The Long Road to Freedom Part 1: The Dastardly Prince

Red Filters Through

1258, mid-Kamakura Period, Winter

Sesshoumaru found himself more than satisfied with his hanyou's continued performance over the past three years as his sort of personal shinobi. It was quick to act on his orders, always well-prepared, and usually completed its tasks in a timely manner. In fact, he'd only had to toy with the little bead of his youki that he'd implanted twice as punishment.

It was exactly what he needed; eyes and ears in the places he could not be for the moment. As the years rolled on, so, too, did the territories change, and he was determined to miss out on as little as possible while he gallivanted through this charade of courting. He knew he was privileged in that he was being given the opportunity to choose-most pairs of his rank only first met the day they were mated after the families arranged it all-, but he still found the whole process a waste of time.

What was the point when he was going to refuse them all anyway? Perhaps, at least, he could somehow sharpen his wits so the next conversation with his mother would find him with the upper hand. He would admit, however, that he found near-endless amusement in the exaggerated genuflections and muted tremblings of his rejected prospects and their sires.

Sesshoumaru forced himself to pay attention once again as his father meandered through the linguistic dance that was the subtle placation of an offended greater lord, who had personally visited to offer his daughter. After a third refusal and the lord's persistence, Sesshoumaru had not so elegantly suggested, on good word from his hanyou, that the female in question was not fit to mate even one of the scullery boys, let alone his superior self. In the interest of peace and future relations, his father now offered a minor, but sufficient, material contrition. As the lord and his entourage left, the General shot his son an irritated glance.

"Those silks were from the continent, I'll have you know; a gift from your own mother."

Sesshoumaru was busy inspecting the courtyard through the window. "The snowfall seems heavy this year, does it not, father?"

***

1269, mid-Kamakura Period, Spring

Kuroihi's tonfa sang through the air as she easily removed the talons that grasped at her. The bird-like demon screeched in pain and reeled back, but she wasn't about to let it escape. Well aware that leader of the lesser Rat tribe for the western province was watching, she willed her youki into her metal weapons, lashing out great blades of fire that quickly entangled and consumed her prey.

A soft murmur rippled through the rest of the tribe that had gathered to watch. Kuroihi had agreed to rid them of this pest along with its nest in exchange for future consideration and goodwill, as well as permission to explore the lake within their territory that held the items she sought. Considering how devastating the demon had been to the tribe, their leader had agreed, albeit a tad begrudgingly. She was, after all, still just a half-demon.

***

1291, late-Kamakura Period, Summer

Sesshoumaru remained perfectly still, gauging the daiyoukai standing some yards from him. This was neither the first nor would it be the last time Sesshoumaru challenged his father, and as the two fell into their usual dance, he held tight to his aspirations of victory.

His claws left streaks across his father's armor.

The daiyoukai's fist left bruises in his son's chest.

Sesshoumaru ducked and whirled, barely avoiding his father's onslaught and slashed out for the next opening he saw.

It was a trap.