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

Chapter 37: Battle, Part II: Interference

They were bound to Karan, body and soul.

They were born runts, unable to stand two-footed, unable to manifest clothing, or to shape their forepaws into something that could hold human things. Fog lacked even vocal speech. As runts, as kittens with questionable blood, they could have been killed out of hand. Should have been killed, many said, and the opprobrium towards their mother for not killing them at birth was part of what drove her away. The silver and gray kittens would have been happy to go into exile at her side, loyal to the dam who had nursed them, but, while she had given them milk, ultimately, she refused them love, and turned away.

They would have been forced from the clan after her departure, but Karan intervened. She protected them, cared for them, taught them, encouraged them. She saw the hints of their possible skills, and helped them develop their gifts and weak youki to become virtually invisible—to sight, to scent, to youki. Under her care and encouragement, they grew confident, walking with heads up and tails lifted, not challenging anyone, but not shrinking into themselves, either.

And, for all that, they devoted themselves to her, utterly and without question. Before the four siblings went out to confront the dogs, Karan ordered the pair to wait and rest. But, though Fog was exhausted, Mist and her sister looked at each other, and chose to disobey. Four-footed ghosts, they trotted after the airborne siblings. Crouched on the ground, unnoticed by dog, or cat, they listened to the initial words and insults, then watched with frightened awe as the first blows were exchanged.

Horrified, trembling, they watched the Windscar attack, and the destruction of dozens of their clan-mates: people they'd known their entire lives. Panthers who had ignored them or scorned them, perhaps, but still of one blood. Of one clan.

And a single dog, with a single sweep of his blade, had destroyed them all.

Pale blue eyes met those of bottomless black. Whiskers arched and touched, and then the eldest moved her muzzle to rest against her sister's pricked ear. "We have to do something," she muttered. "We have to stop him."

Fog blinked her black eyes and nodded her head, then gave a very quiet, questioning mew. "We sneak up on him … and … um … do something. Bite him, take the sword away."

Fog twisted her ears down and gave Mist an uncertain look. "We have to try!" Mist insisted. "Next time, it might be Karan…"

The smaller feline's tabby fur, though plastered flat to her body from the rain, moved in a shiver. She looked away, dropped her head to lick the top of her paw, stared at the ground, and only after a long pause brought her head up and bumped her body against Mist's, with a tiny, sad chirp. Mist breathed out and briefly groomed Fog's ear. "You are so brave, my little sister," she breathed. "Let's go."

They stilled themselves a moment, inner selves checking that their invisibility was intact. Then, invisible, they trotted through the wind and the rain, towards their red-clad goal.

… … …

Tōran stared at the smoking ground, stunned beyond words. The described ability of Tessaiga—"killing a hundred with a single sweep"—the words did not begin to convey the horrible reality. Her people—her friends, her supporters, even her would-be rivals—swept out of existence by a single blow of a single sword. They were gone: their scents, their auras. There was nothing of them left—nothing! Only a few screams, as they were all obliterated, erased.

A low, chuckle whispered behind her. "If a hanyo could to that with Tessaiga, what do you think I could do with it?"

She jerked around to face Sesshomaru, knowing her shock and horror must be plain on her face, yet unable to control her reaction. He looked down at her, less than half a length from her, looming over her, his expression one of cruel amusement. "You cannot defeat this one, panther leader," he purred. "Perhaps that pathetic hanyo, you could overcome, with enough bodies, but you cannot defeat this one, any more than your former master could defeat my sire."

"It is not over yet," she spat, trying to spit defiance into his face. "We will destroy that hanyo, and then we will destroy you, son of the Inu no Taisho! You think we cannot tell? You are but a shadow of that dog, and we will take you out, and then we will use all the western lands as our hunting ground!"

She did not even see him move. Tōran found her neck in his hand, her toes barely in touch with the ground, and his lambent eyes a bare few hand spans from her own. "This 'shadow' is greater than all your clan together," he hissed. "The hanyo alone, with Tessaiga to hand, is capable of destroying you, and he lives only because I permit it. Even as I permitted you match your weapon against my bare hands...and found you lacking. Shall we watch, to see how many of your people the hanyo will kill, before they all run away?" He shifted his stance, and she was forced to look in the direction of that glowing sword. The hanyo was starting to move … slowly. She could see beyond him, see the still, shocked group towards which he was heading. Tōran started to draw a breath, intending to yowl an order to scatter, but the hand choked her in an instant. "Silence," Sesshomaru commanded. "All of you. Or I shall see how long your sister can scream."

… … …

This time, Inuyasha saw the effect of the windscar. A bit stunned, frozen at the end of his swing, he watched as the attack obliterated the panthers. Something close to awe touched him, as he realized just how mighty a weapon his father had bequeathed him.

Finally, he remembered to breathe, and pulled Tessaiga back to a guard position. A quick look around with eyes and youki senses, and he realized that almost everyone was frozen, staring at him in shock. The only exception appeared to be the panther quartet who were currently being engaged by Sesshomaru.

Glee began to filter through his awareness. They were afraid of him! Youkai were afraid! The dream of becoming youkai, in order to be respected, to be feared: he had what he wanted. Tessaiga had given him the core of his dream back. They feared him.

Inuyasha smiled, as the joy rose in him. Slowly, he began to stalk towards the group to the right, swinging the glowing blade just a little. He saw them recognize his approach, saw them shrink back, eyes wild, frozen with indecision. He grinned, savoring their fear, savoring his growing elation. He pushed his youki forward, searching for that first brush of wind against wind, for that clash through which he could cut. He felt the eyes on him, heard his brother speaking to Tōran, with his evident plan to allow Inuyasha the freedom of the battlefield.

Inwardly, he exulted.

He stalked towards the panthers, Tessaiga the focus of the world, the avatar of death, and destruction. He was the bringer of death, of destruction.

And it felt so good.

So delicious…

… … …

Transformed to his true self, Cheiriyo could not help but tremble. Even muted by the rain, the rancid smell of the panthers recalled his worst memories. While those who had stayed behind hollered and cheered over the results of Inuyasha's use of Tessaiga, he could not stop trembling. Inuyasha once again reminded him of the great Inu no Taisho, but it was the reminder of the basic inimical difference between himself and the Dog General and his son. At heart, in instinct, they were predators. They were closer to that nightmare base of most youkai—the instinct and desire for destruction, of blood lust. They might stop themselves from killing, save at perceived need, but it was in their blood to enjoy the killing. To enjoy the spilling of blood.

He was too far distant to perceive the details of Inuyasha's aura, as the hanyo started after the second group of panthers. But, he did not need to. He could see the slight, unnecessary movement of the sword, could see the slow, measured movements of the stalk, could see the shrinking reaction even at this distance.

The panthers had destroyed his people. Most of the culprits of the deed had in turn been slain by the Inu no Taisho, but the grouped panthers were of the same clan. The same blood. Those threatened panthers would, no doubt, have done the same thing to his people, given opportunity.

He should hate them. Should take joy in their oncoming death, should see vengeance for the cruel death of his once herd.

But, all he really wished for was that they would turn and flee. That they would try to escape.

That they would abandon their war.

… … …

Sister! He turns to attack! Hurry!

Thought flowed between the siblings, the pale-coated litter-mates. Fog and Mist shifted speed from a slow, cautious trot to a full gallop. Unseen, unheard, they ran through the storm, circling slightly to come in from behind.

They knew they could not defeat the hanyo if it came to a fight: they were the weakest members of their clan. They knew that if they were caught in that sword's attack, they would be instantly killed.

They charged ahead, anyways. Not for the sake of the threatened clan members, not really. For Karan's sake they moved, for payment of all she had done for them. For caring, as she must be caring now, in horror and terror, of what would happen to her people.

Fog and Mist knew they were going to die—and didn't care. As long as they stopped him.

As long as they made Karan proud of them.

… … …

There was no warning, for Fog and Mist were as unnoticeable as the leading edge of their namesakes. Concentrating on the foe before him, Inuyasha did not hear them. He did not smell them. And their youki were so weak that even in contact with his extended aura, there was no clash of youki winds. He had raised Tessaiga; ready to swing as soon as he found the first clash of youki winds...

Jaws that were powerful enough—even in a mortal feline—to severe the spinal column of a full grown deer, sank into his neck as Mist threw her full weight on him from behind. Even as he staggered, a smaller set of jaws bit down on his left wrist.

Panic spiked through Inuyasha as he felt the jaws closing on his neck. He did not feel his wrist shattering, did not feel Tessaiga dropping from his hands. There was only the sound of breaking, shattering vertebrae and the flash of pain, and a single, mental shriek of shock, denial—and rage.

NO!

… … …

Mist gave a final tug and then released her grip, skittering backwards. Fog rolled to her feet and joined her, her jaws as blood-stained as her sister's. Panting, they stared at the body. The momentum of their attacks had twisted him as he fell. He was on his left side, his sightless eyes staring upwards into the rain, the once-glowing sword now laying a good length from one foot, appearing no more than a rusted, tattered, powerless blade.

"We … did it?" Mist whispered, starting to shake. "We really … did it?"

They had really managed to kill the hanyo?

… … …

Cheiriyo reared and bolted down the mountain slope as he saw Inuyasha crumple to the ground, his mind a shout of denial. He knew that there was nothing his herbs, nor his spells could do to save the hanyo's life. Yet, he could not simply stand and watch. He had seen this happen before. He had seen his aunt go down in the first wave of the attack, and his sister. He had failed. He had failed, again! The herd leader he had been belled his loss and his rage, charging towards those who had struck down one he had protected.

… … …

Only at the very last instant, did even Sesshomaru's superior senses detect anything. And even then, all he perceived were two feline ghosts leaping towards his focused, and oblivious half-brother. They were weak ghosts, their youki barely existent, and in the split second before they reached their goal, he assumed that their attack would fail.

When Inuyasha went down, head lolling at an unnatural angle, Sesshomaru froze in utter shock. It simply wasn't possible. The hanyo—his prey—could not fall to a simple, physical attack! And to two weak youkai cats, no less! It could not be! It could not! His half-brother could not be that stupid! Could not be that vulnerable! Could not be that—that insulting—

… … …

Tōran saw the hanyo drop and knew that the battle had abruptly turned. As she felt Sesshomaru's stunned reaction, she moved, grabbing the hand around her throat and breaking free. "Attack!" she howled, even as she grabbed Sesshomaru's armor and invoked every bit of her freezing power. "Sibs, on me!" she yelled, "We've got to keep Sesshomaru away from the sword!"

Shuran answered with a roar and lunged forward, arms reaching to tackle. Sesshomaru belatedly reacted, snapping forward a hand that took Tōran in the chest and threw her back, and then skipping lightly backwards, avoiding Shuran's effort entirely. The next moment, he was gone. Staggering backwards, trying to keep her balance, Touron glimpsed a shimmer of white heading towards the downed hanyo. "After him!" she cried, calling the lance back to her hand. "We can't let him get the sword!"

… … …

Fury boiled within Sesshomaru as he leaped: not towards his brother, or Tessaiga, but towards his brother's killers. How dare Inuyasha shame his inu blood by dying in a simple attack from two cats! To die of a simple bite! Of a broken neck! How dare he!

And how dare they! Sesshomaru swept down on the barely-visible felines and caught both up them up by their throats. The weight in his hands proved that they were hardly ghosts, though that mattered not at all. He raised them high enough that their faces were on a level with his, and glared at them, his rage visible. "You dared?"

The smaller merely stared at him with unreadable black eyes, her front paws clawing fruitlessly at his hand. The larger one glared back, ears flat, and hissed at him. "What dare?" she snarled. "He would have killed more of our people! Kill me if you want, dog, I care not! I have killed the Inu no Taisho's son!"

Sesshomaru's eyes narrowed, a growl trembling in his throat. "You will die very slowly, cat," he said, "and I will make all of your people watch—"

Something changed, and something went 'crack.' Sesshomaru snapped his head around to look at his half-brother, whose smell was changing. That was startling enough, but then he saw that the open eyes were glowing—red.

Inuyasha's head jerked sideways, with another 'cracking' noise. Disbelieving, Sesshomaru watched, his hands unconsciously lowering, as the head jerked a third time. And, then, in a sudden move, Inuyasha was on his feet, whirling to face Sesshomaru. His aura flared and fluoresced with more power than Sesshomaru had ever seen in the hanyo, and he noticed that the human elements of Inuyasha's smell had vanished. He smelled youkai.

Inuyasha chuckled, a low, throaty sound that hanyo Inuyasha had never made. He grinned, and Sesshomaru saw that the fangs extended far below the hanyo's lips. Inuyasha cracked his knuckles, spreading his fingers, displaying claws that were now more like daggers, each nearly as long as his fingers.

Sesshomaru felt the same shiver down his backbone as he had some days before, as he realized what it was he was confronting. This was Inuyasha with his taiyoukai blood unbound and dominate. It had saved his life and healed his neck. But, this was also the state which hanyo Inuyasha had feared, enough to beg for help from his hated brother.

Flinging away the two felines—who were no longer of any concern to him—Sesshomaru took a step forward, recapturing the gaze of red eyes which had started to follow the arc of the larger cat. "Inuyasha?"

The glowing, red eyes met his own, and Sesshomaru saw neither awareness nor sanity in their gaze. The transformed hanyo chuckled again.

And then, he leaped.

Author's Note: Characters do unexpected things. I added Fog & Mist to the story only as a means of giving the panthers some information about what they were facing. I didn't know that they going to play a role in a critical plot turn! I always planned for Inuyasha to transform during the battle, but I didn't know that they were going to be the cause!

Next time: Battle, Part 3: Blood Unbound!

(12/30/12)