Author's Notes:
I feel that I must apologize for taking so dreadfully long in finishing the last chapter. I knew from the beginning where this story was going to end, but I didn't know it was going to take quite so long, or have some of the turns. (Neither Kuroshin no Yukuukuu existed at the start.) Regrettably, between feeling less than healthy most of the spring, plus preparing to move and then moving, plus a full-time job, a mayhaps just a touch of writers' block, I did take this long to finish.
The story doesn't end here, of course. The next story in the arc will be "Blood Unbound," which will see the appearance of a certain, full-blooded inu-youkai. I also want to get back to the story I started last summer about Inuyasha's father, "The Flea's Bargain." I want to get this latter story plotted, at least, as some of the decisions I make for that plot may influence how I develop "Blood Unbound."
At any rate, I hope you enjoyed "Tsubaki's Revenge." Here's a teaser for "Blood Unbound"…
Prologue (Blood Unbound)
News traveled slowly in ancient Japan's human society. No faster could any news go, than that with a man on a galloping horse, and most news, much slower. Most humans never heard more than vague rumors carried by itinerant monks or peddlers, or truly, unless war threatened, knew much of what went beyond the confines of the next closest village.
The youkai gossip network was another thing entirely. News traveled on the breath of the breeze, or the shift of youki winds. Youkai were not limited to mortal senses, and some had ranges that extended far beyond human capability.
Of course, few events even in the youkai world traveled past local concentrations of youkai life. Who cared about a fight between two ogres, as to who was stronger? But the fate of a jewel that could grant any youkai enormous power—ah, now that was a different thing. So was the scandal attached to the taiyoukai who had once ruled the Western Lands, even two centuries after his death.
The pure-blooded son of that taiyoukai would never admit awareness that the youkai grapevine even existed, let alone ever acknowledge that he might conceivably make use of it. For the most part, he had no need of it, with the refinement of senses that no ordinary youkai could match. For the rest, well, that was one reason for tolerating the imp who had decided to follow him around. Jaken gossiped with the best of them, and on rare occasions learned something of possible interest to the youkai lord.
Had it not been for the rumors coming out of the west, he might have paid more attention to the latest whispers about the half-breed. He'd been thoroughly disgusted to hear of the hanyo's involvement with a ningen—a priestess, no less! But it was only one more demonstration that the half-breed had only inherited the weakest part of his father's blood. It hadn't been important enough to divert from his path, to seek the youngster out and destroy him.
The news that the half-breed had somehow made both the Shikon No Tama and himself vanish was puzzling, but he saw no reason to react. The jewel was of no interest. If the half-breed had somehow managed to disappear for good, that was an annoyance, but not worth wasting any thoughts on it.
The news that the stupid hanyo had reappeared and gotten himself caught by yet another miko, one who was so insane as to pursue power by bargaining with youkai attracted rather more of his attention. The thought that anything with a bit of his father's blood should be so weak as to be captured by a ningen was rather revolting. He even shifted his pattern of wandering to range closer to where the execrable hanyo was being held, though he had no plans to rescue the miserable, disgusting creature. Besides, there were still those indications of something happening on the western borders. That needed, and deserved, more of his time, than one misborn half-breed.
But something carried on the breeze this morning brought him to a halt. It was a ghost of a scent, once familiar and strange. It was his brother's scent, and yet, it wasn't. It had shifted, dropping something, adding something. He paused, concentrating on that ghost, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He finally realized what the difference was.
It was entirely youkai, that ghost of a scent. It could have been his father's, or his. Strange, and had he been willing to acknowledge it, disturbing. Sesshomaru stood still, puzzling over the oddity, then made a decision. He changed course. He ignored the impertinent, unimportant question squawked by his follower.
He wasn't going to try and find the hanyo. Not yet. But this direction was as good as any other…