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 was reunited with his grandfather, who showed him the power of his ultimate technique: the eight-headed dragon Orochi, and told him Bakusaiga had yet to reach its full potentials.

The Way to Elysium

Chapter 8: Crescent Moon

"Crawl inside this body—

find me where I am most ruined,

love me there."

-Rune Lazuli-

The king was staring at the full moon in his realm in Elysium, a large and luminescent silver sphere against the deep indigo backdrop, when he heard the soft footsteps on the sand behind him.

"Finally, your champion is here." He heard a voice said. "'Tis about time we begin.'

Without turning, the king replied: "He is not ready."

"Not ready?" The male voice began to sound agitated. "How much more time does he need? Even as we speak, the inuyōkai king had taken the North and the East, and will move towards the West soon. There is simply no more time!"

The king turned around to regard his visitor, his amber eyes glowing in the dark. "If he goes now, it will be a fool's errand. I will not send him to a wasted death."

The visitor shook his head at the stubborn old dog. He looked towards the direction where the prince and the miko slept. They had planned this for years, and still the young prince required more time.

"How much longer?" He asked, impatience weighing every syllable.

"As long as it takes," was the king's grim reply.

A ray of sun warmed Kagome's cheek, rousing her from a deep sleep. With eyes still closed, she rubbed her face against the fur that had protected her from the elements all through the night, relishing its softness. It smelled less like Sesshōmaru and now more like… her. With the back of one hand she rubbed the sleep off her face, opening her eyes to see the light purple of dawn. There was no cry of the seagulls this morning, only the calm, rhythmic sound of the waves breaking on the shore.

She raised herself to sitting position and looked around. The fire was still ablaze. Sesshōmaru's fur was still with her, though the yōkai was nowhere to be seen. As she stood and stretched, she caught sight of a heap of fur on the sand some distance away, close to the edge of the water. Next to it were the rest of Sesshōmaru's things: his clothes neatly folded, his armour neatly stacked, and his two swords arranged just so — a through and through display of his meticulous side.

Scanning the ocean, she saw a familiar silver head bobbing in the water. He had been swimming, just like a dog who had grown up by the sea, she thought, nearly chuckling to herself.

Just as she finished that line of thought, he emerged from the water. Suddenly, nothing seemed funny anymore.

Facing away from her, he was standing in the part of the ocean where the water only reached up to his hips. His physique was nothing short of magnificent: broad shoulders, honed by centuries of training and combats, tapering down to narrow waist, not even an ounce of excess fat on his body. He was sluicing water over those shoulders and arms. Wet skin glistened in the pale light of dawn. Hair drenched, he had carefully gathered all the locks and twisted them into one long strand, casually thrown over his right shoulder, exposing the bare skin of his back.

Mouth dry, heartbeats racing, with her eyes she traced every powerful, sinuous muscle on his back, drinking in anything and everything visible for her to admire, until she saw the scars on his skin. She gasped. Though the scars were not large, there were many of them, as if someone had drawn crisscrossed lines all over his back with a white chalk.

He was a daiyōkai with supreme regenerative powers, was he not? He had regenerated his own left arm, for goodness sake. Then… why did he have these scars on his body?

Just then, the king appeared a few steps away, as though materializing out of thin air. He had discarded his magnificent golden armour and instead, wore a simple leather pauldron on his left shoulder over a white clothing with indigo designs. His long hair was gathered into a loose ponytail low at his back. In this straightforward ensemble, the king looked even younger, such that he could easily pass as Sesshōmaru's older brother.

She forced her gaze away from Sesshōmaru to regard the king, cheeks hot with embarrassment and guilt. There was something quite perverse about ogling a nude male bathing while his grandfather stood near.

"Your majesty," she said in greeting, to which he responded with a brisk nod.

"You may call me Kaien-Ō, miko."

King Kaien of the Southern Isles. How apt his name was for one who had ruled the kingdom by the sea, Kagome thought, since 'ocean' was the meaning of his name.

"Who are you exactly, miko?" The king asked, forehead slightly creased. "If my intuition serves me right, you are not from Sesshōmaru's domain, and—" His eyes narrowed. "Not from his time, as well."

"I'm—" She paused, unsure of how to introduce herself. The king stared at her with eyes that seemed to know too much. "I'm a… friend. And… your majesty is correct. I did come from another era."

"Friend?" Out of everything that came out of her mouth — including her admission that she had come from a different time and place, the king appeared most interested in that choice word. "Is that what you young ones call it these days?" He chuckled lightly. "Very well, if you insist."

Call what these days? Kagome was at loss as to how to answer the king. She let out a half-hearted chuckle and steered the conversation to another topic.

"Kaien-Ō, may I ask a question?"

When the king nodded his assent, she said: "I thought yōkai possess regenerative powers. But… I saw Sesshōmaru has scars on his back. How could that be, when he is an inu daiyōkai with supreme self-healing abilities?"

"It is quite possible for wounds to leave permanent marks when they are inflicted on yōkai of young age, when they do not yet possess sufficient yōki to heal themselves."

Which meant Sesshōmaru had been harmed when he was a young child, Kagome thought, feeling a little sick in her stomach at the notion.

"Miko, he would not have told you that he was born without the crescent moon on his forehead," the king said. At Kagome's surprised look, he continued: "The crescent moon is a crucial emblem that marked an inuyōkai as a member of the nobility." He pointed to his own bright purple crest on his forehead. "When Sesshōmaru was born without one, he was stripped off all the rights and privileges a princess' son should have had. And… to make matters worse, he was unable to transform into his true form."

This shocked Kagome even more than what the king had already told her previously. "Sesshōmaru… was unable to transform… into his yōkai form?"

"All inuyōkai, noble or otherwise, go through their first transformation within days after its birth. But Sesshōmaru, for unexplainable reasons, did not. This further strengthened the court's belief that he was unworthy of the privileges that should have been bestowed upon him as his birthright. To them, he might as well have been born as a hanyō."

Eyebrows rose high, she stared at the king who still had his gaze fixated on his grandson swimming in the ocean. She had never expected Sesshōmaru to have had to face such obstacles so early on in life. He had always seemed so secure, so confident, and… strong.

Might as well have been born as a hanyō…

"So… those scars," Kagome said. "Were they given by those who despised him for the lack of the crescent moon and his true form?"

"No," the king replied after a pause. "I gave him those scars."

The king's reply sent Kagome into a wordless shock. Sesshōmaru's own grandfather inflicted those wounds on him? And those scars looked like they were lacerations from a whip... Eyes widened, her heart sank further into the deep pit of her stomach when she came to realize: the king had lashed young Sesshōmaru with his acid green light whip.

The sounds of the waves did well to fill in the shocked silence. The king watched Sesshōmaru for a few more seconds before he turned around to leave.

"Miko, kindly ask my grandson to find me when he is ready," he said as he strolled away.

Kagome could not respond, not even with a mute nod. She sat on the shore, not too far from where Sesshōmaru had placed his belongings, and waited for him to finish his morning swim. She averted her gaze when he came out of the water and stepped onto the sand, giving him the time and privacy he needed to get dressed.

Or… that had been the intention. But as soon as he was the least bit decent, she turned and stared at his back, at the expanse of pale skin not yet covered by his clothing.

"Sesshōmaru, those scars…" Kagome said. "The king said he gave them to you?"

Sesshōmaru paused on his way to slip his arm into one of his sleeves, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

"Yes, he did," he said, voice soft. Then, he continued dressing as though she had not brought up a part of his life that, she assumed, must be painful.

"But—" She shook her head. It did not make any sense. Though the king never showed a vibrant display of affection, she could see it in the way he gazed at his grandson. There was love there. She could see love.

She stood up and took one step towards him, still staring at his back as he performed the last few steps of dressing himself.

"There has to be more story to it than this," she insisted. "The king does not seem like the cruel type."

"Indeed," he agreed after a while. "What he did was an act of kindness."

Kagome blanched. "How can it be an act of kindness?! He said for wounds to leave their marks on a yōkai, they must be inflicted at a young age… That could only mean he whipped you when you were just a child!"

He did not answer, and instead focused on going through the motions of putting his armour together.

Kagome felt like weeping. It had been much too easy, based on his outward appearance and mannerism, to have assumed he had a privileged upbringing. It had been so much simpler to continue to cast him in the role of a villainous half-brother whose sole objective had been to steal Inuyasha's inheritance to suit whatever ambition he had. Even later, as his role evolved from a villain to an anti-hero of some sort, she was only too willing to continue to peg him down as the haughty, stoic "Lord of the Western Lands" — convenient to have on hers and Inuyasha's side during the battle with Naraku, but not for much else.

"Sesshōmaru." Her voice quivered. "Is everything I think I know about you wrong?"

He finished tying both Tenseiga and Bakusaiga to his waist. "Miko," he said, his tone impassive. "You know nothing about me."

And he was right.

The Southern Isles: "The Kingdom by the Sea"

Roughly seven hundred years ago…

His cousins — the two Kōshaku — had cornered him again, this time while he was admiring the view of his beloved Southern sea from the edge of a cliff high above the ocean. There had been the usual taunting, name calling, pushing, the throwing of rocks and the cruel swing of the acidic whip that licked him on his upper arms and legs.

It had started the same way, and would end the same way. Or so he had thought, until his elder cousin shoved him — hard — and hurtled him over the edge of the cliff.

The bright sky filled his vision as he plummeted; his hand stretched out to eclipse that beautiful blue colour and the shining sun. Limbs flailing, he was desperate to grab onto anything, but only managed to grasp thin air. He knew there were rocks far below, waiting to crush his body before the sea washed him and took his shattered remains to the bottom of the ocean.

Was this how it was going to end? He clenched his teeth. No!

Before he hit the rocks, he felt searing heat on his forehead. He felt the tingling all over his body as his bones cracked and morphed and his limbs lengthened. His skin stretched over morphing appendages and sprouted white fur with silver tips from every pore. His eyes bled from gold to crimson with turquoise irises; facial features elongated to form long snout and sharp teeth.

He had, finally, transformed into his true form.

In this new form, he landed easily on the rocks on all fours, their jagged and sharp textures a mild inconvenience underneath the thick, impenetrable pads of his paws. The feeling was indescribable; it felt so natural to be in this form. His new body thrummed with pent-up energy. He felt he could run as fast as the wind, crush rocks between his jaws and turn them to dust, soar cloud high and fly to wherever his heart desired.

And so he soared, leaping up high over the cliff and landed in front of his two cousins. Their eyes were wide, their jaws slacked as they gaped at the massive inu before them in all its yōkai glory, the magenta markings and the crescent moon symbol on its forehead glowed in ethereal purple light.

His eldest cousin did not have the chance to seek refuge in his own yōkai form before Sesshōmaru caught him between a pair of massive jaws and shook him like a helpless rag doll. He heard Chikatani shouted for him from a distance away, the voice piercing the hazy cloud of anger that fogged his mind. Blood spilled into his mouth as his cousin cried out in pain. That sound of anguish, combined with Chikatani's voice, jolted Sesshōmaru out of his beast mindset and into awareness. Immediately, he slackened his hold, letting his cousin fell onto the ground, one forearm injured by his fangs but otherwise well.

Sesshōmaru reverted back into his child form, as though by pure instinct. He did not have to think about it, or will it. He saw his cousins glaring at him in a mixture of awe, hatred, and fear, before the younger one of the two transformed into his beast and carried his brother away.

Sesshōmaru was too excited to consider what today's events meant for him, and his safety. For once in a long, long time, he felt pride, and triumphant.

"Did you see my true form, Chikatani?" He asked, his golden eyes round and wide as he ran to Chikatani's awaiting arms, brimming with excitement. "Did you see?!"

"I did, Waka-sama," Chikatani replied, smiling at the pup. "And what a magnificent form it was." He glanced at the direction where the two Kōshaku had disappeared, undoubtedly well on their way to tell their father their version of the event. In the face of his young master's excitement, he hid the dread he felt inside at the possible repercussions the event might bring.

—

As Chikatani feared, the joy they felt was short lived. The next morning, the court was called into an impromptu session to discuss a matter of most importance.

"What?!" The king's shocked voice reverberated throughout the throne room where the court had gathered.

"You heard me, Father," crown prince Zetsubōmaru said. "That mongrel Sesshōmaru had attempted to kill my first born, your eldest grandson, the Kōshaku."

The punishment for an assassination attempt on a member of the royal family was, of course, death. The court was called into session to issue an edict that Sesshōmaru, the son of the Dog General and Princess Yōhime, was to be sentenced to death for attempting to kill his cousin.

"This is going too far, Zetsubōmaru, even for you, if you genuinely believe a squabble between young pups deserve the attention of the court, let alone a death sentence," the king said calmly, though an uneasy storm brewed in his chest.

Zetsubōmaru feigned a shocked expression. "Surely, the assassination attempt on a member of the royal family by a common-born deserves the attention of the court?"

"Is Sesshōmaru, the son of your own sister, not a member of the royal family?"

A smirk appeared on Zetsubōmaru's cold, handsome face. "An inu without the crescent moon insignia cannot be considered a member of the royal family."

"Ah, but he does have the crescent moon now, does he not?"

Zetsubōmaru scoffed with derision. "One day with the crescent moon does not make him a member of the royal family."

Just then, Chikatani rushed forward to kneel before the king's throne, forehead pressed against the floor to show his deepest respect for his king and the crown prince.

"My king, Kōtaishi, may this servant speak?"

At the King's assent, Chikatani lifted his head slightly, careful to not meet the king's eyes.

"My king, it was all an accident. The Kōshaku had accidentally pushed the young master Sesshōmaru over the cliff during their play, and the young master had transformed to stop himself from falling into the ocean. In his confused state, having transformed for the first time, the young master mistook the Kōshaku as an enemy. It was a mistake, for which this lowy servant takes full responsibility, having failed in his most important duty to watch over his charge."

"Is that true, Zetsubōmaru?" The king asked, his voice took a chilled turn. "Did the Kōshaku pushed Sesshōmaru over the cliff?"

"Not true," Zetsubōmaru said, matching his father's cold tone. "According to my youngest, the mongrel attacked without provocation."

Not possible, the king thought grimly. Sesshōmaru was not the type to attack without provocation. In truth, until yesterday, the pup would not lift a finger to protect himself, even when beaten to a pulp.

"Kōtaishi, I saw with my own eyes," Chikatani pleaded to the crown prince. "Young master Sesshōmaru did what he did only to defend himself after the Kōshaku pushed him over the cliff. He did not intend to harm the prince. He let go immediately when he heard the Kōshaku's distress. I beg you, if you could find it in your heart to forgive his transgressions—"

Perhaps Chikatani's mistake was to assume the crown prince owned a heart, the king thought grimly. The prince was his own flesh and blood, but the king found it difficult to hold any affection for him. Zetsubōmaru, though a gifted warrior — the best the king had seen in many centuries — possessed a cruel and sadistic nature that was bloodcurdling even for a yōkai.

Very slowly, the crown prince turned towards Chikatani, looking down upon him with frigid golden eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was chillingly soft.

"Are you calling my son: the prince, a liar, servant?"

Chikatani stiffened and paled. He shook his head frantically. "No, Kōtaishi, this servant would not dare!"

"Tell me, servant, what is the punishment for falsely accusing a member of the royal family?"

"Enough," the king's deep, heavy voice thundered forth, silencing everyone else in the room. "That is quite enough, Zetsubōmaru."

King Kaien grimly regarded the members of the court gathering in his throne room. It was all so ridiculous. An incident that could have been settled with a stern warning for both parties was now turned into a matter of life and death. He would not allow Sesshōmaru to be sentenced to death for doing something any yōkai worth his salt should be doing: defending himself when attacked. Yet, at the same time, he knew Zetsubōmaru and his court puppets would not be placated without a proper punishment. The king clenched his jaw. Would five lashes suffice? No, five lashes would not satisfy this bloodthirsty crowd. The court would think he intentionally passed an easy judgement due to favouritism. The last thing Sesshōmaru needed was more enemies on his side.

Though the appearance of the crescent moon insignia and his ability to transform were causes for celebration, they did give rise to new danger to the young pup's life. The insignia alone meant Sesshōmaru had become a full-fledged member of the royal family and thus, had the right to be chosen to inherit the kingdom.

Unfortunately, that put him straight in Zetsubōmaru's path of ambition.

"Ten lashes," King Kaien announced. "That would the Dog General's son's punishment."

There was a shocked silence before Zetsubōmaru raised one elegant eyebrow and took one step forward.

"Though he was born without the crescent moon, his life was spared at birth only by your generosity, Father," he said. "Surely, you do not intend to pardon him again this time? The court might think you favour him – a half-blood mongrel – over your son and heir, and his purebred children."

The king curled his claws around the armrests of his throne in distaste.

"He is not pardoned," the king replied in a hard voice. "He will receive ten lashes for his offence, a punishment which is already severe enough for a pup not even a quarter of a century old."

Zetsubōmaru narrowed his eyes. Cold fury brewed behind those golden orbs. "Any punishment less than death is insufficient for his crime."

Crime indeed.

"The last time I looked," the king said, voice loud enough to echo in the throne room for everyone to hear. His immense yōki flared, shaking the structure of the palace. "It is Kaien, not Zetsubōmaru, who is the king of the Southern Isles. I have decreed ten lashes for the punishment for the Dog General's son, and ten lashes it will be, to delivered by my own hand."

Everyone lowered their heads in submission, except Zetsubōmaru, who lowered his head in a mock sign of respect. "Father," he said. "You need not dirty your hand by carrying out this punishment yourself. Let this Zetsubōmaru give that mongrel a taste of justice."

The king knew that Zetsubōmaru would whip Sesshōmaru so harshly he would most likely kill the pup in the process.

"Ten lashes by my hand," the king repeated, his tone brook no argument. His arm slashed the air, indicating the matter was over and done with, before he rose from his throne and made his way to the door. "It will be done today at twilight."

—

Later on, when the king was alone in his chambers, trying to prepare himself for the morbidness that was to come, Chikatani came to see him.

"My king." The servant's voice trembled as he knelt and pressed his forehead against the floor. "Is there truly no way to spare him? Waka-sama is still so young. We do not know if he could survive ten lashes."

The king stared at his right hand. It had seen much blood, for he had killed many demons in his time. But now it had come to this. It had come to using the same hand to whip a small child for something he did not do.

It had been much easier when being a king meant he just had to slay the strongest opponent out there.

"If I did not offer the ten lashes," the king said with a heavy voice. "It would have been a death sentence for him. If not today, then tomorrow, or soon in the future. They would find a way to kill him when we are not looking. His life will be in much more danger than it already is."

The last thing he wanted was for Zetsubōmaru to suspect the pup could be a contender for the throne. So far, Sesshōmaru had been quite fortunate to have escaped his uncle's attention, mostly because Zetsubōmaru considered the pup lower than the dirt beneath his boots, and of no threat.

But the arrival of the crescent moon was bound to change that…

Chikatani let out a choked sob; he did not raise his head from the floor.

"Be there for him afterwards, Chikatani," the king said, rubbing his temple wearily. "Be there for him and take care of him, for he will be in tremendous pain when this is over."

—

At twilight, the court gathered once more in the throne room to witness the king exact ten lashes as the Dog General's son's punishment. The king entered the room with a grim, thunderous expression on his face, and found that his grandson was already there, waiting.

As their eyes met, something in Sesshōmaru's gaze seemed to relay his full understanding of what was to happen, and why it had to happen, but the king's chest burned with shame nevertheless. They had positioned Sesshōmaru on his knees in front of the throne, fully clothed. There was no need to bare any skin. The acid in his yōki whip would destroy clothing and melt flesh without fail.

He took his place behind the pup, as expected of him. He would start now and end this quickly. The thought of prolonging things and making this into some sort of ceremony was nauseating. The tips of his claws glowed with green light as he channeled his yōki.

One.

Sesshōmaru flinched and lowered his head but kept his silence. His skin split to reveal the flesh and bone beneath.

Two, three…

The pup made a choked sound as his blood dripped and flesh sizzled.

Four, five…

Sesshōmaru cried out; the pain must have been too much by now for him to keep silent. Blood splattered onto the stone floor. The scent of blood and scorched flesh was heavy in the air.

Six…

Sesshōmaru fainted by the end of sixth blow. Perhaps there was mercy after all.

The king finished the last four lashes quickly, shaking with helpless rage by the end of it. He was thoroughly sickened by the truth that, even after four-thousand years of roaming this earth, even after he had become king, the only thing he could do to protect his own grandson was to whip him into unconsciousness.

—

During the next few days, Sesshōmaru's body was wrecked with agony and riddled with high fever. He darted in and out of consciousness. The wounds on his back — even with the special salve that the palace physician concocted — burned, at times jolting him out of much needed rest. He writhed on his bed, face down, delirious with fever and pain. During these moments, Chikatani was always there to wipe his brows, care for him, and comfort him.

After a week or so, the pain — though still existed — had dimmed into tolerable aches. Though the physical suffering had lessened, other torment emerged, because he no longer had the extreme bodily pain to take his mind off the rest: his shame, his feelings of utter abandonment and loneliness. His meaningless existence.

Was there a purpose to any of this?

"Young master." He felt Chikatani's hand gently grazing the top of his head. Sesshōmaru stiffened.

No. Even a bit of kindness would make him weep, and he did not have the strength to cope with it right now. He had learned not to shed tears because he knew they took perverse pleasure in seeing the Dog General's son cry, in witnessing further proof of his weakness. Shrinking away from Chikatani's touch, he turned his head away.

Chikatani smiled sadly but he withdrew his hand, because he knew the young master better than anyone, and what his young master wanted right now was not to be petted and comforted, but to be left alone.

After Chikatani left, Sesshōmaru lay in his bed and stared at the moving shadows of the trees on the floor of his room, listening to the soft patters of the rain, and thought of his parents.

It had been many years since the Dog General and Princess Yōhime stepped foot in the Southern Isles. He supposed that in the midst of pursuing greatness and glory in the western lands, they forgot they had left a child behind. Sometimes he thought if he wished for them hard enough, they would come. But during the the whipping, he had wished for them with every fibre of his being as his blood spilled and flesh melted. Still, they did not come.

They said his father was an honourable general. They said he protected the weak.

Liars.

Was there anyone weaker than he had been when he was on his knees and whipped?

When one tear finally rolled down his cheek from the corner of his eye, he clenched his teeth and hid his face in a pillow. He tried his best to not cry, but his stupid little heart kept yearning to know a father's touch and a mother's embrace just once. Another drop came down, and another, until there was nothing he could do to stop them from coming. Soon, he was sobbing quietly against his pillow.

In the end he proved himself to be as weak as everyone thought he was.

The King's Elysium

Now

Most of the time, Sesshōmaru forgot about the scars — the physical ones, at least. They were on his back — not exactly accessible to his view — and he very rarely undressed in front of others. During those rare occasions, he always made sure his back was unseen. Today had been an exception. Today he had been careless. Earlier at dawn, he had woken up with the nostalgic desire to swim in the ocean, like he used to do when he was a young pup living in the kingdom by the sea. He had anticipated the miko to sleep much longer past dawn but unfortunately, she had awakened early and seen him.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to remain private, he thought wearily. Even now, her scent followed him everywhere, invading his space, since she had slept on the tail end of his mokomoko all night long. It intermingled with his, creating a new scent that was neither his nor her own but belonged to both of them, and he found that notion somehow… enticing.

He sighed and wiped his face. Even after a full night of rest, he was still out of sorts. This was exceedingly unusual. As a daiyōkai he did not require much rest to maintain power and focus. A few hours of sleep here and there was more than sufficient to return him to peak physical and mental conditions. Then why… He sighed again.

Just now, as she asked him about his scars, her eyes had been shimmering with tears. The mere thought of her shedding tears on his behalf… He should feel annoyed, just like how he usually felt when Jaken did the same — usually for the most ridiculous of reasons. But his true feelings about her tears were far from annoyance. They were more like… tenderness, an ache deep in his chest.

These feelings… They felt alien, and dangerous. If they had been tangible foes, he would have obliterated them upon sight.

But, like snow, they piled up…

He feared one day they would bury him whole.

Sesshōmaru pushed aside all thoughts about her when his grandfather came into view. The king was no longer in his golden armour, but in the daily outfits Sesshōmaru remembered well from his childhood. He met the king's gaze and for a moment, neither of them spoke as they stood face to face.

He had been young when his grandfather whipped him, but he harboured no resentment towards the king. The inuyōkai court of the Southern Isles, led by his uncle Zetsubōmaru, was not so different from a viper's nest. Its members were cunning and wily, egotistical and envious, self-serving and ruthless. He understood the king's reasonings for what had to be done to keep him safe and alive. As king, he had the least freedom of all when it came to protecting those he cared for. As king, he could not show preference. As king, he must always be fair and just.

Even knowing so, his grandfather had defied convention in order to give him a chance at life.

"I've always been curious, grandfather," Sesshōmaru said. "Why did you stop the court from throwing me into the sea at birth?"

The king's bright golden eyes narrowed. There was only the sounds of the waves and the seagulls for a while until the king replied:

"Because on the day you were born, I looked into your eyes and saw what you could become."

Almost as though Sesshōmaru was mirroring the king, his eyes also narrowed. "And what is that?"

"Greatness."

It was not the answer Sesshōmaru had expected. He chuckled mirthlessly. "Greatness?" He repeated. "I have no army, no lands, no title. The only followers I have are a minuscule toad yōkai, a human child, and a two-headed beast of burden."

"It is better to have one follower who follows you out of free will than a battalion that follows you out of fear."

"As true as it is, grandfather, it does not provide much aid in my path of supreme conquest."

"Sesshōmaru. The 'supreme conquest' that you seek… Is it to defeat and slay my son, your uncle: Zetsubōmaru, the king of the Southern Isles?"

His chest tightened with sudden rage at the mention of Zetsubōmaru. Claws curled into the flesh of his palm, he tightened his fist. "Yes."

"Then, Sesshōmaru," the king said grimly. "Let me tell you this: when Zetsubōmaru was your age, he was already able to master Orochi."

Sesshōmaru sucked in a sharp breath. The astonishing power of the king's demonstration of his ōgi was still fresh in his mind. If the king spoke the truth, his uncle was even more powerful than he had initially believed.

"The way you are at present, it is impossible for you to defeat him."

The fire of his vengeance had burned for seven centuries. It would not be extinguished by the king's words or any paltry efforts to dissuade him.

"If that is the case," Sesshōmaru said. "I need only to increase my power. I will defeat Zetsubōmaru."

The king said nothing for a long time until finally, he drew his sword out of its sheath and took his stance as the winds picked up and swirled the grains of sand around them.

"Unsheathe your sword, Sesshōmaru. We have no more time to lose."

A/N: This is one long chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for those who commented. Your feedback means a lot! As always, thank you for reading. Drop me a line if you can, as your comments really help me improve and shape up the story :)