闘牙.

That name always stirred something in his guts. No matter how long had passed, how the world had changed, he could never remain indifferent. Those two syllables, the fighting fang, defined him so well, yet came short of all the depth of his character. Tōga had packed insane power and excellent strategic skills, but it was his compassion that made him truly different.

His teachings had taken such a long time to seep in, but now he knew. He knew that strength and power were nothing if not used for a good cause, that honour could dwell in one's sacrifice, that love wasn't meaningless.

Tōga.

No one, in the yōkai world, was stupid enough to bestow that name, no one outside of his long line of great-grandchildren… Surely he had misheard.

Amber eyes narrowed at the scene, watching swirling yōki dance around ugly humanoid forms. Now wasn't the time to linger upon past regrets; he had a mission to complete. Thank the Kami his spies always kept an eye on the descendants of the dragons. Their brutal attack was about to break the yōkai agreements with the ningen.

A smirk lifted narrow lips; the modern world curbed his bloodlust, but the daiyōkai had found an excellent way to feed his instincts. Hunting down trespassers was a much-appreciated past time that allowed him to keep his fighting skills honed.

A belt whipped in the silence of the night, followed by a pained cry. He almost chuckled, approaching without a noise, hoovering over the ground in hopes of surprising the dragons. That human woman was incredibly stupid, and just as courageous. There was nothing extraordinary about her, neither in her energy, nor in her fighting skills. But she stood her ground, facing two opponents that could crush her with their pinkies. And yet, she didn't retreat as she brandished one weapon in each hand.

Interesting; as she lashed out with the belt – clever ! – the umbrella thrust forward in the other direction. For a human, she sure was ballsy, and had a good hand coordination.

Too bad she was about to die.

He lurked in the shadows, waiting to see if the dragons had dismissed him completely. Were they so inadequate that they would ignore the greater threat, focused on a pathetic human rather than checking their backs ? Even though he could camouflage his yōki well enough, the great Inuyōkai was used to being the top predator. Their ignorance was offensive.

He sneered.

The woman's fear permeated the very air; he could see her hands shake. But her gaze didn't waver, her jaw set. She knew she was about to die, and still she stood beside the form sprawled upon the ground. Her husband, perhaps. Someone to protect.

A pang of loneliness bled through his heart. He had once loved as fiercely, and been loved just as much. Her loss had hardened his heart, but their children and grandchildren lived on, mellowing him day after day, century after century. He'd lost hope that their mother would return… and he lived on with only a part of his heart to keep him going.

It was her memory that spurred him into action; she once stood in that woman's place, protecting him when he couldn't fight. The dragons sprang forth, too fast for the human to dodge them both. His light whip cracked, eager and deadly.

A head fell off. Wide, dark eyes turned to him, puzzled by the turn of events.

Finally !

The stupid winged beast had figured out who the biggest threat was, and turned his frightful eyes to him just in time to spot the whip coming his way. He dodged at the last second, only to step close enough to the human for her to land a mean hit to the back of his knee.

Pathetic. Felled by a human.

The dragon went down with a cry. Half a second later, he was towering over the winged beast, his beloved sword begging to be released. The daiyōkai stared him down, eyes narrowed to slit as he took in the trembling figure before him.

"Gomen, my lord, spare me."

Coward.

He could have finished him with a flick of his wrist, or by slowly crushing his windpipe under deft fingers. But the Inuyōkai humoured his blade's whims and pulled it slowly from the sheathe, the metallic ring music to his ears. No one crossed him and lived. The dragon attempted to flee; his whip relieved him of his wings.

"My lord, have mercy !"

The sword sang as it descended upon the dragon, cleaving his torso neatly. The human gasped, and retreated to her lover's side. He couldn't care less as he sidestepped the fountain of blood, pushing the body away before melting it with his poison. Acidic fumes rose in the settling fog, green hues eating away the evidence of the fight.

A groan called him to attention, the deep baritone strangely familiar. The woman had knelt beside the fallen man, but her eyes were strained upon him. At least, she had the intelligence to know danger when it showed up. The young woman watched him warily when he stood, taking slow, deliberate steps. As he approached, though, a spark of recognition shone in her gaze. As if she knew him.

"We no fight you, yōkai-sama," she said in broken Japanese.

The title took him aback. How did she know what he was ? This human didn't seem as ignorant as he expected; he had yet to decide whether it would be an issue. Another groan rose from the ground, transforming her fierce expression into a mask of worry. She stole a quick glance at the heap of a man, her grey eyes darting back and forth to keep her sight on him.

The daiyōkai had no such qualms; whatever her skills, the ningen woman was no threat. Hence, he took a moment to study her lover still sprawled at her feet. Tall and bulky, powerful. But it wasn't what fascinated him the most; the man didn't entirely smell of death and decay. He wasn't a full ningen. Worse, something in him felt familiar. The fact that he couldn't pinpoint the origin of that sensation irked him; whether it was the outline of his shoulders, this tuft of white hair that peeked under the collar of his leather vest or this faint fragrance of thunder…

It couldn't be.

Shaking his head to get rid of the improbable thoughts that impaired him, the daiyōkai watched the broken man try to reach for the woman with a hiss of pain. She allowed his fingers to clasp her coat, but not more. She was keeping both her hands free, weapons at the ready, as if she could stop him should he wish to end her life.

Ridiculous.

"Don't move," she ordered her lover, her tone strangely authoritative for such a little woman.

And even though she was but a weak human, respect bloomed in his chest for the resolve she was showing. Like a samurai of old, that little ningen was ready to die for what she believed in. So few of those remained, humans and yōkai alike, would lay down their very existence. He, that had once regarded human wars with contempt, cursing their weakness, had been forced to evolve.

His country had seen great yōkai, and, dare he say, great men. Not that he would admit it, but history had taught him as much. The memory of Hijikata Toshizō riding to his death, resolve set upon his face, flashed before his very eyes. His eyes had held the same light than the woman that faced him now.

She had guts, he couldn't deny it. Her gaze still fixed him, intense, as if it could pierce him through. A shiver ran up his spine and she gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

"Sesshōmaru-sama ?"

The mask of indifference nearly slipped, so shocked he was to be recognised. Shocked by her utterance of his name, and even more by the trust and awe placed within. And that suffix…

Sesshōmaru-sama.

Rin had called him thus once, long ago, her eager eyes full of light and hope. The onslaught of emotion nearly fell him to his knees; how dare she, that mortal, remind him of what he'd lost ? Of that hole that now resided in his chest, that piece of himself that Rin had taken to the grave ?

Wrath replaced respect. Eyes narrowing, Sesshōmaru was about to grab her throat and shake the truth out of her when the man rolled over and cracked an eye open.

Amber. Just like his. Time stilled, a fraction of second lingering into eternity. Sesshōmaru sucked in a breath and the words left his mouth before he could control them.

"Chichi-ue?"