Seshiko

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha characters. I do not make any profit from this.

A/N: Just another self indulgent little story for my Ishi-chan. This won't make a bit of sense if you haven't read Daimyo Inutaisho because you won't know or care who Seshiko is. This is about her, Sesshomaru's mother. Okay, so it was just an excuse to write another lemon.


With an angry grunt, Seshiko swung her sword. The blade of her katana rang out as it clashed with her opponent's. She grinned, he was getting sloppy, overconfident as usual. Well, she'd been practicing so he was in for a surprise. She really hated fighting with a sword, as an inuyoukai she naturally preferred her claws. That was fine for ordinary hand to hand combat and perfect for self defense. But her father wanted her to know swordplay, know how to fight with an edged blade. Kashikoto insisted that his daughter be proficient in all types of warfare. If she wanted to lead his men someday, command in battle, she had to know how to use the sword.

She hit him again, hearing his heavy breathing as she pressed him back, driving him into the wall. Oh yes, she was taking to the sword, that was not a problem. Her opponent was also her teacher, Kashikoto ordered his best warrior to train his beloved daughter. He knew better than to go easy on her, easy wasn't going to train her. Easy could only get her killed. And Seshiko was a quick study, if it had anything to do with fighting, she wanted to be the best. Just because she preferred the satisfaction of ripping her enemies apart with her own claws didn't mean she wouldn't use weapons if need be.

Seshiko laughed harshly as her sensei seemed to stumble, lose his footing on the smooth floor of the practice room. "What's the matter, sensei?" she mocked him. "Is the student surpassing the teacher?"

He didn't answer, that was one of the things she hated about him. Most inuyoukai liked to give verbal challenges during combat, real or practice. Not him. He stayed deadly silent the entire time he fought, his only expression a fighting grin and a sparkle in his dark eyes as he countered her moves. It really annoyed her, it grated on her nerves. She did not deny the man's prowess in battle but the fact he wouldn't answer, return her challenges with his own, really pissed her off.

Seshiko let out a battle cry, running at him with her sword raised high. By the gods! She'd get a reaction out of him when she sliced his guts open and let them fall on the floor. The bloodlust was rising in her, she loved it, that was what Seshiko truly loved about fighting. The red madness rose in her blood, her adrenaline surged. She knew she could take anybody, anybody she liked! None would stand against her, not even him.

Whirling, she crashed her blade down upon his, laughing joyously as she pressed him back, making him defend himself, parry every strike in a desperate attempt to keep her blade from his flesh. Still, there was no desperation in his eyes, only calculation. Even as they fought furiously, the female's youki blazing around her like a wild storm of energy. And his grin never changed, the cool expression in his eyes didn't seem to be panicked as she advanced on him ruthlessly. Today, she'd get something from him, today she'd get his blood.

The young woman snarled, shoving hard against him as their blades locked and she rammed him into the wall. She was panting now, her eyes wide and sparkling as she could almost taste his defeat. "Today, I take you," she hissed into his face. "Ichigo, you will beg for my mercy."

She didn't see it coming, he did something at that moment with one of his feet. Seshiko found that her own feet were kicked out from under her, even as Ichigo gave a negligent twist of his body to break their swords apart. In the space of a second, all she needed to regain her footing, he put a few more inches between them and used his free hand to deliver a stinging punch to her stomach. She grunted in pain, Ichigo never pulled his punches, not from the first moment he started training her. Then she saw his sword swing back and down, striking the flat of the blade right above her grip. With an elegant twist of his own blade, he broke her hold and sent her blade flying across the room to embed itself in the wooden panelled wall.

Seshiko's mouth dropped open and she instantly threw herself into a defensive crouch. It was too late. Ichigo had already thrown aside his sword and come after her. She readied her claws, this was getting very serious. Nothing flickered in his cold dark eyes, the smile still at the ready, and without warning he jumped into the air and kicked her in the thigh so hard she thought he might have broken her leg.

The next kick was to her right forearm, and this time she did feel the bone crack. She was too proud to yell out as he disabled her, but she couldn't help but let loose a groan of pain. Seshiko turned to protect her wounded side and this time his kick took her in the side. Ribs cracked this time, she knew they were damaged but not broken. She couldn't help but feel shocked, he'd never come at her like this before. Was this betrayal? Had Kashikoto's most trusted warrior turned against them, turned assassin to take the clanlord's daughter?

She brought up her claws to defend herself but her strikes fell short, she was hampered by the pain. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she cried out, then moved closer and slapped her face with the open flat of his palm. Humilating, she thought, at his mercy now. "You traitor!" she hissed.

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes. You did not question Ichigo's loyalty. He slapped her again, even harder, and let go at the precise moment that she was most unbalanced and shoved her to the floor. Ichigo dropped on top of her, his knees on either side of her hips and rested his weight on her midsection so she couldn't hardly breathe. Then he leaned forward, pinning her hands on either side of her head, brutally using the pain of her fractured arm against her until she screamed in rage and pain.

"Yield, bitch," he said, his voice low and cold.

"Traitor!" she screamed.

Ichigo pressed his face closer, his nose almost touching hers. His dark hair swept over his shoulder, falling into her eyes and making them water. She twitched her face away from him and he let go of her wounded arm and grabbed her chin in a bruising grip.

"You are defeated. Accept it or I will sit here all goddamn day and make you scream."

"Never!" she shouted and spit into his face.

He didn't react as saliva mixed with her blood dripped down his cheek. "Spoiled little girl," he whispered. "If your father himself hadn't pleaded with me to train you, I wouldn't bother. It's a waste of time to teach females to lead men, to fight in combat. Your only use to the Azaryu clan is to be a breeder. Females like you are better for warming beds, not fighting in battles."

He'd never said such things to her before. She knew Ichigo resented training her, his clanlord's daughter, to take her place with his forces. If anyone should be the one to lead Kashikoto's warriors, it should be him. He was not Azaryu though, a wild inuyoukai who had come to their mountains and pledged his loyalty to her father. He had no clan, no tribe, no bloodline. Only a superiority in battle and the coldest darkest eyes she'd ever seen.

"You don't dare kill me," she whispered.

"Of course I wouldn't kill you," he sneered. "I wouldn't bother. If I were to kill you, I'd make it look like a training accident, then explain to your father that you just hadn't been good enough in the first place. He'd probably believe me, after all, I'm like the son he never had."

That hurt more than she dared show. It wasn't her fault she'd been born a female, her father often remarked loudly that she was everything he wanted in an heir, that he didn't give a damn that she was a daughter instead of a son. But not all of his men felt that way. She heard the whispers of doubt in the halls of their home. Make a bitch lead us in battle? Kashikoto must be losing his mind. If anyone could incite her father's men against them, if anyone could inspire rebellion in the hearts of Azaryu warriors, it would be Ichigo.

She'd never trusted him, not from the first moment she'd seen him. Tall and dark and brutally handsome, mysterious and reticient, nobody should have trusted him at all. But Kashikoto was old and cagey, he knew exactly what kind of potential Ichigo had as a warrior. And Kashikoto was the kind of lord who would use anything to his advantage. Ever since the old Daimyo had died the Azaryu had been pushed to the wall. And Kashikoto was utterly convinced that it was the Daimyo's oldest son, Inutaisho, who had ended the brutal ruler's life.

The new Daimyo was too smart to fall for Kashikoto's traps. Instead he protected his borders ruthlessly and did not attempt to fight the Azaryu on their own ground. Other clanlords rallied to Inutaisho's side and one by one, the Azaryu found that their old allies were deserting them. Inutaisho had continued to send envoys to try and negotiate with the Azaryu for a treaty, but he'd stopped after Kashikoto had sent the last one's head back to him. Now it was getting worse. The Daimyo was going to push them, press the Azaryu into negotiations or declare a full out war to destroy them.

Ichigo looked thoughtful for a moment and eased his harsh grip on Seshiko's face. "It's too bad," he said in a light tone. "If you were male, you probably would have been an unstoppable warrior. As it is, I can barely teach you to defend yourself adequately. If you can't learn to control your temper better than this, and use that Azaryu brain you were born with, you're going to be useless on the field."

Stung, she tried to twist away from him. "I am not useless," she snarled.

Ichigo grinned wolfishly. "No, you aren't useless, Seshiko. At least you're halfway decent looking, I'm sure one day your father will find an appropriate male to marry you off to, seal some kind of alliance. He needs allies right now...not bitch daughters who want to play soldier. You'll learn your place someday. I just pity the poor bastard who gets stuck with you."

With those words, he got up and left her lying on the floor, still panting from the pain. "Clean yourself up," he ordered coldly. "If you want to be a warrior, you've to at least pretend to be as tough as a real inuyoukai. If I hear you went crying to your father like a little girl, I won't be nearly as gentle with you the next time we train together."

Seshiko rested her head against the floor, hot tears of humiliation and pure rage wanted to seep from her eyes. She was a real inuyoukai, she was a real warrior and a true Azaryu. Ichigo would pay for this someday. Someday.

*****

"What!"

Kashikoto closed his eyes. His daughter's voice had a shrill, almost hysterical note to it, one that pierced his delicate inuyoukai hearing. "Now Shi-chan," he admonished. "Hear your father out."

He jumped when a long blade suddenly slammed into the table, bare inches from his hand. "I heard you just fine, father," she said waspishly, her eyes almost glowing with her fury. "You've sold me!"

"About time you were useful," Ichigo put in sullenly.

"You shut up!" she cried, brandishing her claws.

"That is enough," Kashikoto put in coldly. He stood and went to confront his angry daughter, glaring at her until she dropped her eyes. Then he reached out and gently lifted her chin. "I have not sold you, Seshiko," he said, his eyes holding hers. "This is necessary for Azaryu interests. How else can we get inside the Daimyo's household?"

Seshiko's lips trembled slightly but she refused to cry and shame herself further. Her father had just told her that he had entered into a treaty agreement with the lord of the West, their most hated enemy. Of all the inuyoukai clans, the Azaryu tried to stand alone against him, stubbornly refusing to be drawn under his power. For power Inutaisho was, and had the clanlords of the West firmly under his thumb. For the last twenty years they'd been steadily losing ground. The Daimyo didn't advance, but he slowly made it absolutely certain that the Azaryu were cut off. Their allies were unreliable, their forces were insignificant in comparison to what Inutaisho could draw upon.

"Why, father?" she whispered. "How could you put such shame upon me? How could you even think of giving me to that...that...monster?"

"Inutaisho is no monster," Ichigo said, contempt in his voice. "He needs this treaty, needs it to prove to the other clans that he has us contained. It's politics, you stupid girl."

"Ichigo," Kashikoto said warningly. If the demon wasn't this strongest warrior, his most reliable and intelligent advisor, Kashikoto might have had him disciplined for his sharp tongue. The animosity between Ichigo and his daughter wasn't helping her to see reason either. "Perhaps you should excuse us for a few minutes."

The warrior grunted in agreement and swept out of the room, but Kashikoto didn't miss the cruel smirk he leveled at Seshiko before he left. Seshiko didn't miss it either and her cheeks flushed again in anger.

"Shi-chan," Kashikoto said gently. "I know you must be unhappy with my decision, I expected it. But I have need of you, your skills and your courage. There's no other way to get inside his defenses. You must gain his trust, his confidence. Only then will we be able to turn against him and crush him utterly."

She looked away. "You don't want this treaty," she said bitterly. "Why drag me into it? I just want to go back to my command. My raiders have more success against the Daimyo's forces than any other. We just need to hold out, stand our ground. He'll crack, I'm sure of it."

He sighed, running his hand over the dark gray hair that hung in lank strands over his ears. "Daughter, I fear you are too optimistic. I would not concede to the treaty at all if I had a choice. It's the only way to avoid open war with the West."

"Then open war we shall have," Seshiko cried. She spead her arms wide to encompass all of her father's territory. "Better to die out in battle, fighting for Azaryu right and Azaryu tradition. This treaty shames us!"

"No," he said quietly. "It shames me. I do not wish to see our clan die out, even in a glorious battle. I want to see our clan rule the West. That is why I'm asking you to do this. As part of this treaty, Inutaisho must accept you as his consort and the mother of his heir. Once you have produced that child, you need not stay with him. You will not need to even consider it, should our plans advance. Your child will be declared Daimyo in his infancy when we destroy his father."

"I have to bear a child?" she asked hesitantly. She had no interest in motherhood, bearing young was not part of the vision she held for herself. Enduring the touch of a hated enemy when he bedded her was going to be horrifying enough. But to bear his seed as well?

"Bear my grandchild," Kashikoto said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving his daughter a shake. "Bear the next Daimyo, an Azaryu Daimyo. Bear the future of our clan and remember that the child's father won't live long once the babe is born."

She bowed her head, her resolve crumbling. She was a loyal and dutiful daughter, raised to be her own father's heir. He had always told her that she was better than any son, and here she would have the chance to prove it to the entire clan. Even Ichigo, who had taunted her about her usefulness, her potential as a breeder instead of a warrior. She hated him for that.

But he was still the only male to ever best her in battle. Seshiko had proved herself against all who would have doubted her skill, her father's men respected her abilities now, and her utter ruthlessness on the field. But Ichigo respected no one but himself, despite his loyalty to her father, she knew he had been the one to suggest a treaty in the first place. He was the one who had bent her father's ear on the subject, watching as more and more of their young warriors were slain by the Daimyo's forces. Privately, she would rather die than be forced to endure that enemy, let him use her body to produce his heir. If Ichigo was truly Azaryu, he would feel the same about any treaty or farce of alliance.

He was still her sensei, she was still his student. Seshiko squared her jaw and looked her father in the eye.

"I will do as you ask. I will prepare myself as well as I can. I will not let you down, father."


******


"So," he drawled lazily. "It seems you're to be wed, Seshiko. I can't say I don't pity the Daimyo for his lack of choice in his bride."

She stopped, turning to glare angrily at him. "I am loyal to my father," she snapped. "I would never disobey his orders."

Ichigo smirked at her. "Don't worry about it, I've never questioned your loyalty. Your comptence, your intelligence, maybe. But not your loyalty."

"And are you loyal?" she demanded, lowering her chin and facing him belligerently. "You're the one who convinced my father that the treaty was in his best interests. Are you also the once who suggested my part in it?"

Ichigo fixed her with his cold dark eyes. "Of course not. I tried to convince your father that you weren't even up to your part in the task. Although, laying still while Inutaisho mounts you ought to be something even you can handle."

Her face on fire, she drew her dagger. "I'll show you how to lie still," she snarled. "You'll be plenty still when you're dead."

He evaded her headlong attack, dodging neatly and turning aside her blows. "Slow and sloppy," he commented, grinning at her rage. "I do hope for the Daimyo's sake that you're better in bed than you are in combat."

She broke off the attack suddenly, humilation flooding her. "Stop talking about it," she said tightly. "You couldn't understand what I'm feeling."

He raised an eyebrow at her. The girl's posture had changed, her shoulders slumped in defeat as he'd never seen them before. Almost, he pitied her, Seshiko was no concubine and that was the role she was being forced into.

"Don't concern yourself with it," he answered her quietly. "Inutaisho is reputed to be a notorious lover of women. He'll find you pleasing to look at if nothing else and you might not find your duty so unbearable."

"I cannot bear it," she said, her voice hollow. "I despise the idea of going to him...untouched as I am. He'll see it as a victory over me personally, it will please him that I have no choice but in accepting him."

Ichigo shrugged, leaning against the wall with an insolent air. "You don't mean to tell me you are worried about not knowing what to do?"

"It's not that," she snarled. "You think I want that bastard to have the satisfaction of having me first? You think I want him to gloat over my inexperience? I will not be made vulnerable to that man!"

He yawned, looking bored by the conversation. "So do something about it," he sneered. "Call on one of your men to do the service for you. I'm sure any one of your father's warriors would be happy to have the privilige of relieving you of your virginity."

"I will not submit to a man that I can take in battle," she said sullenly, her arms folded over her breasts.

That made him smirk again. Such pride and arrogance in one so young and yet untried. Kashikoto had brought his daughter up to think like a male, value her prowess in battle above all else. She had no interest in feminine concerns and preferred the feel of battle armor against her body rather than a lover's touch. Too stubborn for her own good, he decided.

"You do have a problem then," he said lightly. Ichigo favored her with a patronizing smile. "Perhaps I trained you too well, now you find yourself in a most interesting dilemna. I'm sure you'll find a way to resolve it to your satisfaction."

He prepared to leave her, losing interest in the petty problems of his lord's arrogant daughter. Seshiko was far too accustomed to having her own way, fighting to have it. She had no idea how to compromise or use any kind of tact. In just a few days, she'd begin the journey to meet her new husband. He almost pitied Inutaisho, this girl was not going to make it a pleasant experience, no matter was she untouched or not.

"I have come to a solution," Seshiko said calmly, making him stop and turn to her.

"Really?" he drawled. "Shall I alert your father's guard? Perhaps they'd like to audition for their chance at fucking you."

She shook her head, her bright hair flopping gracelessly around her face. "I have decided," she said stubbornly. "I will not bend to a man who can't beat me in a fight and I need training for this. You will have to be the one."

He wasn't hearing her correctly, he was sure of it. Ichigo dug at one of his ears with a fingertip. "Did I hear you correctly?"

Seshiko nodded. "I don't like it, but as you said, my choices are limited. I am your student, I demand that you prepare me for what I am about to face."

He was incredulous. "Did you just order me to fuck you?" he demanded angrily.

Her gaze remained cool. "I ordered you to prepare me, to assist me. I need to know what to expect. I will not go to my enemy with no knowlege, no experience. I need to know how to deal with what I'm going to have to do."

Ichigo stared at her. "Why should I do this for you?"

"Because I request it."

A request? That wasn't quite like an order, although from Seshiko's tone she obviously expected his obedience. Ichigo looked at her, sizing her up in her ill fitting practice clothing, her polished armor. Her beautiful hair was gathered back from her face in a messy braid and there was dirt on her nose. Seshiko had absolutely no vanity, more of an annoyance that males found her attractive when they should have respected her blade.

"Very well," he said slowly, wondering why he was agreeing to it. Was it simple curiosity, was it temptation? He knew Seshiko as well as he could, had felt her body many times in the rough hand to hand combat they practiced. He couldn't see himself embracing her all the same. But it would prepare her, it might make her duty easier to bear. It might even made her more reliable, more focused on her true mission.

"I will come to your room tonight," he said, his voice brittle. "Prepare yourself for that, I expect you to bathe before I have to touch you."

Her face turned red again. "You insulting bastard," she ground out.

Deliberately, he turned on her and backed her against the wall. "I will not bed a woman that smells like a soldier," he rasped. "Clean yourself, I don't want to smell your sweat and armor. If I'm to teach you how a woman acts in bed, you will by the gods at least try to be a woman."

She nodded harshly. "I will be ready. Do not be late."

Strange girl, Ichigo thought, running his hand over his thick black hair. Strange request and stranger conditions for lovemaking. No doubt she was correct, she needed to know what she was getting into and he was able to instruct her. It would be an experience for the both of them.


*****

All day long, Seshiko cursed. First she cursed her father for putting her in such an unenviable position. By the gods! She was a soldier, his heir, not a bloody concubine or seductress. How dare he choose a path that forced her into such an insulting role. Hadn't she trained hard? Hadn't she worked day and night to perfect her killing abilities? And now, when she finally felt utterly confident in her military skills, Kashikoto reduced her the role of breeder. Just like any other female, as if she couldn't fight with the best of any males.

She cursed herself as well, the twisted humor of fate that had made her born into a female's body instead of a male's. She should have been a male, she would have been an impressive son. Then she cursed Inutaisho, the Lord of the West who had so adeptly met her father's forces in battle. She cursed him for agreeing to this treaty, for forcing it upon them, she cursed him for being her enemy. She'd actually never laid eyes on the man, having fought against his forces on more than one occasion, she had only seen him at a distance. And impressive figure then, from a military point of view. Bright armor, flowing fur pelts, a massive, impossibly huge glowing sword that seemed to steal the very sunlight from the air.

If she'd been capable of feeling fear, she'd have admitted that she was terrified of him. Not from a combat perspective, but on her personal level. That was what she was being given to like a damn trophy? That figure of command and ruthlessness, much more intelligent than the butcher who had preceded him but still every bit as dangerous? What would he do to her? She'd heard the stories of his father's brutality all her life, the way the old Daimyo had tortured Azaryu prisoners for amusement. A soldier deserved a solider's death, a clean execution, not to end their lives in screaming torment because of a monster's whim. Inutaisho's father was no easier on civilians he captured, women and children met equally gruesome ends without a chance of mercy or pity from the victorious lord.

She shuddered. She'd heard stories about what the old Daimyo's men had done to the women they captured, what they had endured before they died. It was sickening. She herself would rather die before suffering such a fate, but in a curious twist, that was what she was going to be expected to endure from her new husband. Her fists tightened. He would not find her an easy target for his perversions even if she was forced to bear his child.

Finally, she cursed Ichigo. Just for being Ichigo and the circumstances that had led them both to this end. As long as he keeps his bloody mouth shut, she cursed to herself. There was no way she could tolerate his stinging barbs and vicious comments while she was also enduring his touch in her most intimate places.

Late in the day, with the shadows creeping and the sunlight leaving long shadows on the ground, she excused herself from her command and headed for the hot springs that were nestled like a secret against the flanks of the mountain. She brought with her a delicate, soft spun robe that had belonged to her mother. No sense in putting back on her stained work clothes and armor after she washed. She wasn't about to give Ichigo a single reason to comment on her appearance or aroma. In fact, the less they spoke the better. Seshiko estimated that what she needed him to do wouldn't take long, perhaps ten minutes or less. She could endure his company, she had to. There was no other choice.

When she reached the spring, she stripped methodically, carefully laying aside her armor and dropping her clothing in a heap. She snatched up the small jar of cleanser and stepped into the spring as if she were marching to her own funeral. She ducked herself in the steaming water to wet her hair and refused to sigh in enjoyment as the hot water worked at the kinks in her muscles. She stood waist deep in the spring and started to yank at the braid that bound her hair. Wet, it did reek of sweat and the hint of battle. Old leather, steel, smoke from the signal fires. Seshiko rather liked the smell, it reminded her of her purpose, that she was not some trophy whore, but her father's daughter, one with a mission that had been given to her because she was the only one of all her father's soldiers that could carry it out.

She would destroy Inutaisho. With her bare hands if she could.

She scrubbed at her hair first, then her body, her nose wrinkling at the pleasant herbal scent of the cleanser. Seshiko preferred to use the same cleanser that her soldiers used. It was scent-free, designed to help mask the natural aroma of an inuyoukai body. For purposes of stealth, it was good to have any advantage in disguising your presence. This stuff smelled too sweet, too pleasant. But it was better than having to listen to a snide comment from Ichigo that her body smelled unfeminine. Seshiko didn't give a damn for feminine vanity, it was useless.

Standing in the water, she looked at herself and grimaced. She knew what she looked like, she was resigned to it as she had been since puberty. Since her body had matured, it had only gotten worse. Seshiko sighed, rubbing herself briskly with the cleanser, washing away the shame of not being what she wanted to be. Her father once described her hair as frozen sunlight, almost embarrassing her to point where she wanted to slink away in shame. Her skin was dusky, not pale as most women seemed to wish, and it had grown darker from her years of working outside in the field of battle. She knew she was considered to be an attractive female, although she dared any male to make such a comment to her face. Then he'd find out how attractive her dagger was when she gutted him for being a fool.

She ran her hands down her body curiously, feeling the smooth taut skin under her rough fingertips. Her breasts had grown to be an annoyance, larger than she would have wished it seemed like she was always trying to find a new way to bind them to keep them out of her way. Her waist was smaller, but muscular as she constantly practiced to keep her stamina and flexiblity at its peak. Her legs were long, slim although rock hard with muscle. She could outrun most men in a race and as a younger woman had enjoyed competing with the fastest of the young men. And beating them regularly, then taunting them about their slowness. Sometimes she'd provoked them into a wrestling match, delighting in using her unusual strength and flexible body to pin them to the ground and shove their noses in the dirt.

When she'd realized some of them were deliberately provoking her into the wrestling matches, that their hands tended to linger in places that had nothing to do with breaking a hold or gaining an advantage in combat, she'd thrown a temper tantrum that was still legendary. That was about the time Ichigo had started training her, when her father realized that ordinary hand to hand combat with other young soldiers was growing more dangerous. She sliced out a boy's eye for daring to cup her breasts when they sparred. One older boy, old enough to know better, had made the pretense of asking her to instruct him in a certain style of close fighting. Then he'd tried to overpower her, pin her to the floor while she writhed to break his hold and used the weight of his body to keep hers trapped. That was perfectly fine with Seshiko, fighting was fighting, but he'd shoved aside her clothing and put his hand between her legs, tried to penetrate her with his fingers while he forced his mouth over hers.

She still felt a cool satisfaction about the shock in his eyes when she'd freed her hands and slit his throat even as his lips pressing against hers.

So then she'd been handed over to Ichigo for her training and that had worked out well. Ichigo didn't care that she was female or that she was Kashikoto's daughter. He didn't pull his punches and never hesitated to use any dirty trick or advantage to humiliate her. It gave Seshiko a decided distaste for losing at anything. He ridiculed her, demeaned her, cursed her and generally was so contemptous of her very existence that Seshiko burned with desire to beat him. That was why she practiced so hard for their sparring matches, that is why she went to bed at night dreaming of putting her blade into his throat. She would do it too, he wouldn't bother with killing her but if she could, she'd see his blood on her hands.

"Sister?"

A soft voice called her out of her grim recollections. It was the voice of her only sibling, the younger daughter of Kashikoto. Asariko came slowly towards her, her expression timid as it always was. Her sister looked much like a younger version of herself, with similar coloring and the same bright hair. But she was no warrior, frightened of everything that had to do with combat. Seshiko still felt nothing but affection for her, nothing but pleasure whenever they met. Her sister made her remember there was more at stake that just her father's power.

"Asariko," she called, getting out of the spring and wrapping her body in the soft robe. "Come and comb out my hair."

Seshiko closed her eyes as her sister's careful hands parted the tangles and smoothed the soft mass. It was a ritual from when they were younger, this grooming. It had bonded them even closer. She accepted that her sister would never be a warrior, but she had some small skills in youki magic and poisons. She would learn eventually.

"I'm frightened for you, sister." Seshiko turned at Asariko's soft comment and took her sister's hand and squeezed it.

"Don't be scared for me," she said in as nonchalant a tone as she could manage. "I'm looking forward to it. We're finally going to get that bastard and I'm going to be the one to do it. I'm proud that father has chosen me for such an important mission."

"But you'll have to be his wife," Asariko said in her timid voice. "I heard father say you will bear the Daimyo's heir. That...that means you will have to be alone with him. Aren't you scared of him?"

"Of course I'm not scared," Seshiko answered shrewishly. She stood up and pushed her little sister towards the path. "Don't say such things. And don't be such a child. I'm Azaryu, I'm more than a match for the likes of him."

Asariko was willing to be led away from the spring, her hand held tight by her sister's. "But they say he's Tai-Youkai, they say he slew his own father to become Daimyo, killed him with a magical sword. I would be scared of such a man."

"You're scared of everything," her older sister scolded. "One of these days you'll learn to show some backbone, even if you want to be frightened."

"Like you?" Asariko asked. "You're never frightened."

Seshiko touched her sister's hair affectionately. "I have no reason to fear. I am Azaryu. And so are you. Remember that when you want to be scared for me. And pity the Lord of the West."