A/N: This story is the final edit to its older sibling posted on FanFiction.net. Because of this, if readers choose to continue and read ahead, they will encounter a drastic change in writing style between the final and the rough drafts. I'm keeping both versions online so that people can look between the two if they choose and see how I've evolved as a writer. :)
In the end, this trilogy (all in one 'story' here) will amount to over eight hundred pages. It is yet unfinished on fanfiction.net, but it is close, and after spending years on it my writing style has changed (hence this 'final draft', to tie everything together, pick up loose ends, and have a unified style).
Notice: A glossary is provided on my profile.
Disclaimer: I make no profit from Rumiko Takahashi's series or characters and own neither, but I do have rights to my original characters (which anyone may use with prior notification).
P.S. I refuse to accept the fact that in the original series (spoiler sentence alert) Sesshōmaru throws Tenseiga away. That sword has far too much untapped potential if you ask me.
Read and enjoy!
:: :: :: Spring Fever :: :: ::
Chapter 1
Madness and Fever
The night was young and clear. Crisp stars winked in the pitch black sky. Temperate breezes slipped through the air. Small budding leaves rubbed together anxiously for spring’s full force. The land was in a quiet bloom, with the night-courting critters creeping around daylight’s dozing denizens. Like silent shadows running across moonlit meadows, which were shooting growth upwards through any lingering snow in frantic competition for the summer’s sun, thin clouds slid across the moon to veil it periodically in a misty gauze.
The night was nigh perfect, marred only by a pinpoint of deadly irritation wandering the countryside.
The slight glare which Sesshōmaru sported was deepening with every undesired step he took. Closer and closer. Deeper and deeper. He marched with vast amounts of agitation away from the beckoning borders of his land, from his camped and resting wards, and from his duties as the future Inu no Taishō, all to follow an empty trail.
Many questions lingered in this area, all of which served only to displease the inugami daiyōkai even further. Being in immediate line for the title of Inu no Taisho, as he was finally coming of age, it was very unsettling to know that so many uncertainties about this terrain, about life in general, had room to run rampant through Sesshōmaru’s well organized thoughts. Questions pertaining to things such as why his father's infernal sword was leading him back to that dust bowl of a village, and why in the middle of the night, and why in this crucial season as opposed to earlier or later in the year. These mysteries were made all the more frustrating by the distinct, jarring and incessant clicking and tugging experienced at Sesshōmaru’s right side; the source being Tenseiga.
The only thing which made this experience even remotely useful so far was the reminder of the day’s battle, provided by some freshly made tree stumps which still sizzled with acid. It stank something fierce, but Sesshōmaru was nevertheless pleased with the thought that a nuisance in his terrain was now sufficiently disposed of. With that done, he was liberated to dedicate his time completely to the analysis of his territory, to negotiations with neighboring lords on borderlines as well as with minor lords within his terrain, and lastly to the firm establishment of his rule within the o-shiro, overruling his mother’s temporary control; with the new title would come a mate in his life as well, so before that happened he would have to figure out what to do about Rin. All of this would happen, right after Tenseiga’s mild issue was dealt with. It was unnecessarily difficult to bargain over land ownership when even your own weapons refused to respect and listen to you, so silencing it was an unfortunate priority.
Bored, and utterly annoyed, Sesshōmaru began to mull over Tenseiga’s behavior from another angle. Perhaps Tenseiga was merely drawing him near the village. Perhaps there would be no need to disturb the locals, or even to catch whiff of their collective odor, or even dirty his shoes on the packed and trampled dirt upon which every human village rested. That approach, however, was becoming increasingly unrealistic, and that in turn made this excursion increasingly disadvantageous, and a waste of his time.
Now blatantly scowling over his predicament, Sesshōmaru reconfirmed his lacking fondness for being annoyed. Life had a terrible tendency to throw unfavorable situations across one's path. They were, however, potentially avoidable; even minutely satisfying, so long as the source of any displeasure was mortal enough to regret its deeds. The immensely slacked fulfillment of those simple criteria was as much the source of his fouling mood as this energetic blade was proving to be.
Tenseiga – as enthusiastic as ever, for a weapon – continued to tug at Sesshōmaru's side beneath Bakusaiga, urging its wielder to continue ahead whilst shivering with faint clicks in its sheath. As much as this bothered, even disturbed, the inugami daiyōkai, this typically rare behavior was tolerated; for now. Denying the sword would be – and indeed had been – far more irritating than indulging it its simple wants, but now the objective was becoming more clear with proximity, and things began to really grate away at Sesshōmaru's underdeveloped patience.
He stopped, to a certain fang's surprise, and weighed his options to soon favor the opposite direction. Sesshōmaru was no fool. He could easily recall recent events, and apply their significance to the present. Especially since said events were quite fresh, and ones to not soon be forgotten.
Tenseiga yanked pressingly at the yellow and blue sash which assisted in holding it in place at Sesshōmaru’s side. He ignored it, and scanned the surroundings. Above his current location – which happened to be a woods, fringing a clearing containing a useless dry well – was where Naraku had landed after falling from the sky. Unable to sustain himself – thanks mostly to Bakusaiga's capabilities – and losing his energy in gigantic fiery balls of jyaki, Naraku landed in this glade and met the end of fate's plan for him. Even with the reformed Shikon no Tama at his disposal, the hanyō failed in forcing his demise upon everyone else. Sesshōmaru could understand the desire to bring one's foes down as a last act in life, however, that despicable ensemble of weak yōkai had aimed to destroy many innocents – including Rin, a big mistake – in that battle as well; and as dishonorable as it was for Sesshōmaru to admit it, she had been in harm's way.
That was the most regrettable part of the afternoon. The second most was having the Shikon no Tama shot straight into Tetsusaiga, turning Inu-Yasha into as much of a mental wreck as he was a genetic one. Rin had expressed her unending disappointment when Sesshōmaru left at that point. She would live with it, because he positively refused to tolerate – let alone to participate in – any further ludicrous events involving anyone affiliated with the hanyō's pack. This decision consequently spared Rin of them as well, to her dismay. So long as Naraku was dead, his conscience was clear. In his current state the hanyō was not a large threat with a hōshi, miko and a Yōkai Taijiya to handle him. The kitsuneyōkai pup may prove useful as a trickster, but such a talent was designed for a specific use and audience, and his other strengths were few and far between.
And that was supposed to be that. Sesshōmaru had assumed he would be done with that village until it obtained some form of taxing government, at which point it would be brought to his attentions with some semblance of importance. That was the way these things were supposed to be handled, but was he at liberty to get what he wanted? Not likely. In fact, his attention was more than grasped now by the location and what lay within. This whole day left him wondering what fate had in mind, what with its twisting itself into such an unappealing shape. He had a decent idea of why Tenseiga was leading him to the village, and his answer was ‘no’.
Sesshōmaru's reprieve was snatched away with the familiar click of an unsheathing blade. His right hand deftly clasped Tenseiga's hilt, to keep the hovering nuisance where it belonged; encased. If Tenseiga expected him, the inugami daiyōkai Inu no Taishō, to go resolve a human problem, then it should wait until said lord actually gave a damn.
“You test your power, Tenseiga,” he informed sternly, displeased and ready to retrace his steps. Sesshōmaru had barely begun to turn around when his hand was stung painfully enough to become numb for a couple of seconds, and ache up his arm and into his chest. Within that time frame the blade freed itself and shot like a star against the night, straight for the village.
Sesshōmaru hesitated only a moment before pursuing, cursing the blade’s sudden resemblance to So'unga.
The sword was, if only to be annoying, faster than him, and it decided to enter a small lodging, straight through the mushiro noren, or hanging reed door, before sinking to an angled stop in the middle of the wooden floor. With a thin streak of green poison, Sesshōmaru sliced down the cheap noren, and it fell with a jaded rustle at his leather boots.
Maddened red eyes met his placid golden ones.
Beyond Tenseiga sat Inu-Yasha, who let out a low, feral growl. A barrier, small and constricting, gave the hanyō little more than five feet to move in, though the floor beneath his bared feet was scratched restlessly. Around the barrier stood plaques designed to aid the multiple paper sūtra sticking to the smooth wall of the barrier.
Abruptly the deranged hanyō lunged, colliding with the barrier. A high pitched hiss measured the amount of pain the constrained beast was going through in an effort to reach Sesshōmaru, or any other living thing for that matter.
The corrupt boy let out a nasty snarl, clawing uselessly at the barrier while glaring at Sesshōmaru, who watched nonchalantly as the barrier lit up where forceful contact was made. Eventually the halfbreed was propelled away from the barrier, but after landing he was soon up and at it again, uselessly striving for blood. It would have been briefly amusing if not for the undeniable lack of sense put into such efforts. Disappointed, Sesshōmaru absentmindedly looked over his maddened half-brother's body, seeing minor sūtra burns still lingered on the boy's cheek and clothes. There was also a dried smear of blood laying out of reach of his tongue on his chin, which was intriguing because the blood clearly did not come from its wearer.
No longer interested, Sesshōmaru shifted his sights to his reason for being there. Tetsusaiga, fully transformed without having yōki channeled into it, lay mere feet away, glowing with a dark aura and pulsing in response to its fragment’s proximity. Tenseiga beat merrily in reply.
‘They failed in purifying the blade,’ Sesshōmaru thought to himself, seeing more of a headache than a concern in this revelation. The matter did not absolutely require any action on his part, so he reached for Tenseiga in preparation to leave. His right palm enclosed around his father's pestering heirloom and yanked it up. Or rather, tried to yank it up. The effort, which was doubled for his vexation, practically dislocated his arm. Tenseiga refused to leave, and stuck to the floor of the shabby hut as Tetsusaiga had in the late Inu no Taisho's resting place. After sparing some yōki to alleviate the sting from his prior attempt, Sesshōmaru shifted his grip and tried to yank it free again, glaring with displeasure at the disobedient utensil. Why did his father leave him that burden, anyway?
Straightening, Sesshōmaru let his left hand return to his side. He apparently had to do something before Tenseiga would loosen itself, and the sword would prove to be his anchor to that place until the task was fulfilled.
Honestly, the prospect of letting it rust right there was rather tempting.
“What would you have me do?” he asked, at a lost and doing his best to ignore Inu-Yasha's guttural utterances.
The sword pulsed twice, as it has done on several other occasions, and stilled. He glared at it, the meaning behind these random pulses and jostles completely escaping him, until his attentions were caught by heavy breathing.
The daiyōkai abandoned his fixated frustration for stepping to the side of the window. He glanced out into the clear darkness, eyes detecting the most minute traces of light which hazed off the splintered moon and providing a daylight-clear image. The hōshi who traveled with his disgrace of a half-brother was tiredly and hazardously jogging towards a dimly lit residence, his shoulders burdened with the weight of two buckets of sloshing water and his steps at times erratic for trying to keep the water level. Sesshōmaru had a passing curiosity as to why the human was making such efforts at that hour of the morning, but then it passed and he looked away from the window, disinterested.
Tenseiga, surprisingly yet unhelpfully, was utterly silent when his eyes fell upon it, and it remained that way.
Giving an exasperated exhale, Sesshōmaru slipped out the door and discretely went to the shack, his presence masked and his patience thinning. He found a window, but it was closed to the outside. Making a quick circle he found all of the windows to be closed, and he was not about to stand outside the door to look through the cheap reed strips that hung in it. His present actions were galling enough.
Sesshōmaru was ready to go back and cut a hole around his sword and walk off with it like that, but decided to stay and listen. He was not going to be dragged all that way for nothing.
“How’s her fever?” the hōshi asked, grunting as he set down the water buckets with two solid thuds.
“It’s still high,” came the voice of Kohaku’s sister, the taijiya. The boy, after the final battle with Naraku, told his sister in person that he wanted to continue traveling with the daiyōkai for a while longer. Sesshōmaru had the impression that the boy had developed feelings for his charge, Rin. It saddened him that for being at such a tender age Rin had already died twice, and it would be impossible to revive her again. He was not going to let her wander amongst uncivilized humans until she was mature enough to do so. Kohaku's wanting to remain with her and protect her meant he had to travel with Sesshōmaru, and so far they were both fine with that. Perhaps the two human children would be able to stay in this village, if things settled down and remained that way.
“How long do you think she has?” the hōshi questioned pessimistically. Sesshōmaru heard the shifting of some fabric, bubbles rising from it being submerged, and the small pouring splashes as it was wrung out. They were trying to reduce the fevered one’s temperature, and from what he gathered it was the young miko – who had given Naraku the fatal blow not more than half the day ago – who was sick. It was puzzling. It was Inu-Yasha's sword that had been tainted by the Shikon no Tama, not the miko. Why did she fall ill and stink of jyaki infection? Why did he care? Why did he not just let Tenseiga stay there for the rest of its unnatural existence and be done with it? That could work. Have an harmless yōkai blade in the center of a human village, they would love it.
There was a delusional moan from inside, and he could almost see the girl turning in pain, her skin pale and damp from the fever which laced bitterly through her scent. It was sickening to think about.
He stood, ready to make that hole in the floor, when a snippet of conversation reached him.
“The bite is looking worse.”
“Hm. So that is it,' he thought, the trickle of curiosity leaving him. 'She is sick from Inu-Yasha infecting her. The fools.” It made perfect sense, to him at least. When someone has too much power coursing through them, it releases itself in any way possible. Now the miko exemplified a very rare yōki infection, and that was almost amusing since her seeping energy would have to destroy it. She was nearing the deep end of its effects, and if she could not suppress it soon it would kill her.
Lovely. One miko would not be missed.
Tenseiga pulsed in greeting to its master. “We are leaving,” Sesshōmaru told it, securing the hilt in his grip and yanking. The sword released its hold, but tested Sesshōmaru's flexibility in the wrist with a jerk towards the hanyō like a child yanking with all their strength at his sleeve, an all too familiar feeling. Sesshōmaru looked at the barrier-hugging beast that was related to him, considering. Why not, he would enjoy the feeling of cutting the burden down.
Inu-Yasha cried out in apparent pain when the sword sliced from his left shoulder and to his right leg through the barrier, lurching away as nothing but jyaki was killed. Sesshōmaru watched the red melt from the boy’s eyes and his wounds disappear before breath left him and he fell heavily to his knees, then his face, unconscious.
“Pitiful,” he commented, moving to sheath Tenseiga. The sword protested in turn with Tetsusaiga’s cry for help, the Shikon no Tama still buried in its transformed length. Sesshōmaru growled to himself over having to do anything for anyone else, and deftly pressed the tip of Tenseiga against his father’s other sword. Slowly the blades merged, Tenseiga dipping into its paternal half like it would into a lake of steel. The fouled yōkai energy tried to reach up the new presence in order to latch onto Sesshōmaru, but he easily pushed it down with his superior might. The Shikon no Tama could perform unique tricks with the appropriate string of words, but in terms of strength, Sesshōmaru overpowered it. Even in its purified state, he knew that manipulating the small jewel would overall be an easy achievement. This was why he never sought the Shikon no Tama. It had nothing to offer save for lies and curses.
Stroking the side of the Jewel with the blade, he flicked his wrist and Tenseiga sent the troublesome artifact rolling across the room and into the dirty corner. The whole room was filthy, but the corners were especially uncared for.
Sesshōmaru picked up the sword he once sought to be his own. It crackled angrily in his grip and did not accept his yōki as it leaked uncontrollably through his skin and into the weapon. As it was shunned, it turned around and burned at his hand, and without a source of energy Tetsusaiga transformed to its embarrassing relic self.
Feeling a tad peeved, Sesshōmaru on top of his half-brother. With any hope, the hanyō would not turn into a jyaki filled disgrace ever again. Indeed, it was not yōki coursing through Inu-Yasha's veins when he became mad with power. His very blood could not filter out the taint which separates the 'good' and the 'bad' forms of yōkai energy, and because he could draw an impressive amount into his body he could also lose himself faster. Inu-Yasha's mind was never capable of handling the insanity-rendering flow of filth coating the jyaki drawn out raw from nature, just like every other hanyō who had not sold their soul. Such were the rules of nature and heritage. You needed two yōkai to make another yōkai, or the resulting offspring would be too weak to handle itself and ultimately die without a yōkai crafted artifact to filter what they could not. It was a horrible and painful life to lead, and one to be avoided, but so long as the stronger parent did not meddle it assured a cleansing of weakness from the planet. This was the main reason why yōkai who gave way to their emotions and copulated with humans were shunned, and why hanyō were ignored by yōkai. They were physical evidence of a lack of control, and a burden better left dead for many reasons.
Although Tenseiga whined and complained as much as a sword could, most likely claiming that there was unfinished business yet to take care of, Sesshōmaru left. He had far better things to do than muddle in the affairs of the hanyō’s pack of humans.
Still, the scent of a scared and ill miko would not leave him no matter the distance he traveled, and despite how utterly sickening it was, it called to him, beckoning for him to relieve the human of her pain.
:: :: :: :: ::
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please let me know how you liked it, whether you're a new reader of you've read the old version five times over. ^_^