The Great Trial

 

I don’t own InuYasha. Too bad for me :(

Forgive the ensuing angst.

Humanity Sucks: Part II

 

Warm. The wind is icy cold whipping at his hair, but he is so warm. Maybe death is warmer than living; that is almost a comforting thought.  He breathes and the air is cold, but the rest of him just wants to fall back into unconsciousness for a while.

 

However, reality (or common sense) kicks in after a second, and the shock is jarring.  The hidey-cave was freezing cold the last he could remember, snow falling thick and soft in front of the narrow opening.  He couldn’t stand then, couldn’t force himself make an effort at life.  It couldn’t have been that long ago; his palms still stung from a helluva scraping he had gotten from squeezing his skinny human butt through it.  So, still human, has to be, and he is obviously missing some very important events that took him from ice-covered death to the feeling of weightlessness, of furry fuzz, and solid warmth.  Warmth is out of place. Reclining is out of place. Being held in an embrace is out of place. Movement is out of place. What the fuck has he gotten into now?  It crosses his mind, fleetingly, that he hasn’t been held in an embrace since Kagome hugged him...Even Sango only awkwardly patted his back when they left for the slayer’s village.

 

The one that never sleeps on the night of the new moon—exceptions of poison, wounds, and panicky, scantily-clad girls notwithstanding—wakes with a sick jerk; consciousness is sharp as claws in his back and his heart give a sick stutter then pounds hard in his chest with immediate panic and fear.  It is still dark outside...out-outside?!  Head turns.

 

FUCK!

 

A million thoughts zoom through his mind—each demon he has ever faced flash as he wonders which one survived and found him on his human night.

 

But, oh it just gets better from there. Not any of Naraku’s surviving incarnations, not any of his old, familiar foes, not even that smart-ass wolf holds onto the half-demon.  As if his life couldn’t possibly suck enough at this point, hand it to FATE to stick him with yet another incredible obstacle on his human night—another pathway ending in death.  When he realizes why the fluffy white blob is familiar, it’s already too late to do shit about it and his expression falls.  The face above him is none other than the bane to his existence. Sesshomaru—Lord of the Mother-fucking West.  The bastard’s head slowly turns, and his golden eyes take in the human’s face.

 

Struggle is an instinctual response to looming death; he can’t help himself. 

 

The demon Lord holds onto him more firmly with both arms and the help of his white, furred tail (honestly, who could ever mistake his tail for a simple pelt!), never loosing his grip.  He does not allow the hanyou-turned-human to wrench free and fall to his demise on the land below.

 

“Stay calm,” Sesshomaru strains to make his tone emotionless, but he inwardly flinches when it comes out somewhat softly for those cute human ears.  He curses his voice for catching, “you were nearly frozen to death, InuYasha.”

 

At this moment, in the sky where InuYasha can not escape him, he could start the whole sordid story. He could tell the younger about the Elder council, about The Great Trial, about their father hunting this Sesshomaru with a vicious tenacity and vengeance, about his own despised task of testing the hanyou, even about his repeated attempts at freeing InuYasha from a burden that only he, the eldest son, should have had to bare...alas, he cannot. 

 

The full story might help alleviate the eventual fear his brother would suffer due to the night of weakness, but this—in the middle of the night with darkened lands and predators waiting for a feast—is not the time nor place.  He needs to wait until InuYasha is, at least, a half demon again with the strength and skill to make his choice of actions. It is painful for the demon lord to watch, to scent, to feel his younger brother’s immense fear of him—to be left guessing what agonizing thoughts permeated the other’s thoughts.  Is InuYasha preparing himself for death? Is he wondering why Sesshomaru hasn’t dropped him to his ultimate demise?  Where is the fire and passion always present in their previous battles? Is this fear due to his human night? First, assure the younger of his safety. Second, warmth and food. Third, the story will come out.

 

Decision made, the demon lord simultaneously concentrates on his scent and hikes the malnourished boy higher against his chest to put his face right into the niche of Sesshomaru’s shoulder and neck. Specifically, he holds his brother’s face closer to his neck in order for the younger to pick up the subtle change.  The human would unwittingly become calmer, drowsy again without picking out the distinctness or that Sesshomaru is manufacturing the underlying aroma.  More so, InuYasha might also react less anxious and with less struggle just knowing he had access to one of Sesshomaru’s vulnerable point; well, he might not struggle, but the rough and somewhat crude attitude would begin aaaaany minute. Holding his breath in anticipation, the demon lord waits.

 

“Sess…ho…maru?” The voice is rusty, husky, and cracking. Something in his tone nearly encites a wince of sympathy. The consistent reminder, however, dictates not a hint of his empathy outwardly shows.  An abrupt change of character will make the younger more suspicious, not particularly forgiving or understanding.  This will have to be a delicate process, a slow process.  The demon lord sighs gently, a bare exhale. Breathing in, not surprising, he immediately scents panic and the rise of adrenaline pumping through human veins exuding from every pore of the half-asleep hanyou in his hold.  Against his re-grown left arm, he feels the dull thuds of InuYasha’s heart beat pick up rhythm through his back. Slow, indeed.

 

“Yes, otoutu. Be calm.” The Lord’s mind races with possibilities of what to say in order to keep his brother from making a stupid and lethal leap. Ah, take the route of the honorable ruler: “I have recently returned home to find that someone has been protecting villages in my kingdom.  All reports seem vaguely familiar in description of the vigilante and of his style. It seems you have been busy after the demise of Naraku.”  With effort to appear non-chalant, Sesshomaru mentally gives himself a nod for quick thinking.

 

The voice is that bastard’s, sure, but not dripping with malice and hate?  Is he dreaming? Or having a nightmare?  Has the world ended? Have the seven hells risen up and taken over the world? Are pigs flying...?  The dazed human actually glances around the sky to make certain no swine are perched on clouds or frogs falling from the heaven rather than snow...

Nope. Everything seems normal.

 

Within the folds of the fluffy thing (that makes Sesshomaru look like a fricking sissy-boy (no matter what excuse he used), InuYasha pinches himself.

 

Ouch. Ouch means: shit, shit, holy ever-mother-lovin’ shit. Palms still hurt, cheek still stings, and (now that he’s awake enough to notice) joints still ache from the recent cold. He is still human, and he is really being carried by the guy that shoved a poison hand through InuYasha’s gut without a pause. His heart starts racing with the implications. They must be on the cloud made of Sesshomaru’s Ki or youkai energy, which mean they are probably fairly high up and the fall will probably kill him. So, he’s figuratively fucked.  He is human, weak, and defenseless. Sesshomaru is going to have a field day.

 

A low rumbling begins from the chest he is pressed against, vibrating gently against the frightened human’s upper body.  Nevertheless, survival instinct kicks in first and foremost. Usually, he would take stock of everything, everything and anything, in arm’s reach to use as a weapon, a diversion, or hiding place—especially during the new moon.  However, only sky and space is around him.  He can reach Tetsuaiga, oh wait. His fingers find a sword hilt, but it is not the sword hilt he is accustomed to. Even as a human, he can normally feel the hum of his father’s legacy. The hum currently against his palm is altogether a different—well, animal. Tensaiga... won’t help me out, it can’t cut, and there’s no way I can handle Bakusaiga as a human.  Well, damn. He’s got me...This might be my last stand. Try stabbing him with Tetsuaiga and hope the shield saves me from the fall...?

 

Then again, his face is lying in the niche of shoulder and throat… right against Sesshomaru’s neck and within snapping distance to the jugular vein.  Even human, his teeth were sharp enough to do serious damage; however, he didn’t know if he could wound Sesshomaru badly enough to give him time to get the hell away (preferably far enough away to live until daybreak).  Moreover...the fall would really be the perfectly shitty ending to the night. 

 

The scared but calculating human is beginning to flush with proximity as he comes awake enough to realize what is happening.  And that his half-brother, the one that had cursed him from birth, is holding him in a strangely tight and close embrace.  He isn’t being crushed against the spiky armor or held as far away from the Lord’s snooty person as possible. He isn’t sprawled on the cloud at Sesshomaru’s feet or tossed over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

 

Something is going on; there is some reason his half-brother saved him from freezing, and the human is certain it is not going to be the rationale of any sane person.  What could Sesshomaru want him for besides hoping to gain Tetsuaiga, killing him, or....well, killing him painfully?  It had been years since his brother had crossed his path, and the last time they had met was not the best of circumstances.  Sure, they managed to kill Naraku, but Sesshomaru left immediately after, and InuYasha  still doesn’t believe in the blood-loss induced hallucinations of his speaking to his older brother, so the blood-feud between them is still in effect...right? 

 

He sighs, hope for the best and prepare for the worst.  He palms the hilt of his sword, finally, and he is already planning strategies and contingencies for an escape, tactics for survival until day break and also ways he could loose his brother once they hit the ground (or his half-brother drops him).  Either scenario is inevitable; Sesshomaru wouldn’t be holding the taint of the family unless he has a damn good reason—maybe taking InuYasha to a primo hunting spot (in which the temporary human would be prey?). He isn’t as fast as his brother as a hanyou and sure as hell not as a human, but the bag of stink pellets, a small bladder full of demon poison, small but sharp porcupine demon quills, and other such things Sango gave him last time would provide a useful deterrent.  He needs long enough to get away and find a flowing body of water to hide his scent, give the bastard a good chase. Even as a human, InuYasha refuses to be helpless, to just lie down and die without a fight.  He lays against that shoulder and breathes deep and even, mentally preparing to make a move.

 

Wait. The sudden voice in the back of his mind perks up, the loudest of his divisions on this night: Escape? Run? Hide?...for what!? To live another couple of decades alone? To help out some fucking humans that’ll turn around and stone you to death? For your own kin to just turn around and slaughter you later? There’s nothing left to fight for, to survive for, remember? Sesshomaru will eventually be the death of you, so why keep going?  As a human, his emotions are more acute, and the seeds of doubt sewn long ago are taking root now that his older brother had reappeared.  The death clock is ticking again.

 

InuYasha remains silent and unmoving, every muscle tense as they fly through the night while his own mind works against him.  The stars pass too fast for him to get a good sense of where they are or where they may be heading.  Then, he is glancing over Sesshomaru’s shoulder and trying to get a handle on where they are and how far up.  Would the fall really kill him?...Did it even matter, really?  There was no Kagome to go back to.  There was only the empty well, Goshinboku, and his friends that had already started their lives without room for him—the outcast half-breed.  He had nothing left but his sword, his fire rat robe, and, at least, his honor.  The only things that belong to him, that he would die with...however, the matter of dying with his honor intact was unlikely anyway; as his own brother had pointed out on more than one occasion, abominations didn’t get the luxury of having honor. 

 

The human remains tense but slowly resigns himself mentally to his fate; if he is supposed to die on the night his tainted blood had control, give the Tetsuaiga to Sesshomaru—well, fate dictates that all the fighting would be a moot point in the end.  But, the young demon InuYasha had become since his impetuous decision to steal the Shikon no Tama (when he assumed Kikyo had betrayed him) only demanded he not give in easily. If Sesshomaru wants his life or his Tetsuaiga, then the half-demon would make the asshole work for it. He would prove Sesshomaru wrong—he has already decided not to beg for his life.  No matter the pain, the torture, the burn of acid.  His personal code would not allow for less; he would die with his honor intact.  He would die as the son of his father.  With a deep breath, the human slowly conquers his fear.

 

Sesshomaru breathes deeply, and even in the hard winds around them, he keenly scents and is disturbed at the pheromones suddenly coming from his brother to over-lay his initial panic and fear.  Agony and despair.  The scents are a bitter tang, like rotting fish and acid to the demon lord’s sensitive nose. Hn, obviously he needs to speak, to say something of importance rather than remain silent.  This human InuYasha is more susceptible to emotions and impulsive decisions than the half-demon, and that reckless nature (while saving him during some battles) might be the end of his brother, especially if he does something incredibly stupid in an attempt to free himself.

 

Judging by the layers of scents, an impulsive decision lies not far ahead.  The feel of a racing heart beat, the scent of adrenaline flowing from every pore, the obvious tightening of muscles to leap, all a similar combination coming from the older brother’s memory when he escaped after InuYasha cut off his arm.  From his form of light, Sesshomaru saw the younger boy watching him fly away with hurt eyes and an agonizingly sad smell mixing with InuYasha’s natural scent…It turns his stomach to this day.

 

“It seems I am in your debt.  You are the much revered hanyou savior of the Western Lands as well as the Great Warrior that destroyed Naraku.”  He tries to keep his tone soft, without inflection, but for the first time in his life—the demon Lord is having problems keeping his calm and empty façade in place.  Especially with that scent coming off his only remaining kin. 

 

“And, it seems I have come at quite an opportune time to express my appreciation for your selfless actions, InuYasha.”

 

Sesshomaru pulls back a little to look down at the face no longer lying but hovering over his shoulder as if ready to dodge at any second.  The violet eyes, so like and unlike his brother’s normal golden gaze, are wide with some new and unknown emotion hovering in them—slowly, the scents begin to regulate and disburse in the wind whipping by them. 

 

InuYasha, however, reels. He actually said my name… without saying ‘die’ immediately afterwards. I think it’s the first time in my life he’s ever… just said it. And like that? There’s something in his tone, I can’t place it at all…. Is this some kind of trick? It has to be, why else would he thank me? I’m the bane to his existence, the taint in the bloodline—what the fuck is this? Savior? Great Warrior? What the hell happened to him?

 

The human swallows at the scrutiny and realizes he’s been looking too long; prodding an Alpha dog with a challenge is a stupid move even he doesn’t want to attempt. The younger of the two averts his gaze, still disturbed at the very different way his brother is acting—something obviously isn’t right, but without his superior senses and strength, he’s at a disadvantage.

 

“Why,” he clears the scratchy baritone from his throat, “haven’t you dropped me yet? I know my ass ain’t that heavy and all but... you hate me an’ stuff, at least last time I checked.”  Even saying that much hurt his ill-used vocal chords, but he still prepares for the eventual pull of gravity when Sesshomaru would surely do now that he had asked.  This is just a test to make sure InuYasha is dealing with his real half brother.  Compliments and appreciation are certainly not his brother.

 

Instead, Lord Sesshomaru increases his calming scent (attributing InuYasha’s apparent transformation to human for not allowing the effect to be immediate) and lowers his head slightly to talk directly in the human ear.  He feels his brother tense slightly at fangs within close proximity to his jugular, and the pain of that mistrust feels like an arrow spear in his chest. 

 

There is a reason Lord Sesshomaru had always used such fast techniques on his younger brother; not in order to beat the hanyou or prove some idiotic sense of supremacy, it was but to save them both the pain of drawing the fights out.  Moreover, to save himself the agony he is feeling at this very moment.  In essence, Sesshomaru struck before what he was doing could fully register; his clawed hand through the abdomen was just such an instance; striking an insane InuYasha down before he could slaughter more innocents as a rabid full-demon is yet another.  No, seeing the rage and disappointment in InuYasha’s eyes while he had to go on sprouting all those ridiculous lies about half-breeds and weakness (especially when he’d personally seen how strong his younger brother could be), and still lashing out with the scent of his family’s blood in his nose…all of it, all these years of fighting, had made Lord Sesshomaru suffer nearly as much as the hanyou.  How InuYasha could never scent the putrefying aroma of his lies always made the demon lord wonder if InuYasha was just deluding himself as much as Sesshomaru was.

 

Suddenly, there is a weak struggle of arms against the white tail that is wrapped around the younger.  It makes the demon Lord blink, realizing he’s been staring with some expression on his face that might not have been completely neutral. InuYasha’s panic has heightened, the scent worse than rotted, spoiled meat in his nose.  Bile rises in the back of Sesshomaru’s throat.  He breathes gently to focus only on the natural, underlying scent of family and leans in, almost allowing their foreheads to touch.

 

“This Sesshomaru vows, his word of honor, that ot harm will come to you, brother.  This Lord swears it.  You are safe within his care.”

 

The words are vehement, and a pull from Sesshomaru’s memory of his father speaking the same words so many years ago... Out in the wilds of the Western Lands, the young demon faced his father for what he believed was the final time and felt himself looking into the face of his own death.  His meager rags of clothing would be no match against the sword Sou’ung, his claws and poison not nearly powerful enough to take the staunch Inu no Taisho and his Tetsuaiga down.  However, he would not have just laid down his life to die. He was prepared to make this final fight a fight to the finish...Wind Scar or no. But, his father had not moved against him, had not drawn a sword, but had reach out one hand and made the same vow, “I swear, upon my word of honor, Sesshomaru. I will not harm you.  Never again, my son. I vow it.”

 

Sesshomaru had not believed him then—not for a second.

 

The hanyou’s eyes shoot open, he pulls back to look at his brother’s face.  The normally cold or angry expression isn’t there, and the younger brother is thrown completely off-kilter in mid-struggle.  Sesshomaru is watching him with something intense in his eyes, emotions churning inside the normally cold demon Lord.  InuYasha is looking at him unabashed, speechless.  He doesn’t even register that this is the closest he had ever been to his own brother without bleeding first.

 

Instead:  Holy shit.  This isn’t Sesshomaru. Can’t be sure without my senses, but there’s no possible way this could really be the guy that’s tried to kill me my whole life.

 

“Safe?” He repeats dumbly, voice still husky with ill-use “safe? This from the guy that ripped a pearl out of my eye? A very painful ripping, mind you.” His human eyes must be deceiving him (probably from lack of food and warmth) but he swears he saw his cold brother flinch. Impossible—he’s got to be hallucinating. Maybe he ate some bad mushrooms...? But Sesshomaru is still giving him an expectant look. “Now look, I’m not the smartest guy on the island, granted, but I’m not a complete moron, contrary to popular opinion. Come clean, you bastard. What’s this the hell about?”

 

The pause is staggering—the younger braces himself for the abrupt lack of support in mid-air. Test 2: calling him a bastard is surely going to get InuYasha a free flight through the air.

 

But instead, Sesshomaru’s hold doesn’t even falter.  “There…is much to discuss, little brother. Not now, but soon, though.  This Sesshomaru is taking you to the palace where you will be warm and well-fed until you turn back into your natural form, then there is something you must know.  Nothing shall harm you until then, your brother gives you his word InuYasha.”

 

There it is again, in the back of Sesshomaru’s mind—a flash of the past.  The face of his father, without disgust and disdain, promising, swearing on his oath, that the blood-feud between father and son was finally over.

 

The bitter twinge of panic, again, starts emanating, the adrenaline cancelling out the demon lord’s calming scent and removes his dead father’s face from his mind’s eye.  But, Sesshomaru knows the reaction his half-brother will inevitably have when InuYasha replies with, “Not there. I don’t like the idea of being demon food.  Leave me in the woods until dawn, then you can fuckin’ talk until your armor rusts for all I care.”  Making his sore throat work, Inuyasha tries in earnest to get his arms free from the tail wrapped around him.  He knows what’s coming, or at least he has a pretty damn good idea.  Something like: “Ungrateful half-breed!” or “I offer you warmth and you reject it, little brother? How very unworthy you are to carry father’s blood.” Or even something more cunning: “I would gladly trade you a night of warmth for Tetsuaiga if you are undecided.”

 

His hands and feet are tingling as he prepares for the drop. Instead:

 

“This Sesshomaru will not leave you in the woods. It is winter, and you will freeze to death if you are left in the wilds again. This Sesshomaru cannot reward you for protecting his lands if you are dead. Hn.” He glances down at the human with that mask of calm aloof,” and this armor is made of demon bone and steel, handed down by our father. It will not rust, no matter how much you need to spew profanities and nonsense, or even how long I speak.”

 

What? The human’s heart stutters. Wait…What?!  Not Sesshomaru. Maybe? He’s so surprised at the somewhat civil tone and lack of ‘die’ that he’s doubting his eyes. Without his senses, InuYasha couldn’t be sure either way.

 

Hesitantly, his pulse thudding in his ears,“I won’t die in the woods.  I’ve survived worse…Sesshomaru, I can’t go there like this.  It would be signing my own death warrant. ”  Idiotically, InuYasha sees the irony in all this—asking his brother to abandon him in the present day time when the first time he was discarded like trash nearly destroyed him.  The first time he’d come across Sesshomaru, the demon lord had sneered at him, deserted him, belittled him as a curse upon the name of Inu no Taisho... The child in him that had wanted, needed family, never recovered from that first encounter; it had set the stage for the rest of his life.

 

“I will make it safe for you, InuYasha.”

 

Something in the younger boy’s chest gave a massive lurch while his thought reaffirmed suspicion: Warning. Warning. Warning. This is not the guy that shoved his poison claw through your back.

 

And yet, he presses his face into his brother’s neck again to keep Sesshomaru from witnessing his further degradation.  InuYasha’s pride will not allow him to let Sesshomaru see him choked up even if it was only some shape shifting demon trying to lure him into some trap or another.  Like with the Un-Mother, the tiny speck of hope, of his only remaining family accepting him or showing him some kind of compassion, within InuYasha could never make him a true skeptic. A realist, however, is another matter.

 

“I don’t know what the trick is,” he begins quietly, shakily, but knows his brother’s superior hearing will pick his words out of the wind, “but you could just take the damn sword.  We’ve almost killed each other over it for years, and that is not what our father wanted.  I won’t fight about it anymore, especially not tonight.”

 

“This has nothing to do with Tetsusaiga, little brother.” The demon lord replies close to the human’s ear. His chest is hurting from the very true point about their father; he would be ashamed Sesshomaru used the Tetsuaiga as an excuse to fight—particularly after he learned the sword kept his brother from going insane and slaughtering everyone and everything in sight.  However, in order to find the sword for his younger brother to defeat Naraku, he had no choice but to pull the pearl from his eyes and make InuYasha use the sword to its full abilities.  In return, the hanyou protected those he cared about and Sesshomaru helped in shaping InuYasha for greatness, regardless of the tactics used to drive him.

 

The younger sighs against Sesshomaru’s neck, and the demon Lord shudders delicately. 

 

“Then you obviously aren’t my brother.” Sesshomaru’s chest tightens when he catches those words. “Or, this is about torturing me…you’re too late though,” finally, the scent starts to overcome him.  Gingerly, InuYasha’s body starts relaxing into his tail again.  “Not much more anyone can do to me.”

 

The minute he says it, the human wishes the words back because he realizes it isn’t true.  A sickening, gore-filled slideshow flashes through his mind for long agonizing seconds.  Stewing in poison for a few days, slowly dying, disintegrating by inches; constant burning rods overlay scars and welts from the burn before it; long strokes of a poison whip cutting into the flesh of his back that attempts to draw out cries and pleas for mercy. He had even heard tale of male demons raping another male captive in the attempt to break a powerful spirit.  Surely Sesshomaru must have some little sadistic torture chamber in his dungeon just waiting for a fucking half-breed stain on the glorious name of the Inu no Taishou.  InuYasha swallows thickly, waiting for his brother to make some sick innuendo alluding to a world of pain awaiting him in the Western Palace.  In his human condition, there would be no way to escape or fight. As a hanyou, he stood little chance as it is.

 

The demon Lord’s expression changes, unbeknownst to the boy nuzzled into his body.  He does not reply but tightens his hold a little and presses his cheek into the top of the human’s head, unknowingly conveying comfort.  This is what the last five years of loneliness has wrought upon the younger; the fire and spirit gone. A shell of his former brother remains for Sesshomaru to attempt to salvage.

 

“This Sesshomaru wishes to do nothing to you, other than repay you for the service you have provided to the lands of our father,” the Lord found himself saying without thought and emotion.  His earlier slips, simple changes in his attitude, already had InuYasha’s suspicions and mistrust.  Rather, the demon lord’s logical mind worked to find an acceptable reason that would fit the boy’s image of him thus far.  Revealing the truth about the council and The Great Trial would definitely have to wait.  “There are no hidden plots to kill you or take our father’s legacy, simply put, you are deserving of a reward for your sacrifice.  No less would b done for any in these lands that put themselves at risk to fight for the empire.”  There, let that soothe the boy’s pride and understandable reservations.

 

Not believing any of this for a minute, the human simply remains silent in the demon lord’s half embrace.  The fall would kill him and fighting is useless as he was; the only logical choice is to wait for the Truth.                                                                                                                                                                          

*~~~

Never once (in his memory) has the hanyou been to the home of his father; the great palace of the Western Lands, Sesshomaru’s home when he took over the title on the day of the hanyou’s birth.  Of course, InuYasha had heard multiple stories and descriptions from Myoga as well about some of his father’s more famous battles near the borders.  What he’d heard from the old flea did not prepare him for the fortress that appeared through the clouds.

 

Build into the mountain, the Western Palace was splendor and security in one foul swoop.  Cut into the mountain-face, spanning the rock, the palace is protected with a combination of demon and human magic along with soldiers housed in the barracks carved at the base.  Even in the dead of night, his human eyes could pick out the torches lit at the base and the top walkways and turrets with tall shadows moving along in a march. The haze, more than simple mist but magic that made even his human hackles rise, misted the rock face in an ethereal glow off the fire light.

 

Regardless, the banners of the Inu no Taishou splashed white and red against the dark rock and wood, interrupting the gleam off the balconies and turrets.  It is a massive structure, and the human’s dull eyes could still make out the intricacies and carvings of the palace in torch-light.  He let out a small gasp in appreciation as some strange emotion welled up within him, replacing the dark premonition he had about the situation.  Even if Sesshomaru had brought him into a trap, at least he can say he has finally seen the home of his father.  The hanyou turned human realizes he can cope with what he believed would be his impending death now that he has finally laid eyes on a vital piece of his father, something just as substantial as the fang or the graveyard housed in his eye. 

 

Sesshomaru’s Ki cloud hovers before moving along the carved buttresses and few yet ornate balconies that line the outside, seemingly delicate with vines carved from stone by an expert hand.  The curving wing of the royal family is his destination; his own room will suffice for the night.  He has plenty of incense along with his natural Alpha scent to mask his brother’s human aroma.  Rin’s natural smell in the room just down the hall would also help keep others from becoming suspicious. A mere glance down makes the demon lord catch a breath at the intense scrutiny on InuYasha’s face.  His brother, to Sesshomaru’s knowledge, had not been back to the home of his ancestors since he was a mere babe in his mother’s arms. Of course he would want to see his ancestral home in all its many splendors.

 

“When you return to your other form, this Sesshomaru will show you the home of our father,”

 

The human doesn’t reply; he does not need to.  The thumping of his heart, the distinct scent of curiosity and myriad of emotions tell Sesshomaru all he needs to know about his overwhelmed younger brother.  The demon lord merely lets his feet touch down on the top of the balcony outside his personal quarters and allows the cloud to dissipate with the rest of the mist.  He gingerly lowers the human to stand (watching carefully in case weakness from malnutrition would make maintaining gravity difficult) while his tail limply uncurls.  He faces his younger brother, an arm’s width apart, without striking for the first time in over one hundred and fifty years... On general reaction, the lord very nearly strikes out in habit. His muscles even tense for a blow before he reins himself and his control back.  Arms deceptively loose at his sides, he merely waits for the eventual blow-up.

 

InuYasha feels the warmth fall away, and the cold stone beneath his bare feet reminds him how cold he was only a short while ago.  While the carved balcony is big enough for both them to stand on with room to move around (and to maneuver should he need to), he is also reminded how much taller Sesshomaru is than him in his human form.  He is literally chest height, the top of his head meeting the lowest spikes on his brother’s armor.  Yet, the human feels better on his feet and facing the demon of nightmares, the aristocratic assassin. 

 

“A hundred years before I was sealed to a tree, I defended the people of the Western Lands,” InuYasha starts now that he is not hundreds of feet in midair.  “You didn’t come for me then or during the times I almost got killed by Naraku or even after he was dead.” The human’s rusty voice is warming up with a spark of his old self, “so I cannot help but wonder why the hell you would bother now. Not that I’m incredibly ungrateful for the bonds of fraternal support thus far.”  This time, he gives Sesshomaru the full weight of a violet-eyed stare—eyes so very familiar. 

 

The ghost of Izayoi snakes up in the demon lord’s memory for only a few seconds and then dissipates.

 

“Haven’t you learned anything about fate in your time, little brother?”  The demon lord answers instead, “At times, some events must unfold as the universe deems it time to be so.  Now is the time this Sesshomaru returns from the brink of war to our lands and find you have taken up my duty as lord.  Never before have you bothered with the peasantry of this land other than for your own engagement or means.”  The demon lord sweeps closer to his brother and even bends at the waist to put them eye level.  “Little brother, the time is right.”

 

InuYasha pauses, looking directly in his brother’s golden gaze as Miroku-esque sentiments surprise the hanyou.  “It is the will of the universe, InuYasha, to dictate when the time is right...”

 

Nostalgia rises up in his chest as a sense of déjà vu overtakes the emotionally-susceptible human.  He actually has to glance away, folding his arms in his haori sleeves, and looking out of the balcony into the night.

 

“Only because you say, right Sesshomaru?  You say you are going to do the honorable thing after all this time?  Does it really matter why I went and helped people out?  Never did before, when we were on the road to killing Naraku.  Why now?”

 

“I have already told you why, little brother.  You are welcome to enter my home with warmth and safety.” InuYasha glances over his shoulder to see the balcony door is open by the flat of Sesshomaru’s hand.

 

“You swear—“

“This Sesshomaru swore you would come to no harm while in his care. I will swear it even now.  On my honor as the ruler of the Western Lands, you will not be harmed by this Sesshomaru or any under his rule.”

 

Fists clench as the human makes a split second decision.  Even if is brother is telling an elaborate lie or if torture waits for him, it wouldn’t matter in the long run.  No one would mourn him anyway, not anymore.

 

~~~  

Sesshomaru’s suite of rooms is incredibly not what InuYasha would have expected.  No torture tables or enemies roasting over the big, open fire, hell, not even a head on a pike or a case full of trophies from winning fights.  This could have been a normal office and meeting room.  The rough stone floor has several animal pelts spread around for warmth, a small table and three chairs set off to one side for private meetings and a large, solid oak desk (carved from a demon tree, the hanyou could feel the demonic aura even as a human; must have been a helluva tree) lines against one wall closest to the door.  The fireplace, nearly as tall as he was, is burning intently with a pile wood that does not seem to ash away.  Above the great fireplace is the clearest look InuYasha has ever seen of his father’s face.  The half-frozen young man simply stares up at it, not moving.

 

The Inu no Taisho stands with regal grace in his full armor and two tails; the three swords all have a place in his obi.  InuYasha absorbs all the details, from the length of his father’s hair (worn in a traditional top knot) to the demon markings on his cheeks to each piece of armor to the sword hilts at his waist.  His father’s eyes, golden like his and Sesshomaru’s, are painted with cold intent and the merest hint of a snarl making his upper lip curl and the fangs bared on one side of his mouth.  It was his father preparing for war.  Even without knowing for certain, InuYasha feels it through the paint—his father’s demonic battle aura is so powerful it permeates, transcends time.  His heart stutters again but for a completely different reason.

 

“He was the most revered ruler of our bloodline,” Sesshomaru says from InuYasha’s right; the human didn’t even hear him move.  With the shadows thrown from the fire, Sesshomaru looks so very different; only half his face is visible—one golden eye glints.  “When I took over the responsibilities, war broke out all over the lands.” InuYasha glances at his brother’s face, but the demon lord is looking at the painting.  “I did not take the title, ‘Inu no Taisho,’ for that was his title and no other could fulfill his place.  I am simply Lord of the Western Lands.”

 

Test three: “So, this is him?  The father that died so I could live?” The human blinks up at the portrait, already aware of the shape of his father’s face, and waits patiently for Sesshomaru to strike out in a ridiculously fast motion that he wouldn’t even see coming.  Only talk of their mutual father could get Sesshomaru riled up. Just point out the obvious primary reason why his brother hates him will soon incite a riot of epic proportion.

 

A pause, InuYasha shifts his weight.

 

“Yes, little brother.  This is the man that gave his life for you and your mother to live.  The stories of his power and prowess are somewhat under-rated.  Some time perhaps, we shall discuss the best ones should you desire to hear them.  I highly doubt Myoga has given you anything of substance and fact.”

 

Nothing.  Not even the twinge of a hand.  InuYasha is almost disappointed at the lack of response, but he watches closely as Sesshomaru moves to the small table and gestures to several covered dishes.  “This Sesshomaru did have a meal prepared for you as well as tea.  Will you join him?” The demon lord seems to flow like wind as he settles on the side closest to the door and begins to set up a for real tea ceremony. 

 

InuYasha had never been one to prepare a tea ceremony and had only been invited to one (that his mother performed for the Elder men of her clan).  He had witnessed the tea ceremony performed numerous times in human and demon society alike—both in the ro and furo seasons—and Sesshomaru, as a host and political leader without a female mate, would certainly know how to perform the tea ceremony...but, for him...?  The tea ceremony symbolizes warm reception and respect for honored guests (or so the half-demon had always interpreted it). This evening seems to be going beyond strange.

 

Gingerly, the human lowers himself to sit across the table from his brother, who is diligently pouring powdered tea into the two dainty cups and using the whip brush to stir the tea.  Sesshomaru’s expression does not change while he finishes and pours the tea into each cup.  Just from watching the upper class, InuYasha knows how to pick up the tea cup and hold it using both hands.  However, he is not fooled.  As his brother raises the cup and drinks, InuYasha watches his throat to make sure he swallows before allowing the tiniest sip to pass through his cold lips and make a trace through his body.  The demonic lord would not suffer from most poisons, so InuYasha is screwed if the tea or food is indeed fatal anyway.  He drinks deeply, enjoying the warmth spreading through him.

 

The two share an uncomfortable silence while a second serving of tea is poured and enjoyed.  Without a word, Sesshomaru slides a covered platter to the center of the table and lifts the lid.  Underneath is, piping-hot, bowl of noodles, sides of beef, chicken, pork, vegetables, and rice.  On smaller plates are delicate, speckled eggs and various fruits he had never before seen (which is absurd, the half-demon had traveled in the wilds all over the island and had—or so he thought—seen every kind of fruit the Western Lands had to offer).  He sees the yellowish fruit and the scent, seemingly acidic, is still appetizing.

 

The large platter and all those appetizing little plates are pushed toward the younger, “Eat your fill, little brother.”

 

That is all he needs. His human fingers can work chopsticks just fine.

 

InuYasha eats slower than he would have in the wilds or with his old pack. Partially, he is still recovering from almost freezing to death, and his hands still hurt from the cold.  The other reason is that some part of him recoils at being called a ‘filthy mongrel’ or an ‘uncouth beast’ by his perfectly mannered older brother.  As the old days before the Jewel, he had returned to the scavenger mentality: eat it before something else does.  But why irritate Sesshomaru unnecessarily by eating like he’s starving (even though he is)? Besides, if the food is poisoned, eating slower will just give it time to work—or so the exhausted human thinks to himself.  He munches on some meat while his brother stands from the table and moves to light some incense by the altar on the mantle that rests under their father’s portrait.  It gives the hanyou time to integrate the events that have happened thus far as well as time to study the adjoining rooms.

 

Very different than the human homes and mansions he has seen (especially when Miroku suddenly ‘felt’ the presence of dangerous spirits at the most luxurious house in the village they happened to be passing through), his brother’s room are not made with shoji (sliding doors) and tatami (padded flooring) of traditional and wealthy homes.  Rather, the stone ceilings are taller than most human dwellings, the stone floors covered with carefully and beautifully woven mats of demon spider silk, and large, thick wooden doors (held to the stone by iron hinges) cover the entrances to the other rooms.  Several chairs in a semi-circle around the fireplace are not floor seating but are heavily padded seats.  This room itself, seemingly the demon lord’s private audience room, is larger than most peasant homes.

 

And Sesshomaru...The demon lord stands by the altar and stares up at the portrait, apparently lost in his own thoughts.  With impeccable poise, his brother hasn’t physically changed, ramrod straight spine, flowing white and red robes under the armor.  However, something other than physical is different.  The air of constant danger, anger, and revulsion isn’t so obvious in the lord’s demeanor.  Usually, the younger’s hackles are always up when his brother makes an appearance; usually, he suspects claws in his back at every turn; usually, he suspects deception since the Un-Mother episode.  That incident still makes his anger rise, but the human simply eats the free food.

 

From out of nowhere, the demon lord finally has a strike of brilliance; one that will give him ample time to plan and prepare for the Truth to come out.  It will even give him plenty of time before his brother’s next birthday when the Elders dictated InuYasha be brought before them.

 

“Pray tell, little brother, what it will take to make you take up the Tetsuaiga again?”  The tone is vaguely bored;  the message anything but.

 

Looking at his brother’s empty expression turned to their father’s image, InuYasha is at a loss. “ ‘Take up the Tetsuaiga again’? I’m not dead here, Sesshomaru. I am alive, and I have been taking up the fang.” Is this yet another indication of a shape-shifter?

 

Finally, the demon lord turns his gaze, and the eyes are calling him a liar. “This is no joking matter, InuYasha.  Answer the question I have set before you.  What will it take to make you fight once again?”

 

After a second of silence, the human sets his chopsticks down, “I thought that’s why you brought me here, because I’m fighting in the Western Lands—kicking ass and not taking names.”

 

“Your human morals and the effect the strangely-dressed miko has had upon you are what drive you to fight, InuYasha.” The demon lord picks up one of the furs over his chair and strides forward to lay it across his brother’s shoulders, not caring at all for the slightly blue tint still on the human’s lips.  He takes up his seat across the table from his brother once more, “what will it take for you and the sake of your own honor to take up the Tetsuaiga for a cause?”

 

The human blinks, unconsciously adjusting the fur around the still-numb parts of his body, “I suppose a cause I can believe in would make me fight,” he states hesitantly.  He does not mention a pack would make him fight again; as far as he is concerned, he would no longer take any (weak or strong) along his life’s path. Not when it is fraught with violence, prejudice, and hatred for his dirty blood.

 

“Hn, and what if this Sesshomaru asks you to take up your sword and fight at my side against the enemies that threaten our lands, even threaten the little human village you constantly return to?  Would that be reason enough for you to truly fight as you did against the villain Naraku?”

 

Speechless? Him? Is his older brother, the one that named InuYasha the dirt to their bloodline, actually asking for help? Wait, maybe pigs are flying and hell has frozen over. Maybe he just missed out on his own death or the end of the world.

 

Instead, the human counters with a question of his own, “and why would you ask for my help of all people?  You’re the most powerful demon in Japan, and you wouldn’t lower yourself to ask me, the tainted, bastard half-brother, to help you if the damn invaders were knocking down your door. So, I suppose it’s a useless point, eh big brother?”

 

At this, the demon lord stares him down with something feral in his golden eyes; a feral look InuYasha has seen before and knows to fear.  It’s the look Sesshomaru gets when he is about to attack because his honor has been besmirched.  It’s the poison claw to the face look.  However, the human doesn’t look away; he is still bound and determined to face death at his brother’s hand head-on if that is what fate truly has in store.

 

“This Sesshomaru would ask for your aid on two conditions,” the demon lord finally replies rather than attack, “one is if I have witnessed, with my own eyes, that you have brought honor to our bloodline through battle or sacrifice.  The second is if I truly believe you to be mature enough to stand at my side, brothers united, in the times of war.  You have fought battles, InuYasha, do not mistake one-on-one combat or confrontations with the demons hidden within Naraku as warfare.”  The grave air sobers the human. Sesshomaru is serious... His brother is asking for his sword.

 

“And...one of two of these condition has been met, I take it?”  The human hedges, “Are you asking me to fight with you, Sesshomaru?”

 

The demon lord affirms with a short nod.  “This Sesshomaru asks if you, the hanyou son of our great father, will take up his sword and fight to defend his lands.”

 

“And after? Do I get a swift and painless death?” Bitterness twinges the tone of his voice.

“Stupid hanyou. Do you honestly believe it would take this Sesshomaru, the Killing Perfection, more than one hundred and fifty years to kill an enemy?”  Even saying his much is the demon lord going against the Elder council.  He keeps himself from saying more.

 

But, the hanyou’s eyes widen at the revelation.  Sesshomaru does not have to spell it out for him anymore than he already has.  Good point. He’s had me more than once. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t bother to kill me when I was a kid or when I was at my weakest before I got the Tetsuaiga. Hell, even after I got the damn sword, he didn’t make the final strike... I-I couldn’t dare to believe he felt anything but hatred... There’s more to the story than I’m getting...

 

“Now answer the question little brother. Will you stay the night and leave once your time of weakness is over? Or, will you stay and fight at this Sesshomaru’s side for all that our father fought to gain?”

 

InuYasha stares his brother down for long moments, years of abandonment and shame his brother wrought upon him wars with the tiny part that wants almost craves the acceptance of his only living family.  For long moments, the human side and the demon side of the hanyou argue loudly in his subconscious—both making adequate points as to why he should or should not accept his brother’s proposal.  But, in the end, it is the hanyou that must have the final say.  With a deep breath and narrowed eyes, InuYasha voices his decision.

 

So again, sorry for all the angst, but I think any good story between these two would need it.   Thanks for reading. Please review!