Cruel Fate: Part Two

An Inuyasha fic by Cleodasia

Warning: NC-17, Yaoi, MaleXMale, Lemon, NO SQUICK, possible OOC, and yes, I did mess around with the ages and things, so there is a possible AU

Pairing: Sesshoumaru/Jaken

What pairing, really?: I already told you! This isn't squick, I promise. Even I'm not THAT perverted. I promise bishieful goodness.

WHY?!?!?!?: Jaken is quite possibly the only being besides Rin who actually likes Sessh. The first time I saw Sessh pelt him with rocks, I was in love.

Disclaimer: Don't own Sessh or anyone else from Inuyasha. Except Jaken. He's MINE.

So back off, screaming fan girls!! *pulls out kendo stick*

*crickets chirrup in background* Yeah, that's what I THOUGHT!!

Summary: Jaken is more than he appears to be, with a secret hidden even from himself, and only Sesshoumaru can unlock it. (Thanks to For-chan for the summary!)

Note: I know Jaken doesn't have toe claws, but I HATE those little froggy

feet of his. They annoy me. ^.^ So I used my Fangirl Powers and now he has clawed toes…nifty, huh?

Any feedback, send to cleodasia@excite.com. **beams**

*looks up* Don’t you hate long-ass author’s notes? Yeesh…on with the fic!

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“Lord Sesshoumaru?” the small imp whispered as he crept into the Lord’s bedroom. It was against his better judgment, this intrusion into his master’s privacy, but his concern far outweighed his sense of self-preservation. The young Lord had not been downstairs in days, and although trays of food had been sent up, all had returned untouched. He had not been allowed into the room, and all others had been sent away without so much as a word.

In the two years which had passed since his father’s death, the young master had performed the duties of his office well, yet his mind always seemed preoccupied. He never spoke of it to the imp, but it was obvious that he still grieved for his Father, and for the lack of a proper burial. There had been no body, only a letter from his father, found in his study many weeks later, which told of a tomb hidden far away from prying eyes.

“Seeing, yet unseen; protected, yet unknown to its’ protector,” was the only clue that had been given, along with instructions to find the great sword Tenseiga, which had been residing with the sword maker Toutosai, and also, to take care of his brother. Lord Sesshoumaru had said nothing, but the disgust which passed over his face at the mention of the hanyou told all.

Finding the tomb of his Father had become an obsession with Lord Sesshoumaru. After realizing that the Tenseiga was useless to him, he threatened Toutosai with every possible death imaginable, wishing another sword to be made, or at least the secrets of the Tenseiga to be revealed.

Toutosai would say only that another sword had been forged, a sister sword as powerful as the Tenseiga…which rested inside the tomb of the Great Lord. It seemed to the Lord as if his Father had set the task of finding the tomb before him as a test of his suitability as both son and heir. It was a puzzle, with few clues and less evidence, but Lord Sesshoumaru was determined to a fault.

Entering the grandiose bedchamber, the imp crept forward, diligent in his efforts to keep his little toe-claws from clicking on the cold stone floor…but the Lord had known his presence since a child, and did not need to hear the servant to know he was there. “Stop skulking about, and come here,” Sesshoumaru snapped, and his servant nearly fell over from the fright.

“M…m…milord,” he stammered, dropping to his knees, hoping perhaps to quell the Lord’s wrath. It was almost completely dark in the chamber, but he imagined he saw a flash of golden eyes.

“I’ll not tell you again to bring yourself over here,” Sesshoumaru said tiredly, and the imp stood as quickly as he could, the pain in his old joints dull and familiar. He padded to the bed, where the Lord sat, surrounded by papers and books. He was wearing the same red kimono the imp had laid out for him almost five days ago, his silver hair caught in a hasty queue, tendrils escaping all around his face and neck. As the imp’s eyes became accustomed to the dark, he saw that the Lord’s face was drawn. Indeed, he had not eaten in all this time, and most likely had not slept either.

“Milord, you must come out of here. You’ve not eaten, and you look like death,” the imp said, as Sesshoumaru gave him a hand onto the bed.

“I’ve found it,” was all he said, as the imp sat beside him, tiny legs folded underneath him politely. He would pay for it later, pain would keep him awake all the night, but he had not been allowed this close to his master in years.

“The tomb?” his servant questioned, scarcely believing it. The Taiyoukai had been a devious bastard, and if he did not wish his remains to be found, it was hard to believe his young son would be able to do it so easily.

The Lord shook his head, sighing, sinking into the soft weight of his mother’s fur. The stole he kept with him always now, as if to remind him that he had not always been alone.

“Not the tomb, exactly, but the means with which to find it.” His amber eyes flickered with excitement, as he motioned for the little imp to sit back with him.

The Lord turned his face toward him, the lovely marks of his face beckoned to be stroked and kissed, as he had once done in the lord’s youth. The imp lay his head on the Lady’s fur, scant inches away, adoring eyes trained on his master. Their faces nearly touched, and it was as though they had never left the nursery, the little pup’s whispered secrets and plans music to the servant’s ears.

“Do you remember the Staff?” Sesshoumaru asked quietly. His face was slack with fatigue, but his eyes were bright with his discovery.

“The Staff of Skulls?” the imp questioned. He remembered the Lord’s fascination with it as a pup, but nothing more.

“Heads, imbecile,” the Lord corrected, “The Staff of the Heads. One is an old man, the other a beautiful woman. The Staff has many powers, all of them lethal, but it has one power which my Father himself bestowed. It is the key to finding his tomb.”

The imp sank farther into the stole’s warmth, and thought about this. “My Lord, the last I had heard of the Staff, it was in the care of a human, at your Father’s behest.”

Sesshoumaru smiled, a mere flash of fangs, as he said, “So it is. Which means that I shall have it with no trouble.”

His Dorei looked unconvinced, but said only, “As you say, milord.” He didn’t add that if the Great Lord had given the Staff to a human, then this person must be very powerful indeed. He could see the hope in his pup’s eyes, however, and he would not extinguish it with his paltry concerns. He asked quietly, “May I go with thee?”

The archaic term was charming, and Sesshoumaru was swayed by the light in the imp’s full moon eyes. “If you wish, you may…but I’ll not have you embarrassing me with your fussing. Don’t think I’ve not noticed your foolishness. I’m no longer a pup to be petted and fawned over.” All of this was said with a mocking half-smile, and the almost-wistful tone in the young man’s voice belied his words completely.

Gravely his servant promised, “I shall not, milord,” as he pushed the Lord’s heavy bangs away from his eyes with loving claws. The old mischievous grin returned, a lightning-flash of his youthful roguishness that warmed the imp down to his very toes.

“I should go the village,” Sesshoumaru said, words cut off by the massive yawn which made his jaw pop. He stretched, cat-like, which made the imp giggle. His pup could be so very kittenish at times…

“You should eat, and sleep, and then worry about the Staff. It has been there all these many years without incident,” the servant admonished. He yawned as well, his little beak-mouth opening into a very small “o” which nearly brought a laugh from Sesshoumaru.

“Very well, if you’re going to be fussy about it,” Sesshoumaru said, pulling his knees almost to his chest. The little imp nuzzled into the Lord’s arms, expecting to be pushed away, but the young demon was surprisingly affectionate, holding him close.

“I won’t fuss any more, milord,” he promised, voice muffled by the strong, smooth chest. He had nothing to be angry about, not with the Lord’s arms around him, protecting him from all harm, reminding him of days long past. Idle threats of death and dismemberment were forgotten, for the shielding pledge of those ivory arms.

“You will,” the Lord argued, nearly asleep now, crimson-slashed eyelids sliding over weary, bloodshot eyes. The scent of his Mother’s fur mingled with the scent of his Father’s bed; both parents dead, and both nearly forgotten, except as actors from a long-ago play, idols to be venerated and adored.

As he slid deeper and deeper into the twilight of unconsciousness, he realized (as one does in dreams) something so profound that it would not follow him upon awakening, but it was truth, undistilled and without any artifice . This miniature demon, this house slave, this toad imp with its’ staring yellow eyes and thin, beaked mouth, this hilarious little thing with its’ too-high voice and too-foolish antics, this was the only parent he had ever known.

In all of his life, no one had ever worked so hard to please him, to care for him, to find out all the little habits and faults and peculiarities that made up the Great Lord Sesshoumaru.

This was the only love he had ever known.

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“I do love you when you’re being difficult,” Jaken said, as he pushed a bowl of rice toward his companion. He trolled around in the cooking area of the cabin until he found a set of chopsticks, pushing them under the patrician nose of Sesshoumaru.

“I’m not being difficult,” Sesshoumaru said evenly, “I don’t eat human food.” He turned his face away haughtily, reminding Jaken of a particularly demeaning feline he had once known.

“You won’t eat human food. There is a large difference between not being able to eat it, and refusing to,” Jaken said, words slightly garbled as he shoveled in his rice.

Sesshoumaru eyed him, cat-slits further accentuating his feline aspect, saying, “I did not say that I could not. I said that I do not. Which is truth, and hardly any of your concern.”

Jaken finished his bowl and refilled it without speaking, green eyes darkening. After a moment of strained silence, he said, “So what exactly are you going to eat? You lost an awful lot of blood, and you’ll need fuel to regain your ki.”

Sesshoumaru stared ahead, saying nothing. Jaken sighed, realizing the other’s prejudices still ran deep. The Jaken-imp found these idiosyncrasies lovable, but they set the human Jaken’s teeth on edge. He finished eating with a small burp, which made Sesshoumaru wrinkle his nose adorably. Jaken grinned at him, then blew a kiss.

“Fool,” Sesshoumaru said, but his eyes brightened. Jaken had built a fire to cook on, and it danced merrily for them, warming the lord’s snow-bright skin, flushing his high, stern cheekbones. Jaken put away the dishes, jade kimono clinging to his willowy frame. Sesshoumaru watched each movement curiously, the fingers of his remaining hand resting on his lap. He was clad in a fresh, white kimono, a wintry vision of icy perfection.

Jaken bent down beside the little imp and made as if to pick him up. “Leave him,” Sesshoumaru ordered, putting out his hand as if to stop him.

Jaken was startled by the vehement tone, and said, “I won’t hurt him.” It was all he could think to say. It always shocked him, Sesshoumaru’s protective nature making itself known, even though he was aware of its’ existence.

“That’s not what I meant. If you wake him, the results might be unpleasant,” Sesshoumaru warned, closing his eyes as if he could care less what Jaken did.

“Alright, dear,” Jaken said sweetly, “I won’t wake the baby.” He chuckled as Sesshoumaru’s eyelids snapped open, his mouth opening in argument.

“Shh…” Jaken said, putting a finger to his master’s lips, crossing the large room in seconds. Sesshoumaru wondered at his speed, incredibly fast for a human, even for some youkai. Jaken leaned over, his long dark hair sliding out of its’ queue, framing his elfin face. He kissed Sesshoumaru’s forehead with exquisite tenderness, then dipped his head and kissed the tip of the upturned nose.

“You want something,” Sesshoumaru said, not lasciviously, but as one who realizes he is unlovable and suspects any sort of affection.

“You,” was the determined reply, as Jaken kneeled down behind Sesshoumaru, kissing the tipped ears in turn.

No reply. Jaken sighed as he took Sesshoumaru’s great silver mane and began to painstakingly form it into a braid.

“It won’t stay,” Sesshoumaru said, but his voice was dusky. Jaken already knew that the lord’s hair refused to stay plaited, he had done this many times before. No, he did it because the youkai loved to be fussed over and made much of, and liked nothing so much as having his hair played with. He had found a hairbrush in one of the cabinets, and produced it now, plying it dexterously against the quicksilver tide.

Sesshoumaru relaxed visibly, leaning against the boy’s knees as Jaken went about his work. As he pulled, pushed, and prodded the stubborn mass into something resembling a braid, he sang quietly, an old youkai song that was as familiar to Sesshoumaru as breathing.

Silence stretched between them, but not the pained, hurtful silences that wounded, but a comfortable, healing silence. When finally he finished the braid, Jaken found that it was almost as tall as him, and exceedingly heavy. He pushed the plait over Sesshoumaru’s right arm, moving in closer to get to the muscular shoulders, slight fingers working the taut muscles, as he sang another of the imp’s songs.

As he massaged the tension of decades away, Jaken pondered the best way to broach the subject of their changing relationship. The most damning issue, without a doubt, was the fact that he was human. Sesshoumaru had always used his needing the Staff as a reason to keep Jaken with him. The tomb had been found, the sword Tetsusaiga rested in the hands of its’ rightful owner, and the Lord had tasted defeat for the first time in his life, from his hated half-brother. How could he expect Sesshoumaru to look at the situation objectively, with his left arm forever lost, his pride forever damaged, before the eyes of the two beings who loved him most.

Emboldened by Sesshoumaru’s seeming passivity, Jaken placed a feathery kiss on his master’s nape, nuzzling briefly into the fragrant warmth of his hair. If the Lord felt anything, he said nothing, which Jaken took as affirmation. It was the best way to deal with Sesshoumaru, or nothing would ever get done.

His suspicions of the Lord’s compliance were confirmed when he succeeded in slipping the kimono from the alabaster shoulders, without obstacles or obstructions. The ruined arm proclaimed itself immediately, smooth scars gleaming with a rosy tinge in the firelight. Stunning in its’ imperfection, it did not detract at all from Sesshoumaru’s beauty, only accentuated his vulnerable allure.

Worshipful kisses were placed reverently on the Lord’s silken nape, as gentle hands rubbed soothing circles into the severe shoulder blades. Each vertebrae was lovingly caressed, each muscle in the elegant expanse of his back carefully manipulated. Sesshoumaru relaxed into the firm touch, then began to arch, cat-like, against Jaken’s skilled hands.

Jaken did not stop until the Lord’s head rested fully on his knees, eyes closed tranquilly. He kissed Sesshoumaru’s scarlet lids, and a smile spirited across the stern mouth. Jaken gently pushed aside his captor’s bangs, and pressed his lips respectfully to the amethyst crescent. A flicker of ivory fang, a haunting ghost-smile, gave Jaken all the prodding he would ever need.

He extricated himself gracefully, replacing his body with their stacked blankets, a slight frown creasing his lord’s brow as he did so. Quickly, he captured a trim ankle, the Lord’s bare foot arching reflexively against his fingers. The elegant foot was as white as a lotus-blossom, skin soft as sakura petals, begging to be kissed. As he kneeled before his master, Jaken did so, his pert nose brushing the sensitive toes, eliciting an almost silent groan.

With a devious grin, the human licked the soft pads of Sesshoumaru’s foot, trailing his tongue tentatively along the high, aristocratic arch. The Lord stretched sinuously, his kimono sliding apart dangerously, revealing marble thighs and succulent calves. Jaken continued his erotic exploration, bending the supple foot with his hand, thin bones flexing beneath translucent skin, as he traced the thin, cerulean veins with his tongue.

Sesshoumaru murmured under his breath, but whether death threats or sensual promises, Jaken could not tell. His fingers moved purposefully, massaging the center of Sesshoumaru’s foot, where all the Lord’s tension seemed to have curled itself into a ball of tight muscle. He worked at it gently but firmly, until pleased with the results. Lying quietly, Sesshoumaru’s eyes were closed, his head resting against the blankets, hair escaping wantonly from its’ forced imprisonment.

His success assured, Jaken pressed forward, licking the hapless little toe, and Sesshoumaru’s foot curled inward, against the will of its’ reticent owner. His toes were delightful delicacies, their unique sensitivity working to Jaken’s advantage. The opaque nails were trimmed very close, deliciously fascinating in their very human-ness. Each slim toe was affectionately lathed with the sharp, serpentine tongue, each toe invited into the sweet warmth, each toe suckled lovingly, adoringly, tenderly.

When Jaken felt satisfied with his efforts, he lightly placed the utterly relaxed foot in his lap, taking its’ brother into his hands. As his well-trained hands worked their magic, the Lord began an assault of his own, his slight foot sliding against Jaken’s creamy thighs, saliva-slick toes stroking the hardening arousal.

Jaken moaned, moving fluidly into the touch, fingers still working the muscles of his tormentor’s lovely foot. As the master’s caresses became more hurried and less gentle, so did Jaken’s, as he nipped at the delicate webbing, drawing a deep growl and a filthy curse. His laughter skipped a beat, the Lord’s questing toes finding a particularly sensitive spot, the shiver that passed through him seeming endless and infinite.

Realizing that he could not last much longer under the expert efforts of his lord and master, Jaken sped up the pace. Inching forward, whimpering as more of his erection met with the Lord’s sweet flesh, Jaken traced his fingers possessively along the lavender striping on the trim ankle. He bent his face down, momentarily removing himself from the reach of those torturous toes, and licked each stripe ceremoniously, his worshipful tongue winding its’ way from ankle to thigh.

Jaken crept forward, an obsequious supplicant at the altar of his Lord’s flesh, his lips as innocent as a child’s bedtime prayer. His kisses fell softly, like teardrops on marble, as Sesshoumaru’s steady resolve finally broke under the relentless persecution. With a snarl, he shoved his claws into Jaken’s ebony mane, dragging the helpless boy into a fierce kiss, his legs straddling Sesshoumaru’s as he struggled for purchase. Sesshoumaru gave none, allowing him not even a breath as he mauled the young mouth, his sharp fangs tearing at the boy’s full lips.

After an eternity, he begrudgingly allowed Jaken to pull in some air, licking the blood from the corner of his mouth as he stared at his captive. There was no longer any question as to whom was in charge, Sesshoumaru might not initiate their physical encounters, but once Jaken piqued his interest, it no longer mattered. Jaken swiped haphazardly at the trail of blood which marked his chin, Sesshoumaru beating him to it, his cat-pink tongue tinged crimson before he swallowed it down.

Again his mouth molested Jaken’s, tongues battling, teeth clashing, hands hastily removing kimonos with stunning alacrity, neither knowing who had undressed whom. With Jaken’s honeyed skin laid bare, Sesshoumaru began an assault of his own, tongue tasting the salty sweetness of his shoulders, as one hand did the work of two, fondling the gentle curves and sloping thighs, wringing cries of adoration from his charming captive.

Sesshoumaru growled as Jaken sucked greedily at his nipple, rolling the other between his fingertips, until the youkai’s patience suddenly ran out. Hauling the boy against him, their heated erections creating a mouth-watering friction that threatened sanity, Sesshoumaru’s hand slid over warm hips, searching out the boy’s inviting entrance. Jaken came to his senses enough to seek out a vial from his discarded kimono, breathlessly pushing it against his lover’s chest. An elegant eyebrow arched questioningly, golden eyes laughing in the firelight. Jaken whispered, “Don’t you dare take me dry,” a deep breath, “You’ll kill me.”

The Lord chuckled, a short sighing bark of one who does not laugh often and isn’t quite certain how it’s done. He acquiesced, nodding at Jaken to open the bottle, his present condition woefully handicapping him in that regard. Pouring the scented oil over his hand, Jaken made as if to prepare himself, but Sesshoumaru’s disproving glance stopped him short. Giggling, he generously lavished the sandalwood-oil on his lover’s hand, then turned his attention to the Lord’s much-maligned penis.

Sesshoumaru’s control was slipping, he was nearly laughing as he said, pouting, “It’s not that big. I’m sure you’ve had worse.” Jaken choked, losing his hold on the organ in question, smacking his captor’s chest with an open palm.

“Bastard! I’ve never had anything besides yours, and if they’re all like that, I’m glad of it!” Sesshoumaru’s mouth twitched, as he slid a finger in the boy’s tight opening, ending all conversation. Jaken whined, forgetting everything but the astonishing feeling of the master’s presence in his welcoming body. The long-nailed finger seemed to be everywhere, pressing against the muscular walls, brushing maddeningly against the collection of nerves which seemed to call for his attention, but Sesshoumaru was biding his time.

Jaken worked his own erection, coming perilously close to the edge, but never allowing himself to finish the job. The Lord would have been angered, this was his right, and Jaken would not unman him, not tonight. Moaning, he tried to make his state known to the Lord, grinding their erections together, bringing a sharp cry from his lover. “Hai, hai,” Sesshoumaru breathed, adding another finger, preparing the entry as best he could.

Jaken lost himself in the sensations, pulling the Lord’s face to his, putting all his lustful energies into kissing the youkai senseless. Sesshoumaru continued his exertions, until neither could stand the suspense any longer. One-handed, he awkwardly eased Jaken into a more accessible position, entering him with a single, deep stroke, filling him painfully, deliciously, absolutely.

Jaken bit down on his tongue, coughing as the coppery crimson fluid flowed ponderously down his throat, choking him, as bitter as the doomed love that stabbed at his heart. Pounding into the firm, young body, Sesshoumaru kissed his lover, taking the offering of his blood, a demon-god with fiery eyes, a fallen angel taking his pleasure with a hated human, serving a heavenly penance for all his many sins and failings.

Jaken screamed to the heavens, praying for release, as Sesshoumaru plunged even deeper inside of him, his ivory talons holding the boy in place, razor-tipped canines sinking into the virgin flesh of his tanned shoulder. The Lord’s orgasm was intensely violent, the blood of his lover spurring him to the heights of pleasure, the gratification of his youkai yearnings complete and unfettered. He came inside the boy, both of them wracked by the brutality of his thrusts, his seed coating their thighs thickly with a blanket of sticky warmth.

The boy whimpered under the two-fold attack, pleasure warring with pain, the passion of the moment overriding all, his climax no less forceful, although his body’s power was sapped greatly from the loss of blood. Tears mantled his freckled cheeks, sobs seizing his body, as he cried silently, his head lying against his lover’s swan-like neck, wetting their chests with waterfalls of saline.

Sesshoumaru’s voice came to him, wine-soaked and husky, “Why are you crying?”

He helped the boy from his uncomfortable position, his right arm encircling the slight body possessively as Jaken laid against his chest, a brown leg thrown across Sesshoumaru’s lavender-marked thighs.

As if shamed, Jaken wiped away his tears, his shoulder weeping scarlet, as he answered gravely, “I would have given my blood freely, if you had asked.” Betrayal sounded in his young voice, his heart wounded as his body had been.

Sesshoumaru worried at the statement, not truly understanding what had happened between them, until sleep finally overtook him. The moon that rose over their heads was crimson-stained, a blood-drenched ghost woman, bewailing her suffering and loss. Beneath her gaze, the two inequitable lovers slept like the dead.

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The imp was awakened by gentle hands, forcing him to sit up, pushing his small green tunic into his arms. “Wake up, little one,” the Lord’s voice came to him, his tone soothing but firm.

“M’wake,” the imp whined, wriggling into his clothes blindly, his large moon-eyes closed against the onslaught of daylight. Sesshoumaru chuckled at him, long, capable fingers coming to his aid.

“Come along, silly Dorei,” he whispered, setting the little imp on its’ feet, as it rubbed its’ eyes with one, tiny fist. Wincing, he finally opened his eyes, smiling beatifically at the early morning wonder of his freshly-awakened master. Silver hair outlined the sculpted face, tendrils curling about the long neck and tipped ears, a half-smile showing the tips of his snow-white fangs.

The house-imp clicked slowly over to the bureau, pulling out one of the Lord’s favorite kimonos, snow white, red-patterned at the collar and edges, of a soft light-weight fabric that tickled his nose. He laid it out dutifully, along with the master’s tabi and sandals, wringing a smile from Sesshoumaru. “You didn’t have to,” he said, sliding silkily into the kimono, kicking his discarded kimono behind him.

The diminutive slave retrieved the kimono, folding it neatly and placing it in the bottom of the bureau, where he would see to it later. “I did,” was all he said, puttering about the room, arranging all the Lord’s papers and books, trying to bring some order to the chaos.

Handing the Tenseiga down from its’ resting place, Sesshoumaru said, “Never mind that, we have much to do today.” The servant hurried behind, as fast as his old legs would carry him, eager to help his Lord realize his dream.

As they made their journey to the village of Lord Inuyasha’s mother, Sesshoumaru unthinkingly slowed his pace to match his tiny slave’s. The going was slow, and after a time, the Lord took pity on the little imp, holding it in his arms as they walked. The imp could not possibly have been made happier, so much tenderness from the Lord directed at him was a thing too wondrous to imagine or even hope for. It was a day’s walk to the village, but they reached their destination quickly, not even four hours, the Lord’s long legs serving them well.

The village was small, the only remarkable thing about it was the hot springs, and the fact that the Taiyoukai had taken any interest in it or its’ inhabitants at all. The people that they passed were clean, for humans, and didn’t seem to be concerned about the presence of the youkai at all. Sesshoumaru put the imp down, letting him walk the rest of the distance, as he followed the unmistakable ki signature of the Staff of the Heads.

He came to a halt outside of a small hut, plastered with spell-scrolls and hanging with various dried flowers and herbs. There was a vegetable garden off to the side, and a young man toiled there, his supple frame kneeling on the ground, examining an eggplant with a sigh.

Looking up, he smiled, sage-green eyes flashing in the sunlight, jet-black hair falling around his shoulders. “May I help you, Taiyoukai?” He bowed his head, although not as deeply as Sesshoumaru would have liked. He had never gotten used to that form of address, as if he had stolen it from his Father, who would soon return to claim it.

Sesshoumaru found that he could not speak, his lungs compressed suddenly by the twinkling in those green eyes. ~Beautiful~ he thought, surprising himself into speech.

“You may not. You may give me what is mine.” That was infinitely better than what he wished to do, which was throw the boy down in the sun-warmed grass and make him scream his name to the heavens.

The human’s smile did not falter in the slightest, he merely wiped the dirt from his fingers, and gestured smoothly for the Lord to follow him. As they entered the house, Sesshoumaru stood stiffly at the front door, unwilling to enter, but intensely curious, for some odd reason. He could stand it no longer, entering as if granting a tribute, although he refused to be seated. Standing proudly, Sesshoumaru appeared gratified by the effortless success of his quest, smug with the certainty of his victory.

Laughing eyes trained themselves upon him, as he gestured for the small Dorei to sit. “My name is Shukumei Jaken, by the way,” the boy said, disappearing behind a curtain. The youkai sniffed, as if HE cared what a human’s name was…it was a striking name, it meant something like “cruel Fate”, which sounded a rather vicious name to give a child. His own name was no better, but he was youkai, and “Destruction of the Circle of Life” wasn’t as bad as some he had heard. This thought of names reminded him that his slave had none, a grievous oversight for an imp who had served so long. He would have to think on it, and rectify the situation.

The boy returned, without the Staff, and Sesshoumaru frowned. A smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, he said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you. I noticed that your slave seems to be suffering from swollen joints, and I wanted to give him something for his pain.”

He ground up some leaves with a mortar and pestle, as Sesshoumaru asked his servant disbelievingly, “Are you in pain?” The imp did not answer, but his eyes were dulled from it, shocking Sesshoumaru for a moment. “Why did you not say something?” No words were spoken, but the truth was there, the imp would die before saying anything that might keep Sesshoumaru from his desires.

Jaken kneeled beside the house-imp, looking in his eyes, but speaking to the Lord, “I’m a youkai healer, as was my Father before me. I’m very skilled, but if you’re worried I might try to harm him, you’re welcome to test it.” Sesshoumaru looked into the human’s eyes, and, seeing no deception, did not object.

The imp cut his eyes toward his master, unsure as if he should take the potion, but Sesshoumaru did not wish to cause the little slave any more pain. “You may,” he said, and the imp drank the sweet-tasting fluid down in a heartbeat. Immediately, his joints felt more limber than they had in years, and the absence of pain left him feeling strangely naked.

Smiling, the human patted the clawed fingers gently, and vanished once more behind the curtain. “You’re alright?” Sesshoumaru asked, as soon as the human was out of ear-shot, and the imp nodded, eyes once again sun-bright. The Lord wondered at a human who healed youkai, who had cared for his little servant’s needs without being asked, who was as breathtaking as any youkai, male or female.

Entering the room with Staff in hand, Jaken placed it obediently into the hands of Lord Sesshoumaru. “There you are then,” he said, and put a small pouch into the youkai’s other hand. “This is for his pain,” the boy whispered, sending a shiver of lust down the demon’s spine. A look passed between them, though neither knew exactly what they were seeing reflected in the other’s eyes.

After a few moments, Jaken came to himself, saying, “If you have need of more, please feel free to come to me.” His voice held an unmistakable tone of dismissal, but Sesshoumaru refrained from killing the boy on the spot, because of his helpfulness toward the house-imp.

Rising gracefully, he gathered up his servant, and said, “I am Sesshoumaru.” He did not know why he said it, his name was a precious thing, not to be handed out to just anyone. The boy smiled, his entire face lighting angelically, as he answered politely, “It is my pleasure to know you, milord.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was not such a pleasure to know him, however, when next he came to the little hut. Eyes flaming, the Taiyoukai was a roaring inferno of rage, an antithesis to his habitual reserve. This time, there would be no mock-bowing, no gift-giving, no long, soulful looks, he would accept only honesty and genuflecting from the lying, filthy human boy.

“You have tampered with it!” Sesshoumaru screamed, and the boy jerked involuntarily from his kneeling position on the floor, expecting further attack.

He returned to his place at once, answering as respectfully as he knew how. “I did not tamper with it,” he began, but Lord Sesshoumaru was in no mood for explanation.

“You must have, it refuses to work for me. What have you done to it?” Sesshoumaru spat, throwing the useless staff against the boy’s prone body.

“I tell you that I have done nothing,” Jaken answered, anger overruling his customary good sense, Sesshoumaru again cutting him off.

“If you have not, then the original keeper, your father, must have. You knew it would not work for me,” he accused, despising himself for believing the lies in the boy’s sage eyes.

“Your Father, milord, not mine. It was the former Taiyoukai who placed the wards on the Staff,” the young man finally managed to grind out, the beating which had forced him to his present location had taken its’ toll. Sesshoumaru had been holding back considerably, which was the only reason that Jaken still lived.

“My Father? Why would he do such a thing?” Sesshoumaru screamed, but even he was beginning to see the logic in that. He had never known his Father to make a thing easy for his son, when making it difficult might teach him a lesson. Breathing heavily from his exertions, Sesshoumaru put a hand against the wall, thinking. After a moment of reflection, he realized the truth, a truth which had been staring him in the face for quite some time now.

“I imagine that you can wield the Staff,” he said accusatorily, and Jaken nodded, spitting blood from his split lip. This was not a surprise, now that he saw his Father’s hand guiding the affair. “He wants me to work with you, I suppose, to love humans the way he did, making little hanyou brats all over the countryside.” His voice fairly dripped with disgust and revulsion.

Jaken snickered, as he reminded, “I am a male, my lord…I don’t foresee any problems with pregnancy. You can have me any time you want, without fear of any such repercussions.” A hazardous statement, considering his present position. His nose flushed at the thought, although he attributed it to all the blood rushing into his face from being bent over.

Sesshoumaru snarled, repulsed, but there was a part of him that stored the moment away, to be looked at, to be turned over, to be savored. Watching the boy’s bottom as it swayed back and forth seductively, various places of his anatomy heated in a way which he had grown accustomed to not thinking about, and Sesshoumaru made a vow to take two or three of the most attractive youkai of his acquaintance and fuck them into oblivion. Maybe then he could get this foul taste of lust, lust for a paltry, insignificant human, out of his system...and then get on with his life.

If Jaken felt his attacker’s discomfort at all, he didn’t show it, as he continued, “The Taiyoukai placed spells on it, I don’t know what they were or how to remove them, all I do know is that only a human or a half-human can use the Staff.”

Sesshoumaru frowned at this, then thought aloud, “So, my choices are first, to be saddled with my half-breed brother…or second, to be saddled with you…” He mulled it over, as Jaken realized just how treacherous this situation had suddenly become. Hauling the boy up by his hair, Sesshoumaru growled, “I’d rather a filthy, ill-bred human, than my bastard brother…you’ll come with me.”

Jaken’s arguments fell on deaf ears, although the Lord did see fit to let him bring a few changes of clothes and some of his medicines with him, most notably the one that had given his little slave so much relief. He latched his hand around the boy’s slim wrist, his strength surprising when compared to his feminine looks. Desperate, Jaken tried again to reason with his kidnapper, but all in vain.

Beneath the darkened moon, the journey to the Lord’s home was done in less than an hour, when it would have taken nearly three for the youkai, the poor boy’s legs failing beneath him, only to be dragged along the ground by the single-minded Sesshoumaru, a bonfire of rage and lust spurring him onward. His burgeoning feelings for the young human frightened him, making him question opinions and beliefs he had never before questioned, and he did not quite know how to handle it. In these situations, anger seemed to serve him best.

As they reached their destination, the Shiro no Taiyoukai, they were met at the door by a group of hushed servants, who timidly attempted to approach their Lord, but fear seemed to be holding them back. After a moment of silence, a brave little imp, of the same dimensions as his tiny favorite, piped up, saying, “Milord, please, you must hurry. Your Dorei has taken ill…we’re afraid he won’t live through the night.” The nodding and bowing throng squealed as the Lord crashed through their ranks, sending imps, goblins, and sprites flying, as he ran down the immense hallway, Jaken in tow.

Jaken marveled at the Lord’s sudden transformation. Gone was the uncaring Taiyoukai, and in his place, a young demon, scared beyond his own imagination at the thought of losing his indentured servant. A sharp tug on his sleeve, and his mind focused. “Help him,” the amber-eyed youkai begged, kneeling beside the tiny futon, pulling the human down beside him. The utter helplessness on the face of the confident, assured lord was enough to sway any man, and Jaken nodded his consent.

Examining the patient, Jaken was stunned to realize that the imp was almost ten years older than he had first thought. “How old is he?” he queried, and Sesshoumaru shrugged.

“He’s always been here, since I was born, he’s more than eighteen,” Sesshoumaru said, golden eyes filled with uncertainty.

Another imp, a bit younger, said quietly, “He’s nearly thirty five, I believe, lords.” Jaken flinched at the title, but did not correct the mistake. Thirty five was ancient, many humans didn’t live that long, how in the name of heaven had this one survived all these many years? The answer lay before him, in the kneeling figure which was currently bathing the tiny one’s forehead, hands which had so recently shown their brutality were now revealing their tenderness.

After a few more moments of exploration, it was clear that the imp could not possibly last the night. “Come into the hall with me, please,” he asked, his tone firm. Sesshoumaru complied, a measure of his worry. Jaken closed the door tightly behind him, and said the hardest words he had ever said. “He’s dying.”

The look on Sesshoumaru’s face was heart-rending, the proud statuary crumbling beneath the weight of unforeseen emotion. “You can heal him. You’re a healer.” It was all he could choke out, and Jaken placed a steadying hand on his chest, all anger at his kidnapping forgotten.

“I am, but I can’t perform miracles. He’s been living on borrowed time for more than ten years…he should have been dead long before now. He’s been in pain for a very long time, I can tell by his joints. Sesshoumaru, he’s been holding on for you.” There was no easy way to say it. Jaken watched with sad eyes as the youkai denied it, then slowly, painfully, came to terms with the truth of the matter.

“Let me stay with him,” was all that he said, before returning to the room. Jaken followed behind, mixing up a noxious concoction that would, at least, lessen some of the imp’s intense pain. Sesshoumaru sent all of them out, Jaken in the custody of two harmless-looking goblins who locked him inside a cramped guest room…but failed to lock his window. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going anywhere, not yet at least…he was intrigued by this demon-angel, there was no help for it. Besides, the youkai would simply come after him, and with the loss of his servant, the grief might cause him to lose his grip on sanity. The last thing Jaken wanted was to come upon those fists, with the Lord’s mind unhinged.

In the imp’s bedroom, Sesshoumaru gathered his servant into his arms, as gently as he could, rocking the limp form carefully. As he rocked, he thought, of all the things which had gone unsaid, all the loving details which had gone unnoticed, all of the time which had seemed to stretch out before them endlessly. He would be alone when this little one died, and there would be no one left who cared. It was the most monumentally unfair thing he could think of, not being able to give the one who had loved him so much the one thing that he needed, all of the things which had been done for him could never be repaid.

The night wound on, with Sesshoumaru’s tears wetting the imp’s front, as the imp’s faltering breaths slowed horrifyingly. When it seemed all hope was lost, inspiration struck, half-remembered spells from his search for the Tomb uniting to form an idea which might serve him as well as it served his Dorei. With an unholy laugh, the Lord worked out his thoughts, forming as diabolical and perfect a plan as he had ever concocted. When he had worked out all the variances and vagaries, Sesshoumaru woke his charge.

He whispered into the pointed ears the plan, an arrangement which couldn’t help but appeal to both of them. He could infuse life into the imp’s frail body, but it would require the use of another soul, a young soul. In this case, a human soul would do nicely. The imp would retain all of his thoughts and abilities, as would Jaken, and the imp’s ki would increase dramatically to match the ki of the one inside him.

The Lord would have a nice, neat prison to lock away his captive, where no lust-filled glances would ever escape, and a humble servant who was more than willing to wield the Staff of Heads for him.

The imp’s life and the human’s life would both be lengthened considerably, although not nearly as long as Sesshoumaru’s life span, only one hundred fifty to two hundred years at the most. When he had the Tetsusaiga, his power would increase dramatically, perhaps then he would be able to increase their lives further. Besides that, however, there were no foreseeable problems. All that remained was to gain the permission of his faithful servant.

“Dorei…Dorei, listen to me…if you agree to this, you will no longer be yourself. You will be yourself reborn, with the same memories and thoughts, but a human will reside within you. I can’t say what might happen to you,” Sesshoumaru said, rocking the little bundle cautiously, protectively.

“Will I serve you?” the little imp rasped, snuggling into his master’s warmth, unafraid of death’s icy fists now that the Lord was here with him.

“As you have always done,” Sesshoumaru confirmed. He did not add that the imp would serve him better than ever, because he would actually be of some use in the search for the Tomb.

After a moment of mulling over this statement, the imp said solemnly, “Then I will be myself.” It was said with great finality, there was no more need for questions or conversation. The imp had made his choice. He had seen the look in the Lord’s eyes, the lust which flickered in the amber depths. He would give the Lord what he didn’t even know he needed…pure, simple, unfettered love. It would be his finest, final gift to the Lord whom he had loved so much, for so long. After all these years, he had found the one to whom he would gladly give over his charge…but he would not have to die to do it.

The spell itself was destructively simple, any fool could do it, but never did. There were too many possibilities for error, too many things that could go wrong, too much difference between the two parties involved. To Sesshoumaru, however, it mattered not a whit. This was his choice, and his servant’s choice, and it would work because it had to.

Jaken slept peacefully as the Lord’s hand brushed against his forehead, and when next he woke, he was well and truly trapped. It would be another year before the Lord unbound him, and in that time, his anger and rage had abated somewhat, but those first months of living inside the body of an imp were the hardest of his entire life.

The next morning brought a celebration of the Lord’s infinite power and wisdom and healing prowess, his little favorite restored not only to life, but also to youth. He was not a pretty creature, but the glow which surrounded him for days and weeks made him seem almost attractive.

The news of the sudden disappearance of the Lord’s human guest was also a topic of the palace gossip, a bit of rumor to be passed along, although the unlocked window in the human’s room seemed to explain all. The goblins in question were removed from duty, but amazingly were not put to death. The Lord was perhaps learning some of his great Father’s compassion.

However, none of these stories made as much of a stir as the Lord’s bestowal of a name upon his long-time, long-suffering Dorei. The ceremony was short and simple, the newly-youthful imp blinking at his master in astonishment, his memory a jumbled blur of illness, magic, and a half-remembered whisper of another consciousness, buried deep inside him.

The Lord stood before him, both dressed in a handsome black kimonos, kneeling to kiss the green wrinkled head with an affection most had never before seen from him, as he intoned solemnly before all and sundry, “Thy name is Jaken.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sesshoumaru woke to the feeling that something was very wrong, although he couldn’t quite place what it was. The feeling continued, an aggravating sense of wrongness, as he tried to move his face away from the curtain of hair which snaked over his face and neck.

The phantom pains in his missing arm were bothersome, but he had expected them. The pain that still resided in the remainder of his arm was negligible, the blanket of contentment which had settled over him after their lovemaking was combating it nicely.

His nose itched , and he sneezed, a cat-sneeze which angered him, glad that Jaken hadn’t seen it. Now that he thought of it, his neck itched as well, and his cheek, and his chin…with mounting horror, he realized what had awakened him. The maddening, itching tickle of hair in his nose, in his mouth, lying lank against his chest, he was powerless to do anything about it. Moving his head from side to side did absolutely nothing, the exasperating lack of arms was infuriating. Jaken had pinned his right, and the left was woefully lost to him. After a frustrating moment of getting his lover to roll over, Sesshoumaru was finally able to scratch the provoking itch to his heart’s content.

Standing up was interesting without his left arm, it would definitely take some getting used to. The plait had fallen out, as he had known it would, and his massive tresses were rebelliously insurgent. Without thinking, he put up a hand to move his hair from his eyes, and pulled up short.

From a child, he had ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair, moving it out of his face, tucking it behind the points of his ears, arranging it just so, although it always managed to escape. He didn’t even think about it, it was a force of habit so old and familiar that he couldn’t even remember starting to do it, he had always done it. He fussed at it with his right, but it wasn’t the same, he could feel his left hand moving to perform the deed, but, of course, nothing happened. After a few moments of that, he was furious, and fared no better when he attempted to put his hair in a queue.

He kneeled beside the little Jaken-imp, and forgot for a moment what had been bothering him so. The servant was sleeping well, his chest rising and falling with each short breath. He would bind his human again, soon, he did not like them to be apart long. Each moment they were apart, was another moment taken from their lives, they aged more rapidly when unbound. He would have the Tetsusaiga soon, and then he could breathe easier, when he could be certain that he would never have to live without them. None of this would he ever admit to them, he scarcely admitted it to himself.

With a sigh, he wiped away the blood and dirt from the small body, changing the little one’s filthy clothing, pulling a crimson kimono around its’ tiny shoulders. He grimaced slightly as he picked up the imp, the pain in his left side making itself known, but he set his burden down gently, the two Jakens lying face to face. He retrieved his own kimono, making a face at it, he had grown rather too accustomed to his traveling clothes. He imagined the Jaken-imp would be happy to go home and change into his uniform, as well. He smiled at them, it was safe to do so only when they slept, and caught up the stole of his mother.

He knelt before it, ashamed that he had allowed her fur to become so soiled, although he had been quite out of his mind at the time. With a shake of his head, he decided to take it to the springs, perhaps the heat of the water and that horrible soap would be able to work out the great clots of blood and dirt which marred the stole’s white beauty.

As he worked, Sesshoumaru thought of many things, most notably his defeat at Inuyasha’s hands. It was no less shaming than before, but perhaps there was a lesson in this, as well. Hanyou or not, Inuyasha was not the weak, puling coward that Sesshoumaru had thought. He wished for a moment that he had taken the time to know Inuyasha as a child, he could have used previous knowledge of the boy’s tactics against him.

Marveling, he realized that Inuyasha might well have killed him, had the blade sliced clean through his side, and not just his arm. He wondered why the boy had not killed him, wondered why Inuyasha had not followed him to finish the deed. Was it possible that the hanyou was more like their great Father, than he himself.

An enigma, these humans, these half-breeds, although it was not they who presented the puzzle, but his own heart. He had been taught to hate them by his fearsome mother, taught to care for them by his glorious father, and if he were honest, he could not say which of them had been right. His own lover, his only lover, was human, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t justify it even to himself. How had it come to this, why had the powers above seen fit to place the purest love he had ever known before him in the guise of a human?

If he believed in such things, he would say it was but another lesson from the Taiyoukai. A memory of his Father filtered through to him, Inuyasha crying in his mother’s arms, tears washing over her porcelain face, his own defiance in the face of the Taiyoukai. He could not remember what he had said to them, only that it had been rather demeaning, and fairly obscene.

His Father’s great claws had held him in place, he had come to them in his highest form, anger and betrayal now dulling his azure eyes. “You have dishonored yourself this day, Sesshoumaru,” he had growled, massive paw flexing against his son’s chest, “I have eaten youkai for lesser offense. If you were not my son, you would be another set of bones in my belly.” His harsh words were belied by a massive tear which rolled down his ivory fur, splashing his son’s face, a torrent of salt and suffering.

“I am ashamed to be your son,” he had cried, foolhardy as all teenagers are, twisting the knife in his Father’s heart, “You have dishonored yourself with your human bitch.” Such brave words, not his, of course, he had heard them many times from his mother before her death, and he held onto them dearly, as he held onto her fur stole.

“I do not explain myself to children or fools, of which you are both, “ the Lord had rumbled, “I will say this, however. There is no shame in loving whom you were meant to love, no matter what or whom they happen to be. I hope that you will learn the truth someday, that we fall in love with the soul of a person, not the body it was put into.”

The Lord had went away that night, away to the battle which had cost him his life. They had spoken before he left, but the conversation had been stilted and they had not embraced as was their custom. In fact, it had been Inuyasha who had hugged their Father, strange from him, because he saw the old man but rarely, and was shy in his commanding presence.

That lesson had not been his Father’s last, and if it made more sense now than it had back then, Sesshoumaru still was not completely convinced. Humans were cattle. Humans were to be preyed upon. Humans were disgusting beasts without the capacity for honor and pride. The more he thought about it, the more this seemed the right of things…except for his human, of course.

The stole had finally come clean, it would suffice until he could get it to the castle and care for it properly. Raising his ki slightly, it dried quickly, and he hefted it over his right shoulder before taking it up to the cabin. As he entered, he watched them a moment, his two Jakens, one human, one imp, both loved by Sesshoumaru, both an embarrassment to his uncertain dignity. He needed them, but he could not tell them; he loved them, but they could never know; they were all that he had, but he was ashamed of their very existence.

They had snuggled in close together, their bodies instinctively searching for one another, souls forever entwined, even when their bodies were apart. Sitting at the head of the futon, feet tucked beneath him neatly, Sesshoumaru loving placed the adored heads in his lap, stroking the ebony hair of his beloved wistfully.

He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, only that he would recover the Tetsusaiga. His own power was secondary, it was for them that the Tetsusaiga must be retrieved. With it, he could finally be assured that they would never leave him, that he would not be alone. Inuyasha’s defeat would be a bonus, payback for the crime of his birth and for his disabled arm, and if he killed his father’s brat, more the better.

He arranged the human’s hands so that they were touching the imp’s clawed fingers, and then began the spell which would return him to his prison. One day soon, he would speak with Jaken, they would make some sense of their new relationship, of their changing roles, but today was not that day. The Tomb had been found, but there was still much to do. He would replace his benighted arm, and he would take what was his from the despicable hanyou. The rest of it, his love, his lust, his shame, his disgrace, all must be set aside from now, buried deep with his Dorei, until he was ready to face it.

“I do bind thee,” he said, not without a certain amount of sadness. He should have liked to have made love to the infuriating brat once more, but he would not let his lustful greed rule over him any more than it already did. The rest of the spell was given by rote, the words as familiar to him as the imp’s old songs. The body of his lover was surrounded once more by a whirlwind of magic, his tanned body gleaming in a bath of golden light. He was transformed into a whirlwind tornado of magical energy, the ki aura of his soul was as beautiful as his physical form, as the words of the spell bound him inside Sesshoumaru’s Dorei.

As the human Jaken disappeared into the mind of the imp, he awakened immediately, his body reanimated with the return of his other half. He looked around incredulously, blinking, his smile infectious, but Sesshoumaru refrained from answering it, his arm beginning to throb now, all of the night’s contentment shut away with his Jaken.

Blinking, the imp struggled to remember the events of the day, gasping as he laid his eyes upon Lord Sesshoumaru’s injury. When last he saw it, it had been a morbid wound, and he was hopeful that he had been of some use to his Lord. “Milord…” he began, nuzzling his face against Sesshoumaru’s thighs surreptitiously, “Was I able to help you, milord?”

Sesshoumaru hesitated for a moment, brushing his hand over the little one’s head, then replied honestly, knowing that his Jaken would hear and understand, “More than you know.”

The sun entered timidly, hesitant as a virgin bride, but soon stood before them in all her glory. Sesshoumaru sighed, setting the imp to its’ feet, rising with learned grace. Already he was becoming accustomed to the arm’s absence, although his hair was an infuriating annoyance which he was seriously considering cutting off altogether.

The imp surprised him by pulling at his sleeve, and when he bent down, the little claws pushed the errant tresses back behind his ears lovingly. “There you are, then,” Jaken said, and Sesshoumaru imagined for a moment it was his lover, and not his servant who spoke to him with such care.

They gathered their things together without words, they had been together so long that words were often unnecessary, if not aggravating. Jaken made no mention of the hastily-discarded jade kimono which rested so dangerously near the fire, dousing the flames with a muttered “hmphh” at his master’s carelessness. He did, however, seem surprised to see two bowls of rice, one which seemed rather empty, and asked Sesshoumaru about it. He knew that the Lord never ate human food, and he certainly could not. “Never mind,” he was told, and that was the end of that.

As they marched toward home, Sesshoumaru was aware of the imp’s furrowed brow, and knew that the slave was mulling over what he had seen in the cabin, drawing who knew what conclusions. He, too, would have to be spoken with, the situation explained, decisions made…but today was not that day.

Today was a day of planning, of strategy, of rest. There would be no more thought of humans, or imps, or hanyou brothers who didn’t know their place, he would think only of possessing the Tetsusaiga, and the power which it would bring him. Sesshoumaru had a mission, a goal, and as long as he had this, then all the rest could wait.

There was plenty of time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Milord, there’s no time,” the imp scolded, pushing his pup toward the bath. The Taiyoukai was already angry, the destruction to his study had gone unpunished, but the imp did not wish to remind him of their earlier disobedience.

The tiny lord shook his head violently, “I don’t want a bath. I don’t need a bath. You’re the one who smells, not me.” He dug his toes into the soft fur rug, as his servant pulled at his elbows.

“I’m sure that I do, but you still need a bath, milord,” the servant told his trying charge, “Come along, Lord Sesshoumaru, the Taiyoukai is expecting us.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going. That hanyou can have his birthday without me!” Sesshoumaru spat, clawing out of Jaken’s grasp, with an impressive yowl. The imp rolled his eyes as he stepped into the warm bath, his thin shoulders relaxing visibly as the steam relaxed his tired, aching muscles. Sleeping on bare floors was not as easy as it once had been. The imp wondered how much longer he would live, he was already older than his father had been when he had died. In a few years, he would have to think of training a replacement. It was a sobering thought, for who could take care of Lord Sesshoumaru as well as he?

The lord sat in the middle of the floor, his arms crossed, sullen and glowering. His servant poured some water over his bald head, sighing, plastering a smile on his beaked mouth, which didn’t convince the pup one little bit. With a toss of his hair, he said, “I’m not getting in there.” He nodded his proud head regally, silver bangs flopping into his eyes. With his left hand, he pushed them out of the way, his claws faltering amid the tangles.

“Very well. Your Lady Mother will be so happy to see her son, I’m sure she won’t notice your stench,” the imp said, his mouth pursed hilariously. He ducked his head under the water, which made Sesshoumaru jealous. He could swim like a fish, but he had to admit to being a bit frightened of going below the surface. His Mother and Father weren’t afraid, he was sure of it, and he wondered if the little hanyou would swim as well as them, now that he was a year old. How shaming it would be if he could swim underwater, before Sesshoumaru learned how at the advanced age of three.

Determinedly, Sesshoumaru marched to the bath, diving into the water without holding his nose. He came up sputtering, the water in his mouth and nose choking him, his arms waving blindly. His servant’s voice came to him, his tone strident from worry, “Lord Sesshoumaru! I’m coming, Lord Sesshoumaru!”

The little imp was no help at all, of course, being too small to do much but get in the way, but his voice calmed Sesshoumaru’s panic, and he turned over, floating on his back, breath heaving. The slave breathed a great sigh of relief, putting his hand on the pup’s forehead, as if to reassure himself that the boy was alright.

“You scare me so, milord,” the Dorei chided, and Sesshoumaru had to agree that he did. Usually it wasn’t deliberate, as in this case, but sometimes it was. Over the years, he had been assigned many keepers, but none had liked him enough to stay around. Even his parents didn’t come around often.

He smiled at the slave, petting its’ round head, and said sweetly, “I know. I think you like it, though.” Grinning, he dipped his head beneath the roll of the waves, this time remembering to hold onto his nose, and to take a deep breath, at least until he learned how to do it the right way.

The odd pair swam about in the bath, the imp taking pains to show the young pup the correct way to move his arms and legs, and even a few simple tricks. The time passed quickly, and it was not long before the bell sounded for dinner. “We’re late!” the imp screeched, jumping out of the pool and into his clothes with stunning alacrity. The pup followed at his own pace, taking as much time getting out of the water as he did getting in it. He was wrapped in his kimono while still wet, which upset him to no end. “You KNOW I hate that, Dorei!”, he screeched, but the imp was not listening, shoving sandals on the boy’s feet, and pushing against him sharply.

“Please, milord, it’s your Mother, she’s waiting,” the imp cried, backing into the lord, trying to force him along. The lord sighed, and complied, although walking at the slowest pace he could muster. The slower he went, the louder the slave squealed, which made him giggle helplessly.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said with mock severity, mussing his hair with one hand. The imp’s horrified look was priceless, and the golden eyes danced with laughter. He kicked off his sandals, the imp rushing around to collect them, as he ran back to the door of the baths, to start the journey all over again.

The imp had turned a threatening shade, purple and green made interesting colors when mixed, Sesshoumaru had found. “What??” the lad said innocently, his face pink with scrubbing, his ear tips scarlet from laughing. They began again, this time without so much trouble, although the lord would insist on tying and untying his kimono sash, and walking down the hallways backwards.

By the time they finally made their way to the dining room, the meal should have been well underway, but instead they found the room abandoned, pillows thrown about as if the occupants had left in haste.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened with curiosity, along with the tiniest bit of fear. “What’s going on, do you think?” he asked, a small hand inching to play at his hair, as he often did when nervous. The slave shook his head, he could not say, but he was certain that he should get the boy to safety, just in case something had gone wrong. Just as the thought came to him, the pup was off in a flash of feet and fang, and the imp nearly fainted.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” he hissed, following the boy as quickly as he could. It was too late, the boy was in the middle of the gathered throng before he had even taken two steps. The pup, to his credit, did not shriek as his servant did at the horror before them, although he did turn his face away, trying not to vomit. The imp knew him well enough to know the lad would believe that this disgraced him, but to his servant, he bore his loss with the regal stoicism that would be expected of a much older child.

The Lady’s immense pelt was lying on the stone flooring, her crimson-black lifeblood seeping into the stones, leaving an indelible stain, never to be removed. The rest of her body was nowhere to be seen, but the obscenity of her skinned fur was, in some ways, more horrifying. The child did not look away again, although the imp tried to make him come away from the sight, so terrible even for the adult youkai, much less the young lad.

He did not budge, his elfin face pressed against his Father’s leg, the Taiyoukai still in his human aspect, looking as uncertain and small as his young son. His azure eyes were clouded, his sculpted face drawn with grief. His black kimono seemed to shroud him in melancholy and death. Sadly, the Taiyoukai rested a clawed hand on his son’s head, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. Lord Inuyasha’s mother came to stand with her husband, putting a comforting hand on the slim shoulders of her stepson. His fierce snarl startled her, his blade-like talons dragging long gashes in her creamy arm. She cried out in pain, the Lord immediately coming to her aid, pushing his son towards his keeper. “Get him out of here, Dorei,” he snapped, calling for a healer to come quickly.

The boy’s look was heart-wrenching, the absolute betrayal of his father overshadowing for a moment the atrocious murder of his mother. The pain that seized the imp’s heart seemed to come from the boy himself, tearing and clawing and ripping and scraping at his innards, threatening to overcome him with grief. How could they hurt his pup so? He was but a child, a baby still in many ways, despite his advanced intelligence. How could they be so blind? The boy was trying so desperately to be brave, to make his Father proud, to make his Mother proud, how could they blame him for actions taken while his heart was so freshly wounded?

He led the pup from the Hall as gently as he could, the playful memories of their earlier walk were dead and buried, perhaps forever. As bothersome and infuriating as the master could be, it didn’t seem possible that all of that could be gone. Entering the boy’s room, he laid back the covers of the futon, settling the unusually docile pup underneath. The imp rushed to get a wet cloth, gently wiping away the blood from his claws, his ghost-white face.

Sesshoumaru pulled himself into a little ball, a single thumb pushed to his lips, as if being denied entrance. He held out a hand to the little slave, who obediently sat, the lord moving his head to rest in his lap. The servant pressed the thumb the rest of the way, the bow mouth latching onto it thankfully, as he used his claws to comb out tangles in the quicksilver locks.

The pup closed his eyes, suckling at the thumb as he had once suckled at his mother’s breast, a thought which wrung a harsh sob from the slave. He pressed a claw to his mouth, silencing any further outbursts by the force of his will, and began to sing the lord’s favorite lullaby. It was made for a youkai voice much deeper than his, but the lad relaxed visibly hearing the old familiar tune. He sank into sleep, his face awash with tears, silent sobs wracking his body as he slept.

The imp sang on through the night, until his voice was ragged, his throat raw and bleeding. When his voice gave out, he laid down behind his pup, patting his back soothingly until he was unable to keep his lids open a second longer. His last thought as he fell into the warm, blissful oblivion, was that the moon was as red as the Lady’s blood-soaked pelt had been, the pool which had soaked into the flagstones had been just that shade of crimson.

“Watch over him,” he imagined he heard the moon say, and he nodded his head, a vision of his lord overtaking him. A grown man, not as large as the Taiyoukai, but tall and intensely beautiful, his fangs bathed in blood, his golden eyes dusky with love. It was an image of hope, and he looked forward to it, with equal amounts of anticipation and trepidation.

He would do all that he could for his pup, and be damned the cost. He would think no more of replacements. No one would ever serve his lord as well as he…no one would ever love his lord as well as he. As he fell into sleep, he smiled at a thought which came to him, that if ever he found a being who would care for his boy, then and only then would he relinquish his place at the pup’s side.

As they slept, the moon watched over them, the Taiyoukai looking in before going out to hunt his wife’s killers. His heir sniffled, the imp’s hands immediately moving to soothe him back to sleep. He marveled at the gentleness of those claws, the pup sliding back into slumber easily. The youkai lord was aware of a tenderness in his own heart, towards this stubborn, willful child, who nevertheless had shown a staunch bravery well beyond his years.

The prejudices of his Mother had tainted him, no doubt, but the Taiyoukai wondered if it were not possible to rid the boy of them. He could see the child’s future greatness, his ki potential was extensive, and he saw the same prospects for his youngest son. Together, they would be a force to be reckoned with, if only he could teach them to work together, to love each other as brothers, as family. It could be done. It must be done, or all of his life’s work would be in vain.

The Taiyoukai placed a loving kiss on his heir’s forehead, the boy whimpering softly in his sleep. His Dorei sleepily quieted him, and the Taiyoukai petted the round head affectionately. “Sleep well, little ones,” he whispered, pulling the blankets tight around the slumbering forms.

He would protect them both with all his might. Fate had indeed been cruel to his child, and time would probably bring even more pain, as it did to every being, human or youkai. He could only hope that the boy would find his way, as he had done. He felt that he had failed the boy this day, but never again. He would guide him, teach him, show him the path which would lead him to the happiness which he had found.

The pup kicked sharply in his sleep, and the imp whimpered, forcing a laugh from the Taiyoukai. The boy wouldn’t be easily molded, he would probably have to be dragged kicking and screaming the entire way, but it was certainly worth it. He left with the peaceful visage of his sleeping pup a reminder of better times.

Behind him, a small voice called, “Papa…Papa, I love you…”

It was too late. The Lord had already vanished. Sesshoumaru felt that it had always been so. Tears once again came unbidden to his eyes, but this time he did not shed them. Patting the head of his Dorei, he contemplated the fact that one day, he would not be alone. He would be so powerful that he would be able bring his Mother back to life, he would able to grant his Father eternal life, his little Dorei would be with him always, and no one would ever leave or die or hurt him ever again.

He’d just have to learn how to do it, that was all…he yawned, and nuzzled against his servant, who smiled in his sleep, as they snuggled in together. Well, he wouldn’t worry about it now. He would live an awful long time, and so would his Dorei. No one could harm Father, although he wasn’t certain that the hunters who had killed his Mother might not come to kill him, too. Shivering, he pressed closer to the imp, who held him tight, whisper-singing into his pointed ears until the morning light began to make its ponderous way toward the warm nest of his futon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I love you.”

“I love you, Lord Sesshoumaru.”

“Let’s promise to always love each other, even when we get mad or hurt each other.”

“Of course, I will promise, milord, but I already do.”

“It’s nice to be loved, isn’t it?”

“The nicest thing in the world.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Well, that’s good then.”

~end~