Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters in this fan fiction are the property of Rumiko Takahashi. The original characters and plot are the property of Chiaztolite, who is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary of Previous Chapter:

Sesshōmaru saved Kagome from her mishap at the river Styx when she tried to cross it on foot to reach the other side of the riverbank. With Sesshōmaru's help, she managed to reach it anyway, and together they entered through the gates. Sesshōmaru revealed his plan to find his grandfather.

The Way to Elysium

Chapter 6: Past

"She was forever unexpected and I was drunk on that about her."

-Atticus-

The echoes of a pair of bare feet striding across the stone floor filled the cavernous chamber, empty except for one chair and one occupant lounging in it.

Yami, the death god's advocate, stopped in front of the chair before she lowered herself to her knees and bowed.

"Master," she said. "They have both entered."

"Good," a male voice replied, as his hand languidly stroked the arm of his high-backed chair. "Finally, now we can begin."

When he mentioned his grandfather, she looked like she was about to explode with questions. Questions he refused to entertain, so he swivelled around and continued his path. Curiosity radiated from her in waves — he could practically feel them beating against his back — but she seemed to have read his darkening mood, and his disinclination to share that part of his life with her: his brother's human, no less.

Truthfully, he had never revealed his past to anyone. Not to Jaken, not to Rin. Some parts he concealed even from his own mother and father.

He kept walking even when he knew she remained rooted to her spot. Not long after, he heard her footsteps, the rustles of the grass. Good. She had picked up the pace and continued to follow him.

That creature Yami only revealed a vague direction to reach Elysium. Just as well. Sesshōmaru preferred to rely on his keen senses to find his way. Grandfather, he thought as he maintained his pace. Roughly seven hundred years had passed since they last saw each other. He supposed at some point he must figure out what he would say to the king.

What would the old inuyōkai king thought of him now? Entering the underworld willingly to fetch a human woman. Traipsing around the afterlife with said woman — his hanyō half brother's betrothed, to be specific.

'Disappointed?' A small voice spoke inside him.

He let out a quiet sigh. What would the old king think of Tenseiga that was now in his possession, and… Gods. Sesshōmaru stopped. What would he think of Bakusaiga, the blade born of his own power?

His worrisome thoughts scattered when he sensed the miko's approach.

"Nē, Sesshōmaru," she called as she came up beside him. She had a vexing habit of addressing him without honorific, but he was not about to waste a breath reminding her of it only to be forgotten the next time she opened her mouth. "Why are we looking for your grandfather and not your father?"

The thought of seeing his father again caused a surge of anger to rise in his chest, but he suppressed the unwelcome emotion like he had always done.

"The inuyōkai king had lived for over four millennia before he died. He was wise beyond compare," he replied, resuming his stride. "If anyone knows a way to escape this realm, he would be the one."

They walked again for a while in silence. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed. The murky light remained constant, the shadows unchanged, and they had no tool to measure the time. He felt no fatigue, though he wondered how long the miko would…

He heard the rustling of grass and the soft thud of a body hitting the ground. Swirling around, he found the miko, face down amidst the grass. Hnn. Walking calmly towards her procumbent figure, he supposed he got the answer to his musings just now. The miko had fainted. She must have been exhausted from walking for so long.

Then why did she not just say so? Rin had always had the sense to inform him when she had reached her limit, whereafter she rode on Ah-Un's back or asked to set up camp for the night.

As he carried the troublesome woman – again – to a nearby tree, her scents wafted up to his nose. She smelled like hinoki cypress and a hint of shrine incense, and something else… An undertone of something that was essentially her own, although it smelled suspiciously like… mandarin peels? He frowned.

He put her down under a large tree with her back resting against the bark. Her lashes fluttered and those eyes opened, staring straight at him. For the first time he noticed her eyes had tiny flecks of gold in them, and the colour was not merely nondescript brown. They were the glossy shade of a chestnut, the colour of a newborn fawn.

He backed away, feeling strangely out of depth. Such flowery language did not suit him at all. He could only contribute it to the prolong exposure to this gloomy, murky world and that perhaps, he was fatigued after all.

"We will rest here," he announced. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, knowing he was more aggravated than he should be. As one who took pride in the mastery over his emotions, that alone was enough cause for alarm.

Kagome had never been so thankful to sit under a tree. Her back and hips aches, the balls of her feet throbbed, and she was quite sure she had lost the feeling in her legs a few miles back. But she had been adamant to keep up with him, lest he thought her a deadweight — which he probably did anyway. Then, bright dots had appeared in her vision, and the world swirled around her, and she had fallen onto the ground unconscious.

Sesshōmaru handed her a small flask of water, much to her surprise.

"Thank you," she said, accepting his offer. "It's kind of you."

She really meant it as a compliment, but he glared at her as though she had called him something wholly unflattering.

"It is a necessity, not kindness," he corrected. My. He was very particular with semantics. How many times had he corrected her? "All this would be for naught if you perished here."

"Even though I'm already dead, I could still perish?" She asked.

He sighed. "I do not know. Do you suggest we try?" He raised an elegant eyebrow at her threateningly before he moved to the other side of the tree and sat down, giving her a wide berth.

Sesshōmaru leaned against the tree and closed his eyes; his soft fur cushioned his back against the roughness of the bark. Finally, he thought, he was granted some peace. Alas, as he had suspected, the vexing woman could not remain quiet for long.

"Nē, Sesshōmaru," she said. "Why were you raised by your grandfather? Where were your parents?"

Somehow, he knew the woman would go there. "Worry about yourself, miko," he told her. "Use this time to rest instead of pondering about my past."

"Your past, which is none of my concern?"

"Precisely."

He could not see her because she was behind him, and there was a large tree trunk separating them, but he could hear her soft, suppressed laughter as clear as though she was beside him. "Are you mocking me, miko?" His voice, though remained calm, had dropped a couple of degrees to a lethal level.

"Uhh… no." There were a few beats of silence. When she spoke again, he could still hear the smile in her voice. "Okay, yes… just a little. Sesshōmaru, I know it's none of my concern, but come on, tell me anyway."

Confound it. This time, he really pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing a faint ache somewhere at the back of his head. "If I told you, would you quiet down and leave me alone with my thoughts?"

"Yes," she said. When he did not say anything for a few moments, she continued, solemnly: "I promise."

He exhaled a quiet sigh. "Before I was born, the western lands were a lawless place. Countless of yōkai roamed the lands, unchecked. My father—" He cleared his throat. "Inu no Taisho, the Great Dog General, was sent there from the kingdom in the Southern Isles to claim the lands and establish some form of order. For his services, my grandfather —the king at the time— let him take my mother, the king's only daughter, as his mate."

He remembered being surprised the first time he heard the story, that his grandfather had allowed a common-born male to mate with his only daughter, a princess. Tōga, though he was a revered general who had paved his way to the top of the military forces with battle skills and sheer will alone, had not a drop of noble blood in his veins.

"After my mother conceived," Sesshōmaru continued. "She stayed in the Southern Isles till the end of her confinement. Shortly after I was born, she departed to join my father in the west, leaving me in the care of my grandfather."

He could practically hear more questions formulating in her head. That pesky curiosity again. He had learned that whenever she hesitated to speak, it meant she was about to ask something insolent.

"Were you…" She paused to swallow. "… lonely, without your parents?"

"Many yōkai parents left their children behind in pursuit of greatness," he said, side-stepping her question.

They had said his father came to see him only once: about a week after he was born, to fetch his mate and escort her to their new home in the west. He did not see his parents again until he was shipped off to join them many years later.

Her curiosity must have been satisfied for once; she fell into silence for a long time afterwards. She was breathing deeply, regularly, and he concluded she had dozed off.

"Nē, Sesshōmaru."

No such luck, he thought as he heard her sleepy voice from the other side of the tree. He did not answer, but he kept his ears open to listen.

"I suppose… Inuyasha and the others kept my body until I return, that's why they didn't do any funeral rites?"

Inuyasha and her comrades would not be his chosen subjects for thoughts or conversations, but he was relieved nevertheless to shift her attention away from him and his past.

"Them burning your body will not help you come back to life, miko, quite the opposite, so I hope they have enough sense to keep it safe."

The sound of her quiet laughter surprised him.

"Nē, Sesshōmaru, you want to know something funny?"

No, he did not, but he doubted it would stop her from telling him anyway.

"Before, whenever I thought of dying, I expected I would be scared, or sad, or sorry. But when it happened, I was actually… happy."

He scoffed. "You were happy to die?" Hnn. The hanyō must have been more incompetent than he had previously thought if she had felt happy as she drew her last breath.

"I wasn't happy to die, but I was happy that I had lived," she corrected, her voice softened further by drowsiness. "My life might have been an ordinary compared to, well, yours, but plenty of wondrous things happened to me. I was just…" She paused to yawn. "I was… grateful… I was able to… experience them…"

"Sleep now, miko," he ordered, but from the deepening of her breathing, it sounded like she had fallen asleep before he finished his words.

Finally, all was still, all was quiet. He was at liberty to be alone with his own musings. Staring at the grey sky, he wished he could see the moon instead. His plan had been to strategize how they both could escape this netherworld, mull over the things he could – should – say to his grandfather, but somehow, her words before she succumbed into slumber kept resounding in his head.

To be grateful for the things that happened in one's life...

What was that like, he wondered.

The Southern Isles: "The Kingdom by the Sea"

Roughly seven hundred years ago…

Two young inuyōkai raced along the shoreline, their boots splashing on the gentle waves lapping on the rocks and the sands. They were both silver-haired, though one had longer mane than the other, hinting at his superior age. They both had the purple crescent moon insignia on their foreheads, and two magenta stripes adorning their cheekbones. Two pairs of vigilant golden eyes flitted here and there, hunting, searching.

"Mongrel!" one of them shouted. "Where are you, half-blood?!"

Not far from where they stood, in a secluded cove that would only be revealed during a low tide like today, a small inu pup squeezed himself into a cave not much larger than himself. His silver hair barely reached his shoulders, a sure indication of his tender age. A human would look at him and assumed he was around four or five years old. The pup retreated to the back of the cave, as far as he could, ignoring the sharp, jagged rocks that grazed his arms and legs. The elder one of the two inuyōkai had used the virulent green light whip and cut him in the face. Even now, hiding inside the cave, he cupped a hand over the wound, fervently wishing the smell of his blood would not give away his hiding place.

The sea did well to conceal his scents, it seemed, for his pursuers gave up before they could find the secret cove where his cave was hidden. He heard their footsteps receding, the wet splashing that was getting farther and farther away as those two made their way back to the palace.

He felt too numb to move, so he did not.

After a while, all he could hear was the sounds of crashing waves and the cries of seagulls, and the steady drip of water somewhere behind him. Even so, he remained in the cave, knees drawn tightly to his chest, forehead resting on his kneecap, just waiting for something he did not even know what.

He was unsure how much time had passed until, faintly, he heard someone calling in the distance.

"Waka-sama!"

The pup lifted his head, though he made no other move.

"Waka-sama!"

The voice neared. Heartbeats accelerated, the pup squeezed himself even deeper into the cave, trying to make himself smaller, until he remembered that only Chikatani, his caretaker, would refer to him as thus: waka-sama. Young master.

"Young master Sesshōmaru, where are you?!"

Chikatani's voice was remarkably close now. Sesshōmaru forced himself to move and crawl out of the cave. Just as he emerged into the sun, Chikatani appeared around the corner of the outcropping of large rocks that protected the cove. The servant's eyes widened when he caught sight of Sesshōmaru: clothing torn and face bloodied. He ran and knelt in front of his charge, taking the young pup by the shoulders.

"Waka-sama." Chikatani's voice was laced with concern as his eyes travelled all over the pup, checking for other new wounds, until he settled on the deep, bleeding cut on Sesshōmaru's left cheekbone. Chikatani's lips thinned as he studied the cut. He did not need to ask what happened, for it was the same as always. His young master was the favourite target practice and main source of entertainment for the two princes.

Taking a piece of cloth out of the folds of his servant uniform, he began to clean the wound. "Is it painful, young master?"

"No," Sesshōmaru lied, shaking his head.

But Chikatani knew the lie, just as he had always known every single one of Sesshōmaru's quirks, likes, and dislikes. He had been trusted with the young master's care since the pup was not even walking, even though he himself was not much older than his young master. Yet, he merely smiled and said nothing, though he gentled his ministrations, careful to not worry the wound too much and merely focused on wiping away the blood that had started to dry along the gash. He stared at the wound grimly. The palace physician will have to take care of the rest when they returned. Inu pups at this tender age would not possess sufficient yōki to heal themselves. Already the young master bore marks from his previous encounters with his cousins.

"Let's go back to the palace, young master," Chikatani said gently, taking Sesshōmaru's smaller hand in his grasp. "We'll have your injury looked after."

They started walking along the shores towards the direction of the palace. Sesshōmaru kept his head down, staring at their elongated shadows printed on the sand. His stomach tightened with every step that brought him closer to the palace.

He hated the palace, and most of the yōkai living within its walls. He hated the court and the apathetic cruelty its members would casually throw at him, be it in words or deeds.

It was said that on the day the inu princess Yōhime was about to give birth, the full length of the corridor outside her birthing chamber was lined with members of the court, waiting to confirm if she whelped a commoner. The inuyōkai of the Southern Isles valued royal blood above all else, so much that they had a decree: should a female nobility birthed a pup without the crescent moon insignia on its forehead, it would be swiftly dispatched upon birth and thrown into the sea. All for the sake of preserving the purity of the blood.

Sesshōmaru had been born without the crescent moon. Just like his father.

By law, he should have been smothered and his corpse fed to Ryu-ō, the ocean god, as an offering for a more suitable offspring the next time. His grandfather, the king, however, had taken one look at him and decided he should live.

Thus, he lived, despite the court's protests.

To make up for the absence of the precious crescent moon, the king bestowed upon him a hefty name: Sesshōmaru — Destroyer of Life. Every time the pup thought of his name, his mouth twisted into a sour smile. He, whose life should have been destroyed at birth, was given a name as one who would destroy another's.

When Chikatani suddenly stopped, he too halted his steps. Looking up, Sesshōmaru saw a figure approaching from the distance, striding along the beach towards them. Anyone in the Southern Isles would recognize the king: tall with a broad frame, he cut an impressive figure indeed.

Chikatani released Sesshōmaru's hand, lowered himself to his knees and bowed deeply, pressing his forehead against the sand.

The king stopped when he reached them. "Sesshōmaru," he said. His bright golden eyes narrowed when he saw the new cut along the pup's cheekbone, close to his facial marking. Just like Chikatani, he knew what had happened without asking. Hopefully, this time, should the cut leave a permanent scar, the magenta stripe would grow to camouflage it somewhat.

"I will walk with him, Chikatani," he said, and motioned for his grandson to follow. "Come, child."

Sesshōmaru trudged on the sand, tailing after his grandfather. He stared at the king's back, marvelling at how broad and powerful it looked. The thick fur that adorned his shoulders all the way down his back was rich and full, the colour of ripe oats, swaying in the breeze as he strode. The end of the pelt split into four, which meant his true form was a four-tailed dog demon, the most powerful there ever was.

In his young eyes, it seemed unattainable. Not for the first time young Sesshōmaru wondered: 'What does it take to be a daiyōkai?'

He stopped to look down at his grandfather's footprint on the sand and, gingerly, placed his own small, insignificant foot on top of it. The king's size drowned his, further emphasizing the sheer difference between him and the daiyōkai who had reigned over their kind for over two millennia.

At some point, the king noticed his grandson had stopped following him. He turned around and watched the pup comparing the sizes their footprints on the sand. When those pair of round golden eyes looked up at him uncertainly, his gaze softened.

"Come," he said, extending his hand. The uncertainty on the pup's face dissolved into a bright smile and, almost immediately, he ran towards those wide-open arms. The king lifted him up easily and placed him atop his broad shoulders, so that the pup could breathe the air from a higher place for once.

The king strolled along the beach with his youngest grandchild perched on his shoulders as the golden dusk of the southern sun shone upon them. Little fingers entwined themselves in long strands of silver hair. Chikatani, smiling at the charming sight, followed far behind to allow them their moment alone. Moments like these were too few and too far in between and had to happen far away from the palace, where the king and the pup would not be under the court's scrutiny.

But for now, the smiling servant thought, as the young pup said something that made the king throw his head back and laughed heartily, his young master was happy.

After what she thought was a few hours of rest, at least, Kagome felt like herself again. Sesshōmaru too seemed to have regained his usual aloof composure.

They continued their trek to the mysterious destination. Truth be told, she was getting quite bored and a little more than annoyed at the unchanging vista around them: the same murky grey colours, the same feathery grass, the same dark trees, the same bogs and marshes they had to keep avoiding. A change in scenery sometime soon would be most welcomed.

She studied the yōkai lord striding in front of her. Yesterday – or was it last night, or merely a few hours ago? – he had revealed a bit of his past to her. She had been so drowsy she was simply happy he was willing to tell her something, anything. But now, when she thought about it more, it really was extraordinary that he had answered her question.

Nevertheless, he did avoid her follow-up question about being lonely without his parents. Not surprising, really. She was not really counting on an honest answer anyway. It did raise other questions in her head though: Was he close to his grandfather? What was this old king of inuyokai like? She supposed she would see soon enough.

"Nē, Sesshōmaru, how do you know where your grandfather is?"

"I do not," Sesshōmaru replied. "I am simply following the scent of the ocean."

Scent of the ocean? She was unable to smell anything other than the scent of cut grass and the faint undertone of mud, but she knew his sense of smell was infinitely better than hers, so she could only trust him on this one.

Yet, as they walked further, she thought she really could smell the salty, slightly sulphuric scents of the ocean. How peculiar, she mused as she looked around, considering they were surrounded only by marshes and meadows. Was it only in her imaginings?

The next step she took brought her to an infinite stretch of white-sand beach. The murky backdrop gave away to dazzling white light. Frothy waves crashed upon the shores; seagulls cried high up in the cloudless blue sky above. Bright turquoise water darkened into deep azure in the distance, glittering like diamonds under the brilliant sun.

Elysium.