"Lord Sesshoumaru," a tanuki servant, one of the few remaining from his mother's extensive staff that Sesshoumaru still employed, approached him in his study.

Engrossed in an old scripture, Sesshoumaru paused his reading, his gaze resting on the scroll. He didn't indicate any further, but the servant understood that his lord was listening.

"This was just delivered for you," the tanuki announced. He swiftly placed a Noshibukuro — a traditional Japanese envelope decorated with golden ribbons and crafted from fine silk paper, indicating the presence of a gift within — on the small table beside the scroll.

The servant bowed and promptly began to retreat. The staff were well trained, acutely aware that their lord had no tolerance for dawdling. Every task was to be executed promptly.

"Who delivered this?"

The question caused the tanuki, already halfway out the door, to flinch slightly. Rarely did the master inquire about such minor details. Wouldn't the sender's name be included in the letter anyway?

"He did not introduce himself, nor mention whose authority he acted under, sire. He was a lesser demon."

Sesshoumaru's expression remained impassive, but his chin lowered slightly in an approving nod, dismissing the servant, who hurried away.

Once certain he wouldn't be disturbed, Sesshoumaru reached for the letter. It reeked of rodent, but it wasn't the stench of decay that bothered him. He tore open the letter, and a lock of raven-black hair spilled onto his chabudai, his study table.

The silky strands gleamed under the light pouring in from the veranda adjacent to his study. A "gift," indeed.

Frowning slightly, he twirled a few strands around his fingertips. The envelope held nothing else, but the message was clear.

Fools. Why should he care that his brother's woman had been taken? They should have addressed this matter to his knuckle-dragger of a brother, not him.

Sesshoumaru scoffed and dismissed the letter from his table. Rising, he strolled towards his veranda. The cicadas near the tree line, beyond his garden, heralded the humid air and impending rain due at sundown.

Unwittingly, he still held the soft strands of raven hair between his fingers, their texture rivaling that of a demon's mane. A dragonfly darted past, carried by the wind.

Perhaps he did owe her a favor. After all, she'd spent a significant portion of the past week tending to him, and he'd barely acknowledged her efforts.

Yet, he was still recuperating from his recent skirmish with those rat demons. The odds had been roughly even by his standards: two dozen against one. He'd felled larger hordes before.

However, the rats had fought dirty. Once Sesshoumaru had eliminated half of his adversaries, one of them had thrown something at his face, impairing his vision. He'd prevailed but had sustained significant injuries.

A slight twitch in his eye accompanied the pressing of his hand to his stomach. Despite his condition, he could not ignore the fact that Rin would pester him relentlessly if he failed to aid the priestess. Truly a troublesome predicament.

"Wassat letter all abaht?" A menial weasel asked the Tanuki who had wandered into the fortress's scullery, where the weasel was washing dishes, her kimono sleeves rolled up.

Nonchalantly, the Tanuki leaned against the room's small wall, retrieving a pipe from his pocket. "Haven't a scooby," he mumbled, placing the pipe between his teeth. With a snap of his fingers, he conjured tanuki-bi, a magical flame, to ignite his tobacco leaves. Once the pipe began to smoke, he quickly inhaled the vapors and held his breath for a moment.

"Ya know damn well stickin' your neb in where it ain't wanted gets ya a slap. So I ain't been sniffin'." The Tanuki sighed, blowing out a long sliver of smoke from a small 'o' formed by his lips.

The weasel scrubbed a teacup clean, then placed it into a large vat designated for washed dishes. "Just reckon it a bit queer, master gettin' a letter. Who's it from? The grumpy git ain't exactly a chatterbox."

"Mebbe it's a billet-doux from his lady-friend, that genkan toad," the Tanuki suggested, prompting both servants to burst into laughter.

"Taneiko," a stern command sliced through their boisterous laughter like a swift arrow piercing soft pudding.

Startled, both servants nearly toppled over. The Tanuki, however, managed to discard his pipe and swoop over to the doorway, presenting himself before his master with a discipline that could put soldiers to shame.

"YES SIRE!" Taneiko responded, internally pleading for a swift and painless end if it came to that.

"Has my mother's shukuchi been kept?"

The question took Taneiko aback. A shukuchi was a demonic artifact that allowed for short-range teleportation.

"Y-yes, master. It's in the treasury, I believe."

The silver-haired demon lord grunted approvingly. "Good. Retrieve it and meet me at the gates as soon as you have done so."

Without offering further instructions, the inu youkai departed, leaving a bewildered Tanuki and a weasel maid who was simply relieved to have been overlooked during the exchange.

The rat king, Nezuooki, paced impatiently around his lair. He had recalled all his forces back to base, and hordes of rat demons guarded all exits. He himself was shielded by a detail of his finest soldiers.

"What is taking him so long?" Nezuooki grumbled, kicking a pile of bones that lay on the ground. "I would have expected that haughty fiend to have come barging through the doors by now." He scratched his twitching tail irritably. "It's about the safety of his woman, after all," the rodent monarch snidely remarked, striding over to a cage at the back of his lair.

Inside the cage, a small lump lay still on the floor, unmoving since his soldiers had brought it in.

"Still out cold," Nezuooki mused, speaking to no one in particular. He licked his paws, continuing to stroke his whiskers while staring into the cage. His soldiers had reported that the woman had put up a notable fight, as expected of the Western Lord's lover. She was no ordinary mortal, but a potent priestess. Despite knocking out a few of his men, they had outnumbered her and attacked while she was unarmed.

A sudden commotion disrupted the rat king's grooming as the lair's door was blown off its hinges. Wooden splinters flew everywhere, and a figure emerged from the hallway cloaked in smoke and flames.

"Hear ye, I have come!" the figure announced, stepping forward.

Nezuooki recoiled, clutching his cloak as his soldiers advanced, their katanas and spears at the ready.

The intruder was armored in gleaming metal, his silver hair cascading about him. His golden eyes swiftly scanned the ranks of men surrounding him.

"Hmnh. I was hoping we could settle this matter man to man. Like real men, Nezuooki," the tall, regal man announced.

"Sesshoumaru!" the rat king greeted the arriver with delight. His men paused, awaiting their leader's orders.

"Yes, 'tis I," the tall man confirmed, resting his hand on his sword's hilt. "There's no need for bloodshed. I believe gentlemen like us can negotiate this out," Sesshoumaru diplomatically stated, his voice straining slightly.

"Ha! Where is your honor!" The rat king spat, raising his hand, ready to command the attack. "I have your woman; let our steel decide the outcome!"

Sesshoumaru blinked rapidly, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Bloodshed won't be... uh, necessary, Nezuooki," he said, sweat trickling down his face. "I think it best that we all just put down our blades and…" He swallowed hard, making a calming gesture with his hands, attempting to persuade the soldiers to lower their weapons. "Like, try to exercise civility."

…

The rat soldiers relaxed their stances, some casting skeptical glances at their king. Was this really the Western Lord they were expecting, the flawless instrument of death, the silver terror?

Nezuooki wrinkled his snout in a scoff. "Too late for that! Your clan has wronged us for far too long, and all wrongs will be righted tonight!" Nezuooki proclaimed defiantly, lifting his chin in a show of bravado.

"Wait, wasn't Sesshoumaru missing an arm last time?" one of the soldiers murmured to a comrade.

"That discussion will be postponed for a later date," another voice interjected from the rear of the lair.

Everyone's attention swung towards their hostage's cage, which had been left unguarded for the duration of this encounter. Inside stood a silver-haired man, cradling the unconscious woman in his arm.

"Aw yeah. Shite. Always forget 'bout that arm," the first Sesshoumaru chided himself, slapping his forehead in exasperation.

"Wha—?" the rat king gasped, but it was too late.

The second Sesshoumaru waved an amulet, and the air around him and the woman began to ripple and distort.

"Hey, sire! What 'bout me?" the two-armed Sesshoumaru cried out in a panicky high-pitched voice, wildly gesticulating.

Just before disappearing into a vortex, the one-armed Sesshoumaru dryly suggested, "Perhaps you should consider assuming the form of a flying genkan."

In the blink of an eye, the cage was empty, and the soldiers looked at each other and their king in bewilderment. A loud pop drew their attention back to the entrance of the lair. They quickly regained their composure, pointing their weapons at the figure who had transformed from a Sesshoumaru look-alike into a chunky, brown tanuki.

"Oi, this be a right lesson to us lot to steer clear of Sesshoumaru," the tanuki nervously chuckled, tugging at his collar. The sounds of metal resonated throughout the lair as the soldiers readied their weapons.

"Chaps, chaps, let's ave a bit of a breather eh. I'm sensing a right load of bad vibes here."

A spear flew at the tanuki, narrowly missing his face.

"Okay, yeah, so it feels like yer not up for a chinwag right now. I respect yo—"

"GET HIM!" Nezuooki squealed in frustration, and the soldiers sprang into action.

A/N: Genkan is a (door)mat. And why are Sesshoumaru's servants Mancunian pirates? *shrugs in author's creative lisence*