A massive, feral beast raced across the night sky, his white fur a beacon against the pitch of darkness. Tōga hurled his yōki out, a warning, a promise, a threat, as he barreled across the stars. He was close now and the acrid scent of fire and blood burned against his snout, a story of what damage had already been wrought to his home, his people.
An explosion of power rippled out to meet his own and he recognized his mate's yōki, her rage as she laid into whatever dangers were threatening their home and pack.
He touched down beside her, his landing a thunder of sound that shook the ground. He towered over her, his hulking frame a behemoth next to her—though she was large in her own right and though part of his rage was directed at her negligence of their pack and lands, he levelled it all at the invaders. He crushed them under his paws, his claws shredding through their flesh like silk as they lodged weapons at the pair.
The battle went on longer than he expected—they kept pouring out of the trees, a never-ending stream of enemies. That was fine though, because rage was a fine coat over his senses, and guilt and shame and instinct demanded he make these fools suffer.
When it was done, Tōga and Fuiasu were not the only ones who stood across the field. His soldiers had arrived at some point, staying safely out of the way of his claws as they finished off the remainders that tried to escape on the fringes of the killing field.
And finally, he turned to his mate.
Fuiasu held herself still and proud, despite the red that covered his eyes and the jagged track of his markings. A polearm hung from a wound in her side, but she ignored it as he approached her.
His breath was rough, each ragged pant a warning as he finally towered over her. Though he noted the weapon still hung up in her fur, he ignored it in favor of the instincts that demanded she answer to him. "Where were you?" A guttural snarl stilled the remaining soldiers on the field for a heartbeat of a moment before they scurried off.
She didn't answer, only met his glare with every ounce of pride and standing she could summon to her. There was nothing he could say that she hadn't already said to herself.
Another snarl, and he took a step forward with every intention of putting her in her place—but the look she levelled at him reminded him of the way she'd once looked at her mother—like guilt and shame and acceptance had settled across her slim shoulders. She'd never had cause to stare at him like that before. It was enough to diminish his rage. He brushed past her without touching and said not a word, instead following his nose to the pups. Her steps were quiet behind his when she chose to follow a moment later, the scent of her blood fresh as he heard the polearm fall to the ground.
The sight that met his eyes was enough to have the rage washing over him again. The girls, mostly bare and covered in scratches and bruises, covered in the scents of males—their faces settled onto the faces of the dead humans he'd failed and the enormity of what had happened tonight forced a single, stark fact to light: this had been an act of terrorism, a declaration of war from an unknown enemy and they had almost lost everything.
He watched as the girls shied away from him as he approached, and even Sesshoumaru hung back, unsure how to help them.
Only Fuiasu seemed acceptable to them and as she approached, Tōga felt some of his rage burn away when the girls curled into each other.
"This one knows you are terrified and hurt, that you faced the unthinkable tonight and you survived, as any true heir to the House of the Moon should. Now, we must pick ourselves up and present a strong, untouched front to the court as we answer this declaration of war. You cannot cry, or shake, or show weakness to the court, do you understand? We must show them that we are all unaffected by the barbarism we faced this night."
Izayoi nodded, but did not stop clinging to Kagome. "Yes, Fuiasu-sama," she whispered, and tried to stand but was held in place by Kagome. Kagome, who was just staring and staring at Atsuki's body.
Tōga frowned when he realized the male was dead and spared a glance for his mate—he remembered the day she had told him the hare would play a role in Kagome's life at some later date. He raised a brow, but again she did not answer him and instead returned her attention to the girls.
"You must save your grief for after the court gathering, Kagome. Come now, stand up. Let's go bathe and have the maids bring some fresh clothing, shall we?"
Finally the children stood and allowed Fuiasu to lead them back inside, leaving Tōga alone with his son. "Where were you?" he asked, his words so quiet they were barely audible over the rain that still poured down around them.
Sesshoumaru's shoulders sagged but he did not shy away from the accusation in his father's eyes. "I was hunting, distracting myself from her…infatuation with the…with Atsuki."
"Then you will take his death upon your shoulders. You are the heir to the Western Lands, Sesshoumaru. You cannot allow your emotions to so overrule you that you are incapable of doing your duties. You made a vow to these lands, to this pack, to protect them all in my stead while I hunt down the dangers that threaten us. And yet you ran and left everything behind."
The inu teen did not flinch or look away or in any way attempt to defend himself from these charges. He had done exactly what his father accused him of, abandoning everything because he couldn't deal with his emotions for a female—a female who had been irrevocably changed by the events of this night and his failure to fulfil the promise he'd made.
"You have brought dishonor to our pack, Sesshoumaru, Son of the West, House of the Moon." He remembered again the faces of the children in the villages, the defiled bodies of most of the females, the desecration and death he had failed to prevent. "As have I. Kneel before me, Sesshoumaru."
Sesshoumaru paled, understanding dawning across his features as his father drew a dagger from his hip. But he did not hesitate to follow orders and drop to his knees in front of his father, his head bowed.
It was Tōga who hesitated as he stared down at his son, at his heir, and felt his own failure licking at the heels of his boots. His boy's hair shown so brilliantly in the dark despite the cloud hidden moon and drenching rain. "Do you wish to protest these charges I have brought against you?" he said finally, and forced himself to remember the way his son looked now as he knelt in the rain and mud and faced his own dishonor with quiet acceptance. Sesshoumaru had only been capable of dishonor, he knew, because he had learned it from his father.
"No, father. I do not."
And so Tōga closed his eyes and raised his blade against his son.
o.O.o
Word Count - 1254