Sesshomaru leaned against the well house, his arm crossed over his chest. Inuyasha had been gone for more than a week, and the priestess had waved off her family's concerns with a practiced ease. Knowing that his half-sibling suffered pathetic fits of rage often did not ease the nagging suspicion in the back of Sesshomaru's mind. Normally, he would not care about what happened between his brother and his pack, but standing in the putrid air of the future had changed that way of thinking. His world would fade, the history of his people lessened to mere stories as humans lived on to conquer the planet. Since coming to this realm, he had felt no stirrings of youki, and he was left to wonder if his kind had survived at all. Of one thing he was certain; there would be a single constant. And he would be damned if he let his brother shake that certainty.