Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha. And I don't have money. Don't sue me.

Author's Notes: This is my version of Inu Yasha and Sesshoumaru's family. This is how it would make the most sense to me, because I don't think that Sesshoumaru's dad had a harem or anything.

Oh, and this is from Se-cchan's point of view. Uh... Se-cchan is Sesshoumaru.



'Flashback'

by #Nea

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His mother.

He never had his mother. True, he had a mother, a caring mother, but that wasn't his mother.

His father, Oomiyahiraki and Lord of the Western Lands, had mated with his mother. His mother was said to be stunning with the beauty of a saphire gem and powerful enough to evenly match his father.

Oomiyahiraki was young at the time, almost young enough to be called naive if it was not for his position. And she, being beautiful, seductive, lulling, had accomplished to enrage the hormones within his father.

He, Sesshoumaru, was the product of that one night's wild excitement.

And then she left. She had 'tamed' the untamed lord, and had taken the title of his first love. He had the strong heir he wanted, one destined to grow up to be stronger than himself.

Of course, she did stay the nine months to give birth to Sesshoumaru and he did feel a little bitter at being used. Overall, it was a 'that was fun, but I have more important things to do' situation.

The day he was born, his mother left. Nobody even remembers her name anymore.

Then, Hanauta came. She was plain, almost beyond ordinary in her plainness, but Sesshoumaru could still remember the way flowers seem to lean towards her as she walked through the garden. And the way she sang, as if the singing was a god-driven act. Her voice would shimmer, resonate with the waves of the pond for a second before disappearing with the wind.

Hana. Flowers. Uta. Songs.

Just like that. She was plain enough to be human, and not just any human. She was a human child born in a little house in a little village in the middle of nowhere.

But Oomiyahiraki had fallen in love with her because of her child-like innocence. After all, who would let a blood-covered demon into a house, not to mention one that reeked of poison and promised death.

And she insisted that he needed to stay to heal with wounds, despite what he said about dangers following him. About how he would have to kill her after this because she knew him.

She was too... simple... to understand, and he didn't push her. After all, he did need the help.

But her father came, and told the whole village that the demon lord was at his house, and in a weakened state. Her father told the villagers that they should kill Oomiyahiraki.

They were killed, instead. But he couldn't quite kill Hanauta, even as she watched him murder her village systematically.

He almost wanted her to flash angry stares at him. He wanted her to hate him. Then, it would be easier to kill her.

Or, she could make a pass him, and he could get mad at her insolence, and strike her down.

But she simply stared at him, looked at him with sorrow in her eyes as if to kill is a worse fate than to be killed. He almost felt like she understood the depth of the scar left within him at killing, harming tens and hundreds and maybe thousands of lives because he needed to live.

And killing any other was fine as long as it insured the safety of the lord.

Yet, she looked at him from where she was kneeling in the bare room, and looked at the sword that was coming at her throat. Her eyes bore deep into his soul and elicitated the fustration, the irritation, the anger, the fear, the hate, and she cried freely for him.

In that moment, he decided he fell in love with her, and her inability to hate.

And his arm came down onto her neck instead of his sword, and he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, the one of finding comraderie.

Of course she was startled, but she didn't fight as he finally poured his unshed tears upon her shoulder.

In the moonlight, his glistening silver hair constrasted against her raven-black ones as he draped over the woman in the bare room, sitting on her heels. Their hair cascaded over their shoulders, blended with silent sobbing and streaming tears, created a spectacular symphony of anguish.

And of love.

Hanauta was still blindly trusting, and she obliged to follow the murderer after the ceremonial burial of her village, which he helped her at.

And they would travel together, ate together, took walks together, sang together, and battled together. While she slept, he would marvel at her childishness to snuggle at the closest thing radiating warmth. And he would 'lend' his tail to her as a pillow. He would take an uncanny and unlikely interest at how she sighed, or shifted in her sleep, or maybe how hair was a trussled up and surround her like seaweeds.

He would watch her, until he noticed the speed of his own heartbeat. Then, he would blush, and try to walk away, only to notice that she was snuggled up against his tail. Sighing, he would come back and sit beside her, and desparately try to think about other things, until his wandering thoughts brought him back to watching, staring at her again.

And it was like that all night, every night.

Eventually, he admitted to himself that he cared her, maybe even liked her, and wouldn't want harm to befall her - enough to have one of his own fangs pulled out and forged into Tetsusaiga.

Of course, he taught her himself. He stood behind her and covered her long fingers and ivory hands with his own massive, calloused hand as he glided her through the moves. Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of a movement, his minding leaving with his fantasies. Then, he would come back to reality to find her looking at him, studying his profile, and waiting, patiently, for him to continue.

So, when Oomiyahiraki wasn't there with Hanauta, Tetsusaiga was, and through Tetsusaiga, Oomiyahiraki's strength. He made sure he was safe, and he made sure that Tetsusaiga was hers alone.

And they came back to the palace, where the young Sesshoumaru at that time stayed everday, every year.

Sesshoumaru almost blanched at the sight of yet another woman trying to be with his father. But Hanauta didn't ruffle his hair, or pinch his cheeks, or comment on how cute he was, or how she bet he was going to be as handsome as his father when he grew up. All she offered was a simple smile, an acknowledgment. And a 'pleased to meet you'.

Sesshoumaru was not intimidated by Hanauta.

Sometimes, during meals Sesshoumaru would sneak up right next to Hanauta, and Hanauta would tell Sesshoumaru her opinion on their foods. Or she would be working in that garden while he came by, and she would show him how to dig, to plant, to water.

He never understood the joy of nourishing until then.

And he would find himself walking aimlessly down the forbidding corridors only to end up in her room, and to ask her to tell him one of her 'fairy tales'. She never asked him to leave like the other ladies who said they were busy with his father. There many nights spent as quality family time when Hanauta was around.

Even when his father needed to leave to fight, or go for a treaty, she would stay, and show him around the various little tricks, of dealing with people, of remembering things, of swordplay. And she would guide him around the hidden corners of his imagination, spending hours on nothing but 'what ifs'.

Then, she was pregnant. They were delighted. His father was consistantly worried about her, asked her if she was fine, if she wanted to lie down, if she wanted to rest, if she wanted to eat, or a billion other things that she might possibly want. Sesshoumaru delighted in having a playmate, to show his litter brother or sister the ecstatic that Hanauta had showed him.

Besides that, Sesshoumaru was curious. His eyes would grow big with facination every time he saw mother walk down the hall and a protruding mass of flesh bonded to her. Of course, he asked how was the child put in there, and she would only say that it was gift from the gods. He never questioned what for. Certainly, mother was nice enough to receive anything.

His father worried constantly, he questioned constantly.

Until the day she was going to give birth. Then, nobody could help her anymore other than the priestess, who specialized in births. She smiled before she entered labor, and said that her child was going to be a 'kawaii inu yasha'. But now, they could smell her heated sweat, and her groans of pain. Yet, they knew she would come out with a smile and said that it was indeed a 'kawaii inu yasha' and that she loved giving birth to him or her.

Then, the baby cried its first cry, from the joy of being born.

Father and son rushed into the room, to see the silver haired boy, with the slightest trace that his claws will be sharp and dog ears on his head, twitching to hear the sounds after he calmed down.

Hanauta sighed, even as she enjoyed having the baby, and enjoyed giving birth to it, she felt a heavy weight lifted off of her. And now, she would be able to look at her child as well as feeling it inside of her.

She was tired, fatigued from the exertion of the contractions. With a smile on her face, she fell into a peaceful sleep while the priestess hurried around to heal her.

As the years passed, Inu Yasha grew, letting Sesshoumaru's family becoming almost normal, near perfection. Sesshoumaru would wander around, showing Inu Yasha how plants grew, or how to feed a bird, or how to make a sling shot. And Inu Yasha would giggle at anything and everything wonderful his brother showed him, making the palace seem like one coming out of Hanauta's 'fairy tales' - beautiful, warm, and maybe even filled with those who cared.

And Sesshoumaru mused at Inu Yasha's gasp, or cry, or a simple stare of surprise. He enjoyed watching, listening to Hanauta decipher Inu Yasha's baby blurred syllables one by one, and understanding the meanings of the horribly twisted sentences. He loved the curiosity of the little pup whose eyes bulged, trying to memorize the way things are done. And how Inu Yasha would try to act grown up, adult like, and touch things 'he wasn't supposed to' when he thought nobody watched or knew.

Sesshoumaru smiled his 'big brother smile' to Inu Yasha every so often, despite what the court insisted upon about the deceitful, greedy human wanting to take over his father's throne, despite what they said about the fact that having a half-breed was a disgrace in the family, despite the fact that Inu Yasha would probably be spitted upon by both races and turned into a mindless creature of hatred because of rejection.

He believed in 'family' even if others didn't.

The demon inhabitants of the country decided that it was dispicable, pitiful to have to call a human, and a half breed royalty. And they made demands. Yet, Sesshoumaru and father and mother and brother believed in 'family'. But they didn't.

They knew what it meant for them to be fighting demons, strong demons with the blood of the ancient lord. They understood the consequences of defying the lord. But the couldn't, wouldn't stand to watch the 'country go to ashes'.

They wouldn't have any of it.

It was one of those days, when father had decided that the mission was small enough, simple enough, and common enough for the future heir to tag along. It was simply one step towards the growing up as the lord. Yet, when they came back, it reeked of smoke, and sweat, and blood. Their ears pricked up the sounds of shouts and screams and cries of spite, of desperation, and an occasional one of joy.

Sesshoumaru saw his father, still dressed in the elegant attire, armed with the crest of the family and the sharp, glinting metal shoulder guard. His father didn't run, he teleported to where the screams came from, the garden - her garden.

And when Sesshoumaru finally arrived at the scene, the noises were gone save the constant flickering of fire burning, cracking the half-dead plants. Their breathing were almost inaudible because of shock, of fear, of death.

Father stood regal, and proud at the edge of the stone paved path. But for once, sorrow overflowed from his distinct features. His brows bunched together in an understanding furrow and his eyes were wide at the calamity, and at the shock of its possibility.

Sesshoumaru slowly pressed his head through the gap between his unmoving father and the wall.

And there in the middle of it, was Hanauta, bent over and shuddering. On her back was a slash wide and deep, yet it looked as if all her blood has been spent and the wound was close to drying in the hazy fog of smoke and sweat and blood.

Sesshoumaru stepped closer. She was too... big.

Hesitantly, Sesshoumaru peered closer underneath her. Something was shuddering underneath her. Inu Yasha. Realization dawned upon him like waves, and he tried raising a desperate barrier at the last minute to fight against it.

Hanauta's had flowed until there was no more. Until she was dead.

And she died protecting Inu Yasha.

Sesshoumaru frowned upon the Inu Yasha's weakness. Inu Yasha, even with the proud blood from the ancient youkai, had hid in his cowardice behind Hanauta, a human, and he had allowed family to suffer at his own cause.

Sesshoumaru hated that stupid excuse of a half breed for doing so, for ruining his only chance at 'family'.

Sesshoumaru didn't hate humans.

He liked them well enough to know how easily they break and die - knew them well enough to stay away from them.


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a/n: That was my try at a one shot. I hope it was clear enough. And please review. This is what I thought was most likely to have happened. Otherwise, Sesshoumaru would have killed the human if he hated them so much, and/or he would have mated already. But he didn't, and I think this is what happened (or a long the lines of). Thnx for reading.

I revised it a little because people pointed out that it didn't quite fit with the story line. Now it does. The next 'chapter' is the original version (which I kinda like better).