InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Gathering Word ❯ It's Really Not That Funny ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: Inuyasha and its characters are not mine. They belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Biz. I receive no compensation for fan fiction.
 
A/N: These stories are exercises in theme, style and structure. Please do not flame based on pairings. If you are going to roast me, I ask that you do it in a constructive manner.
 
Genre: Introspective, Angst
Characters: Inuyasha, Sesshomaru
Warning: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Sesshomaru's father had a dangerous sense of humor.
 
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It's Not Really That Funny
 
In the dim light before the dawn, as the morning doves shook the sleep from their eyes, a young lord of the dogs stood motionless before his infant brother. Wide eyed and mouthed, the tiny hanyou stared with silent curiosity as his visitor knelt beside his bedding. Inuyasha was too small to remember the way his brother's eyes glowed then, his expression flickering between indifference and murder.
 
Sesshomaru reached for the boy, and his movement spoke of intent, but he did no more than run a dangerous claw along the child's face. Inuyasha, perhaps sensing the peril he faced, did not move, but held the steady, steely gaze of his older sibling with all the determination a week old hanyou child could accomplish.
 
“It is because of you,” the quiet tenor of Sesshomaru's voice cut the silence, “that our father is dead, little brother.”
 
Inuyasha flicked a downy ear, blinking slowly and yawning in the endearing way that only the very young can yawn.
 
“You cannot comprehend the trouble you have caused me,” he continued in a menacing whisper, “I have every reason to see you out of this world.”
 
Sesshomaru's claws had returned to his lap as he sat with the boy, a visible war being waged in his eyes. The young lord would not lower himself to kill a hanyou infant. Still he sat, frustrated, idly caressing the hilt of his impotent sword.
 
As Sesshomaru debated infanticide, he quietly realized that the enemies of the Inu no Taisho were coming for him, and with them the challenges for title of western lord. He was simply too young to avoid it. While he slept, they would plot. While he fought them, more would gather. His future was looking increasingly bloody, even by his violent standards, and the only means to defend his territory and life was bequeathed to an infant that could do no more than drool and wave a chubby fist at his foe.
 
“Truly, our father had a mind for comedy,” Sesshomaru muttered darkly. He gathered himself up and swept silently out of the room, cursing his overdeveloped sense of honor and underdeveloped arsenal.