A/N: SO SORRY for my long absence, like a full month! I have been VERY busy with my wedding. We are now like 4 days away. I am getting married Saturday Sept 4 at 2 pm. My dress is amazing, but now we have to do all the tedious things and get down to the stuff that makes you want to scream, tear out your hair, grab the marriage license, some Trojans, and just say, "Screw it all! Just consummate the marriage with me now and we'll call it good!" But alas, then I would have spent all this money and made all these reservations for nothing. AHHHH!

Disclaimer: I do not own them

Last Chapter: I cannot remember. I think Sess threatened Izayoi and Inutaisho sent him packing. There was some fun dialogue exchanged and I actually got Sesshy to say "Fuck" and still be pretty much in character.

"Struggle" by Sidney Lanier

My soul is like the oar that momently
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:
Each second I'm new-born from some new grave.

Izayoi

(Journal)

I looked into the mirrors while I was dressing today. It is hard to see the true color of my skin in them, but I am as pale as the clouds in the sky. This winter weather has taken so much out of me. I am as skinny as a blade of grass. I cannot understand how my dearest continues to love me so much, but he is as constant in my life as the sky.

May it always be so.

Inutaisho's Reluctance

Moments after Sesshomaru left the tearoom after swooping in like a hawk on an unsuspecting mouse, Izayoi collected herself. She stayed frozen in the corner, breathing heavily, but she cleared the tears of fright from her cheeks and eyes, frowning at her own weakness. She looked to the maid, who had been equally terrified, and cleared her throat. "He's gone."

The maid cried out quietly, but whatever she tried to say was warped by fear until it was lost entirely.

The table was a mess. The cups had spilled or overturned. Dark tea dripped from where Izayoi had been sitting onto the matting on the floor. Some of the pickles had rolled from their serving plate and now laid motionless on the floor.

Izayoi crawled forward, heedless of her heavy, elaborate robes in all their finery, and picked up the pickles, setting them awkwardly back onto the table. Once that was done she righted the cups and called for a rag to wipe up the spilled tea. The maid, finally gathering her senses, obediently left the room to get it.

Only minutes had passed when Inutaisho appeared in the doorway, a furious whirlwind of power and energy. His golden eyes were dark, burning. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

Izayoi nodded mutely. Her mind was empty, frozen. She had both expected and doubted that Sesshomaru would attack her. Now that it had indeed happened but she had escaped unharmed, Izayoi was stunned.

Inutaisho took her in with his eyes and sniffed loudly, needing as many senses as he could get to verify what she'd said. Then he nodded and his shoulders dropped with relief. "I will return to you as soon as possible—I must confront Sesshomaru. In the meantime I will leave you with Myoga."

"Myoga?" Izayoi asked, frowning.

"I will explain later," Inutaisho reassured her. He was anxious, eager to leave her and find Sesshomaru.

Izayoi bowed and when she looked up, Inutaisho was gone.

The rest of the day passed in a thick haze. Izayoi started at every creak in the floor or the stairs—and when a maid opened a door to serve her the evening meal, Izayoi's heart fluttered like a butterfly, caged between a person's palms. The sound of the sliding door, grating on its track, disturbed her beyond reason.

When Inutaisho finally came to her late that evening, after she had retired to her bedchambers, he was somber and sad. He embraced her with a desperation that Izayoi hadn't felt before, a tenderness she hadn't expected. Yet she was grateful for it—the moment distracted and calmed her.

"I thought I could keep him busy," Inutaisho whispered to her as he held her wrapped in his arms. His cheek and jaw rested against the top of her head. He had to slouch to make the position work, even while sitting on the floor. "He will never threaten you again—never threaten us. I will never leave you completely alone again, Izayoi."

For the first time all day, Izayoi felt a trickle of amusement as shock gave way to relief. She smiled to herself, pressed firmly against his chest. "Even when I'm in the privy?" she asked jokingly.

She expected him to laugh, to understand her joking demeanor. Instead he said, "Even then Myoga will be close by." He growled in reaction to his own words, both amused and irritated. "But if that little bloodsucker ever truly invades your privacy or bites you, I'll—"

"What?" Izayoi squawked, pulling away to stare at him in bafflement and shock.

Inutaisho's face might have colored slightly in the orange light of the brazier, but it was difficult for Izayoi to tell with her human eyes. "Myoga is a flea," he explained. "A flea youkai. He has been my personal spy and loyal patron for several hundred years now. He has little power but he is virtually unnoticeable—even to other youkai—unless he chooses to reveal himself."

"A spy?" Izayoi asked, breathing the words heavily. She was repulsed at the thought of a parasite such as a flea and had no idea what to expect of this miniscule servant. How often had he been with her and she had not been aware of it?

Inutaisho shook his head, reading her concern. "I have only recently asked Myoga to come to Nejiro and look after you. He is an excellent conversationalist and very polite as far as insects go."

The smirk on Inutaisho's face struck Izayoi as hilarious and she burst out laughing. It was a nervous titter, a release of her tension. Before she had quite finished laughing, Inutaisho's smirk turned more into a genuine, warm smile. He pulled her closer to him again, kissing her lips, then her nose and her closed eyelids. His clawed hands tickled and teased as they combed through her long, loose hair.

"Lovely Izayoi, my hope, my joy…"

Izayoi clung onto him, sighing in tranquility and satisfaction. Sesshomaru was nothing but a distant nightmare while she was in her lover's powerful arms.

The next morning, while she was dressing with Etsuko—the maid no longer spoke to Izayoi, merely performed her duties while Izayoi stared at her own reflection in the mirror—Inutaisho arrived. He greeted both young women with a slight nod of his head, respect and love aimed at Izayoi rather than Etsuko, meanwhile the two youths bowed deeply to him in return.

"I have brought someone to officially meet you, Lady Izayoi."

"My lord?" Izayoi asked, looking up curiously. She could see no one around him.

Then she began to see a speck of movement, an insect, hopping and crawling about on Inutaisho's broad right shoulder. The darkness of the flea's body set against the bright white of Inutaisho's hair was probably the only reason that Izayoi detected the other presence at all.

"Lady Izayoi, on my shoulder is Myoga. Myoga—go and greet her properly." Inutaisho lifted one palm up to his shoulder and the speck jumped onto it easily. Izayoi heard it mumble a formal thank you in a scratchy voice.

Etsuko let out a little sound of fear and disgust from where she was bent over, bowing on the floor. Though Izayoi was equally unsure, she felt irritated that Etsuko could not control herself. She resisted the desire to glare at the maid—barely.

Inutaisho stepped close to Izayoi but stopped an arm's length from her. He held his palm outward and upward. Izayoi squinted her eyes until she saw the little insect there, bowing with two sets of arms lying flat on Inutaisho's palm.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Izayoi!" Myoga announced. He did not sit up though. He was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Izayoi's warm brown eyes flicked to Inutaisho with amusement. He was solemn, but she could read his own enjoyment in the hawk-like gold. Inutaisho had not lied when he said that the flea was well-mannered.

"And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Myoga," Izayoi said and meant it. Though she had begun this introduction with trepidation, now she was pleased and entertained. No matter how small the creature, Inutaisho could find it useful, he could care for it. She felt a warmth inside when it occurred to her that she was not unlike this same flea to Inutaisho, small and seemingly insignificant. But Inutaisho saw the world with a view that broke rules and boundaries, eyes that Izayoi adored.

Myoga sat up in his master's hand and let out a sound of disbelief—but his voice was gravelly, hoarse. "Lady Izayoi is by far the most beautiful, stunning human woman I have seen!"

Izayoi looked away, covering her lips with her hand to cover the embarrassed smile. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Master! She is delightful!" Myoga went on.

"Stop, Myoga," Inutaisho said, laughing. His gaze lingered on Izayoi's humbleness, her tender reaction to such drastic compliments. "It's not as if you have not seen her from afar."

"No," Myoga mumbled, fidgeting suddenly with nervousness. "But the lady's beauty is magnified the closer and closer I see her!"

"It was you," Izayoi said, realizing that she had heard this voice before, the previous day. "It was you I heard, Mr. Myoga."

"My lady?" the flea asked, turning back to her and bowing slightly.

"In the tearoom yesterday, when Sesshomaru—"

"Ah, yes," Myoga said, interrupting her. "It was indeed me. My duty was to trail Lord Sesshomaru to see that he did not trouble you. Lord Inutaisho and I hoped that he would not seek you out, but we naturally did not trust him. I'm afraid he is a most troublesome heir—too strong for his own good."

"Enough," Inutaisho snapped, scowling as the talk about his only son went on too long. Izayoi stared at her lover and felt her chest ache with empathy. For all his power, love, and understanding, Inutaisho could not control his son.

"My apologies, Master!" Myoga squeaked.

Inutaisho went onto another tangent, bringing the meeting back to its original course. "Myoga will accompany you now throughout the days when you are without me. He cannot protect you from true harm, but he can quickly reach me with news if there is trouble. He is very knowledgeable and will help you should you ever encounter any situation that you are not prepared for."

Izayoi bowed. "Thank you, Lord Inutaisho."

"Master?" Myoga asked, clearing his throat. He scooted around on Inutaisho's palm. "I am to become Lady Izayoi's retainer?"

Inutaisho nodded. "You will serve us both. There is always a place and a purpose for one as intelligent and stealthy as you, Myoga."

Inutaisho was flattering the flea, and as Myoga bowed and thanked him reverently, meaning every word of loyalty and love, Izayoi saw how clever Inutaisho was. She had always known he was smart, quick-witted and talented in many ways, but now she saw how he differed from Shiroihana and Sesshomaru in ways aside from compassion. Unlike them he impressed servants with flattery and purpose. The flea would never betray Inutaisho, never feel slighted by him. He would be loyal unto death with the intensity of his devotion.

Izayoi knew that emotion well—she felt it for Inutaisho as well.

Inutaisho was unconventional, untraditional. He did things as he saw fit to do them. If there was an advantage to something, Inutaisho did it, no matter what society would think.

"My son does not know about Myoga," Inutaisho went on, speaking to Izayoi now. "He will no doubt uncover him, but he has been my servant and retainer in secret. Ostensibly I have no confidants," Inutaisho said, grinning like a wolf on an afternoon romp. "My son thinks I do everything alone, just as he would—but all the strength in the world and in Heaven and Hell, cannot be enough without the aid of others. It is something he cannot bring himself to understand. We will use it against him and his mother."

"My lord?" Myoga asked, confused. There was something else, unspoken in Inutaisho's pronouncement.

Inutaisho dropped his chin and lowered his voice. His golden eyes darkened ominously. "I have decided to order an edict against my son."

"What do you mean?" Izayoi asked, whispering.

"He is unfit. I have ordered that he is no longer my heir. I have—"

"My lord!" Myoga interrupted brazenly. "But you have no other sons! You have no wife!"

Inutaisho ignored him. "I have declared him an enemy. In the spring, if he has not changed his ways, I will order his death."

Izayoi opened her mouth to disagree, to plead with the Lord of the Western Lands to reconsider. She knew that although he appeared somber and deadly serious, beneath that shell Inutaisho was mourning, grief-stricken at the thought of doing such a thing. It was not simply that Inutaisho only had one child, one son, one potential heir.

Her loved Sesshomaru as deeply as he loved Izayoi—and that was the problem.

"Lord Inu—"

"There will be no debating this," Inutaisho told her, silencing her. "I have made up my mind."

Izayoi and Myoga both bowed to acknowledge his decision, but Izayoi sensed that the flea was unhappy just as she was, probably for the same reasons. As wrong as Sesshomaru was, as cruel and heartless, Inutaisho loved him just as any father would. How could they let him go through with it?

It would destroy him from the inside out.

The winter set in, hard and fierce, with blowing storms and mounds of snow and ice. Izayoi watched outside of her window between storms, depressed and anxious for the springtime. Inutaisho spent almost every night with her. Most of the time they made love, a controlled, slow work of care and bliss. But afterwards Inutaisho lied beside her and Izayoi sensed that he was far away, thinking of his son, of the gradual march of the winter season.

If the springtime brought no word from Sesshomaru, no sign of reconciliation, Inutaisho would give the word for his armies—for any youkai in the Western Lands, to track down his son and tear him apart. To bring Sesshomaru's head to Inutaisho. It was a dishonorable death, a shameful punishment. The proper way for a son to die by a father's command was with a fight between the two, not an execution by armies, rogue youkai, or any beast that thought he could take Sesshomaru on. It was a bitter move that spoke of Inutaisho's broken heart.

Sometimes Inutaisho made an effort to act as though he was excited for war, for the tumultuous time ahead. He spoke animatedly of strategy, of the battlefield. Izayoi listened with a growing heaviness in her heart, then her guts and legs. She could not keep the sadness from her face, but Inutaisho did not acknowledge it. They both knew he was lying to her, lying to himself—and neither of them believed he was eager for spring and summer, for the death of his only child.

During the daytime Izayoi took lessons from Myoga and other, new tutors. She practiced writing alone and began to learn Chinese characters from a toad youkai that Inutaisho had hired from the mainland. Myoga always accompanied her, sharing the vastness of his youkai knowledge. While she walked through the hallways, Myoga chattered about one thing or another, or sometimes when Izayoi was lucky the flea regaled her with tales of Inutaisho on the battlefield with the panther demons.

She grew quickly to like the flea. He was patient, a good teacher, and constantly friendly and informative. He enjoyed her questions as many of her hired teachers never did, relishing her interest. He never bit her but when Inutaisho joined Izayoi for the nights, or for a casual lesson in conversational Chinese, Myoga always left eagerly. It didn't take Izayoi long to realize that he was running off to bite someone and feast. He usually returned with a pleasant, sated look on his face and with s distinctly plumper body than before. Izayoi learned to ignore this aspect of him, just as Inutaisho did.

One thing that Izayoi and Myoga shared especially in common with one another was their concern for Inutaisho's decision to disinherit and eventually kill Sesshomaru.

"It's a grave mistake," Myoga sighed on her shoulder while Izayoi practiced writing new kanji characters on her own time in one of Nejiro's multiple libraries.

"I'm afraid to try and change his mind," Izayoi confessed. "I've done it before. He was ready to kill Sesshomaru a few years ago as well."

"You must try, Lady Izayoi! You are one of very few beings in his world that can influence him so powerfully!" Myoga laughed then. "If only Sesshomaru knew that you have already saved his life once before! Perhaps he would appreciate you as his father does."

Izayoi frowned and laughed with embarrassment. She knew that Myoga had not meant appreciate in a sexual manner but she could not stop herself from seeing Inutaisho naked in her mind's eye, his long, muscular body on top of or below her own.

Myoga did not miss her reaction and made no effort himself to disguise the fact that he knew what went on between Izayoi and Inutaisho when he was not present. "You naughty girl!" he teased. "You should be ashamed!"

Yet although she and the flea could cover their doubt with humor, it did not diminish the growing unease as the winter progressed unstoppably toward spring.

But then something happened that distracted all of them from the upcoming change in the season. One day in January Izayoi felt especially tired. She moved through her day sluggishly, yawning often. That night when she went to the privy—with Myoga waiting outside as always—Izayoi discovered that she was bleeding. It was a little later than usual and Izayoi thought nothing of it.

She went into seclusion during her times of menstruation. Even Myoga visited infrequently. The bleeding was longer and heavier than usual, but although Izayoi was fatigued, she was not alarmed. Life marched onward.

When she had finished at last, she expected Inutaisho to visit her the same night, as he always did, but when she saw him that day he was distant. He had trouble meeting her eyes. It was deeply disturbing and when he did not visit her at night but instead sent Myoga to stay with her, Izayoi bit back a sudden rush of tears and grief. Even Myoga seemed awkward, fidgeting and talking rapidly about nothing. Though she asked him over and over again why Inutaisho was not with her instead, he managed to evade the question until finally she went to sleep, but the night passed fitfully.

The next day and night were normal with Inutaisho. It was not long before Izayoi put the experience behind her.

Then, as winter was beginning to warm and give way to the dreaded springtime—it was perhaps the only time that Izayoi would think of the spring with dread—a similar thing happened. First Izayoi realized that her time of bleeding was late and she noted that Inutaisho's behavior changed. She caught him watching her with a frown and tried to keep her own face from falling with sadness.

Then she did at last begin to bleed—a week or two later than usual. She went into seclusion and suffered alone and in silence as her body seemed to go haywire. Her abdomen ached and cramped until she felt nauseous. She bled very heavily, staining bed covers, her clothes, and the matting. It went on and on, lasting a full week and a half. It left Izayoi exhausted as well, and depressed.

On the afternoon when she finally stopped bleeding, Izayoi woke bathed in sweat. She had overslept and that only contributed to her exhaustion. She rose up out of bed, donning a thin robe, and opened her window to look out. The sun had come out; it shined bright and merry in spite of Izayoi's gloomy mood. The snows were melting rapidly. She sat in front of the window, breathing in the dense, cool air, letting it dry the sweat from her temples and neck.

Though she had not expected him, Izayoi did not start when she heard the door open and turned her head and saw that it was Inutaisho. Inutaisho came and sat next to her beside the window. Izayoi's eyes were closed as she listened to the birdsong, to the return of spring. Inutaisho was silent, not even the sound of his breathing reached Izayoi's ears. She could almost have imagined that she saw Inutaisho come in until she felt his hand on her head, stroking her hair. She turned her head and beamed, smiling at him.

"Dearest," she murmured, bowing slightly.

Each time that he was apart from Izayoi for more than a day or so she was reminded of how massive he was, how enormous and powerful. In spite of her exhaustion, Izayoi felt her body stir sluggishly with desire. Inutaisho's face was warm, mirroring some of her own longing, though how exactly he could think of her with attraction in this moment was beyond Izayoi's understanding. Izayoi had not missed the way her eyes had developed heavy gray circles beneath them, or that her hair had lost some of its shine—and her skin could have competed with the pale white of the melting snow.

"Don't exert yourself," Inutaisho told her gently, touching her shoulder to stop her from ducking any lower in her bow. "I've come to tell you something."

Izayoi's shoulders were heavy with fatigue but she hefted them up and smiled. "What is it?"

Inutaisho shifted, gazing out the window. His amber eyes were hazy and dark. Izayoi realized that he had not come with good news. He sighed and then said, "I know why you have been ill."

Izayoi frowned. It was not exactly illness, just unusually heavy and long menstruation. Bleeding like that for one week out of every month was, naturally, exhausting. "Dearest?" she asked, her tone indicating she didn't understand.

Inutaisho peeked at her and chuckled. "As usual I am to blame for your struggles."

"What?" Izayoi blurted, thoroughly confused. Yet she felt the strong need to deny it. "You have never been the cause of any—"

"Keh," Inutaisho grunted, laughing fully now. His white teeth glittered. "You cannot be serious, little Izayoi. I am the cause of every disaster that has befallen you. My son and my wife tortured you. I have stolen away your future by bewitching you into loving me and then taking your innocence. And now—"

Izayoi shook her head firmly and reached out to take hold of his cheeks, then when that didn't silence him, she laid her palms over his mouth. Inutaisho nipped and licked at them and Izayoi squealed at the sensation in spite of her tiredness. "I have had a part in everything that has happened," Izayoi argued. "Sometimes even more than you, dearest."

Inutaisho's smile was melancholy but filled with warmth and affection. He closed the distance between them, kissing her for a few moments, then pulled back and cupped her face in his clawed hands, careful not to scratch her. He made very deliberate eye contact with her as he spoke next. "I am very certain I am the cause of your illness."

Izayoi waited expectantly for him to go on.

"You have miscarried several times now," Inutaisho murmured, caressing her temples with his thumbs. "I have been careless. I took you while you were fertile. So you see, I am at fault."

Izayoi sat back as Inutaisho let go of her, shocked and speechless. Finally she said, "I don't understand. Wouldn't I know? How can you know?"

Inutaisho smirked with both pride and amusement at her response. "I thought by now little Izayoi that you would understand me better."

Izayoi frowned, upset at this. "How am I supposed to—"

"Hush," Inutaisho ordered, touching her mouth with a clawed finger, he left it there longer than he needed to, tracing the shape of her lips. "My senses are greater than yours, little Izayoi. I can smell your body's secrets." He pulled back from her, looking away and closing his eyes. The light of the afternoon flowed in, artificially brightening his face. "It's been centuries since I smelled those hormones." He shook his head, as if dazed or being bothered by a pesky housefly.

Izayoi recognized longing in the set of his face, the sadness and regret. She recalled that Shiroihana had refused to give him more children. It struck her then how badly, how desperately he had wanted those unborn, uncreated children.

In spite of the discomfort she had just endured, Izayoi felt her body warm with excitement and joy at the knowledge that—no matter how briefly—she had been a vessel for a child of Inutaisho's.

At that moment Inutaisho opened his eyes and noticed her smile and his sadness vanished, souring into irritation. "Izayoi," he barked. "I know what you're thinking—don't."

Izayoi clung stubbornly to that excitement. She cleared away her smile and said nothing, but her heart was full and cheery in a way it had not been in months. It was difficult to hide, especially since she didn't want to hide it. She wanted to laugh and cry, to hug Inutaisho to her and share her emotion at the thought of carrying his child…

"I've told you before," Inutaisho muttered bitterly. "We cannot have children."

Izayoi knew she should be silent. She should accept his words as the wisdom they had to be, but she couldn't do it. "Why not? You told me that it does not happen often—but twice? Really? I thought it would never happen! I thought it couldn't!"

Inutaisho took her by the shoulders firmly; squeezing them to be sure he had her attention. He stared into her eyes somberly. "It would probably kill you, and the child would not survive. It would only ruin what we have together. There can be no children between us. That was what I came to tell you."

Izayoi shrugged off his hands with sudden anger. "No—I know you want children. I've seen it on your face, heard it in your voice every time you talk about Sesshomaru…"

"Sesshomaru is pureblooded!" Inutaisho yelled, interrupting her, driving the point home. "He is Shiroihana's son. Inuyoukai blood is too strong to mix with a human's. Do you understand? A child between us would be a monster, a bloodthirsty beast that would hunt and kill thoughtlessly…"

Izayoi hated the words, the image that tried to conjure with it—something like Shiroihana with a whip, attacking Izayoi. Izayoi remembered the blood, the stink of her own torn flesh, seared in the green power…

But worse than imagining it was seeing Inutaisho's pinched, pained expression as he described it. She realized he had seen something similar before. "Are all hanyou like that?" she whispered.

Inutaisho pulled her close, embracing her, caressing her back. "Most are. I have seen many. They can be formidable creatures, strong warriors. But they are cursed. And most of them are blights on this earth, destined to lose their minds and die."

"Have you ever seen one between one of your kind and a human?" Izayoi asked quietly. She knew he had seen kitsune hanyou before, but did it matter what species of demon mixed with the humans?

Inutaisho sighed and shook his head. "No, surprisingly not. Most of us are clannish, too busy interbreeding and fighting to take up a human lover long enough to spawn a child."

Izayoi thought that made sense. Dog demons were ethereal, distant and powerful. Kitsune were tricksters who delighted in seduction, shape shifting and mischief. Dog demons might live with humans around them, but they remained separate from them, looking down on them just as the humans viewed them with fear.

"What if our child was beautiful? What if it was sane and healthy?" Izayoi asked quietly.

"It would not be worth losing you," Inutaisho whispered into the top of her head.

Izayoi felt tears prick her eyes. "But I will grow old and die. I will leave you anyway, whether I have a child or not." She sniffled, snuggling into his broad, warm chest. "You will be alone."

Inutaisho was silent briefly and then he laughed harshly, whistling through his nose. "Keh, with nothing but my heartless son and that bitch Shiroihana. Both of them plotting against me, both of them younger."

"How long do hanyou live?" Izayoi asked.

Inutaisho growled. "You're not going to convince me, Izayoi."

"How long?" she insisted, raising her voice slightly.

He sighed, giving in. "I'm not sure. It depends on the individual. Longer than mortals. I saw a kitsune hanyou grow into an adult in the same amount of time as a mortal man, but he did not age the same after that."

"I love you," Izayoi murmured into his chest after a pause, content with this information and at last resigning to her fatigue.

Inutaisho chuckled. "And I you, little Izayoi—but I am serious. Do you understand?"

Izayoi sighed. "Yes."

For the next several months, as spring slowly unfolded outside, Inutaisho avoided Izayoi for two weeks of every month. Once when she was menstruating, the other when she was fertile. It irritated Izayoi. She was not afraid of conceiving his child; in fact she secretly longed for it and tried purposefully to seduce him during the weeks when she was fertile. Inutaisho had trouble revisiting her—especially during the time she was fertile. His sense of smell was very strong, and Izayoi had learned long ago that he was a creature ruled by his senses, by his instincts, and by his heart. His body was drawn to hers when she was fertile; it was hard to deny the strong instinct.

When the weather had warmed up significantly, travel recommenced. Kitsune messengers visited with gifts from Shiroihana and Sesshomaru. They were simple. Fans coated in silver and gold with black characters painted on them, lacquered chests, a red and purple sash—roughly the colors of the Kosetsu clan, the red for their cheek markings, and the purple for their crescent moons. Inutaisho accepted the gifts but made no remark on them and did not send any word back with the kitsune that he had been placated. But when he was with Izayoi later that same day he was mildly pleased that both his ex-wife and his son were trying to approach him. It showed their willingness to talk, to settle disagreements.

But it wasn't enough. Inutaisho sent out word throughout the Western Lands that he had disinherited Sesshomaru. The previous fall it had been too early for the word to spread far. Now it traveled like a fire through sun-scorched hills. Letters came from the Kosetsu where Sesshomaru and Shiroihana skulked.

Inutaisho showed Izayoi Shiroihana's letter. Izayoi blinked as she realized that it was written in Chinese characters. She looked up at Inutaisho perplexedly and when he motioned for her to read it, fixed her attention on it, pursing her lips with effort.

It was a frank letter, pleading that Inutaisho come to his senses and accept Sesshomaru as his heir. After Izayoi had finished it she sighed unhappily.

"You cannot deny that there is no wisdom in disinheriting Sesshomaru," she murmured. "He is your only son."

Inutaisho grunted. "Keh—but she is lying. It does not matter to her what I've done. She is too simple in this letter, too easy. She fears nothing."

"Maybe she knows you would call for Sesshomaru's death," Izayoi suggested and passed the letter back to him.

"Even that would not trouble her. She has every confidence that Sesshomaru would overcome any threat, and then kill me." He sighed with a bitter scowl. "It does not matter that I have disinherited Sesshomaru. If I died tomorrow he would still replace me. There is no other who could."

"You will never die," Izayoi whispered reverently and meant it. "And you could have other sons."

Inutaisho shook his head. "I may appear ageless, but I am too old for that." The sadness in his smile made Izayoi avert her eyes. She could think of nothing to say.

Along with the letters came news from messengers and kitsune that there was trouble in an area called the Musashi plain. It was surrounded by mountains and had once been a fertile place, not far from the sea or Nejiro castle. Now the word came that it was a gray place of ashes and death. A hostile, bizarre dragon with a humanlike face had begun prowling the area. It demolished the human villages in the spring first and then as the season progressed it burned the trees and ate the wild animals.

"Ryukotsusei," Inutaisho told Izayoi in the dark as he held her close, naming the dragon. "I will have to go out to the Musashi plains and slaughter him."

Izayoi had never heard of a dragon causing such destruction. In fact, she had never heard of a dragon doing such a thing at all. They were usually rumored to be harmless, beasts of the wilds that evaded humans in a way that most other youkai and other creatures did not. They were like the kirin, beasts of mythology and good luck in most human tales.

Ryukotsusei was nothing like those legends. Inutaisho and Myoga both assured Izayoi that dragons were much like humans or inuyoukai, or like every living thing. They were individuals and even had their own cultures. Ryukotsusei had not begun in the Musashi plains. He was a newcomer, spawned and hatched somewhere in the mainland, in a distant place that raised aggressive dragons that liked to crush ash beneath their claws instead of fertile, green earth.

"If he moves on by midsummer I won't bother with him," Inutaisho said. "But if he has decided to stay there and live more permanently, I'll have to kill him."

Izayoi had never heard Inutaisho speak of a foe with apprehension before. "But he will be no match for you," she said, as if speaking what she hoped was true would indeed make it so.

Inutaisho stroked her cheek and moved his clawed hand up and down the curves of her body. "Little Izayoi, you have entirely too much faith in me. I am mortal. One day I will grow weak and die, just as you will."

"But the dragon will not harm you," Izayoi insisted. "Surely you have killed one before."

Inutaisho sighed heavily, almost groaning. "A few times, yes. But dragons are a difficult foe. I am not so foolhardy that I relish such a challenge any longer. Without an acceptable heir I cannot be so reckless with my life."

Izayoi was silent, filled with unease and foreboding. She began to pray that the dragon would leave the Musashi plains.

There was only one positive thing about the dragon—Inutaisho had almost forgotten about his plans to call for Sesshomaru's death. The season gradually warmed and he only occasionally mentioned it.

The summertime came on slowly, as if it was holding its breath, watching the unfortunate drama unfold. Messengers came with increasing frequency relating awful tales of the dragon's ferocity, his carnage. It escalated through the entirety of the Musashi plains and soon reports came from the mountains surrounding the lowlands that the dragon was burning the mountain forests as well, devouring anything that he encountered.

Before midsummer it was clear that Ryukotsusei would not leave his newfound home.

"There is something peculiar about this dragon," Myoga told Izayoi while she walked through the gardens in the large courtyard surrounding the castle. Izayoi struggled to take pleasure in the scenery, but the summer's beauty seemed distant, like storm clouds gliding on the horizon.

"Lord Inutaisho hasn't said all that much about it recently," Izayoi confided and blinked at the tremble in her own voice.

Myoga, who was perched on her shoulder, hummed in affirmative. "He does not want to alarm you, my lady. But he must go and fight Ryukotsusei soon or he will appear weak to other youkai."

"Like Sesshomaru and Shiroihana?" Izayoi asked. She sat on the ground in the shade of a maple tree. Its leaves swished gently in the small breeze. The air was cool and crisp—hardly warm enough to make Izayoi think of midsummer.

"More than just those two," Myoga grumbled. "There are hundreds of youkai and humans who would like to carve out their own territory and secede from the Western Lands. Lord Inutaisho has had a constant struggle to keep these lands whole. He accomplishes that mainly with swift action and shows of great force. His delay with Ryukotsusei will be perceived as weakness."

Izayoi was silent. She picked at the grass and listened to the wind, but inwardly she was acutely aware of Myoga's presence, his nonexistent weight on her shoulder. She pursed her lips. "Why does he wait then?" He cannot be afraid…

Myoga chuckled warmly. "Master is concerned about you, my lady."

"Me?" Izayoi asked, gaping for a moment before Myoga's laughter made her snap her jaw closed. "I'm in no danger." Her face burned with a strange mixture of emotions.

"Ah, but you will always be in danger as his beloved." Myoga was using a flattering tone again, placating and embarrassing Izayoi. "And Lord Inutaisho is waiting for something…"

"For what?" Izayoi asked more sharply than she intended. She realized almost immediately that the flea was teasing her, taunting her with some sort of gossip, some information that she didn't know.

"I have said too much," Myoga told her. When Izayoi tried to probe him for more news the flea steadfastly ignored her. Izayoi soon gave up, filing away the matter for later, when she could question Inutaisho directly—but over the course of the day the thought slipped from her mind, as slick as an eel. By the time Inutaisho came to her bedchambers that night it was vanished and Izayoi reveled in his touches, kisses, and all of his body without any hesitation or care.

But the following week, during Izayoi's peak of fertility when normally Inutaisho purposefully withdrew from her, the answer came unbidden. It was a cloudy day; the air was wet and heavy, but cool enough to be chilly. Izayoi wore a thicker robe than usual to compensate for the chill and set about her day with the various tutors and Myoga as her company at first. By midday she was a little warmer and walked with Myoga clinging to her long, flowing hair into the inner gardens to visit the pavilion where she had learned spoken Chinese with Inutaisho. The lessons had not taken place there throughout the wintertime, but now Izayoi walked over the dampened stone and touched the decorative bushes and bonsai trees with a little gleeful smile as Myoga chattered.

When Myoga suddenly fell silent, Izayoi looked up, caught off guard. Inutaisho had entered the garden and was watching her silently with an expression of adoration. Izayoi bowed and greeted him fondly.

"Myoga, you may leave us," Inutaisho ordered.

The flea did not linger or hesitate. He leapt from Izayoi's shoulder and hopped out of sight. Inutaisho was silent for a time, scouring the damp grass in the direction that Myoga had gone. Finally he turned his eyes back on Izayoi and smiled widely, showing all of his predatory, sharp teeth. The expression both unnerved and aroused Izayoi.

"I have had a dream, Izayoi," Inutaisho began quiet and somber.

"A dream?" Izayoi asked, raising her eyebrows in uncertainty.

Inutaisho strode forward with abrupt speed, laying his large, powerful hands over Izayoi's shoulders. He stared down into her face and Izayoi realized he was exhilarated, delighted with something—seemingly, her.

"I had a vision. Not just a dream." He stooped down while simultaneously pulling her upwards, closer to him to capture her lips with his own. When they parted Izayoi was already flushed and breathing harder. "A vision," Inutaisho continued in a lowered, more secretive tone.

"Of what?" Izayoi asked, searching his face from the glint of his white, pointed teeth to the fast and bright shine of his golden eyes.

The smile closed up slightly. "A child. A hanyou child. You were right—we won't resist. What happens between us will happen. What happens will be what is meant to happen." As he explained one hand left her shoulder and moved slowly down her arm before sliding to rest on her abdomen.

Izayoi took a step back from him, retreating and shaking her head in confusion. "But you were so sure before—"

Inutaisho closed the distance between them once more, refusing to let Izayoi back away. "I have seen our child, our son. He will be magnificent."

Izayoi felt her body tensing, her muscles trying to shake with tension. She opened her mouth, ready to say, He will be hanyou. But nothing emerged. Inutaisho's joy was rapturous and Izayoi could not deny that she wanted children. Yet Inutaisho's warnings had not landed on deaf ears. As much as she loved the thought of carrying and raising a child fathered by Inutaisho—indeed she couldn't imagine being with anyone else—she had always valued Inutaisho's words as ultimate truth. If Inutaisho was concerned about a hanyou being an unstable beast then Izayoi believed in his fears and shared them although she had never seen a hanyou herself.

With Inutaisho heirless, having cast out Sesshomaru, Izayoi thought perhaps her lover had dreamt up an easy solution to his problems. If a hanyou child could be as powerful and great as Sesshomaru then there was no reason for his cruel-hearted pureblood son. Inutaisho could execute Sesshomaru without pausing to wonder if he had just condemned his own bloodline to extinction.

Izayoi was shrewd enough to doubt Inutaisho's vision.

Inutaisho did not miss the doubt in her stance, her expression, her eyes. He sighed, his exuberance fading. He stroked her hair, parting the strands with four of his claws. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Forgive me," Izayoi murmured sadly. "I have never believed much in my own dreams."

Inutaisho touched her chin, lifting it. "My kind has many abilities, many gifts. I have lived for centuries, seen the mainland. I have even talked with the dead. I would not approach you like this if I were not certain."

Izayoi closed her eyes, praying silently that there was no wishful thinking coloring his thoughts. When she spoke her eyes burned with melancholy tears. There should have been no doubt inside her, but Izayoi found herself sad as well as warm with joy.

During that week then Inutaisho stayed with Izayoi every night, and sometimes found her during the day and swept her away into a room, a study, or even once on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, the walls around Nejiro, and the mountains rising and falling beyond. It was only in the middle of this week that Izayoi realized that this was what Myoga had meant when he said Inutaisho was waiting for something. He would not leave until after midsummer because he wanted to be sure he had not missed this chance to conceive a child with her.

And yet even after the week had passed, Inutaisho was in no hurry to part with Izayoi or the castle. Letters came from human lords, hastily scrawled and poorly worded, as if written under duress and panic. They were all close to the Musashi plains. The area of Ryukotsusei's destruction was growing by the day. Inutaisho could not afford to dally, but he seemed unwilling to acknowledge that and take on the responsibility.

Myoga described Inutaisho as being "stretched thin," and worried incessantly to Izayoi, but when she was with Inutaisho there was nothing but warmth, gentleness, and affection.

It was the seventh month—July—when Izayoi knew deep in her bones that she had conceived. It was different from the other times. Her bleeding was late a full week, but unlike the previous two times, now Izayoi felt heavy, as if her womb had filled with lead. When Inutaisho began smiling at her knowingly, Izayoi did not need him to confirm what she already knew. This time the new life inside her was sticky like rice, as rooted to Izayoi's body as her own teeth were.

Inutaisho hired new servants for Izayoi, specifically to tend to her while she endured the pregnancy, which began to sicken her almost immediately. She was constantly fatigued, her limbs and head feeling three times as heavy as they had been mere days ago. Her body rebelled, calling for food and water, and then tortuously making her feel nauseous until she actually vomited.

Though servants waited on her hand and foot and all tutoring stopped, Izayoi was almost too tired to rise out of bed to kiss Inutaisho when he came and embraced her one early morning. It was almost dreamlike when she opened her eyes and saw Inutaisho, bathed in the gold-yellow light of the early morning as it streamed into her window, leaning over her futon. He stroked her cheek and spoke to her, but Izayoi hardly managed to pick out the words through her exhaustion. Finally he helped her sit up and embraced her, then kissed her on the lips before slipping back out of the room, an angelic ghost.

It was only later, as Izayoi blinked and registered the fact that she was alone in the same morning light that she realized Inutaisho had been saying goodbye to her.

He had gone to faceoff with Ryukotsusei in battle, to at last save the Musashi plains.

Endnote: By the time some of you read this I could already be married! How scary is that? Just FYI for everyone: after I get married this weekend (Sept 4 2010) I will be gone for a week in Maui. Don't expect to hear from me all that soon!