InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ By Request ❯ His Father's Son ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: His Father’s Son
Author: LuxKen27
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1193
Summary: Canon, pre-manga. Sesshoumaru’s mother holds the key to her son’s valiant search for Tessaiga.

Author’s Note: Written for knittingknots, who requested “Sess + SessMom conversation, not about Rin, Inuyasha, or Inuyasha’s mom” during the LJ drabble meme.

Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, story, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.

The day was warm and bright: the sky overhead a brilliant blue, the clouds around her castle white, light, and airy, riding by on a nominal breeze. The Most Venerable Lady of the West stood silently on her veranda, taking in the calm tranquility that surrounded her with an impassive expression.

Every day, it was the same – beautiful. Serene. Peaceful.

She gazed out into the middle distance, a small sigh escaping her lips.

Every day, it was the same – boring. Tiring. Lonely.

How long had she been mired here, moving between the walls of this big, empty castle by herself? She had no sense of time passing anymore. There were no seasons in the sky; with her family gone, there were no more holidays or birthdays or celebrations to mark rites of passage. There was only this place, only the sun, the moon, and the stars for company.

Really, I should not find this so irritating, she mused to herself, allowing her eyes to follow an errant trail of clouds as they drifted past. I knew it would happen…he is too much his father’s son to merely sit idly by and be content with what he has. He wanders as his father used to wander, searching the lands of the earth far and wide…

Still, she was a mother, and it was only natural that she longed to have her child close by, or at least know of his whereabouts and safety.

She closed her eyes as the wind shifted, a small smile curling her lips as a familiar scent wafted her way. Without thinking, she reached out with her youki, latching onto its origins and drawing it closer, finding some amusement in the resistance she encountered. It had been so long – truly, did she expect anything less?

“Mother.”

She opened her eyes and inclined her head, taking in the sight of her son as he stood before her, looking only slightly put out at being abruptly called back to his childhood home.

“Sesshoumaru, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she murmured.

He narrowed his eyes. “We both know you summoned me here.”

She shrugged playfully, retracting her youki and leaning forward, resting her arms on the railing. “Indeed,” she admitted. “But is that any way to greet your mother?”

He looked away, giving her the chance to study him without the reciprocal scrutiny. He stood stiffly, his hands closed into fists, disappearing into the voluminous sleeves of his kimono. His mouth was twisted into a haughty sneer, his eyes downcast, giving his flawless features a severity that had not been there the last time she’d seen him. She could sense his struggle to contain himself, and that gave her pause.

“What ails you, my child?” she asked, straightening and approaching him. His armor, patterned after his father’s, glittered in the sunlight, checking her urge to reach out and embrace him.

Still, he did not look at her. “You know very well what it is I seek,” he grumbled in response.

She gazed at him thoughtfully. He had grown considerably since their last meeting; it would not be much longer that she could look him directly in the eye. “How much longer do you intend to wander the earth, mixing in the realm of humans?”

His gaze met hers, a blazing golden fire fueled by anger and aggravation. “As long as it takes to find my father’s tomb,” he declared.

Her lips quirked into a sardonic smile. “Of course. You seek Tessaiga.”

He nodded firmly. “It is my birthright.”

“But not your inheritance,” she chided. “Will you never be content with Tenseiga?”

He snorted. “The blade of healing, one which cannot cut and therefore cannot be used in battle? It’s useless to me.”

Her hand closed around the meidou seki at her neck as he spoke, his words needlessly hurtful. His sword and her stone were linked, a special gift from his father before his untimely demise, one he made her promise not to reveal until Sesshoumaru was ready.

Obviously, this wasn’t the time. How he longed for Tessaiga and the spiritual power it held, the brute force with which it could be wielded!

“I’m destined to be a great warrior, to conquer and lead an empire unlike any the world has seen,” Sesshoumaru continued, breaking into her thoughts. “I’m to follow in Father’s footsteps, to continue what he started before being sidetracked.” He paused, a look of pure disgust passing fleetingly over his features. “In order to do this, I must obtain his ultimate weapon – the one that can slay a hundred youkai in one stroke.”

She touched his face, one finger gently sliding down the length of his double markings as she caressed his cheek. “It is a daunting task, my child,” she murmured, releasing her youki and allowing it to enclose them, soothing his frustration and offering him the comfort he would’ve rejected outright. “Perhaps I can help you.”

He inhaled sharply. “You know the location of the tomb?” His eyes flashed with surprise, hurt, and jealousy at the very idea that she’d kept such valuable information from him.

“No,” she replied.

He wrenched away from her then, pulling out of the embrace of her youki, crossing his arms over his chest as his expression completely shuttered.

“Don’t be petulant, Sesshoumaru,” she teased. “Even without that information, I still have something that might be of use for you.” She left him then, moving with effortless ease into the castle. When she emerged a short time later, she was faintly amused to see him standing exactly as she’d left him.

“This will ease your search,” she announced, pressing a wooden staff to his chest. It was long and intricately carved, topped by opposing faces of a beauty and an old man.

Sesshoumaru took the unusual staff, turning it over in his hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked curiously.

“When the old man speaks, you have found his final resting place,” she said.

“Hm,” he grunted, holding the staff up and eyeing the old man. “ ‘Seeing, yet never seen…protected, yet never known to its protector.’ Only Father would think to make things so interesting, even from the afterlife.” He glanced at his mother. “Why did you not give me this before?”

She granted him an enigmatic smile. “Why did you run off without telling me, after learning of your father’s death and Tessaiga’s location?”

He scowled before closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the staff. “Thank you, Mother.”

He turned to leave, but she caught his sleeve before he could pass. “One last thing, Sesshoumaru.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Your sword is not useless.”

He shrugged. “If I ever find Tessaiga, I’ll have no need for it.”

She let him go then, the cool silk of his sleeve drifting out of her fingers, and she could only shake her head. Sesshoumaru, you are just like your father in so many different ways. You, too, will one day learn to value life – I only hope the lesson isn’t as painful and brutal for you as it was for him.