1463, mid-Muromachi Period, Summer, Musashi
Jaken kicked his legs idly as he sulked on A-Un's back. Sesshoumaru had abandoned him yet again to chase after…whatever it was that had caught his master's attention for the day. Sometimes he hated how fickle and impulsive his lord could be.
Then again, he thought quietly to himself, Lord Sesshoumaru is just a dog, after all, subject to the whims of his basic instincts.
The thought had barely finished before Jaken found himself sprawl face-first in the grass, the back of his head throbbing. He squawked indignantly, hopping up to find who would dare-!
"L-Lord Sesshoumaru! You've returned!"
Sesshoumaru gave A and Un a quick pat, blatantly ignoring the imp, though the tiny thing couldn't help but see the way Sesshoumaru's eye twitched with irritation. Jaken was used to Sesshoumaru showing up without his notice, for the grace and stealth of his master was beyond compare, but why had he struck his loyal servant, who had done nothing to deserve it?!
Wait..Is it possible that he can…? No, such skills are only-
His thoughts were cut short by Sesshoumaru's glower. Jaken understood then.
He knows what I'm thinking, as if he can hear the thoughts like they were his very own!
The hint of smugness that entered Sesshoumaru's expression removed all doubt from the imp about his master's myriad of skills. He would simply have to accept this as one of them….and mind his thoughts as well as his actions. Truth was, Sesshoumaru had grown quite weary of the imp's constant annoyances and sought a way to better communicate his desires to him without having to constantly expend his precious energy by stating the obvious. It was a simple trick, one of many he knew, and already it was serving him well.
At the very least, I might find some amusement.
"Was your trip a fruitful one, my lord?" Jaken ventured carefully. He could smell that old jackal demon on him again. Just why his master continued to seek the company or counsel of that disrespectful mutt was beyond Jaken's understanding.
"Yes." Sesshoumaru said simply, considering the area for only a moment before falling into a comfortable stride. "We are leaving."
Jaken scrambled to gather A-Un's reigns, tugging the dragon creature along to catch up with his swift and often inconsiderate master.
Indeed, his sessions with Rekkonji were advantageous as always, for they each grew in skill and power. One day, perhaps, Sesshoumaru would call on him to serve as he had once served the Inu no Taishou, but in order better his chances of Rekkonji acquiescing, Sesshoumaru needed to maintain a basic relationship with him until that point in time.
He was always pleased, though he would never say it, to discover some new trick from the war master or find some way to make his own skills more efficient, and he had convinced himself that the bettering of his sword hand was the only reason he went. His lengthy visits and tolerance of Rekkonji's jabber had nothing to do with any sort of hope that he would reveal more of the half-breed that had met its end on the continent.
As it was, the story he'd been able to patch together was a puzzling one. It had sought power, apparently from its' lineage, and had gone to great lengths to get it. Rekkonji's depiction of the demon Zheng and his cowardly scheming made Sesshoumaru sneer inside. Deplorable, truly, how had one such as he been allowed to remain in power for so long? Sesshoumaru had several theories, but they were simply mental exercises, nothing of any real consequence or value.
He was now certain, however, that the hanyou had been the entity dancing just beyond his senses. The timeline Rekkonji laid out for him was proof enough for Sesshoumaru. In a way, he was pleased that he would no longer be plagued by such disturbances; on the other hand, though…
He pushed the thought away again.
1478, mid-Muromachi Period, Autumn, Shanghai
The murky shallows of Lake Tai were quiet.
Unbearably hot, the creatures that had once resided here were gone; the various plants withered away. Over the years, the water had slowly evaporated; even the downpours of Spring were unable to quench the land's growing thirst. Eventually, even the bed was exposed, along with a large almost crystalline formation. It was little more than a jagged glob of glass, but something stirred inside, giving a great pulse as it awoke.
Weak, but alive, it pressed its clawed hands against the outer shell, melting it back into the flicker of shimmering white flames it had once been. It drank in the hot, but fresh, air as the flames died away, no longer needed, and lay on the dry lake bed until finally, around nightfall, it had the energy to move.
Musashi
Three and a half decades; Sesshoumaru'd had three and a half decades of quiet and focus. Now, as he flicked the blood of yet another foolish youkai seeking the prestige it would gain from his defeat from his claws, he felt it again. It started in his belly, ghostly, coiling, then it tingled behind his eyes and danced just beyond his fingertips.
As Jaken once more sang his praises and berated the corpse, Sesshoumaru almost frowned. It was stronger than he could remember it being, this great pulsing sensation, but it, like usual, faded soon enough, leaving him to run his crimson fingertips together to wonder if he'd truly felt it at all.
He tried to remember what he'd decided it meant, but couldn't quite put his finger on it, not exactly. Still, it excited something within him, made his inner demon growl with...was it pride? Strange, for he never felt pride in anything other than himself, and he knew this thing to be a separate entity.
"Interesting…" he mused.
He felt the questioning from Jaken's mind and blinked down at the imp, who was waiting for his direction. Tossing the corpse out of his way, Sesshoumaru continued along his chosen path without another word.
Shanghai
Kintsuke couldn't remember how she'd managed to drag herself up the slope of the island, but here she was, resting against the steps of the dead fortress of fire. One look at the place had told her it was abandoned, and she felt and smelled no hints of life within, only decay. Particularly, she could not smell Zheng of that Bifang creature. She was safe; for the moment…
The moon rose overhead in a narrow crescent, the air here quickly cooling and kicking up the wind as the temperatures bartered an equilibrium.
How long had it been? All she could remember was the fight against the Bifang, Zheng's cocky smile as he tripped her—the bastard had tripped her!— to fall prey to it. She remembered seeing Rekkonji behead it, then everything had gone red. Where was Zheng now? Where were Shu-Ting and the rest? Where was Rekkonji?
'How long has it been?'
She'd tried assessing the passing of time from the growth of the trees, but all that was left of them were rotted husks. In fact, nothing for as far as she could see was alive. Even the exposed bed and slopes of the lake were littered with corpses and bones. Just what had happened here?
She could ponder the mysteries more later. Right now, she needed to feed.
There was nothing edible left in the fortress, however, not even any dried and salted meats; no water, no sake, everything had dried up or rotted away. Even the supplies in her former manor were similarly lacking. She would have to climb down and back up to the other shore to find something to hunt. For now, however, she needed rest. The threadbare blanket on her old bed did its job well enough.
Kintsuke had to travel quite a way to find an area that hadn't been affected by whatever had destroyed the lake. She'd eaten her kill raw. Its bloody flesh was the most delicious thing she could ever remember tasting at the moment, and it filled her with enough energy to find more. Stomach full, she risked a quick dip in the river, the cool crisp water refreshing. Her reflection, however, was anything but familiar. Cheeks hollowed, skin stretched tautly, she looked like death warmed over.
It would take time to recover her strength and former luster, and in the meantime, she set about understanding what had transpired. She holed up in the old fortress, combing through the scrolls she found in Zheng's room which recorded much of the information he had, if not all of it, on their black flames and the effects of the different hues.
As she devoured the one concerning the white healing flames, she discovered what had gone wrong.
She'd had the right idea after being impaled by the Bifang, but it hadn't gone quite the way it was supposed to. Properly trained, the crystal cocoon the flames could form would stabilize and hold the wielder in a sort of protective stasis until its body was usable again. This required a tremendous amount of energy, however, feeding off the user's own potent youki first before drawing on the feebler life energies around it. Kintsuke's had not been trained well enough, clearly, and had instead fed too much on her own life force first before turning to outside sources. The heat that had led to the lake's evaporation had also been from her lack of training, where hints of her green flames had seeped into the white.
'I did this... Every tree and fish and everything else; I killed them.'
'But you're alive, that's what matters,' her inner demon purred.
She frowned at herself but knew that, in the end, it was correct. She was alive, that was all that mattered. It was unfortunate it had required all of…this, but now she knew, and she could work to avoid such a travesty in the future. She gave it not another thought, focusing, instead, on her own recovery. Nearly four centuries of skill and strength had been sapped away.
She had years of training ahead of her.