Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

Chapter 35: Final Preparations

Inuyasha breathed in, paying attention to his newly attuned senses. A moment later, he tried not to cavil, swallowing hard. Sesshomaru's aura felt as if it were smoking with his rage. He didn't think it was his new understanding of his youkai senses that was making him sense that Sesshomaru had never been so angry.

Sesshomaru was that angry.

His skin crawled, the rabbity fear wanted to freeze, wanted to bolt. Think! He had to say something, do something, to distract Sesshomaru, to kick him out of his building rage, before he decided to act on that rage and tear Inuyasha into little pieces.

A faint pulse skittered up his hands. Tessaiga. Inuyasha focused his attention on his hands, on the glimmering focus of power that was the blade. It gently pulsed again, and he followed the sense of energy up his hands, up his arms, into himself, into that warm, silent, centered space he'd found before. The tightness faded a bit, letting him breathe. Of course. He and Sesshomaru could not deal with each other as brothers who hated each other. Not now. Not when there was a battle at stake. Taisho. He must think of Sesshomaru as his leader, his general.

"Taisho-sama," he said, and felt the slight twitch in the massive, fulminating aura. "This one humbly gives thanks for the lesson on how to use Tessaiga."

He felt Sesshomaru's start, and then a shudder rippled through the massive youki cloud behind him. Inuyasha's ears twitched, as he realized his brother must be trying to control his temper. The thought might have been amusing, in other circumstances, but too much was at stake to display amusement. He wondered what else he could do to lessen Sesshomaru's fury—a weird thought, he reflected, but, what else was he to do?

Realizing that he was still standing with Tessaiga powered up, Inuyasha decided to sheathe the blade. He moved his left hand to the scabbard, and hoped that he could manage to return the blade without looking like a fumbling fool. His eyes were starting to distinguish light and shadow, but not nearly enough to see what he was doing. Fortunately, as if Tessaiga sensed his intent, the blade's tip touched the scabbard on the first try, and slipped in as if called.

"Taisho-sama." Inuyasha decided to try again. "This one humbly requests to stand with the Taisho against the panther clan."

It was the wrong thing to say. He felt a burst of anger, and then a set of fangs was sinking deeply into his shoulder…

… … …

Sesshomaru could not remember another time when he had been as angry. His brute side howled to be released, demanding to be let out, to transform into his true form, longing to rend this insufferable, degrading hanyo who dared—dared—to attempt to treat with this Sesshomaru on anything like equal terms. He hated the hanyo standing before him, for touching Tessaiga, for proving him wrong. For simply existing. The scent of his own blood maddened his rage even further. That the hanyo should dare use Tessaiga to hurt him!

He exerted his will, with all the steel and ice in him. Reminded himself that his blood lust would have a target soon enough; many targets, much worthier than one hanyo. The real source of his wrath was not the hanyo, but the memory of his father, and it was beneath him to take out his resentment on the weak half-brother.

Yet, he was angered at how Inuyasha had proven him wrong. He hated the thought of returning to those gathered youkai, with Inuyasha next to him, Tessaiga at his waist, ready to use it, ready to prove Sesshomaru wrong—

...ask to stand alongside the Taisho...

The beast exploded. Youkai winds howled at Sesshomaru lunged forward, thought dissolving into beast-driven blood lust—

Twang!

Sesshomaru jerked, head snapping back as a double-beat of power cut through his haze. Shaking his head, growling, he realized that he had started to transform. He pushed it back, feeling the fangs shrinking, jaws shortening. Annoyed at himself for the unintended shift, and a bit confused, he shook his head again, and then looked ahead. And promptly became aware of four things.

First, his mouth was filled with blood.

Second, the mostly ignored sword at his side was vibrating madly, and pulsing in regular beats of power.

Third, Inuyasha was back on his knees, clutching his left arm, his fire-rat robe rapidly darkening with blood, which was coming from a good dozen holes in his back alone.

And fourth, the hanyo was surrounded by a hazy, blue hemisphere, which was pulsing in sync with Tensaiga.

Sesshomaru grabbed Tensaiga's hilt to stop the irritating vibration. It sparked against his hand, then settled with a distinct impression of disapproval. Irritated that a mere sword should have an opinion, Sesshomaru turned his attention back to the hanyo. The barrier—for that's what it was, he realized—had stopped pulsing, which didn't explain where it came from. Another gift from his father to the bastard? he wondered crossly. Though it had sprung into existence a bit late, hadn't it, after something had already taken a bite out of stupid half-breed?

Chagrin swept over the inu-youkai as his mind made the connection with humiliating slowness. He was the one who had bitten Inuyasha. He had lost control of his hate and his rage, and had attacked Inuyasha as a maddened beast. Yes, he fully intended to kill the hanyo one day, but not like this! He was not a mindless youkai beast, slavering for the kill. He would take down the hanyo with cold-blooded precision, cold-blooded derision, waiting for the full acknowledgement of defeat and despair to fill those golden eyes, before he delivered the death blow.

Inuyasha whimpered, sagging. "Why ... brother?" he half-whispered, half-croaked. "Why do you —hate me so? I didn't ask—to be born hanyo. I didn't ask—father to give me—Tessaiga. I didn't ask for—blood so strong—" He coughed, his voice thickening with his own blood, as Sesshomaru realized that he may well have dealt Inuyasha a mortal wound. "All ... I ever wanted ... was you ... to accept me..."

Accept? A mental lip curled, but, at the same time, something else within revolted at what he was seeing. He wasn't ready to see his brother die! If only for the embarrassment. To have those youkai suspect he had killed his own brother out of sure pique; to face the panthers with the death-stench of his brother clinging to him—no!

Tensaiga rang. Sesshomaru realized that he had pulled the sword out of the sheath unknowing. He glared at it. It pulsed again, delivering a wordless message—heal him!

The sword that could save a hundred lives with one swing.

Sesshomaru looked back at his brother, glaring, angry at himself for putting himself into this position. Angry at his father. Angry at the world.

But, he could not deny what he had done or deny what his senses were telling him. He would not permit this!

He took a step forward, and swung.

The slender, dull-edged blade gleamed blue as it took light, even as the barrier around Inuyasha vanished. It swept through the hanyo's torso as if through air. Inuyasha snapped straight with a gasp, and Sesshomaru watched in avid curiosity as the scent of pain and dying vanished. He felt the youki aura brighten, watched the holes in the fire-rat robe mend themselves, saw the bloodstains fade and vanish, heard the heart pounding with fresh vigor, and sensed the stunned shock.

If he felt any sense of relief, he refused to acknowledge it.

... ... ...

The world turned upside down.

He was dying, aware mostly of a profound shock, that his brother had actually moved to kill him, and a grief deeper than any pain. He had known he had said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth, as Sesshomaru's aura blazed with rage. There had been no time to apologize, no time to pull Tessaiga and defend himself. There had only been the instant of warning, and then agony as mouth full of fangs clamped down on his shoulder and upper chest, puncturing, crushing.

And then, out of nowhere, something seemed to cut through the miasma of pain, despair, and dying. Pain vanished. Bones knitted, muscle rewove, skin smoothed out. He took a breath and felt life flooding into him, banishing even the underlying fatigue that he only now realized he had been suffering since his encounter with the Shikon no Tama and Naraku. And opening his eyes, he realized that he could see again: see the five deep furrows that must be due to Tessaiga, see the lowering sky, and the muted colors of the mountain-slope.

Physically, he felt absolutely wonderful.

Mentally, he was still shaking.

Sesshomaru had tried to kill him. Not just threatened, not just words about Inuyasha's life belonging to him, not simple pain and humiliation.

He'd known, from his mother that the pureblooded inu-youkai could take two forms. But, he had never seen Sesshomaru in his true form, and had suspected that Sesshomaru considered it beneath him, to attack his bastard brother as a dog.

Yet, he had. Inuyasha might not have seen the transformation, but the attack could only have been the dog form. And that felt so very … wrong.

Inuyasha knew Sesshomaru was still behind him. He didn't really want to turn around and see the face of the Sesshomaru that had attacked to kill. But, what choice did he have? He didn't want to be thought coward.

Hesitating a final moment, Inuyasha stood up. Gripping Tessaiga's hilt with his left hand—and grateful for the warmth he was certain he could feel coming up through that ragged leather, he slowly turned around.

To his relief, Sesshomaru's form was fully human, with no hint of the canine jaws that had nearly killed Inuyasha. But, to Inuyasha's puzzlement, the elder brother was paying him no attention. Rather, all of his irate gaze was focussed on the slender blade he held in his right hand.

He had never seen that sword drawn before, though it had been resting on Sesshomaru's hip for as long as he could remember. Inuyasha frowned a little, trying to remember. Hadn't he asked Myoga about it once or twice? And hadn't there been something in one of the stories about the old man, that Bokuseno and Cheiriyo had related to him?

Tensaiga. The name came to him, and a moment later, the description Myoga had given him. A sword that couldn't kill. (He had found that funny at the time.) A sword that saved lives, Myoga had said.

"Tensaiga … healed me?" he whispered.

Sesshomaru snapped around and glared at him. Inuyasha barely noticed, his eyes on the beautiful, slender blade that had a flaw only from a swordsman's point of view. He had yearned for the blade—not often, and not in a long time, but the fantasy of having had that blade back when his mother had been dying of a fever…

Seeing the direction of Inuyasha's attention, Sesshomaru slammed Tensaiga back into its sheathe, and then had a handful of fire rat in his hand, forcing Inuyasha to his toes, bringing their faces bare inches apart.

"Tensaiga is mine!" he hissed.

Inuyasha blinked at him, and then nodded. He'd never truly wanted that kind of sword, other than as a wistful fantasy. Among other things, he was quite capable of imagining how he might end up surrounded by entities begging him to use the sword, or plotting to steal it.

"And this … never happened."

"What?"

The grip on his fire-rat increased, twisting, nearly choking him. "Tensaiga did not heal you. You were not … injured…If you ever tell …"

The request was irritating, but Inuyasha had no desire to make an argument, given how murderous his brother's expression was. "I won't tell," he agreed, "as long as you agree that I did learn to use Windscar, and that you will allow me to stay for the fight with the panthers."

For a moment, he thought that Sesshomaru was going to give into his rage again. It felt intense enough to burn his skin, after all. But, after a moment, Sesshomaru thrust him away. Inuyasha fell onto his rump, used the downward slope, and his momentum to turn that into a backwards somersault, and moved smoothly back on his feet. Sesshomaru glared at him; Inuyasha tried to keep his face expressionless.

Both swords pulsed again. Inuyasha was startled by the coincidence, and surprised by the sense that Tessaiga, at least, was annoyed and impatient. Sesshomaru started a little, and whipped his head around to glare at the hilt of Tensaiga, making Inuyasha wonder what that sword had been trying to convey. Nothing Sesshomaru appreciated, at any rate.

He felt Sesshomaru forcing his anger down, and might have felt sorry for the brother who clearly had as much trouble with his temper as Inuyasha himself did. He didn't, of course

But, he did wonder if their old man had had a like temper.

"We should return," Sesshomaru said in a clipped, icy voice that was almost without an edge of anger. "Now."

Inuyasha was unsurprised when Sesshomaru invaded his space again, but this time, his hand grabbed only the back knot of Inuyasha's hakama. This time, he felt the youki gathering under his feet, and somehow solidifying. He felt off balance just a moment, as the youki cloud started to rise. Then, he let his knees flex, immediately adjusted, and watched the mountain slope disappear beneath him with bemusement and more than a tinge of envy, which he didn't bother trying to hide. He did have to hide his amusement and resist the urge to smirk, as he sensed his brother relaxing.

Sesshomaru did so love to display his 'superiority' towards his brother.

It was annoying.

But, it was better than hate.

… … …

The repetitive chant of "Tessaiga" was getting both irritating and concerning to Cheiriyo. Having Tessaiga on their side was unquestionably a bonus—assuming Inuyasha truly learned how to use it. But, using that possibility as a rallying cry seemed…ridiculous. If nothing else, if the panthers overhead what was being said, and knew enough about the old Taisho, they would not be surprised by the blade, and might have a counter to the attack.

But, most of the youkai were inimical to his kind, and they were not listening to anything but their imaginations.

He glanced towards the mountain where the two inu had disappeared. The youki flare and rumbling from the presumed Windscar attack had occurred some little time ago; he had expected the two to return by now. Had something happened to either or both?

Motion caught his eye, and Cheiriyo sighed in relief as he recognized the two. Moreover, he noticed that Inuyasha was standing next to his brother, rather than being rudely hauled along like a fresh-caught prey. Had the two brothers reconciled themselves, he wondered. Unlikely, he suspected, but perhaps the two inu had at least come to a truce…

A hawk's screech distracted his attention. One of the silver hawks arrowed down from the sky, far faster than any mortal bird. It disappeared out of view. Yowls of pain and fear rose in the distance, and then the hawk reappeared, winging hard as he thrust upward, two tailed, howling figures struggling within his claws. Lightning spat up from the valley, but far behind his tail feathers.

The cries of 'Tessaiga' rapidly subsided as the action in the sky drew everyone's attention. Cheiriyo saw Sesshomaru's flight hesitate, for just a moment. Then, he altered direction slightly, and increased speed noticeably. Shooting down towards the gathered army, a dozen or so heights above their heads, he shoved Inuyasha away from him, and then changed his course to close with the hawk.

Inuyasha gave a startled yelp, tumbled for a moment, and then collected himself, rolled into a somersault, and then back out in to a controlled fall. He landed fewer than two lengths away from Cheiriyo with a thump that made the youkai wince. The hanyo nearly went to his knees, but not quite, straightening with a growl. Like most of the others, he looked up, as Sesshomaru raced towards the hawk.

Cheiriyo chose to look at Inuyasha, instead. The intensity of his gaze increased after a few moments, as he reconsidered what he was sensing. The hanyo's youki aura was noticeably different than it had been just this morning. It had been just a little ragged, with a whisper of fatigue, of a fragile wholeness: all of which made sense given the physical ordeals the hanyo had been through in recent moons. But, now, he seemed to be brimming over with energy, with no sign that he had ever been injured severely enough to test his hanyo stamina. The change was so noticeable that Cheiriyo couldn't help be intrigued. Why had it happened?

"Inuyasha-sama?" he murmured, knowing better than to approach the hanyo from behind before Inuyasha acknowledged him.

A white ear flicked an acknowledgement. "Cheiriyo-dono."

Cheiriyo took three steps forward to put him at the hanyo's shoulder. "Your—health seems much improved, Inuyasha-sama."

A sigh answered him. One ear twitched rapidly, and then the hanyo turned around to face him. "It is, and I can't talk about it."

"Can't?" echoed Cheiriyo, puzzled.

Inuyasha gave him an intense look, then quickly turned his head to look up towards Sesshomaru. Cheiriyo followed his gaze, in time to see the inu youkai catch one of the captive panthers from the hawk, eviscerate it with his claws, and then throw the screaming cat in an arc that would land the body halfway down the slope. Cheiriyo snapped his gaze away, stomach twitching, and found himself snared by Inuyasha's gaze again. "Some questions are best left unasked, healer," the hanyo said softly.

Cheiriyo nodded jerkily, trying not to listen as the other panther's snarls turned into screams of pure agony. He had never wanted to be involved in the affairs of the daiyoukai; he reminded himself. Best not to be noticed by that ilk. Best to live a quiet life, away from fighting for power or revenge.

He would be dead, were it not for a daiyoukai. But, he would be so relieved when he could considered his debt repaid, and return to the simple life of his mountain home…

A hand hesitantly touched his shoulder. He looked up, to find a concerned-looking hanyo looking at him. "Um, healer, are you, uh, okay?"

He swung his head from side to side, once. "No," he whispered, more to himself than to the other, looking down. "I want to be—home. I want to be in my fields, among my herbs. I want to be with—never mind."

The hand grip strengthened. "I know what you mean. I'd rather be, well, with her, if you know what you mean."

Cheiriyo looked up, and nodded. "If it were up to me," Inuyasha continued, his eyes serious and intent, "I'd say you've paid back to debt to the old man. You probably saved my life with that drink: somebody would've had to kill me, if you hadn't broken the blood madness."

Cheiriyo nodded again. "If anything, I reckon I owe you, healer. I know I can't talk you out of leaving this stupid fight. And even the best fighters can die in battle. But, if we both survive, I make you a promise, Cheiriyo-san: you need me; send for me. Tessaiga was made to protect; and I figure, that means the old man wants that I should use it to protect not just the weak, but the people that are my friends as well. Youkai or human."

The old elk youkai started, flinging back his head to stare at the hanyo in shock. Time stood still, and rolled back. Another being with silver hair rather than white, but with equally intense golden eyes had gripped his shoulder—both shoulders. Had stared into the eyes of a shattered, wounded, grieving youkai and demanded that he live. Had insisted that the herd would want him to live, to carry their memories and dreams forward in life. Had told him that all dreams did not end with one dream that even the most lost could find a new path, one that would return them not just to life and peace, but more… You can become more than I: I could not save even one other member of your herd, but who knows but that one day you—or your son—will save the life of a daiyoukai's son?

Cheiriyo jerked back from the memory, and from the hand, breathing hard, shaking inside, and staring. This Inuyasha, he had seen in three forms; captive, mindless youkai, scared, desperate human, and hanyo. But, only now, did he truly see who Inuyasha was — the Inu no Taisho's son. The son of the dog who extended his sense of loyalty and honor beyond the narrow lines of blood and clan. The youkai who had dared dream about limits beyond power or mindless avarice. The youkai who had come upon a slaughter field, and who had responded not with the carnivorous instincts and blood lust of his being, but had reacted with disgust, outrage, and action, destroying the panther youkai who had pulled down the last of his people and destroyed them.

This was the daiyoukai's son. Cheiriyo recognized that, and, little though he knew of Tessaiga, understood that Tessaiga had come to Inuyasha's hand more than just to seal his blood. Sesshomaru would have looked at the killing field, and turned away.

Inuyasha would not. He might not have the power—yet—to stop such a slaughter, but Cheiriyo had little doubt, that he would have tried.

Drawing a deep breath, Cheiriyo forced his attention back to the moment. Inuyasha was looking at him uncertainly, even with a slight hint of apprehension, as if wondering he had done something wrong. Cheiriyo met his gaze, gave a gentle smile, and then bowed.

"This one is greatly honored by your offer, Inuyasha-sama."

The—boy was blushing a little by the time Cheiriyo straightened. "I—I ain't no lord, Cheiriyo-san." Any likeness to the old lord's passion and grace had vanished—but, then, the hanyo was very young. "You—you didn't just save me, y'know. I mean—I didn't really think there were any high youkai that wouldn't just automatically hate me, 'cause I'm hanyo. And-and you even helped Kikyo, and she's human…"

"Your father helped me to see the value in many life-forms, Inuyasha-sama," Cheiriyo said with a slight smile. "I—"

"Inuyasha. With me."

Sesshomaru's voice was not loud, but it cut through the low susurration of conversation. "Taisho calls," muttered Inuyasha with a quick roll of the eyes. "Watch your back, healer." And with that, he was gone, leaping over the nearest youkai, heading towards the crest of the slope where Sesshomaru stood. Cheiriyo watched him go, and thought, And I will watch your back, Inuyasha-sama. And beg the gods that you not need my poor help…

… … …

Tōran paced in the small clearing, simmering with fury. Nearly, her entirely force had bolted forward as the first of their dispatched spies were thrown to the ground by that hated dog, to shriek their mindless pain until the poison and injuries destroyed them. Barely, barely had she kept them in check, with voice, and will and the slash of ice across the ground which no one was to cross. But, it was her sister who was most insistent that they wait. The hawks had caught two, but more had been sent out. And they needed to know what had caused that youki disturbance. Unknowns meant unpleasant surprises in battle..

A ripple of disturbance attracted her attention. She whirled, to see the front ranks parting to let two pale figures run four-footed through the crowd. The leader of the panthers frowned a little as she recognized them, for they reminded her of a onetime companion who had fallen far from favor. Who had sired her two cubs, she had never said, even in death, but clearly, it was not one of the clan's toms. Unlike true clan members, they had never learned to walk upright, and the younger could not speak. Save for their eyes and their youki aura, they looked more like mortal felines; She would have had them killed out of hand as worthless to the clan. Karan had objected, defending their right to exist, pointing out that the clan had yet to recover from the first war with the Inu no Taisho. Tōran had not felt so confident in her leadership in those days, that she wanted to openly disagree with her sister.

What she had to admit was that Karan had been correct in their worth, for no other members of the clan could hide and sneak as well as the two silver-and-gray, tabby-coated felines came to a panting halt before Karan. The younger dropped to a prone position, clearly exhausted, while the older stood to four-footed attention, her ears perked and her blue eyes fixed on Karan.

"Mist, Fog, I'm so glad you're safe!" exclaimed her younger sister. "What did you learn?"

"We found five furrows in the ground, radiating from a single point," said Mist. "Deeper than two tails in places, and reeking of youki. Powerful, powerful youki. We found the smells of two inu youkai—one tainted with human smell. There were other smells as well—poison and blood with the hanyo, blood on the youkai."

The mention of blood on the youkai produced a stir. Even Tōran felt a frisson of surprise—Sesshomaru had been injured? Not much, given the power he had radiated as he eviscerated her two loyal clan members. But, still…

"Bring the prisoner!" she snapped, as Karan continued to speak to the two runts, turning away as she saw her sister kneeling and scratching behind the Fog's ear.

A feeble wail of pain turned her around. In a cage carried between two panthers crouched a small, emaciated and scarred imp who looked as if he came from Jaken's clan, which, in fact, he did. "Let me go!" he begged. "You promised, I've told you everything I know—let me go!"

Tōran's smile was cruel, as she looked at the prisoner. "Everything? You've never mentioned anything that can slash five furrows in the ground, and warp the youki winds from two mountains away. What have you not told me, little imp?" She flicked a glance at a third panther standing next to the cage.

Four lines appeared on the skinny back, and the imp yowled with pain. "I don't know I don't know!" he wailed. "Stop! Please stop!"

"You haven't told me everything yet," said Tōran. "What is powerful enough that could hurt the Sesshomaru? What had that throng on the other side of the mountain chanting?"

"Tessaiga."

The word did not come from the prisoner. Tōran whipped around, to glare at Mist. The feline looked away, but added softly, "That's what they were chanting. Sister and I—we were close enough to hear."

"Tessaiga." Tōran turned back to her prisoner. "Tell me about Tessaiga, ugly one, and I will let you go."

"Go?" The imp looked up with hope in his clouded, yellow eyes. "Tessaiga? Oh, yes! Jaken talked about Tessaiga. A lot! His master—his master was searching for it, he said. The master's father's sword, he said. Powerful. Powerful! Kill a hundred youkai with one blow, he said! With Tessaiga, Sesshomaru-sama will be more powerful than his father, Jaken said!"

Dismay and avarice alike stirred in Tōran's breast. Such a sword could make the difference in the battle. And the very thought of the son being more powerful than the father who had slain the Master… But, the thought of obtaining the sword for herself, or one of her siblings. It could turn the battle in their favor just as easily. And the thought of using the old Taisho's sword to revenge themselves on the sons…

"Very well." Tōran gave the imp a smile. "Let him go."

They unfastened the door to the cage. The imp stared at the opening, bill agape for several long moments. "Free!" he cried, leaping out. "I'm fr—"

Tōran's spear slashed through his neck. The spattering drops of blood froze in an instant, as did his body. It hit the ground and broke into pieces.

"So will end all who dared support the Inu no Taisho," she said.

Smiles and smirks were passed around, and low growls of satisfaction and anticipation.

"Tōran, look!" exclaimed her youngest sister, Shunran. "On the crest!"

Tōran turned. They all did. Peering through the trees, up the long slope, the panthers looked up. Bright against the lowering, angry sky stood two figures, one in red, one in white. Both with white hair … and both with swords.

"Sooo…" Tōran let her breath out in a hiss. "The hanyo decided to save us a hunt." Amusement trickled around her, which she ignored as she realized, she did not know which inu bore 'Tessaiga.' Not that it mattered. They would just have to get both of them. "Listen up," she said, immediately quieting the forces behind her. "This is what I want…"

This day, they would have their revenge.

Author's Note: Next time, the battle between the panthers and the Inu no Taisho's sons!