My Brother's Guardian
By: VolleyballChick92 (a.k.a. Yuurei-Chi)
I hate my brother. Let me be more specific, it's less that I hate my brother, it's just that he encourages dislike from other people. You may ask why, and I do sometimes myself. But from what I can figure out, he's pompous, egocentrical, selfish, self-absorbed and Machiavellian. In other words, socially he is a bloody ass. I can't say that I made the situation any better, but how can you not find ways to make fun of someone who, as a child, collected rocks, little wooden toys and drew countless numbers of hideous shoe designs. How can you not try to avoid a brother who followed you around like an abandoned waif and constantly complained with phrases like 'my ears are stuffed!' and 'my nose is stuffed!', a droning or wailing that drove insane even our most gentle mother and our most tolerant father. It drove neighbor children to avoid contact with both of us, hence depriving me of any social amenities except for a boy named Kenji who was unfortunately a cousin of ours who lived close to the estate and a wolf demon boy who went by the name Akiyoshi Ishikawa who had a fondness towards me which I actually appreciated. To explain this further, even our dangerously outlandish and socially ostracized relatives who dabbled in fireworks and stink-bombs greatly protested when my father begged that they might take my brother for a long weekend. You must understand that although these are my relatives and I do love them, they are at the least, awkward to have in the family, and at the most, exceedingly embarrassing, yet they, too, found dealing with my brother to be well beyond their abilities, and that's saying a lot. So as you can see, although I take full responsibility of possibly having a hand in creating some of my brother's current personality disorders, I am by no means morally or ethically responsible for what he has currently become today.
My brother, Sesshoumaru, dresses in puffy, white, majestic clothing with red floral decorations on the shoulders and sleeves, always wearing a beautiful, fluffy white boa that nobly hangs over his shoulder. Many who would see him would think of him as a gorgeously handsome young man who takes pride and thought into his appearance, however, to me he looks like a poser who is constantly putting on a pathetically obvious act, dressing in a disastrous mix of his childhood shoe design fantasies, which to me is a waste of good clothing material. Sesshoumaru walks with a pretense of a strut and stands with his legs apart to balance off of his squared-up shoulders. He tosses his head up in a way that most people would consider as 'sticking his nose in the air', and allows his long, draping silver hair to flow like a flag placed by the victors of a conquest. This stance is meant to look big and dominant, but to me he always looks fat and even effeminate. Although I must admit, I get this impression while others do not, because unlike others, I notice that when he runs he tries to make sure he doesn't lose his 'precious' shoes, ones I'm certain are made for him from his own designs. If I give the impression that I am jealous of my brother's current status, please rest assured that I am not, for I do not desire anyone, demon as well as human, to consider me as their enemy from a first impression. Instead I prefer to appear as the type of being, powerful as I am, who would not attack first and ask questions later. My understanding of the world as it is must include cooperation, even among the most un-cooperative elements. This I find a challenge, one I feel is necessary. My brother, however, desires power above all others, even if that twists out any happiness that he could possibly find in this world. Perhaps a childhood which made him sickly and hence appearing weak among power has made him the way he is now, and if that is so, I feel sorry for him. However I can't see how he feels that he is entitled to the position that he commands if he cannot take command of his own childhood demons.
The relationship between Sesshoumaru and myself began spiraling out of control when our mother died when we were almost fourteen. When I was eleven, I was stalked by a demon who often was found wearing a sort of baboon suit, and soon the stalks drastically changed to threats of murder and rape. I was almost thirteen when the threats occurred, and right away I told my mother everything about the demon who called himself Naraku, how it changed from what seemed to be innocent watching to the open dangers it had become. My mother found this situation oddly familiar and knew the horrific truth that Naraku was after both of us, the reasons supposedly unknown, whether they really were or not remains a mystery to me, for there may have been reasons that my mother did not want to be exposed to me at the age I was. She ordered that the demon was searched down by the stronger of the castle guards, however not one of them ever returned, and not a single body was found within either the immediate area or sections farther away from the estate grounds. The tragic day that scarred me for life occurred two months prior to my fourteenth birthday. My mother and I were sword-training out in the section of the grounds that were farther away from the castle when suddenly a disgusting miasma shadowed over the area in which we were standing. Almost out of nowhere, as if appearing from the air, Naraku attacked us, causing my mother and I to fight for our very lives. I do not remember much from the battle, for I had tried as hard as I possibly could to delete it from my mind, however that solution is one that is impossible. I can remember the blood, gushing from the bodies of all three of us, the bastard Naraku's despicable laugh as our attacks merely bounced off his circular barrier. As powerful as she was, even my mother could not defeat a demon such as Naraku, a demon appearing to be as close to invincible as anyone could get to. Nobody had come to help us, for we were too far away from the castle for the fighting to be heard, and Naraku had done some sort of trickery with his aura to abolish the scent of blood. Towards the end of the battle and my mother's life, somehow we had managed to weaken our enemy, but that evil bastard released an attack onto me, paralyzing my body, even my eyelids, making them unable to close, forcing me to watch my mother suffer to her death. She and Naraku had attacked each other at the same time, both with two of the most powerful demon attacks ever used, creating a clashing explosion which was the cause of her demise. When the thick, grey smoke from the bursting faded away, Naraku was gone, possibly dead, though somehow I doubted it, and unfortunately I still do to this day. I do not remember any of what happened between the time I saw my mother's dead body collapsed onto the bloody grass and an afternoon three days later when I somehow found myself in a castle room, hence the fragile thread between me and Sesshoumaru now broken, for our mother was the link between the two of us by her weaving a family out of two very different souls. The gas from the smoke must have caused me to faint, and even though the paralysis hadn't left my muscles, my body still temporarily shut down into a short coma, somehow, to my benefit, the people who found me came to the conclusion that I was not dead, saving me from the painful death of suffocation that would be caused from a live burial.
After I woke up from my coma I was unable to do some of the things that I was able to do before the attack, the most noticeable one being the ability to talk. The nerve connections in my body were either broken or singed away, due to the outside injuries, the paralysis and the coma, and I knew that I had to begin learning how to do these skills over again, leaving my father and boyfriend, Akiyoshi, deeply concerned. And Sesshoumaru, of course he was concerned as well, however, even though he never spoke a word of the situation, I could sense within his aura that overall, he blamed me for our mother's death.