The Chosen Ones, To Glory, Not Strong Enough, Brothers in Arms, Divinus Consensio, The Divine Truth.

Oh snap! An update! Definitely haven't forgotten about this story, I'm just fighting my way through fourth year and it's waaaay harder than I thought it would be. Details on my profile.

Next chapter is about half finished, I have a war to worry about writing however and bleh, it's tough to find the time and inspiration to get a big scene like that put together. Of course, it WILL happen, there's just no sense in me holding off on posting this chapter since it's done and isn't doing any good sitting on my hard drive. Once I get 27 finished I'll post that up too. I need a good strong dose of inspiration before I'll be able to start churning out chapters the way I was during the summer, so until that happens updates will be sporadic at best.

But at least you have this, so happy reading!

To Make Things Right

Tenseiga, the Sinning Blade

"You serve me now."

"Ha?"

Sesshoumaru was not going to repeat himself. The young fox who had joined the running pack had not grabbed his attention immediately, not with everything else going on, but as the hours passed by this one, Shippo, had begun acting strangely. The kit could not take his eyes off the Staff of Two Heads.

The kit was quiet amongst the others and despite his youth he betrayed no anxiety over the feral environment. He was fast enough to keep up with Sesshoumaru when the Dog General transformed and sped away, and wise enough to remain back and not place himself underfoot when different members of the pack became violent and had to either be killed or separated. The bloodshed depended solely on how lenient Sesshoumaru felt when he was forced to turn from the head of the party to deal with such issues. He would not, under any circumstances, tolerate this army slowing down for a single distraction.

Years ago Shippo had travelled with Inuyasha and his human friends, but even when Sesshoumaru made it clear that he was aware of the kit following him, the fox child never called on his experiences with the half-breed to try and make the Demon Lord more tolerant. He possessed some sort of demonic ranking, weak as he was, therefore the fox had his own powers. His reaction to Kanna's presence was also far more tame than that of the Wolf Prince Koga: the fox was willing to sniff first and wait for answers, a skill not even Jaken had possessed.

And he, like the imp before him, could not take his eyes off the Staff of Two Heads. Sesshoumaru only had to place the staff in the kit's hands before the ancient rod woke up and accepted him as a proper master- although it would take him time to properly learn how to wield the staff.

"H-hey! Lord Sesshoumaru wait for me!" No. Keep up or stay behind, pup.

"It can't be done."

"You will make it happen."

Almost three hundred years ago, Totosai forged a sword of great power at the request of one of his oldest friends. Tetseiga was his masterwork, his greatest accomplishment and a momento intended from its conception to end up in the hands of the Great Dog General's half-human son. Of course, even the grandest designs couldn't account for the sheer stupidity of the boy, so melding one of Inuyasha's fangs into Tetseiga, despite not weakening the blade, had still changed its character.

Still, even without Inuyasha's direct influences over the sword, Tetseiga had always been very different in nature from its younger brother: Tenseiga. The cast-off piece of the cutting sword had breached the gap between worlds. This power had been the direct result of both the Meido Zangetsuha technique Tenseiga had been created to hold, and the sense of loss, the moment of grief, and the realization of an end that had marked the first instants of Tenseiga's consciousness. It was a cast-off, a piece rejected and processed into a form which ironized its purpose: a sword that could not cut, only cure.

"The Tenseiga is a fully matured blade, you cannot just expect it to-"

"I expect what I expect, and if you cannot reforge this cursed blade then I'll just have to find someone who will."

For all intents and purposes, Tenseiga matured far faster than Tetseiga. It had to. To cope with its own existence the sword had to understand that the reasons for its creation were not paramount, but rather the potential it had for great power. When the Great General drew Tenseiga for the first time, he fully expected a Meido Zangetsuha like what his younger son would accomplish over two hundred years later, and instead he received nothing but a slight whooping sound as the steel was buffered by the air.

By the time Sesshoumaru's father perished, Tenseiga had fought for and earned not only its master's respect, but had arguably wrestled his true love away from Tetseiga. It was Tenseiga that revived Izayoi on the night the Great General died. It was Tenseiga, though Inukimi would never admit it, that had spared her life when neither her son nor her mate had been present to aid her in battle. Not even Sesshoumaru knew that story, and so long as Inukimi lived he sure as hell wasn't going to hear about it from Totosai or Myoga. Why else would she have wanted to know whether or not Kagura could gain Tenseiga's trust?

Tetseiga was created for a purpose, and had to learn to grow beyond being just a sword meant for cutting. But Tenseiga was the sword that had grown in order to define its own purpose.

To try and change that now, no. Totosai would not do it.

He'd been rustled up in the middle of the night, woken up to a dozen or more demons wreathed in fire as they tore up his workshop and home of fifteen years. They'd broken his swords and shattered the stone where he did his forging, blasting out the wall of his cave and bringing water raining in from the small river that fed the falls below. Totosai had only managed to bash one of their screaming hides into the churning pool before the others were on him in a heap.

Somewhere in the chaos the old demon had heard the familiar whip and zing of a weapon forged by his hands. He'd felt the animosity travel the length of the kusarigama's cutting edge and resonate through its snaking chain. Totosai hadn't been able to see either Kohaku or Kirara before his world faded to black and he was carried away, but he knew they had been there. He'd woken up here and could only kneel on the floor as he was, hoping the pair had survived the night.

'They redecorated. I think I hate them.' Of all the ways Totosai had imagined, sometimes even dreamed of returning to his volcano after all these years, being dragged through an elaborate castle floating over the semi-solid magma had never occurred to him.

Phoenixes liked places that were hot, they were immune to fire to the point that they thrived off of it. Totosai had lost his volcano very, very early into the invasion of the Western Lands, running away perhaps only a few days after Inukimi began her own rampage. It was impossible to escape the heat when you were anyplace near the volcano's top, but with so much wood and too many bodies around, the searing intensity had been relegated to a sweaty dampness. There was too much humidity, they'd changed and completely ruined the entire environment. No fool could forge a sword under these conditions, at least not like the ones Totosai had crafted before.

He was kneeling down and flanked by two Phoenix guards, several soldiers lining the long chamber that spoke too much like a throne-room. Wealth like the gold-detailed throne holding the seated Phoenix Lord was simple to come by if you had a large enough clan and a large human population to prey upon. The real wealth of the palace would have to be the several ornately painted sliding doors that had been opened to present Totosai to the war-lord.

Being able to create fire from paint, to imitate the movement of feathers, and capture the moment of activity on canvas was a true skill. All of the scenes depicted were done in hot colours; all shades of red, orange, and yellow. Accents of goldenrod, amber, and the occasional whispers of jade and lapis made the difference though, the details ready to leap off the screens and prance across the gold-woven floor.

If he could have had it his way, Totosai would have much preferred to just look at the paintings all day rather than listen to the Phoenix Lord command him to do something he would not accept. If the swordsmith was going to die in this chamber, then he'd do so as he was right now: seated properly and with his head held high.

Tenseiga seemed to acknowledge this. He may not have created it knowing what it would turn out to be, but that did not mean Totosai didn't feel an overwhelming rush of pride in hearing how his creation wouldn't bend to an unworthy master.

"Tenseiga was forged from the fang of your enemy's father. What makes you think it can simply be reforged to obey you?" It was hard to keep his eyes on Ryokijin instead of the sword the bird was holding in his hand. In the orange lamp-light the Phoenix's bronze skin was glowing, his arms slung over the sides of his throne and one sandal-wearing foot propped up on the table Totosai imagined was holding sets of maps. There were so many western flares in this room.

Still, the lack of respect Ryokijin paid Tenseiga spoke for itself and explained the Phoenix's every problem. He had the sheathed blade in his hand below the medallion, rolling it casually in his hand and giving the sense that he was about to drop the weapon to the floor. It was a testament to Tenseiga's great patience that it hadn't simply jumped from his grasp in order to be done with the taunting. The blade regarded the Demon Lord with such contempt Totosai could almost hear the spirit whispering dirty things about Ryokijin in the air.

Even if it hadn't been Touga's fang, no weapon of Totosai's make would ever tolerate such a handler, unless specifically designed to punch through his arrogance.

"Then just destroy the sheathe." What? Totosai watched as the Phoenix Lord pulled his foot down and stood up properly, waving Tenseiga about like an old man's cane before giving the sword a haphazard toss in the smith's direction. The old demon almost threw out his back diving forward to catch Tenseiga before the blade could strike the floor and rattle about, getting his old clawed hands around the familiar black wood. The sword's outrage was an audible hum behind the spelled varnish, the hilt pulsing rapidly like a heartbeat without Totosai even reaching for the binding. "Give that wretched thing no more place to hide. I want to see the edge that slaughtered so many of my kinsmen." Kinsmen?

'Oh, Tenseiga... So that's how Sesshoumaru was able to single-handedly repel the Phoenix Tribe when no one else could. You retained the Wind God's blessing after-all...' The power to sever a spirit's everlasting connection to the world of the living. Tenseiga could rob any immortal soul of its undying nature, thrusting the victim headlong into the after-life.

"This sheathe isn't made of just any wood, y'know..." He stated, giving the irritated Demon Lord a blank stare as he pried his gaze up from the sword's irate hilt. "Tenseiga can survive even the most devastating demonic attacks thanks to this case, there's not much a smith like me can do to it." Well, nothing except...

"Bring her." Her? What her? The Phoenix Lord was pacing angrily, his sandals clacking across the floor as his crimson hair followed him like a lashing tail. Totosai didn't understand the Phoenix's command to his soldiers, but he wasn't a complete simpleton either. He could easily see himself running out of value in the bird's eyes: if he couldn't do anything at all, then they would kill him. And just because he wouldn't do anything didn't meant Totosai couldn't pretend otherwise.

Placing his hand over Tenseiga's hilt, the sword calmed and presented itself to him, a spirit he had watched through birth, youth, and maturity filling his mind's eye as they shared, briefly, Totosai's thoughts on the matter. To him, Tenseiga was so often imagined as the Great General who had commissioned it, with his long silver hair and dark skin, the mantle of his fur draped down his back to drag behind him on the ground as he walked. Tenseiga was the General at his most deliberative moments: his silences and pauses, the moments where there was no question of what was important, simply how to accomplish it.

Tenseiga assented to him, and Totosai smoothly drew the sword half-way from its sheathe. They both agreed that no, he couldn't hope to drive the Healing Blade through Ryokijin's heart and manage, if nothing else, to cut that immortal band tying the Phoenix to the living world. It would have been a worthwhile final act, and would protect Tenseiga from any forced meddling on Totosai's part, but no, it simply wouldn't work.

Instead he drew the sword almost all the way out, just to remind Ryokijin that he had that ability. Tenseiga could be a sword in Totosai's grasp, in the hands of the Phoenix Lord it was about as useful as a big stick.

"If you truly wish to wield Tenseiga, Lord Ryokijin, there is... one, way." Tenseiga was willing to give up its bindings and hilt, the sword would surrender its sheath if need be, but they would have to be quiet, be careful. Only in Totosai's capable hands would the brother of his masterwork surrender to the pains of being dismantled and passed off as a broken scrap. Only if he swore upon his own life and soul to restore Tenseiga properly before permitting even its haughty master to see it again, then yes. Tenseiga would do anything to return to Sesshoumaru's side, or barring him then lie in wait for his- his what?

"And what is that?" What was what? Wait, nevermind, Totosai remembered. He slid Tenseiga back into its sheath and blinked a few times up at the Phoenix, shaken by what he had just learned, but not sure what to make of it. This was not a good time for Sesshoumaru's woman to be with child, but at least that meant she'd be taken care of.

"Uuh..." What had he and Tenseiga just discussed? Right! "Talons. If I coat Tenseiga with an alloy made from your talons, and break and reforge the blade enough times with your essence added to it, then, with time, it may be done." A sword made of Phoenix talons, rendered in Tenseiga's image to break the ego of the Demon Lord in front of him. A blade that would fight him every step of the way down his road to vengeance.

He mourned his dead as if he hadn't been the one to bring the Phoenixes into the Western Lands, into the wars that had swept Sesshoumaru's lands. It was alright to mourn the fallen, but for a Demon Lord, especially a Dog Demon Lord, Sesshoumaru had not been excessive. After Ryokijin had died he had gone on to rid the majority of the Western Lands of any lingering tribes of fire-birds, but he had never pursued them beyond his territorial lines. Sesshoumaru had not relentlessly tracked and hunted down every single one of Ryokijin's scattered people, he hadn't found it worth the time, the effort, or the blood to go after them all. It was the next best thing to Demonic law; when you found a territory you wanted, you chased off anybody else who could pose a threat. Genocide was not required.

"A moment ago you said there was nothing that could be done." The pacing had stopped, Ryokijin's blue eyes landing squarely on the smith and causing Totosai's thoughts to scatter. Not his convictions, just his thoughts. "Why the change of heart, old man?"

"Do you think I like the idea of carving apart one of my greatest creations?" The fire bird approached him and Totosai lifted Tenseiga like it could offer some defence, but instead the Healing blade was just twisted out of his grasp. The old demon felt heat build in his gut and come running up his throat; a gout of flame ready to sear out over his tongue when Ryokijin hoisted his arm up and cracked Tenseiga down over his skull.

Totosai's vision exploded with little stars, the force of the blow causing his knees to drop and send him onto his hands rather than the floor. The fire was reduced to a sickly-sweet smoke that dribbled through the gaps in his teeth. Tenseiga gave a sharp cry of outrage, the sword's reaction carrying muted shock beneath the indignation. It was not a sword meant to harm beings in this world.

"Lord Ryokijin." Whatever the Phoenix had wanted to say to Totosai, it was interrupted as another fire bird entered the throne room. "She's here."

'Tenseiga?' What on earth was going on? The pain from his bashed head was already going away, the lump that had formed easing away into his wrinkled scalp- Totosai may have been old but he was still a demon. 'Why do you sound so strange?' The blade had been arrogantly insulting its wielder, now it was quiet and giving off only the faintest murmur, the shock it had experienced quickly gaining ground, blossoming into proper fear.

Ryokijin was looking at the sword, then his blue eyes came down on Totosai again before he nodded to someone the smith couldn't see. Two pairs of strong arms came and grabbed him, the old demon kicking and hissing under his breath until he was over-powered and forced to remain on his knees, arms bent back painfully so he couldn't use them. Ryokijin turned away from him and Totosai finally looked at who had been brought in.

'Kagura-?' Sesshoumaru's wi-? 'No!'

She was bound in chains marked with scraps of paper, and a human priestess who stank of death was following weakly behind the bound demoness. Despite who was wearing the chains and who was holding them, Sesshoumaru's mate still looked far better off than the flagging human. Her wrists were hanging at the same height as her shoulders, the links of her chains too short to afford Kagura a proper stride. There was blood and filth all over the high-collared white gown she was wearing, the belt tied off to her side and firm, but it was clear that she was under-dressed. Her hair was loose down her back, a few red-black locks dangling down over her disdainful face.

She looked filthy, but as the fire-light played off the pink mark on her forehead and reflected off the silver shine in her crimson eyes, Lady Kagura of the West looked unperturbed. Totosai almost thought she looked critical of the Phoenix Lord, the woman pulling a face that clearly asked what Ryokijin wanted with her, and stated that she was very, very bored.

This would not end well.

"Release her hands, but hold her arms." The command seemed to be two-fold: the human priestess did something with the chains that caused the paper seals to flag and fall off the metal links Ryokijin mentioned. The barrier around the wind demon also faltered, allowing two of the present fire birds to step forward and break the iron bonds. Still, it was only the length of chain between her throat and wrists that were snapped, the manacles remaining in place around the Lady's thin wrists.

Totosai's eyes were drawn over to Tenseiga as Kagura made a sharp, muffled comment. The guards who had stepped up to her each got a firm hold around her arms above the manacles, the pair liberal with their talons as the sharp claws pierced the woman's skin. Tenseiga was silent, but tense as thin rivulets of blood skated down Kagura's arms from the wounds, the hold meant to keep her from fighting back too vigorously. The sword was keeping itself from reacting openly- was Ryokijin competent enough to sense it when the weapon pulsed and thrashed about in its way?

This had to stop, Totosai didn't need to know what exactly was going on, but Tenseiga's fear was growing. It was a dog's fang, it would rather internalize every anxiety and put on a brave face than whimper and cower for leniency- but that would only work for so long. It was afraid, and that fear was intimately connected with the woman struggling in front of it. Kagura's guards mimicked each other and applied pressure behind her shoulders, the Daiyokai resisting the more they hampered her movements. By holding her arms behind her and pressing down on her back, it looked like they were trying to get her to bow.

"You still won't give in." The Phoenix Lord hefted Tenseiga in his grasp, Totosai drawing in a deep breath and puffing out his cheeks. A fierce burn deep in his gut welled up and surged along his throat- and then a taloned hand closed tightly over his nose and mouth, smothering the flames before the swordsmith could summon them for a distraction. Ryokijin didn't even acknowledge his struggling and if Kagura noticed, Naraku's incarnation gave no sign of it. Totosai could only double over the rest of the way and choke on the painful backlash, steam and smoke rolling off his tongue as the hand was removed and he was allowed to try breathing through the self-inflicted smog.

He missed whatever Kagura said, but her voice sounded arrogant, almost taunting.

"Swordsmith." No, Totosai coughed once and shook his head at the floor, refusing to answer even when one of the demons holding him grabbed the tail of his hair. He winced as the white hairs were yanked, but just shut his large eyes and didn't let himself look at the pregnant demoness or the flailing sword. "You said that breaking Tenseiga would be necessary to reforge it."

"You can't reforge a mature sword." At any other time Totosai would have nodded and agreed openly with Kagura's observation. He would have encouraged her comment and goaded their captor with her. But he couldn't right now, because he felt Tenseiga's reaction along his skin and couldn't stand to watch as the sheathed blade was hefted up and cracked down sharply over the woman's shoulder.

He heard her feet stagger after the blow connected, heard a muted gasp as the pain registered and the woman snapped back with a few sharp, slurred words, but Totosai refused to look. He jerked his shoulders roughly and tried to break free of the hands holding him, forced another dose of heat and acid up his throat and managed to blow it across the foot of one of his bondsmen, but it didn't do any good. Totosai was punished with a knee slamming into the side of his face and heard Tenseiga rattle in its sheathe before the black handle collided with Kagura's body again.

"It refuses to cut, but it can still harm..." It was sick and perverse and it was wrong. It was not what Tenseiga was meant for! "Hold her straight, she still reeks of that murdering dog." Tenseiga rattled again and Totosai made himself look at the sword, saw where it was being held by the sheathe in front of Ryokijin, Kagura stomping one bare foot down on the tatami floor and struggling to double-over. Instead, the demoness was forced with both arms twisted behind her back to stand straight, the fire birds holding her set on their task. The two, almost, seemed pleased with what was happening.

"Fly, Tenseiga!" Go, stupid sword! Totosai shouted the words and watched Tenseiga rattle again in its sheath, the blade struggling between the impulse to flee its sheath and the instincts which drove it further into the black wood. "Don't let that sinner hold you! Fly!"

"Silence, old man!" Ryokijin moved like a blur, his hands holding Tenseiga by both sheathe and hilt now, keeping the thrashing sword from breaking free as a gust of wind from the restrained demoness blasted through the room. Totosai saw the Phoenix Lord's eyes flash a murderous blue, cold light searing across the floor followed by the chaotic red of his aura.

Kagura screamed but Totosai didn't get to see what happened. He saw the fire erupt off Ryokijin's arms and back and surge towards him, but his guards didn't fear the fire and refused to let him get out of the way. Tenseiga was screaming in horror as fire tore up the smith's body and filled his face with crimson agony- the blade going wild before Totosai felt a terrible pain. He felt the pressure of the sword's hilt digging into his skull, fire and force tearing flesh and forcing a path around his eye- through his eye.

Sight and sense failed him. All that was left was terrible pain, consuming heat, and resounding chaos before darkness washed over everything.

Because of pacing issues I went on about Tetseiga in this chapter because pacing issues. What can I say, I like the swords. And we've all heard again and again that Tenseiga cannot CUT, but that doesn't mean you can't take the wooden sheathe and beat someone with it. Bwahaha...

No idea when I'll be able to finish 27. I'm currently stalled right in the middle of some dialogue, so I simply need Sesshoumaru to just start snarling and growling to get it done. 28 will be bloody, yay!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have two papers to write for Monday.