Sesshomaru felt a bit lost in the treasure room. He walked down a small set of stairs onto the platform overlooking several mounds of gold coins, but... he couldn't gather anything. No, it was more like... he knew he couldn't gather anything. Hence why he simply stood still on the platform. He wasn't thinking of anything this time. He was just... there. For many years, he thought about how his kingdom should look, how he wanted to run things, how he wanted to represent his family in all of its encompassing legacy. He included a little girl in that vision, an imp, and a lazy dragon. He even started to include a little lady who rode the winds on a singular feather before she was suddenly taken away from him with a smile on her face. Her sorrow had finally ended... with him being the last person she would ever see as a free woman. Now..., the more he stood upon the platform, the more he realized that his vision...
Never existed...
Claiming the western lands had nothing to do with taking over his father's legacy or even building his own. Until a hell titan rose to the surface of mortals, he barely interacted with other clans of youkai. Claiming his father's fangs for power had nothing to do with appearing superior either. He knew he was strong enough to face immeasurable odds, but... those odds only sought to use him. He never heard anyone try to use his father, not even with basic manipulation tactics. Only pleas for mercy ever came from an enemy. Sesshomaru remembered the very day he saw his father grow cold. He may as well have been the sovereign of the damned himself. Those eyes... Bloody, merciless, uncaring. Sesshomaru clung to that image as a young ruler because it was so resolute. It struck fear into him. The truth of the matter was the wind weasels had more than enough money for Sesshomaru to buy out a plot of land or just claim territory and build everything from scratch, but... who did he know could build a palace for him? Who would willingly go to him for aid? How would he provide for his people? Land was not enough. And, in truth...,
"You don't want the lands..."
Sesshomaru's attention was immediately gained at his father's distant voice. He thought he heard him close by. He certainly didn't imagine it. Where did - ?
"You don't want the money..."
Uncharacteristically, Sesshomaru's eyes darted to his left then his right, but, again, nothing and no one was in the treasure room or on the platform. Yet, the voice was ever present. It didn't even sound like that cloud creature from before. The voice was an amalgamation of voices - chaotic, undetectable, intimate. A sharp pain in his diaphragm made him double over. His ears started ringing to the point where his left temple was burning and pinching.
"You want him back..."
Whatever was here, it was pressurizing the air. Sesshomaru had a harder time breathing and remaining calm. The air was stifling. The gold was mocking him. But, suddenly, the ground pulsed like it was a living thing. His ankles felt like they were tightening, like his shoes were too small. Coins and jewels moved to form a pair of eyes that matched his own in color and coldness. A proper face didn't form, but the torches lighting the room did change color. The flames turned black, giving the eyes formed from gold a very animated appearance. As though a painter plotted out specific motions to create this thing.
"Who are you?" Sesshomaru demanded quite calmly despite his pain.
"I have received many names. You can call me Bushin," the eyes said, blinking slowly.
"Bushin? The soul of the samurai?" Sesshomaru asked, scoffing at the moniker.
"In a way, yes," Bushin said with a thoughtful hum. He blinked slowly again before continuing, "I am the voice of the sword that belongs to you - the lost extension of you. The most skilled blacksmiths have particular forges where 'creatures' like me live. Warriors worthy of a sword can hear our voices. You are different. You can see and sense me."
"Your presence is offensive enough. Release me from your hold," Sesshomaru demanded, unimpressed by talking treasure pieces.
"Hmph! I'm not holding you. That's the weight of your answer to the blacksmith's challenge," Bushin explained.
"My answer?" Sesshomaru questioned.
"Money can no longer fix the brokenness of the kingdom you lost. There is no amount of treasure that will give you the chance you were looking for in the past. Ere go, Lord Moromao's challenge is... fruitless you might say," Bushin explained. "Your soul, Lord Sesshomaru, is much like the tapestries and paintings in this very room. They might be here for all to see, might tell stories of grand adventures, might even have travelled far from their native lands before being displayed here, but the world - the viewers - of these great arts are so engrossed in their own toils, troubles, and challenges that... well..., they don't realize you're not part of any of it. The memories you had of a hopeful, ambitious youth are fully separated from you. This is unheard of for most creatures, but, more impressive than that, you were physically able to isolate your own soul at a young age. The part of you that is left after the disconnect is what you are now. Here but not quite fully present."
"... This is ridiculous. I know what I want for a kingdom. I have no need for your lectures," Sesshomaru hissed.
"Oh?" Bushin quipped. "You have two answers to match with the two souls you possess?"
"There are no two answers. Only one," Sesshomaru argued, wanting to end the conversation. "My soul is a singularity."
"... You believe such a lie?" Bushin asked, blinking slowly.
Sesshomaru said nothing. He couldn't even glare at Bushin. He simply narrowed his eyes to question him at first, but doubt took over. He had been more truthful as of late. Maybe a small lie was still present here. Perhaps that's what would break this ridiculous spell put on him: half-truths. But, in order for half a truth to exist, he would have to acknowledge and accept the actual, original truth.
"So deep in thought is the young prince. The weight on you has grown heavier. I suppose you are ready now," Bushin said.
"Ready?" Sesshomaru probed.
"To admit that you don't want your father's kingdom. You just want him back," Bushin responded, blinking slowly. The ground was moving again. The mounds were forming a face for Bushin. It was an incomplete one but a face nonetheless with a brow and now cheekbones. "That's why you haven't taken any money. You don't fight his enemies. You don't go to war - save for the one against the Panther Tribe to preserve his army's morale. You refuse to travel with a caravan like he did in his youth. You won't even take servants with you on your journeys. Why is this? O, why is this? Well, it is quite simple. You don't want what was his. You want the life he gave you as a youth. The mornings when you would bring your mother to the dining table to eat with him and your grandfather. The afternoons when you snuck away from school to visit him in court. The festivals you used to attend at night. You want the pride he once had in you. You want the chances he was giving you as a boy because you miss him. You never properly grieved for him, dear prince. When he was pronounced dead, he was dead... and he took your world with him. Colors once warm and bright became dull when he was gone. Blacks and greys were more pungent. You began to hate the colors that reminded you of him. You don't wear blue, you despise pinks and rosy shades, but you especially hated the color red. You wished your mother would stop wearing her kimonos many times, so you left home often to stop seeing it. The little girl you adopted wore pink. You didn't just get rid of her kimono to be a caring father. You got rid of it so you wouldn't be reminded of the man you lost. You may not mourn for him beyond this day, but the boy you were is so detached from you that you can't hear his weeping. The boy you were has been imprisoned without warning or reason for centuries."
Drip.
Bushin froze but he did not disappear. The singular tear that fell from Sesshomaru surprised even him. Bushin was right. He never had a chance to mourn for his father. Felt Toga didn't deserve his tears. He still feels that way. So why...?
"... I'll never mourn for a man who is as empty as a statue - hollow behind the eyes, crumbling bit by bit. He betrayed us! There was no passion behind his affair, just realization. He could escape his stifling life with us to be a frolicking pup with his humans. This Sesshomaru will never bow like some trained pet! The only reason I shed this tear is because I couldn't say he was weak to his face," Sesshomaru hissed. "I had finally forgotten about such simple times. You dare remind me of them. You all dare to keep reminding me of them! He's gone! Let him die with his choice! It was a choice! He wanted to leave so damned bad? So be it!"
"... Interesting," Bushin finally said, forming the bridge of a nose. "In expressing such passionate grief, you understood his pain better than the human he left for. You truly gave him your blessing unlike the rest, didn't you?"
Sesshomaru said nothing. He only shook to try to control his breathing. More tears threatened to come and his eyes burned. His throat hurt so much, he could barely swallow. So, he didn't. He let the stabbing pain pass on its own. As much as he hated his father, as much as he hated Izayoi, as much as he began to hate the House of Inu for the societal and political pressures they put on his family, he did understand why his father left. He just wanted to be free. Being used as a weapon constantly wore him down. His mother couldn't quite console him because she, too, was a weapon. His grandfather was once the leader of rebels and had to fight for survival at all times. Sesshomaru was practically numb to being coerced into battle because of his power. As bratty as he behaved around them, he was very observant of his family's tragedy. They could not easily escape the life of an attack dog. Their power was ultimately their downfall. Controlling it before others controlled them was the ultimate challenge. Unfortunately, something as simple as love, loyalty, or righteousness bound them to death.
At least...
It used to...
There was a sassy, hopeful, patient, and gentle witch he had met recently who reunited his family without intending to. She, too, lives a life of being a secret weapon, yet...
|| ... ... ... ||
Smiling shrewdly, Meioshi looked at Sesshomaru and asked, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a sexy undertone to your voice when you're angry like that, Lord Sesshomaru?"
Sesshomaru's eyes widened at this, not expecting the doctor to respond in such a manner. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, as though he were measuring her to ensure this was the same person he could tolerate as a temporary ally, but he became silent at the way Meioshi began to grin. There was a sort of intensity there that was almost daring him to try to challenge her. The pheasant watched the lord's every move and gesture from the question.
"Don't toy with me," Sesshomaru threatened, voice darkening with a promise of sudden death.
"Very well," Meioshi said, letting out a chuckle. "Did you find our door yet?"
"Get this barrier off me and find it yourself," Sesshomaru demanded with a venomous hiss in his tone.
"No, I think I'll keep it on you," Meioshi responded, grin reducing to a smirk. "This way, I know you're safe and sound in my arms where you belong."
SLICE! CLASH!
He put enough force in his strike for Meioshi to be forced on one knee in an effort to hold him back. The part that made Sesshomaru the angriest, however, wasn't so much what she said earlier or even her ability to push him back enough to regain her footing. It was the fact that she was still smiling like she had already won this fight. It felt like, no matter how many times he tried to take her head off, he had to live with being bested by a human.
"As much as I would love to ruffle your feathers, we're wasting time here," Meioshi said, letting the differing energies dance around her.
|| ... ... ... ||
She smiles at it. On the day he watched her claim the snow sword, she simply celebrated her victory and looked forward to a new day of peace. Another battle was going to come, but she didn't dread it. Her resolve burned brighter. There were others trying to control her power to settle a centuries' old feud, but she ended it and came out victorious in the end. She may only have the one enemy to fight, but her life was not trapped in an endless cycle of combat. She had a teenage boy to raise now should he ever gain the courage to properly ask to be adopted.
With that last thought, Sesshomaru stood tall again. His eyes no longer burned, his throat was no longer sore, and his heart stopped cracking. Today was a new day. He had his own rival to challenge to a fight. They hadn't sparred since the ravine battle. He had to change that. Fighting side by side is not the same as fighting sword against sword. He just discovered his rival had a secret blacksmith. If she can reach levels of power beyond your typical priestess, he had to be ready to battle her at full power. She held back. He would not be insulted by such a decision! When Bushin hummed in question at Sesshomaru's sudden bout of calm, Sesshomaru unleashed a soft breath before releasing a burst of power that shocked Bushin and made the mounds of gold go flat.
Sesshomaru inelegantly harrumphed and left the treasury. Moromao and Yamashi looked at him with interest, but neither of them was prepared for Sesshomaru's smirk. He quietly walked over to the vat of water holding his Bakusaiga, reached into it to retrieve his blade, and repaired it himself with his own poisonous power. Moromao flinched with shock. How did he do that!? Sesshomaru said nothing else. He just sheathed his sword, walked over to Yamashi, and locked eyes with him.
Yamashi caught on to what the inu prince was demanding and said with a grin, "Ah, the money can't buy what you want, inu prince?"
"No amount ever could. Call me when we're leaving this place. The witch owes me a fight," Sesshomaru said, walking out of the blacksmiths' forge.
"You're going to insult Moromao's skill like this? Lord Totosai can't possibly help you achieve your ultimate power," Yamashi said over his shoulder, making Sesshomaru stop to listen. "He's good but you're different. You belong to the new age of warriors - those descendent from ancient forces but progressive about it. Your sword is powerful, but it can be more. You can achieve a level only your rival has seen - a level Moromao dreams about! The path of ascension is yours. You can do more than claim a birthright should you go down that path. You can create it!"
"... If I take this path, will you stop trying to sell me that big rodent's merchandise?" Sesshomaru asked, turning slightly to Yamashi.
This was no longer a discussion between high-class demons, but it was a discussion that only they understood the significance of now. Yamashi walked away from the Wild Boar Kingdom for a reason. He created his own wealth and company. He maintained his power and reached a new level of strength that could decimate whatever he wanted. Sesshomaru just didn't get to see him at full power yet. He would have to fix that, and he was. He accepted the path to ascension. He accepted Moromao as his new blacksmith. Totosai... well, he'd be visiting him a bit sooner to discuss things.
Yamashi laughed at Sesshomaru's response, eager to see where Sesshomaru will end up, and said, "Never! That same witch you're trying to dethrone owes me a rematch! I'll need someone to train with!"
"If you must," Sesshomaru said softly.
Sesshomaru walked over to his family and Jaken and said nothing more. Jaken, however, took note of his lordship's new demeanor. Prince Yamashi became something beyond a rival in that moment. He changed something in Sesshomaru. What? Well, Jaken kept that opinion to himself, but he noticed that his lord's swagger was lighter than before. A great weight lifted from him, but he didn't understand what the weight was or where it had been all this time.
It appears me lord and I have accepted people that have walked over the line of allies... Jaken thought. This voyage... gave us... what you could call friends...
"So then, what improvements can the inu prince make to enter this unforeseeable level of power, hm?" Yamashi asked with confidence.
"Tch! I'd start with mastering the techniques he already knows and crafting a new or improved one. That will up the discipline I need to switch out the metal that was used to craft that sword. His power can enter the layers we, swordsmiths, create to make swords sturdier. He's got a nasty set of claws. Let's create a technique that combines his poisonous claw swipes with a weapon on his immediate person. That'll assign certain moves and attributes to his base level of power. Once he learns how to concentrate on that, we can hunt for the right metal ores we need. Right now, any demon bone could repair his sword," Moromao explained. "Help him master the bushido discipline then help him train."
__________________________________________________________________
King Biancheng grew weary of Meioshi's idle visits to the outside world. She owed him. Hell was short of kurogane and Lady Rakuyama was claiming the souls of the damned and the innocent in the mortal realm. The powers of the Underworld were imbalanced. One of his mistresses entered his lounging room to retrieve one of his vials of blood. She had a gorgeous and scandalous kimono on her supple body. It was sheer and black with red and white flowers decorating the bodice. The haori jacket atop the eye-catching gown was an array of colors representing the dead: red for blood, yellow for the sulfur pits of hell, and brown for a deadening world. This, too, was sheer. The mistress's name was Majo, and she loved being granted permission to use her magic arts.
Taking Biancheng's blood, she walked over to what the concubines called his stage. It is where the master of hell allows his women or servants to entertain him with songs, stories, or dances, so the name for it was appropriate, but Majo entertained him in a different way. Her eyes began to glow that spidery orange the flaming levels of hell were known for. The frozen levels of hell housed creatures with spidery blue eyes like Lady Rakuyama. She sat down on the stage, took the lid off the bottle, and poured the blood onto the floor. Abruptly breaking the vial, she barked, moaned lowly, and took a broken piece of the vial to the main vein in her wrist. Cutting deeply, she let her blackened blood fall to the floor and flopped down violently. She let out a snarl, moved her shoulders rhythmically, and started drawing a circle with the mixed blood. Majo started to croak. Her head started to roll like her neck wasn't connected to her shoulders. She let out some whines that sounded like the creaking of a door. Her fingers stretched out and curled back like a cat retracting its claw, but the fingers were as agile as paint brushes writing calligraphy.
"Jigoku no soko yori, nanji o yobidasu!" she called. "Jigoku no soko yori, nanji o yobidasu! Jigoku no soko yori, nanji o yobidasu!"
Meioshi woke from sleep, paralyzed and choking. Her body arched in a perfect shape, toes curling and fingers curling backwards. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, showing only the whites. The blood in her veins was blackening and her bones started to spur out of her hands. The moisture from her lips evaporated rapidly and her lips became chapped. The blood that was drawn on Biancheng's stage crawled on the walls of her bedroom like spiders. She was shaking violently. The psychic link that formed arrested her body, but her mind was in a chaotic place. Her consciousness was running down a dark corridor, trying to figure out where she suddenly had transported to.
"Shukun ni kotaeyo, seigi no ban'nin yo!" Majo violently rose up onto all fours and twisted her head perfectly sideways. "Taoreshi mono no chi to naraku no susu ni yori, ga wa hito no kawa o hagi-tori, nanji o kemono no kawa de tsutsumikomou. Nanji no ishi o hai to kashi, sono kokoro o katsubō no ro to seyo. Soshite sono mi o, waga yokubō no shinden to suru noda. Feed him! Feed him! FEED HIM!"
Meioshi's consciousness was suddenly invaded by King Biancheng entering her mind. Refusing to go to him, she ran down the corridor with no hesitation. Her eyes were turning orange, but she was fighting it. She held herself tightly and tried to call out to her purification powers, but only the tattoos on her back woke up. Her reiki-mianyi stirred enough to form a shield and a light at the end of this corridor. Her body, however, was not able to fight back. Biancheng had raised Majo's skirt and poured oil onto her butt and hips. He was thrusting into Majo selfishly. Majo happily accepted sex with the master, but her body was a link to Meioshi's. The doctor's body was violently turned to mimic Majo's position, and Biancheng psychically had no mercy. Meioshi's body was rocking back and forth, but she couldn't control her response. Hideous growling sounded from deep within her. Her cheeks were splitting to show her teeth and jaws. Her axe hands were forming before she was lifted into the air and lowered harshly to let out a roar. Without warning, she was bouncing up and down from her knees. Majo was on top of Biancheng, taking pleasure from him and summoning black arts trinkets towards the circle.
Meioshi could feel Biancheng getting closer to her. She could feel how hopeless running from him was, and all she could do was cry at first, but she heard the sound of a child laughing in the light she was chasing. She could hear the soul she had to save at the end of the tunnel - the reason she kept fighting, the reason she wanted revenge, the reason she had to destroy her enemy. Her powers flared up. Her resolve gave her a burst of speed. Meioshi's chest lit up with power and coated the room in light. This reaction stopped Majo and made her shriek in pain. The way Meioshi held herself in the corridor of darkness to run from Biancheng was how she held herself in her bedroom. She rocked like a pendulum in the bed and mumbled her own incantation to purify herself and the room. Biancheng was very displeased with this and released a huge burst of energy to dominate Meioshi's entire being. Meioshi was so close to the light.
She reached for it, refused to look back, kept fighting. She heard children calling, "Mummy! Mummy!"
No! She couldn't lose to him! She let out a return blast of power and screamed to the top of her lungs to be released. While that didn't stop Biancheng from capturing her in his grasp, it did stop Majo from doing anymore with her incantations. The battle of spiritual power was intense in Meioshi's bedroom. Her friends tried to call out to her, tried to help her, but she was trapped in this fight...
Until Biancheng had enough and forcibly bent Meioshi's body backwards in a spine-splitting arch. He growled with an acidic chuckle, "You defiant little bitch! You dare try to challenge me, eh? Keep your spirits up then. When you return, you belong to me and I will get my kurogane from you be it by force or by sacrifice."
With that, Biancheng released Meioshi's body and consciousness, and she was returned to her bedroom. She was coughing from hell's chokehold on her. She may have been crying, but she was reminded of the reason she was fighting. Her soul to save...
Was getting closer...
And, when her mission to save it was complete...
Her death would be swifter to follow...