EIGHTH BLOOD

Chapter 84: Breaking the cycle

.

.

Sesshoumaru stood before Toran and her siblings, who were waiting to hear his new offer. They were each seated on a silk cushion in the centre of the room, with a row of magistrates kneeling behind them submissively. Daiyoukai culture demanded that all magistrates wore heavy hooded cloaks to hide their faces, as well as a pair of thick black gloves. The latter had something to do with keeping the law clean. A stupid rule, in his opinion, but then again, most rules were.

"Well?" Toran probed, twirling a piece of azure hair around her index finger. "I can't speak for everyone else, but my patience is wearing rather thin."

"As is mine," chimed Karan.

"And mine," agreed Shuran.

The youngest of the siblings simply raised a hand to her mouth and yawned, but the act lacked authenticity. Despite her outburst in the onsen, Shunran was still playing the role of obedient little sister. Sesshoumaru was no stranger to putting on an act. He'd been doing it since childhood, pretending to be something that he wasn't in order to appease others. He'd turned himself inside out, clinging to a notion that had ultimately gotten him nowhere. In the end, none of it had mattered. Perfection simply didn't exist.

"Name your price," he said, forgoing his offer completely. "If I deem it reasonable, it will be yours the instant that I reclaim my lands and title."

"A quarter," Toran answered immediately.

Sesshoumaru arched a brow. "Come again?"

"We want a quarter of your domain," she elaborated. "Specifically the plains in the northwestern region. That area consists of mostly uninhabited grasslands and sprawling forests. If we help you, we ask that you renounce ownership of those plains and declare them as ours."

His eyes narrowed menacingly. Were they insane? Did they honestly believe that he would be happy parting ways with such a large portion of his inheritance? The Western Lands were his. They belonged to him. Not his father. Not Inuyasha. Him. Yes, he'd been indifferent towards them in the past – resentful of the responsibilities that came with being a warlord – but his perspective had shifted significantly in recent months. For the first time in decades, he found himself genuinely wanting to elicit change. He finally had a chance to fix what was broken and put an end to the cycle of injustice once and for all. And yet here Toran was, demanding that he surrender the opportunity to her miserable clan of cats. Who did they think they were?

He opened his mouth to tell her that she could go to hell, then paused, deliberating with himself for a moment. Tsunayoshi's forces outnumbered his ten to one. Even if he won the duel, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't march anyway, fuelled by the need to avenge their leader. There were already so many dead. Thousands of innocents had been killed during the invasion – men, women, children . . . Their deaths were all on him.

His father would have said that such casualties were unavoidable during a war. He would have argued that Sesshoumaru had done his best. But his best wasn't enough. Not when it endangered the people that he was responsible for. Rulers couldn't afford to choose their own wants and desires over the needs of the many. His father had never quite managed to wrap his head around that. Never make choices with your heart, Arashi had warned. Your father was a brilliant warrior, but he was also reckless and emotional. He was guilty of prioritising his heart over his head, which resulted in his downfall. I see so much of him in you. Don't make the same mistakes he did.

Sesshoumaru's claws dug into the meat of his palms.

If he really wanted to make a difference, nothing could be more important than the realm. Not a weapon he'd coveted since its conception, or a child who sang and loved flowers, and certainly not a woman from another time. He'd already abandoned his attachment to the Tessaiga, but the two humans he cherished more than anything still had him trapped in their powerful talons, and he had no desire to tear himself free. Because without them, what would be the point of it all?

But none of that mattered now. Things had to change. He couldn't hide in his father's shadow forever, and he certainly couldn't keep making excuses for all of his predecessor's wrongdoings. Mistakes had been made and feuds had been initiated over stolen treasures and unkept promises. His father hadn't cared about any of that, though. He'd simply torn across the country like a hurricane, razing down everything in his path. Sesshoumaru had spent his whole life trying to emulate that thunderous way of living, only to realise that he'd missed out on one very important detail.

His father had been wrong.

Glancing down at the Tenseiga, Sesshoumaru suddenly knew exactly what he needed to do.

"A fifth of the Western Lands," he bartered. "As well as a place in my court. You wished to expand your empire, did you not? Politics are complex and fragile. One wrong move and you may potentially invite war to your doorstep. Say yes and my allies will become your allies."

A crinkle appeared on Toran's brow. "Where are these allies of yours now?" she asked. "You wouldn't have come here unless you were truly desperate. Did they turn you away, too?"

"The usurper forbade them from interfering."

"And? What's he going to do? Massacre your people? Oh, wait, he already did that."

Sesshoumaru bit down on his tongue to suppress a growl. "Not everyone."

He locked eyes with Shunran and thought he saw traces of silver in them. He wondered if she was thinking about what he'd said to her in the onsen. Whilst it was true that the majority of his people were gone, Rin was still alive, and as long as she was breathing, he had a reason to keep fighting.

"Is that all you have to offer us?" asked Shuran.

Sesshoumaru swallowed his pride and said, "No. There is something else."

"What?" demanded Karan.

"An apology."

Their eyes widened in surprise.

"My father wronged you terribly," Sesshoumaru continued. "First, he stole from you, then he slew your master and drove your grieving clan out of their homes. He shouldn't have done that. It was selfish and cruel. And petty. I see that now. In fact, I'm ashamed that it took me so long to realise."

"It wasn't all him," Toran pointed out sharply. "Not long ago, you were leading a charge against us of your own. We haven't forgotten that."

"You're right," he sighed. "Still, no one is perfect. With that being said, please accept this one's humble apology, and a token of goodwill."

"What token?" Shunran whispered anxiously.

"This one."

He drew the Tenseiga and held it in front of him, making the four of them flinch as the blade crackled with ribbons of blue lightning. The magistrates shrank into the background in panic, but Toran and her siblings stood their ground, ready to parry his attack . . .

But it never came.

They gasped when Sesshoumaru grabbed hold of the blade with his free hand and squeezed, causing the lightning to thrash wildly. The smell of burning flesh bombarded his nostrils, but he refused to be intimidated by it. He struggled against the sword's will, confident that it would break before he did. After what felt like an eternity of grappling for control, the Tenseiga ultimately conceded defeat, and Sesshoumaru was able to remove the lightning bolt without further damage to himself. Electricity crackled in the air around him, singeing his clothes, but there was very little aggression left in the bolt's actions. It seemed to have realised what his intentions were.

Sesshoumaru shifted his gaze back to the panthers and saw that their eyes were all trained on the bolt in his hand. Shuran's gaze was easily the most intense. "Your father claimed it was irreversible," he muttered.

"My father lied," Sesshoumaru replied harshly. "He was good at that."

Shuran's dark eyes bulged even wider when Sesshoumaru approached the dais and held out the lightning bolt as a peace offering. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Returning what was stolen."

"Are you crazy? What about Tenbasuto? Are you really just going to throw all of that hard work away—"

"The technique was never mine to begin with," asserted Sesshoumaru. "I cannot build a strong empire on the bones of a broken one. Wars aren't fought by ghosts. They are won by the living."

Toran frowned. "Exactly. And where did fighting get your people? I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Sesshoumaru. Believe me, I am. But if we help you, thousands of our people will die, too."

"Then why make an offer if you had no intention of following through with it?"

"Because it has to be worth it! Don't you get it? You're not the only one trying to protect innocent lives. I know you think we're heartless, but it's how we survive. I won't apologise for it."

"There is no staying out of this," Sesshoumaru argued. "I understand your thought process, but do you honestly believe that the usurper will leave your clan alone? The Western Lands are merely the beginning. If he takes after his father – which I know for a fact that he does – he won't be satisfied until every inch of the country belongs to him."

Karan crossed her arms. "Perhaps we'll join him, then. Who knows?"

Sesshoumaru sighed internally. There was no use quarrelling with them any further. He knew better than to beat a dead horse. He couldn't force them to bend to his will the way he'd made the Tenseiga. Unlike the sword, they had no attachment to him. If his father had been here, he would have told the Tenseiga to reabsorb the lightning bolt and left with his head held high. Which was why he opted to do the opposite.

The cycle had to break.

Sheathing the Tenseiga, he slid the bolt into Shuran's hand and curled his burly fingers around it. The panther blinked in surprise, but said nothing as Sesshoumaru took a couple of steps backwards. The other three looked equally baffled by his sudden change in tone, but it was Toran who voiced her confusion as he turned and walked away from the dais.

"Who are you trying to fool?"

"No one," he said without turning around. "I meant what I said. The bolt belongs to your brother, not I. The status of our relationship is irrelevant."

A tense silence followed. Sesshoumaru refused to be the one that broke it.

Toran sighed. "This doesn't change anything, you know. Our answer is still the same."

"I understand. Thank you for your hospitality."

He made it all the way to the door before a voice suddenly cried out for him to halt. Smirking internally, he turned his head and met Shunran's watery gaze.

"Wait," she repeated softly. "Don't go. Please. That girl will die without our help. You said you'd fight for her. Did you mean it? Or are you a liar like your father was?"

"I am fighting," he said. "Every second of every day."

"Is that so?" Toran murmured, sizing him up.

"It is."

She climbed down the dais steps and glided towards him like a snow spirit. "How fascinating," she said, walking circles around him. "Whatever happened to that cold and arrogant man who cared for no one but himself?"

"He realised that his pride was holding him back from the things in life that truly matter."

Sesshoumaru thought he saw the corners of her mouth twitch ever so slightly, but it happened too quickly for him to be sure. "I like this new version of him. He seems more mature somehow."

She didn't say.

"Sit," Toran said, gesturing to a spare cushion atop the dais. "Tell us more about this usurper."

.

.