Sesshoumaru heard the brush of tabi clad feet along the hall. A soft patter quickened as his small servant hurried ahead of the healer's measured tread. A thump announced Jaken's fall to the floor. He scratched on the door. "My Lord," he gasped, panting.
"Enter, Hoang. Jaken remain in the corridor and shut the door," Sesshoumaru instructed.
The healer spared Jaken a disdainful glance before his eyes snapped back to the bundle he carried. Jaken arranged his tangled limbs into a sitting position, resting his back against the door frame. He grumbled to himself, his duty always to wait. How he had fallen, now servant, no . . . nanny, to his lord's rag-tag brood.
The ancient youkai stopped a few paces from the low table and bowed. "My lord, I have brought the child for your inspection."
Sesshoumaru raised one eyebrow, his face impassive, deciding to test the old one. "And should it prove unacceptable . . .?" his question trailed off.
The old zuku blanched, his grip on the child tightening involuntarily. The pup squirmed and whimpered. Inutaisho had outlawed the ancient custom and acknowledged his own hanyou offspring. Surely Sesshoumaru, though he had the well deserved reputation for deadly cruelty, would not revive it. He and the miko had awaited this one's birth with anticipation.
"Well," Sesshoumaru interrupted the old one's musing.
He bowed deeply and laid the swaddled bundle on Sesshoumaru's table. "This humble healer must retire from your service, my lord. I fear I am too old and incompetent to perform the duties of a fierce young warrior." He backed toward the door and prostrated himself. His joints creaked as silk robes pooled about his crumpled form. He awaited breathlessly, not knowing if his fate would be punishment or death.
Sesshoumaru allowed himself a brief smirk as he observed the old owl trying to control his trembling. His trust was not misplaced. "Rise, Hoang. Show me the little one," he directed in a lighter tone.
The old healer struggled forward, and unwrapped the pup. "He is a fine boy, with all the proper parts. His ears are perhaps . . . a bit small," Hoang spoke quickly, pausing to select an appropriate description.
Sesshoumaru picked up the boy, bemused. He was large and healthy, with a shock of white hair, eyes shut tight against the light. The ears, which the old man had trouble describing, were simply ears, not fuzzy "cat" ears like Inuyasha's. Perhaps a bit small, not having the lengthy points, typical of youkai. They were slightly pointed and not round as those of most humans. They were . . . entirely acceptable.
The boy opened his eyes and stared at Sesshoumaru's face. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of hair, tugging it to his mouth. The yellow eyes, the same bright citron as his father, gazed at Sesshoumaru as he munched the silver strands.
"Tairo," announced Sesshoumaru. He laughed as he untangled the slobbery tendrils from the boy's mouth and fingers. The old zuku, Hoang, blinked in the manner of his kind, not quite believing.
Sesshoumaru rose and exited the study, booting Jaken out of the way, to return the boy to his mother and her anxiously hovering midwives.