What's mine is yours, But what's mine is mine

Chapter 19: Friends and Foe

A crowd gathered around the campfire. Mostly were village children listening to the adventures and folklore told by the older villagers underneath the waxing gibbous. The moon's next phase after the full moon.

The children had anticipation written on their faces as the storyteller was about to reach the tale's climax, where the protagonist had come to the damsel's rescue.

All eyes on the old man at the center. He hadn't finished his sentence yet when one of the younger village kids screamed and pointed at the nearby trees.

A rustling came. A man's shadow came in sight.

A few more seconds and the man's figure was lit up by the heated torches and the flames coming from the campfire.

"He's back!" exclaimed one of the young men his age.

He stepped out of the dark, swaying and unsteady as he did. Revealing his exhausted and injured body.

He collapsed near the clay jugs of water, sheltered in a tent.

"Oi. Kohaku, what happened?"

Alarmed, the villagers rushed to his aid.

"Did you meet with Rin?"

"We're you attacked?"

"Tell us."

"You're wounded."

"Are you okay?"

Came the endless questions from his fellow villagers.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired." Kohaku tried shooing away the crowd that gathered around him. But he couldn't raise his arm.

He grinned like a mad man.

"That bastard."

And Kohaku was rendered knocked out. He fell on the ground with a small thud as one of the villagers managed to catch his weight.

In his slumber, he dreamt of an old memory.

One of a young village girl and a boy playing at the sand dunes. Looking out to the vast dry land from up a tree where they sat at. Both, with their chocolate orbs glistening as the setting sun's bright orangy light shone above them.

The said boy turned to look at the girl beside him. Only this time, she wasn't the little girl she was a moment ago. She had grown. The boy held out a hand to touch the girl. Checking if what he was seeing was real. Only to be stopped as a hand grabbed his by the wrist. He looked up to see who was the owner.

It was a silver haired man. With his golden eyes shooting him a deadly glare.

Then the background changed. The little boy now holding Kusarigama and the great lord of the west a few feet in front with a sword on one hand.

Then he saw the older version of that little boy standing from a distance, bearing witness.

The lord of the west, Sesshomaru, had been on all out offense when they first parred. But he went all defensive right after he cut off Kohaku's arm. He even got distracted by the tattoo for a second that Kohaku managed to strike back at the lord.

The lord's blows then were rather controlled. As if he was holding back. And that pissed Kohaku more.

That explains why he had more physical attacks. The lord had aimed for his back shu and front mu points. Blocking his flow of energy and life force. Rendering him immobile for a day.

But his dream ended soon.

He woke to the rumbling outside his hut. Kohaku slept for hours. He realized. He heard breaking of clay jars and pots. He heard cries from the village children. He heard swords clash with metal.

He heard footsteps rushing to the entrance of his home.

The sheep's skin he used as a door, slit half at the center, swayed open as a figure approached. Running. And tripped.

Shippo fell flat on his face.

"Oi, what is it, so early in the morning." It wasn't even day break yet.

Before Kohaku could even get up of bed, a sword was already pointed at his throat.

"Where is the princess?"