The stench of humanity had always irritated Sesshoumaru, but he found that the smell was especially putrid now that he was powerless against them.
The human race had advanced greatly since the time of his father, and the insolent creatures had become so powerful that now they even began to question the existence of something greater than themselves.
The time of retribution was coming; he could smell it in the air. Himself, and all other youkai like him, were tired of hiding; tired of being afraid. Soon the flames of vengeance would burn and the world would be as it was before. Soon – humanity would be defeated. Soon he could forsake the disguise of mortality and proclaim to the world that he was youkai; soon the world would tremble before him, as it had before.
All these thoughts flashed through Sesshoumaru's mind as he walked amongst the retched vermin. These disdainful creatures were stronger than he was, and only through the spilling of their vile blood could balance again be restored to the world.
But the revolution would have to wait, the stench of something far more urgent clung in the air; something more personal, and even more shameful.
The same tainted smell had defiled his senses many times before, but not since the killing of his father's shame had this scent penetrated so strongly into his nostrils. There could be no mistake about it, it was the stench of Inuyasha.
I don't know what power has brought you back into the world of the living, Sesshoumaru thought as he casually turned away from the main street of the city and followed Inuyasha's scent towards a temple complex that dominated the immediate view. But even if I have to kill you a thousand times over, I will wipe your polluted blood from this earth.
Passing the clawed fingers of his right hand over the grips of the two swords he held concealed within the left side of his thick coat, Sesshoumaru smirked. Surely the protective properties of the Tenseiga would be of little use against such a weak enemy, and he would not kill Inuyasha with the Toukijin.
No, he thought as he grasped his left hand firmly against the hilt of the Tetsusaiga. It would only be fitting for you to die by the very blade that you have defeated me with countless times over, it would only be fitting for you to die by the weapon that father crafted with the sole intention to protect your feeble self. I will not allow you to leave this world any other way.
Ironic is it not, little brother. For only with my blood pulsing through your veins, can I wield the weapon father intended for you to have, Sesshoumaru thought as he studied the clawed fingers of his left hand. I remember the shame of having my body hacked apart by you, a worthless half-breed; it is only fitting that I replace the arm you so ignobly cut from my body, with your very flesh.
Stepping off of the granite stones of the temple's stairs and onto the soft grass of the garden, Sesshoumaru withdrew the transformed Tetsusaiga. With his focused golden eyes glaring towards the nearby house that radiated so strongly of the hanyou's blood, Sesshoumaru gracefully passed the edge of his sword through the clear air and summoned up a terrible force of pounding pressure.
As the force of the wind pushed forwards against the wall of the house and quickly tore its supports apart, Sesshoumaru smirked.
"I've come for your blood, little brother."