The Long Road to Freedom Part 1: The Dastardly Prince

Aftermath

Kuroihi remained frozen to the spot until the last flick of Sesshoumaru's fur pelt had disappeared. The weight of his presence had finally lifted, but her body still felt like lead as she tidied the area outside the fire pit as he had commanded. What had she been thinking, to even consider opening her mouth to him? Servants were to be seen and controlled, not heard or considered, she chided herself.

She watched the flames thrash and dance for a time, finding comfort in their all-consuming greed as wood gave way to ash. She, like them, was greedy. She knew that. Wasn't everyone, though? Was there anyone that did not desire to be more than they were? Was her opinion clouded by her own station and experience, and so she could not imagine a world where people were not so?

She ran a clawed finger along the silken fur of one of her tufted ears in a moment contemplation; a moment interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice.

"You! Get. In. Here!"

She didn't need to look up to know it was Fuyutoka hissing at her. The hawk demon was always the first to harp on Kuroihi. Once again, Kuroihi moved to obey, though the weight in her legs this time was due not to fear, but a lack of desire. As soon as she was within reach inside, Fuyutoka's own claws dug into Kurohi's sensitive ear. She gritted her teeth as he dragged her along down the hall, admonishing her about every other chore she had yet to complete that evening.

"One more thing."

Fuyutoka sneered with sadistic glee as he twisted the appendage in his fingers and brought Kuroihi to a knee, gritting her teeth against the pain.

"Don't you ever allow yourself to be seen in such a manner again, do you understand me? The very sight of you is enough to churn stomachs. Our great General and his son need no such distractions."

He pulled on her ear again, urging her down a hallway toward her next assignment.

"Now, get back to work."

Kuroihi quickly padded out of reach of the overseer, fangs bared at no one both in anger and in pain. These passed quickly, though, as they always did. This was normal after all and had been for the last 160 years of her life, something she found herself mulling over as she finished the last of her chores for the day and settled into her "room."

While the servant staff was not yet large enough to have specialized workers, and most everyone shared a room, they had somehow found a place just for Kuroihi. It was little more than a futon closet in an old storage room, the floor padded with swaths of old kimono and futon stuffing, but it was hers.

What few possessions she had were hidden here, being only a child's yukata, a faded scrap of parchment tucked into the sleeve, and a growing collection of coins she'd 'collected' bit by painful bit from the other servants or found outside. She studied her old yukata, as she did in times of self-reflection, and found herself again overcome by a heavy sadness and sense of loss.

She'd had a family once, and a life outside this place. More from fantasy than memory, as she could barely recall her parents, she imagined they had loved her, protected her, that they had wanted her. It always got fuzzy when she tried to remember how she even came to be here, and tonight was no different as she curled up under her fraying blanket.

She left the door to her closet cracked just enough to be able to see through the window slats to the stars far beyond. The clouds were starting to gather for rain, gliding pregnant and free across the speckled expanse.

'Free,' she thought, as she curled around the tiny yukata and fell into sleep. 'One day, I will be free.'

-----------

Throughout dinner, Sesshoumaru considered how he would approach his father about the hanyou he'd encountered that evening. He would have to choose his words carefully to obtain the answers he sought without seeming to be giving a mere servant too much regard. It would not befit one of his station.

When questioned by his ever perceptive father, he passed off his meditative state as merely continuing to review the recent battle. Not entirely a deception, though the Inu no Taishou seemed to hone in on the fact that there was more behind his son's words. He waited until they had retired once more to his study after dinner to question his son further.

He dismissed the servants waiting outside for the evening, leaving himself, Sesshoumaru, and his shougi board, from which he plucked a tile to examine as he spoke.

"Tell me, my son, what is on your mind? It was clear you were considering many things, or a few things rather deeply, at dinner."

"The nature of power, father," Sesshoumaru said as he considered the board, the pieces left in their places from a previous game. "Station comes from power; yet, how is it that some have more power than they should, and others less?"

The General nodded and took a moment before answering.

"Station is indeed a matter of power, lineage, and their correlation not only by your own merits. but also by comparison to those around you. In General, one can assume that someone from a lineage known to be powerful will have formidable strength in and of themselves. In the same manner, it can also be assumed that someone from a line of no reputation will be dismiss-able. However, there are two additional factors to consider here: power is dynamic, and your reputation is just as important as the strength of your claws. The arts of war are also the arts of society."

He cast his gaze to his son for a moment.

"Why do you ask?"

Sesshoumaru, gauging his father's demeanor and temperament this evening, chose to be direct.

"There is a servant here, trained in the form of mystic art or power one would consider beyond the capabilities or resources of such a low-born creature. It puzzles me."

The General smiled gently.

"Each of our servant's various abilities is known to both myself and Fuyutoka, who I have tasked with managing them. Of what nature is this ability?"

"It seemed to be able to control fire, in a manner, though the flames it commanded were of an unnatural hue."

The General nodded a bit, considering.

"That is indeed an impressive skill. Tell me of the one you saw using this."

"One of the lesser servants tending the bathing fires, a female half-demon."

The words were nearly a sneer.

"Ah. Yes, that one." His father said after a moment. "I recall such a child coming into my service some time ago. You are wondering, then, how a half-demon could possess such an ability. It is due, most likely, to her heritage. It is Generally understood that half-demons, due to the very nature of their existence as hybrids, can be somewhat unpredictable in the powers and temperaments. Their human natures, so influenced by emotion, are both a boon and detriment, as it makes it more difficult for them to control their demonic natures, something we true youkai take for granted every day.

Usually, they do not manifest more than a whisper of their progenitor's abilities. In this case, Rekkonji must have examined her potential prowess in combat and found her lacking, or her powers too unstable. Fire is a terribly tricky thing to be playing with. Even spirits comprised of it can be consumed by their own flames if they are not ever mindful."

Seeming almost bored with the topic, the General folded his arms into his sleeves, "If it so piques your interest, I believe you have training with Rekkonji tomorrow," and turned their attention to the shougi board for the rest of the evening. Sesshoumaru, having what he needed to continue his investigation, did not bring it up again.