Chapter Fourteen:

Less of a Hanyou, More of a Youkai

The two of them stared at those two items for nearly a full minute.  Takara had always wondered what had become of them; when she had transported all of the castle belongings to this basement, she had thought that they had just been misplaced.  Never in a million years would she have thought Sesshoumaru would have left his two most prized possessions to Inuyoshi, the son he'd claimed to hate so much.

Shakily, Inuyoshi lifted Toukijin out of the chest.  The sword was still as glorious as it had been, and he could feel the evil it possessed radiating from it.  This was the sword that had possessed its very maker upon completion, and after his death had been claimed by Sesshoumaru.  Inuyoshi was slightly surprised at his ability to touch it, and reasoned that Sesshoumaru must have put some type of seal on it to keep the evil from consuming him upon contact.  Its purpose was to destroy Tetsusaiga, Inuyasha's great sword.  The Toukijin itself thirsted for Inuyasha's blood.

Why Sesshoumaru would have left this wicked sword to his son in full knowledge that Inuyoshi pictured Inuyasha as more of a father figure than himself, they had no clue.  It would have been more logical to leave Toukijin to Takara, but she had received Tenseiga instead.

Inuyoshi set the sword aside.  He gently removed the ancient scrolls and the painting, and then ran his fingers through the great fur.  The fur that made Sesshoumaru's transformation into his true form possible.

It was rare, but sometimes when a youkai went from its true form into its humanoid form, a part of the true form stayed with it.  In Sesshoumaru's case, it was a long, fluffy piece of fur that, in his true form, was a sort of mane around his neck and shoulders.  Without it, he would have been unable to transform, so he carried it with him everywhere, and kept it wrapped around his right shoulder, letting it hang behind him.  He was never seen without it, except while in his own castle, and then it was never far away.

Inuyoshi didn't remove the fur from the chest.  Instead, he withdrew his hand, and leaned over the chest so Takara couldn't see his face.  For a moment, nothing happened, and then, the youkai began to smell tears.

Takara wrapped her arms around her older brother and held him as he cried.  For a long time they sat there, sister and brother, wrapped up in each other's arms as tears ran down Inuyoshi's face and Takara's shirt.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, Inuyoshi looked back at the chest.

"Why?" he whispered.

"I don't know."

He wiped tears from his face.  "All the years I lived with him, every time I saw him, he always told me the same thing – I'm nothing but a worthless hanyou, and a hanyou will never amount to anything.  I'm not worth his time.  It would have been better if I hadn't been born.

"When I left and began to live with Inuyasha-sama I felt like I had finally found my family.  I only ever returned to otousan's castle once, and that was when you were just a pup.  When I found out he was dead, it was the happiest moment of my life.  I felt like I was finally free.

"He hated me, imouto.  He told me that every time I saw him.  But why… why after all of that, would he do this?"

Takara looked over at the painting on the wall of Sesshoumaru, standing tall and proud.  "Otousan did many unexplainable things in his life.  He pledged hatred towards humans, and then saved the life of your okaasan, Rin.  He fought Inuyasha every chance he got, but when Inuyasha's youkai blood took control, he refused to kill him.  It was as though all his life he wanted to be what others saw him as – cold, dark, and uncaring – yet some part of him was of his otousan – loving and kind.  That turned him into a rather confusing youkai, for he would slaughter a village, and then turn around and do a good deed.

"His 'hatred' for you, as you call it, was fueled by your likeness to Inuyasha.  But in the end, his heart won, and you ended up inheriting his most prized possessions.  He may never have shown it, but after your okaasan died, you were all he had left of her, and I know despite what he said, he loved you for her."

Inuyoshi didn't respond.  He lifted the fur from the chest, and stood.  He then wrapped it around his torso, going under his left arm and over his right shoulder, and letting the lower half hang behind his back.  He then picked up Toukijin and slid it into his belt.

He stood still for a moment, taking in the feeling of having a weapon by his side and the magnificent fur around his chest, and then walked over to stand before the painting.  He looked up at his great father, the father he had, until that very moment, despised with all of his heart.  And it was at that moment that Inuyoshi felt…whole.

He drew Toukijin, and cut the air with it, testing his long ago training with a sword.  The blade moved gracefully, and it felt as if it were a part of him instead of just a weapon, and though he could still feel the evil inside of it, he felt it become more submissive.  The fur around his body seemed to melt into his torso, making him feel less like he was carrying around something and more like it was an extension of his body.

"Inuyoshi," Takara said behind him.  He turned towards her, still holding the sword high in his hand.

"With those two things you no longer look like an ordinary hanyou," she told him.  "Now you look like a great youkai lord, ready to defend your lands from all intruders."

"I feel the same way," he replied, examining Toukijin as he turned it this way and that.  "I feel as if I have, in a way, become a pure youkai, though without the uncontrollable rage of when I transform."

"Maybe that is why otousan left you those things.  Maybe he knew."

Inuyoshi thought for a moment, before returning Toukijin to his belt.  He then looked back at the painting.  The great youkai lord stared back at him with hard golden eyes.

Arigato, otousan, he thought.  Arigato.