The Long Road to Freedom Part 1: The Dastardly Prince

Seeking Power

1313, late-Kamakura Period, Winter

Sesshoumaru finally landed a kick, sending his father tumbling over the edge of the cliff on which they battled. He knew it would be only a minor hindrance and took the few extra seconds he'd bought himself to rise into the air, claiming the position of greater advantage.

Both daiyoukai flared their power, zinging through the clouds after and around one another as flashes of light. Eventually, the General landed a strike across Sesshoumaru's exposed side, easily breaking through the armor there. As he fell, Sesshoumaru's torn kimono blossomed with crimson.

The minor wound healed in mere seconds, of course, the heat from his exposed flesh steaming against the freezing air, but the young lord's pride still stung from the blow. Once more, the battle of contention concluded with Sesshoumaru bruised and bloodied in the snow, though his father also bore marks of his own from the ordeal this time.

Sesshoumaru smiled to himself as his father left him to lick his wounds.

He was getting closer to achieving his destiny.

***

1324, late-Kamakura Period, Spring

Kuroihi sank into the hot spring, biting back her sounds of pain. This most recent dragon had nearly claimed her life, and it had taken four whole days to recover enough that she could walk, but she finally had all she required. Her last set of tonfa sat atop her neatly folded clothes, scorched and warped from use. Even as demon weapons, they could not withstand the heat of her fire for long.

She just had to make it back to the castle to deliver her haul. Then, she could finally discard the makeshift gear she'd wrenched together herself and have a true and durable set all her own, almost like a real demon. She let the thought fall away. Half, she may be, but she had survived trials even some true demons had fallen to.

She stretched and coaxed her aching and bruised muscles to relax, humming softly to herself. The General had been correct it would seem, all those years ago; she did possess a strength that even now she did not fully understand. It was the only explanation she had as to how she was still alive. Well, that and the way she'd secured some favor or notoriety for herself wherever she went. She even had a couple of the territories she'd visited multiple times calling her 'miss' or 'lady'. It was a good feeling. By the time she was finished under Sesshoumaru's command, she would have plenty of prospects to choose from for her future.

None of them would be easy, but, what in her life was?

***

Kuroihi's tasks for Sesshoumaru had, as she'd expected, grown more trying and more dangerous; and the dragon aside, she had been certain she would not survive the one she now returned from. Stealing from a Harpy nest was not the way one secured their livelihood, and as she presented her lord with the scroll he'd sought, he seemed somehow disappointed.

He said nothing, though, giving the contents of the scroll a cursory glance. Seeming satisfied, he settled himself in comfortably against the wall to read, hair gathered out from behind him.

Kuroihi took it as her signal to depart and bowed to do so. A soft clicking on his nearby table drew her attention, and she looked up to see his hand drawing away from a comb he'd set there. She sighed inwardly but shifted to kneel beside him, drawing his long, thick hair into manageable sections.

How her body desired rest, but this was their ritual. She would return, he would assess, indicate the comb, and she would spend the next hours drawing straight and smooth his falls of silver. As usual, the bit of his youki in her belly thrummed, and she could only call his current state 'satisfied'. She took it for all it was worth. After all, for the Sesshoumaru she knew, pleasure did not exist in its traditional form.

The night was waning by the time she finished, and she thought she would fall asleep where she was. Sesshoumaru ran his fingers through his hair, inspecting it, before finally giving it a toss and dismissing her.

She sneered once the door was closed between them.

Every. Goddamned. Time.

***

1335, late-Kamakura Period, Autumn

Sesshoumaru strolled leisurely through the grove abutting the castle walls, contemplating how to repel this final offer of courtship and how next to employ his half-breed. There was nothing particularly wrong with the match, but Sesshoumaru was still determined and focused on increasing his own power first, and the creature had been left to idle for too long. He could not allow it to soften.

Somewhere behind him, his hanyou paused to inspect the turning leaves on one of the trees. Many had already begun dropping in shades of gold and red and brown, dancing in the cool Autumn wind that swirled through the grounds. It always seemed to be lurking either in his sights or just out of them, awaiting his order.

He had to confess, he'd begun to develop a sort of consideration for the thing. No matter what pit he tried to toss it into, his hanyou had always clawed its way back. It refused to die, refused to give up, and perhaps, he thought, it was for that very reason he'd chosen for his field arm.

The corner of his lips pulled up just slightly as he observed his half-breed. It caught him watching it, as was his habit these days, and it bowed to him before calmly plucked up a leaf to toy with. It was accustomed to his scrutinizing gaze by now, and he noted how every aspect of its appearance, while still in keeping with the expectations of its station, seemed to speak of something...more. Even its skin, despite its years of toil and suffering, was like porcelain, the shade of a female twice its rank.

He remained where he was as she drew near, allowing his mokomoko to catch in the breeze and brush against her. He tilted his head as he considered her, ignoring the question in her eyes. She stood beside him, loyal and lithe, donned in the colors of his service, the length of his fur curled around her feet as her rich and molten scent teased at his senses just so. Deep inside, a part of him growled with satisfaction. Everything was as it should be, he thought, and for a moment he had peace...

A familiar shadow crossed overhead, intruding on Sesshoumaru's solace. Annoyed, he glanced over as his father landed gracefully near the front gates, taking a moment to speak with current guard detail before heading inside.

His focus shifted instantly.

Sesshoumaru could already sense it, hanging from his father's hip, and he barely noticed his hanyou trailing along behind him as he strode to catch up, his curiosity irresistible. He finally caught sight of it again as his father idled to change his shoes before entering the castle.

Bright and gleaming, freshly polished and positively pulsating with power, was his father's new sword...