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            The stifling humidity of summer had finally begun to lift and the heat to break. In a field beyond the castle walls, Rekkonji ran his current roster of would-be warriors through basic paces. Sesshoumaru watched from the shade of his father’s grove, clad in his practice gi with his hair pulled back in a trailing braid. The young daiyoukai sneered at them all. Their gratitude and loyalty to the General were unquestionable, but to the keen eyes of his son, many of these creatures were simply unsuited for battle. Rekkonji saw it, too, as he strode through their uneven ranks and observed their enthusiastic, but ineffectual, strikes. Soon, his patience with them for the day ran out and he dismissed them. They thanked the Warmaster and departed for their various camps further from the castle.

 

            Rekkonji shook his head with a sigh as they moved out of earshot. Training fighters and observing the ascension of greater warriors was his pleasure in life, but he found himself on the verge of abandoning many of the volunteers he obtained over the past centuries. Demons and other such creatures came from far and wide, burdened with gratitude to the General for saving their lives at one point or another from many of the vile monsters that infested the Western Province. Most of them the General turned away, but some he directed to Rekkonji as an indulgence to his long-time companion. The extended idle period Touga had settled into in order to raise his son had long grated on both of the daiyoukai. But while the General was at least able to find fulfillment in the rearing of his pup, Rekkonji had no such responsibility and nothing to draw enjoyment from. He would have gone mad had he not been permitted to raise and maintain a small army of sorts. It kept him occupied, sharp, and fed both the Warmaster and the General a constant flow of information on the happenings in the territories, as well as the natures and fighting styles of the various entities there. Every warrior, scout, and spy within twenty miles that aligned with the White Inu Tribe had been trained or vetted by Rekkonji, and he took great pride in every successful student.

 

            Save for one.

 

            That student watched him from a distance, sheltered from the sun by a cherry tree in the nearby grove. The haughty sneer on Sesshoumaru’s face irritated the Warmaster, but he let the feeling pass through him like water. The young demon’s expression would be righted momentarily. Rekkonji lifted his arm and beckoned politely to Sesshoumaru who, like a spoiled house cat, took his time making his way over. Rekkonji had not planned on beginning Sesshoumaru’s new training regimen of etiquette as well as combat today, as was Touga’s request, but the near-swagger in the younger demon’s stride changed Rekkonji’s mind. Indeed, the next few weeks would be interesting.

 

“Good afternoon, Lord Sesshoumaru,” Rekkonji greeted the prince once he was standing before him.

 

Sesshoumaru smirked. “Warmaster.” He greeted in return, though in a casual manner and tone.

Rekkonji paused, then mirrored Sesshoumaru’s expression. “Let us try this again. I said, ‘Good afternoon, Lord Sesshoumaru.’” He maintained the politeness in his tone.

 

The young demon’s brow furrowed slightly, smirk fading. “I heard you well enough the first time.”

 

“Forgive me, but you did not respond in kind.” Rekkonji said. “Even if your opponent is not, one should always be polite when greeting and dealing with others.”

 

Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed, following Rekkonji as he examined the field for any debris in preparation for their training. “I am here to practice combat, jackal, not receive an etiquette lesson.” He said, irritated now.

 

Rekkonji chuckled softly. “You will find that they are often intertwined, if not one and the same.” He could almost hear Sesshoumaru’s mind working through those words as the Warmaster strode to the place he had mentally marked as the center of their sparring area. He turned to face the young prince, watching as his delicate features morphed from contemplation to realization, then to displeasure.

 

“Father,” Sesshoumaru stated with an edged tone, and Rekkonji hummed in affirmation.

 

“’Words and war’ is what he told me” Rekkonji continued, “and so that is what we are going to practice in equal measure.”

 

Sesshoumaru harrumphed but moved to stand before the Warmaster. “Tell me, how does a self-proclaimed expert of war plan to teach the art of words? I do not believe it to be a talent of yours.” He sneered.

 

Rekkonji smiled as the young prince, as one might at an arrogant child. “I think you will find that you are being rude, again. And for all those ears of yours can hear, my lord, I do not think you often employ them to their true purpose; listening.”

 

Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to scowl. His father truly had infected the Warmaster with his nonsense. Rekkonji had never before spoken to Sesshoumaru in such a manner; as though he were a mere pup still in need of basic instruction. As Sesshoumaru continued to argue, Rekkonji’s words and tone grew flinty. Finally, Sesshoumaru accepted that today, at least, his father would get his way.

 

Once more, the Warmaster greeted Sesshoumaru, just as politely as the first time. “Good afternoon, Lord Sesshoumaru.”

 

Sesshoumaru hesitated, but relented, speaking only as politely as he was required. “Good afternoon, Warmaster.” Rekkonji’s satisfied expression gave Sesshoumaru hope that he would move on to the young daiyoukai’s more immediate interest.

            “Better,” Rekkonji said simply. “Tomorrow, perhaps, we can graduate from initial greetings.”

            Sesshoumaru’s features strained momentarily as he withheld a grimace. Finally, Rekkonji bowed and slipped into a deep stance. Sesshoumaru mirrored him. Grappling and hand-to-hand combat weren’t his preferred practices, but even those were better than senseless babbling. He narrowed his focus, quickly finding his center. Both demons stilled themselves, the very wind held its breath, and the world suspended between them for a long, tense moment.

 

Rekkonji moved in a flash, grasping at Sesshoumaru’s lapel. The younger demon sidestepped and captured Rekkonji’s wrist, intent on locking the jackal’s extended elbow. Rekkonji flicked his hand around to instead grab Sesshoumaru’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back as Rekkonji slipped behind the younger demon and locked his arm around his neck in a tight choke hold. Sesshoumaru struggled, testing for weaknesses in the Warmaster’s grip, but there were none. Pride stinging, Sesshoumaru accepted the minor loss and tapped out.

 

The pair squared up again. This time, Sesshoumaru acted first, feigning a low kick to Rekkonji’s calf and making a grab for his exposed neck. Rekkonji twisted as easily as a leaf under Sesshoumaru, flipping the younger demon over his shoulder and slamming Sesshoumaru on his backside in the dirt. Sesshoumaru gritted his teeth with irritation but rose gracefully to his feet again to take a ready stance.

 

Over and over, Rekkonji avoided, thwarted, and turned Sesshoumaru’s attacks against him. Sesshoumaru’s irritation grew into frustration and sparked into rage as he failed time and again to succeed in bringing the Warmaster down. Through it all, the Warmaster showed no signs of effort or surprise. In fact, as Sesshoumaru squared with him once more, the jackal’s ruby eyes betrayed his sense of boredom.  Sesshoumaru growled as he came to understand. 'He is toying with me; toying with this Sesshoumaru! Insolent bastard'! He thought; this insult was more than he could bear!

 

“Why do you not act more seriously, Warmaster? Do you fancy me an easy opponent?!” Sesshoumaru barked, lashing out in anger at Rekkonji with his claws. “Do not take me so lightly!”

Rekkonji avoided the strikes effortlessly and had Sesshoumaru on his backside in the dirt a moment later. Sesshoumaru was on his feet in a breath and resumed his pursuit. Rekkonji sighed to himself as he recognized the change in the young demon’s demeanor. Touga was also prone to emotional outbursts such as this; truly Sesshoumaru was his father’s son. The Warmaster ducked under another slash, letting Sesshoumaru’s own momentum slam him into Rekkonji’s elbow. He twisted out from under Sesshoumaru as he doubled over, stepping out of the prince’s reach.  

 

Sesshoumaru pressed a hand to his bruised stomach, swallowing a groan of pain. Slowly, he straightened and turned to face the Warmaster. Rekkonji showed no sign of concern as red feathered into the edges of Sesshoumaru’s eyes, his anger beginning to boil. The young prince had had enough of this. The repeated defeats, the blows to his pride, this indignant dismissal; he would suffer it no longer! He cracked his claws as they began to glow a venomous green and shifted to leap at the jackal…but a sound beyond the fight startled him out of his homicidal rage.

 

At a safe distance from the combatants, Touga stood in a comfortable summer yukata, lacking his usual armor. A marigold-clad attendant stood behind him holding a paper umbrella, shielding his broadly grinning face from the sun as he clapped. “Good, good!” the General cheered, then laughed.

 

Sesshoumaru could only blink in confusion. When had his father arrived? Sesshoumaru had not sensed him, heard him, smelled him; he was like a ghost! Rekkonji bowed to the General in greeting, acknowledging the presence he himself had noted the moment it had arrived.

 

Touga continued to chuckle. “Do not pause on my account. Please, carry on.” He tucked his arms into his sleeves, expectation written on his cheerful face.

 

Rekkonji examined Sesshoumaru as the young demon straightened himself to give a respectful bow to his father. It was easy for the Warmaster to read the petulant pup, who was so like his sire, and know there was no fruitful way to continue the training session now; not with Sesshoumaru in such a state and with Touga watching.

 

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Lord General; we were just wrapping up,” Rekkonji said politely.

 

“I see…” Touga frowned slightly for a moment. “Well perhaps, instead, I might take a turn? If I would not be intruding, of course.”

           

Rekkonji and Sesshoumaru exchanged glances before bowing to each other, and Sesshoumaru moved away. The Warmaster motioned invitingly to the empty space before him, which Touga happily stepped into. Sesshoumaru took his father’s former place under the paper umbrella to watch. Already, he could feel a difference in the Warmaster. He was tense in a way he had not been with Sesshoumaru; focused and anticipatory. Touga’s grin faded as he squared with Rekkonji, and they were still for only a moment before beginning.

 

            The pair moved almost too fast for Sesshoumaru to track. Barely a moment after they’d begun, Touga had Rekkonji on his back in the dirt where Sesshoumaru had been so many times that afternoon. The General helped the jackal to his feet again with a satisfied nod, squared, and the pair began again. Rekkonji reacted to the General like the threat he was and brought him down his fair share of times. Touga, however, dominated for the most part. As he pulled Rekkonji to his feet one last time, Sesshoumaru pursed his lips and considered. If he was so easily humiliated by the only being Sesshoumaru knew of that could rival his god-like father, then he himself was a far cry from being able to challenge and defeat his sire.

 

            Sesshoumaru found that the Warmaster’s regimen changed little over the following weeks. Rekkonji continued to belittle him at every turn and harshly enforced both social and battle etiquette. Sesshoumaru had not encountered this fastidious version of Rekkonji in prior training sessions. Had the Warmaster been lenient with Sesshoumaru his entire life? If so, why the sudden change? Was it only due to his father’s decree? Or did the jackal have…other designs? Sesshoumaru continued to ponder these things as he watched Aoki and the half-demon tend to his personal garden. He lounged comfortably just inside the doorway that led into his quarters from the veranda, finding relief from the summer heat in the breeze that came through the opening.

 

Gradually, Sesshoumaru concluded that he was being tested. The idea did not irritate him, for he understood that overcoming challenges was how one improved themselves. Still, he did not understand the purpose of including etiquette. Such menial things were the concerns of females and those lower in rank than himself. Slowly, he pursed his lips, making his features scowl. Aoki was the first to notice, ducking her head further as she plucked bits of stray foliage from between the rocks in the garden. The half-breed, either copying her or sensing his displeasure, ducked its head as well and flattened its ears until even the black tips were hidden almost completely in its hair.

 

Sesshoumaru fixed his gaze on the creature. It had been some time since his last excursion with it into the pine forest. A reassessment was long over-due. He wanted to know for certain if the thing had the capacity to become a tool worthy of his investment, and it would give him something to do other than nurse his bruised ego.

 

Kuroihi breathed a sigh of relief when Lord Sesshoumaru slipped back inside his quarters and closed the door behind him. She pressed her shaking hands against her legs, trying to steady them while she had the chance. Aoki didn’t scold her for pausing in her work, the same way she hadn’t scolded Kuroihi for any of her other mistakes since the three of them returned from their little trip; and despite her best efforts, her mistakes were many. Aoki and Kazawa simply took up the slack, lacking the energy to correct her. The fear their master had re-instilled in them didn’t allow the pair to let the mistakes pass unchecked, since he was punishing all three of them for every fault he found.

 

The rest of the day passed, and night found Aoki, Kazawa, and Kuroihi again with their master. Aoki smoothed Lord Sesshoumaru’s hair down his back with the comb in her hand before muttering that she was finished. Sesshoumaru roused from his shallow meditation, his honey-gold eyes opening slowly and taking in his surroundings as though for the first time that night.

 

He paused, then spoke softly. “You are dismissed.” His eyes flicked from Kazawa, to Aoki, then back again.

 

The two blinked for a moment, stunned and disbelieving; had they heard correctly? Would they finally be permitted rest?

 

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked in a tender smile. “Would you prefer to stay by my side through the night?”

 

The pair ducked their heads, gathering the few items they’d brought in at their master’s request and shuffling out as quickly as good grace allowed. Kuroihi was about to follow them when Sesshoumaru snapped his fingers at her. Aoki and Kazawa idled just long enough to know it was not meant for them, then disappeared down the hall that led to the rest of the castle, anxious for their reprieve. Kuroihi silently cursed them for abandoning her so quickly…but then found she couldn’t blame them. She would have done the same had their positions been reversed.

 

Sesshoumaru rose from his zabuton and glided through his inner sanctum, through the door to the veranda, and over the wall into the wilds beyond. Kuroihi felt a pang of déjà vu as she followed him, her feet heavy with trepidation. They traveled the same path that led to the same forest and settled in the same small clearing as before when Lord Sesshoumaru had first interrogated her about her fire. Here once again, a similar scene played out, albeit with a great deal more hesitation and anxiety on Kuroihi’s end. What precious little energy she had was quickly spent, making the trip hardly worth the time and effort, and souring Sesshoumaru’s mood further.

 

He could not understand it. The half-breed had plenty of youki, even now; why had it been unable to produce its fire as well as it had before? Did its ragged state have something to do with it? He could hear the thing stumbling along behind him, its footfalls heavy and uneven, breathing hard and heart racing. The blatant weakness disgusted him, and he dismissed both the creature from his presence and all thoughts concerning it from his mind when he returned to the castle. He would allow it to rest before examining it again, though he doubted it would make a difference.After all, it was just a half-demon.

 

Kuroihi could hardly believe it when Lord Sesshoumaru dismissed her, but she was unwilling to question it and raced back to her storage room and little closet. She’d scarcely been so happy to tumble into the ragged textiles she called a bed, and she eagerly fell into sleep the moment her closet door was closed. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, but not even Lord Sesshoumaru’s looming presence in her nightmares could cause her to wake. When her eyes finally opened again, it was well past dawn. She was late! Panic shot through her, ripping her from her bed, and urging along the less-traveled hallways so she would not be seen straightening her disheveled hair and clothes.

 

She met Aoki coming the other way as she entered the long hall that led from the rest of the castle to Lord Sesshoumaru’s quarters. The older female wrinkled her nose at her.

 

“So very honored you could join us.” Aoki snapped, her tone sharp and heavy with sarcasm. Kuroihi started to apologize for her tardiness, but Aoki waved her off. “Never mind that. Fetch the clothes from the drying line, and be quick about it!”

 

Kuroihi muttered that she understood and hurried off. Aside from Aoki’s lethal glances, there was no further scolding for Kuroihi’s being late. That night, to all their surprise, Lord Sesshoumaru again dismissed his servants for rest. Had his temper calmed? Would they be permitted to resume a relatively normal schedule? It appeared that way. Finally allowed to leave his side, the trio was at last able to replace the painted shouji doors their master had destroyed weeks prior. They fell back into their usual ebb and flow of work, and all seemed to be as it had been before.

 

Every other night or so Sesshoumaru, took Kuroihi out to the pine forest to experiment with her fire. Each time, she ensured he returned to the castle disappointed. At this point, she was convinced there was something about her ability he either wanted to know or to use. Why else would he continue to go to such lengths with a creature as lowly as her? This was beyond a passing curiosity, but less than an established goal. Whatever it was he sought, Kuroihi was determined to deny him. While her ribs had healed, she hadn’t forgotten why they’d been broken in the first place.

 

For his part, Sesshoumaru was finally convinced the half-breed was unworthy. Its ability was little more than a fluke, too insignificant for his use, and the creature itself was troublesome. He was aware of Aoki and Kazawa’s opinion that they would be better off without the thing, and Sesshoumaru found himself of the same mind as them. In fact, the castle itself would be better off without it. After all, what could a mere half-breed possibly have to contribute, especially to a being such as his honorable father? Knowing he would be leaving to accompany his father to meet with the Tengu tribe within the next few days, Sesshoumaru decided to take care of the pest before he departed.

 

            Once more, Sesshoumaru led Kuroihi away from the castle. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, was…wrong. It worsened as she realized they were not headed for the pine forest, but somewhere beyond it and outside the General’s realm of influence. Sesshoumaru diverted from the beaten path and she had no choice but to follow. It was dawn by the time he finally paused, and Kuroihi stifled another yawn as she examined the landscape in greater detail. They were standing on the edge of a ravine somewhere in the mountains. The morning had yet to dissipate, shrouding most of the path both in front of and behind them. Glancing over the edge, Kuroihi couldn’t see the bottom through the swirls of white, but suspected it was farther down than one could survive falling. Her feet tingled anxiously as she backed away.

 

“Remind me, hanyou,” Sesshoumaru’s tone was bored as he spoke, “how was it a thing like you came to be in service to my great father?”

 

            Kuroihi blinked, unsure how to answer. Even she didn’t know. “…My lord must forgive his servant, she does not know. Perhaps Lord Fuyutoka could say.”

 

“I see… Then perhaps you could tell me what significant service you offer that any other being at the castle cannot?” His tone betrayed that he already knew the answer.

 

Kuroihi licked her lips. “I…” She tried desperately to think of something, anything, but aside from her fire there was nothing special about her, no task that only she could complete. She quietly bowed her head in concession. Inside, something screamed that she needed to run, right now, but her feet would not move.

 

Sesshoumaru’s lips twisted into a smirk. “No answer? Then, I assume you understand. Still, I will clarify.” Kuroihi’s eyes tracked the movement of his boots as he slowly began to circle around her. “You are useless and troublesome, half-breed, an unwelcomed burden your betters have no need of nor time to oversee. Your continued presence is superfluously annoying, most especially to me.”

 

Kuroihi’s heart stuck in her throat, and she swallowed hard against it. She could not argue his points, each was valid, but just what was he intending? He began striding toward her and she stepped back. Every time he advanced she retreated until she felt the edge of the cliff under her heel and she was forced to hold her ground. There was barely a meter between them when he flared his jyaki. It startled her, and she took an involuntary step back. Nothing was there to catch her, and Sesshoumaru moved to the edge of the cliff to watch her fall.

 

The world seemed to slow for Kuroihi. Sesshoumaru’s face twisted into an arrogant and victorious smirk above her, and she could sense the ground rushing to meet her as she flailed. She watched her meager life flash before her eyes, ticking off every time she simply bowed her head and accepted whatever cruelty came her way. Was this how it ended, with her little more than a crumpled heap at the bottom of a ravine?

 

            ‘No…NO!’

 

There was so much more to life than what she’d experienced and she wanted it, she burned for it. She refused to fade away simply because he demanded it of her. Scorching black feathered from her fingertips as livid hatred boiled up inside her and overflowed. Her demon instincts screamed in a way she’d never heard before; and she listened. She pushed all her youki out around her in a cloud and ignited it. She felt her fire change. The flames became thick and tangible, gathering beneath her, and she curled tightly into herself to brace for the impact she couldn’t stop. She slammed into the ground on her side. Air rushed from her lungs, stars exploded behind her eyes, and the world went black.

 

Kuroihi woke sometime later, her entire left side aching and a sizable bump on her head; she was alive... Her first thought was to sit up and assess the damage but the familiar weight of Lord Sesshoumaru’s jyaki made her think twice. He was near, that bastard was near, and she was certain he was watching her. And she was alive.

 

Just play dead. That’s what he wanted, make him think he succeeded’

 

The tufts of her ears tingled, picking the shifting of the air as he came closer.

 

Don’t move, don’t breathe.’

 

“…Get up.” His tone was even, heavy with authority.

 

She didn’t move, she didn’t breathe.

 

“Fool, I can hear your heart still beating.” Kuroihi bit back a wince as he nudged her roughly onto her back with his boot. “I said, ‘get up’.”

 

At the very least, she could say she tried... She pushed herself up carefully with her good arm, peering carefully up at him through her bangs for a moment. Her head swam, and the sharp throbbing in it forced her to drop her gaze to a more comfortable level at his knees. All the better; his expression was disturbing.

 

Sesshoumaru wore a genuine smile as he lowered to crouch in front of the hanyou. The air was still thick with that rich, metallic scent its fire gave off. The smell irritated his nose, but he endured it. He had watched the creature disappear into the mist of the ravine, watched its dark light shine out from the depths, desperate and black and purple. Yes; purple. The fire had changed color, as well as properties, he surmised, judging from the absence of any scorch marks on the rocks or ground. But had it only been an accident? Could this miserable creature truly be capable of permanent growth? He needed to know, to see with his own eyes…

 

“Make your fire,” he commanded quietly.

 

It shrank away from him, and he flared his jyaki again in warning. He would not repeat himself. Slowly, it pulled the arm it was not leaning on into its lap, pooled its youki, and sparked the black and purple flames. They clung only to its skin, gave off no heat, and did not burn anything they touched. They danced as any flame would, but their movement was slower, as though they had weight to them. He hummed with satisfaction. In what other ways could this creature’s power change, he wondered?

 

Sesshoumaru hooked a clawed finger under Kuroihi’s chin, purring. “Perhaps you might still be of some use, little hanyou.”

 

            His skin was cold and Kuroihi shuddered. Nothing that pleased Lord Sesshoumaru so much could be good for her. 

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