify the territory? What do you mean?" Sango asked.
Again, he looked to Kasuhama. "The name of our homeland, the Western Kingdom, is a misnomer. Although it does reside in the west, it used to be much larger. It was once the most cherished and respected Youkai nation, first only to the wolf tribe and the land of the cat. But now it is broken. Many families, some millennia old, absconded from our homeland and broke it up into different factions. Most are simple tribes, traveling clans, but a few of these factions are large and have declared themselves as separate Inu-Youkai countries. The largest is the Southern Kingdom, who we now battle."
"The Southern Kingdom," Miroku echoed thoughtfully. "But I still do not understand. What caused your nation to fracture?"
Yasuo opened his mouth but could not find the gumption to answer. He made a soft sound in his throat and stroked the sides of his tea cup. "It is…difficult."
"Do you not know?" Sango asked delicately.
Yasuo shook his head, "That is not it. It is a…difficult matter."
"Oh." They settled into silence.
"It was because of me." They all looked up, startled. Inuyasha spoke levelly, "It was because of me and…my mother."
"Your mother…" Sango absent-mindedly stroked the fur of Kirara, who had refused to leave the area since returning from the village, having dropped off Kagome, Shippo, and Rin days ago. Kagome did not visit. Inuyasha's orders. He told her it was because the walk to the clearing from the village would be dangerous and he could not escort her. Sango wondered if there were other reasons.
Kasuhama finally joined in. His voice was grave and careful. "Lord Touga, our late Alpha…and Inuyasha's father… was an exemplary leader. He was strict, just, and terrifying, able to bring any enemy to their knees. But his most notable characteristic was his kindness. He would protect anyone who sought for his security. And he often visited the towns of his citizens, traveling through the homeland, and speaking amiably with us. This certainly caused uproars, as you probably could imagine, for similarly to your human Emperor, his face was not meant to be seen and he was not to travel unaccompanied." He smiled softly. "But that was how he wished to rule and he did so for many decades. That is…until he met…Inuyasha's mother."
Kasuhama spoke upwards, "Do you know the story, Inuyasha? About how your parents met?"
Inuyasha stiffened and made a thick sound in the back of his throat. "Why would I give a shit about something that happened so long ago? They're dead. That's how the story ended and that's all that matters."
"Not so," Kasuhama scoffed lightly. "It is all the difference for how our nation is." Inuyasha turned his face away, not understanding why there was no malice in the demon's eyes, but still tasting the bitterness.
"You see," Yasuo said, taking over upon sensing the awkwardness. "Inuyasha's mother was a lady of a human imperial court. At the time, she was in danger from many warring provinces who wished to stake claim to the land she lived in. Her family had a long-standing relationship with the Inu-Youkai Royal Court, centuries. They asked for the Inu-no-Taisho's protection. At first, he refused. It was not keen to become entangled with human affairs. He had his own lands to run. He…he had a son to nurture into an heir."
Inuyasha bared his teeth.
"But, rumor has it; he met the late Lady of the Court by chance. And he soon agreed to protect her and the court. After that, not much is known. I, myself, was too young to understand."
Miroku and Sango turned to Kasuhama, expectantly. The demon sighed. "Inu-Youkai mate for life. The Inu-no-Taisho had already spawned a son, a rightful heir, with a high-standing demoness."
"Se…Sesshomaru's mother…" Sango hesitated to say. Kasuhama nodded.
"Chaos erupted in the human court when…Inuyasha's mother was discovered pregnant. Being of an important standing, this was a dire problem and she had not been married off yet. I heard they…tried to eradicate the child before it was too late for her to forego the shame. But somehow, she escaped and the Inu-no-Taisho went to her aid. He announced that he was the father.
Now, it was not uncommon for a Youkai Lord to take a human concubine, but for an Inu-Youkai it is not a highly accepted custom. It is also condemned to sire a child through a human concubine, a common unwritten law throughout most high-level demons. The Royal Court of the Western Lands did their best to explain away the scandal, explaining that the Inu-no-Taisho was simply trying to protect the woman's honor.
However…" Kasuhama cleared his throat. "The mark was upon her and as she rounded firmer with child, the scent of the Inu-no-Taisho's blood could be sensed, growing stronger as the child formed. There could be no denial for what the Inu-no-Taisho had done."
Sango absorbed this information before asking, "What is the mark?"
"It is a mating ritual!" Nagaharu jumped in and settled himself down into a crossed-legged manner, smiling pleasantly at the grim-faced patrons. The rest of his gang arrived slowly, sitting as well. The coyote demon chuckled wryly, "When demons of a…let us say, canine persuasion take a mate, it is custom for them to mark her physically. It is to make sure that no one can steal her away from him. The neck tends to be a favorite place, am I right Kasu?" He elbowed the demon next to him and Kasuhama grimaced, his nose turning crimson.
"Yes, you are correct. It is a strong bond and should only be done once."
"Yes," Nagaharu waved his finger. "But Lord Touga did it…twice."
"Is that not supposed to be possible?" Miroku asked, a smirk lightening his features by Nagaharu's previous injunction.
Yasuo shrugged, "It shouldn't be. Usually the first mate has to die, but Sesshomaru's mother still lives to this very day."
"Really?" The humans asked together. Nagaharu nodded heartily.
"I know! And anyway, even if the first mate dies, it would take years for an Inu-Youkai to mate again. The bond makes the separation hard to bear." Nagaharu sniffed and placed a hand over his heart. "It is truly a bond of love!"
"Wait. Do you mean that an Inu-Youkai man would have to wait for years simply to…?" Miroku lifted his eyebrows, horrified. Sango glowered and smacked him hard against the back of his head. The grave-robbing gang laughed heartily.
"Wonderful strike, Sango!" Fumina said. Sango smiled shyly.
Nagaharu shook his head, "No, no, no, Miroku. You don't understand. Those are two entirely different issues. Mating…I suppose for humans would be like marriage."
"Oh," the monk said. Nagaharu and Miroku chuckled good-naturedly, sharing a pointed look. Sango smacked the monk again.
"Yes, well," Kasuhama said. "That predicament has always been shrouded with mystery. The Inu-no-Taisho should not have been able to do it. But, uh, on another issue, this scandal caused a momentous tumult within our homeland. Our people were outraged and upset. For a time, things calmed when attention was drawn to the threat from the dragon leader, Ryuukotsusei. The Inu-no-Taisho chose to confront the issue alone but the fight did not last long. He returned quickly upon the news that the Lady of the Court, and the child she bore, was in danger from the people in her own domain. It was learned that he arrived too late. The Lady…and the child," eyes did not move but they all keenly felt Inuyasha's presence. "…were killed. It was reported by, by actually Sesshomaru, that his father was killed also within the human estate. He brought back proof in the form of a bloody patch of clothing, all that had remained, for the estate had collapsed in flames. Our people were skeptical, especially when a search was conducted and no bones were found."
"But if nothing remained…?" Miroku pondered.
Yasuo shook his head, "Upon death, the body should return to its true form, all spells having been eradicated. Understand, he was our Alpha, the highest ranked Inu-Youkai in the lands. His true form was the size of a mountain. A human estate would not be able to hide those bones, even if the fire managed to destroy the flesh and the muscle before the spells wore off. Many wondered if he still lived, too ashamed or heartbroken to return. But many traveled to the site, including the Royal Court, and we could sense the blood and death of our leader upon the broken land.
After his death, things started to collapse even more."
Yasuo trailed off and Kasuhama did not chime in. The grave-robbing gang, Miroku, and Sango all waited but it seemed as though explanations from these two banished soldiers was through.
"Excuse me, but…was this not decades ago? Has the war been going on without our, I mean, human's understanding all that time because of what happened between the Inu-no-Taisho and Inuyasha's mother?" Miroku asked.
A surprising and gruff voice answered. "No. It's been going on for only a few months now. It's barely started."
"Inuyasha…"
The hanyou went on, eyes closed. A corner of his mouth twitched up. "The bastard messed up. He couldn't keep the old man's kingdom together and it broke apart. And when he visited the Southern Kingdom for a possible peace negotiation, their leader died." Inuyasha chuckled darkly. "And they discovered him with the poor old dumbass's body at his feet! That's why they declared war. The bastard."
Kasuhama and Yasuo were visibly shocked.
"I…Inuyasha, how did you know about that?" Kasuhama asked, tentative.
Inuyasha turned his head and there was a wicked gleam in his eye, but no smile on his face.
"That would be because I had a nice long chat with Shirababa before ya'll got here." He waited.
Kasuhama frowned, "Shirababa…You mean…Shirabaku?"
"General Shirabaku?" Yasuo exclaimed.
Some of their comrades a distance behind them stirred and growled.
Inuyasha blandly smirked. "That's right."
"How do you know that traitor!" Kasuhama surged to his feet, fists clenched, brow wrinkled. "Are you conspiring with him!"
"Kasuhama, sir, please calm down." Yasuo said. Kasuhama waved his hand absent-mindedly at the boy, telling him to stay out of it.
"Tell me, Inuyasha. It would make sense, what with the grudge you hold against your brother. Is that the real reason why you are allowing us to stay here…as a trap for that Shirabaku bastard?" Something snapped in Inuyasha's eyes, a cold harsh wind. Miroku and Sango looked at each other with concern. He was still sitting on that branch, calm and collected. It wasn't like him.
What had happened to the hot-headed Inuyasha they knew?
Kuma, the face-bandaged demon, spoke loudly. "I knew it! What else can you expect from a putrid half-breed! I told you we were better off without these—"
His curse was drowned out by other roars of anger from the healing demon huddle. Some struggled to stand, brandishing out their claws, youki flickering about their shoulders. Kasuhama turned, ire building, "Silence! Stay where you are!" They reluctantly did so. Kuma still cursed loudly once more.
"Tell me the truth, Inuyasha! When will he arrive to disembowel us? What are you gaining in return!" Inuyasha breathed raggedly and then jumped from his perch. He landed swiftly, nose to nose with Kasuhama.
The hanyou watched the demon's face, the twitch in his left temple, and the small hint of a strange betrayal in his eyes. Usually he wasn't that perceptive, but that betrayal called out to his own, kindred.
He opened his lips slowly, "This is not my war."
Kasuhama blinked, confused that he had heard wrong, cautious to the possibility that he was being tricked. The hanyou stared at him, unblinking, arms held straight down his sides. There seemed to be no defense to his body position, no falsehood on his face.
Nonetheless, there was only way to make Kasuhama certain that he hadn't bequeathed all of his comrades into a bloody trap.
He called forth the centuries in his veins, the secret language of his homeland. Sensation billowed up his head and he took a deep breath. Kasuhama growled.
He called for an oath. An oath of truth-telling. No Inu-Youkai would be able to make the oath if truth did not reside within him. The age in their blood, from a time of rituals and natural order, when the moon still spoke to them, would never allow it.
Inuyasha staggered when the growl hit his ears. Kasuhama, fascinated, witnessed as youki filled the whites of Inuyasha's eyes, soon drowning over the gold. Purple stripes rippled over his skin on both cheekbones. The sword at his hip pulsed and then hummed, a sound which soon became more like a purr. Instead of wildness, a transcended peace came over Inuyasha's face right as the green pupils of his demonic nature filtered through the red of his eyes. For a few moments, the hanyou stood swaying slightly as though in a trance.
But then he straightened and bowed his head, a sign of respect as well as trust. He revealed that he wasn't a threat.
The growl in answer, what Kasuhama hoped to hear, drifted up from Inuyasha's bowed position. Relief fell upon him heavily and he thanked the hanyou deeply in the language of the Inu-Youkai, the language of wordless feeling, when Inuyasha straightened once more.
Surprisingly, there was slight annoyance on the hanyou's demon-transformed face. He growled again, translating most likely, in human language, to this sentence:
Do not distrust me again.
Kasuhama's brow rose but he nodded and also bowed his head.
This hanyou, the prince many in his homeland wanted to forget, continually surprised him.
He was all rabid sensation. The pumping of his legs as he sprinted, the feel of wet dirt and snow on his feet; the damnable itch in the back of his shoulders and tips of his fingers.
He had fallen.
A scent met his nose. He ripped the air when he stopped moving abruptly, nose up and sniffing.
Flesh.
Pumping blood.
And something that tickled his subconscious, recognition although the answer to what the scent was eluded him.
But he wanted to taste it. Rip it apart. Devour it whole.
A spasm took him. He tossed his shoulders back and twitched uncontrollably for a moment as white bile frothed over his lips. He lurched forward and vomited the putrid whiteness out. The attack passed and he stood, panting, sweating, and hungry.
The air slit apart when he took off again, mind gone, and shoulder blades shuddering.