InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cruel Fate ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Cruel Fate: Part One

An Inuyasha fic by Cleodasia.

Warning: NC-17, Yaoi, MaleXMale, Lemon, NO SQUICK, possible OOC, and yes, I did mess around with the ages and things, so there is a possible AU

Pairing: Sesshoumaru/Jaken

What pairing, really?: I already told you! This isn't squick, I promise. Even I'm not THAT perverted. I promise bishieful goodness.

WHY?!?!?!?: Jaken is quite possibly the only being besides Rin who actually likes Sessh. The first time I saw Sessh pelt him with rocks, I was in love.

Disclaimer: Don't own Sessh or anyone else from Inuyasha. Except Jaken. He's MINE.

So back off, screaming fan girls!! *pulls out kendo stick*

*crickets chirrup in background* Yeah, that's what I THOUGHT!!

Summary: Jaken is more than he appears to be, with a secret hidden even from himself, and only Sesshoumaru can unlock it. (Thanks to For-chan for the summary!)

Note: I know Jaken doesn't have toe claws, but I HATE those little froggy

feet of his. They annoy me. ^.^ So I used my Fangirl Powers and now he has clawed toes…nifty, huh?

Any feedback, send to cleodasia@excite.com. **beams**

*looks up* Don't you hate long-ass author's notes? Yeesh…on with the fic!

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"Young master, you mustn't!" the servant called stridently, hoping to pierce the stubborn pointed ears of his charge. The pup was set on his task, however, and nothing would change his mind.

"Well, I am," was all the child said, but it sent shivers down the imp's spine. The tone of his voice brooked no defiance, a pitch-perfect imitation of his great Father's. Even the gleam in his amber eyes was the same, despite the fact that the Lord's eyes were blue. The older youkai swore that the pup was a reincarnation of the Old Lord, Sesshoumaru's grandfather, a tyrannical autocrat without peer.

"Please, please, please, Lord Sesshoumaru…I shall be killed, I shall be maimed, I shall be thrown into the dungeon and eaten by maggots and rats and worms!" the slave wailed, hoping to appeal to the lad's compassionate side. Not that he ever saw it himself, but it was there, of that he was certain.

"Enough, Dorei…I will not be swayed," the boy said, which only frightened the imp that much more. At three years of age, he neither spoke nor acted like a child should. In fact, it seemed to the servant that the pup resembled no one more than his own terrible father.

The imp sniffled a bit, the derogatory word for slave was unnecessary, no one else was present and he knew when he was being spoken to. Just because he didn't have a true name yet, well, it was no reason for the young master to rub it in his face. "Lord Sesshoumaru, you wound this lowly one's feelings."

The boy looked down his nose at his companion, a scant two or three inches between them, although the imp knew that one day the lord would tower over him, just as his father did. "I care not for your feelings. You are naught but a slave…and an ugly one at that." He went back to his mischief, and the imp knew that he was out of his league. The boy was too much for his father to handle, much less a humble house-youkai. He would be punished for the boy's actions, even still, but at least he could say he had tried.

"Bring yourself over here," the pup barked, and the lowly one jumped. He did as he was told, of course, but it rankled, being ordered about by a toddler. Waddling, he came to stand by the little lord, taking what he was given and sighing heavily.

"This is the end of thy lowly servant," he muttered, along with several other complaints, most not loud enough to reach even the young master's sharp ears.

"Be quiet, or I will be the end of you," the boy spat, and began to remove his kimono. The house-demon's eyes grew even rounder, if such a thing were possible, and he yelped, "Milord, why are you undressing? You can't do that here!!"

An exasperated sigh escaped the small figure, as the kimono was thrown quite unceremoniously over his head. "How else am I supposed to reach the top cabinet? Now, quit whining and give me a push."

Whimpering, the imp watched as his nude charge began to shimmy up the smooth wood of the largest cabinet in the study. This particular room had been made to suit the Lord's smallest, most human aspect, but was still impressive in size and height. Sesshoumaru spat disgustedly, "Stop staring and PUSH."

The imp timidly placed his claws on the tiny backside, awaiting certain death if caught in this position, and did as he was ordered. Young Sesshoumaru became even more infuriated as he realized his partner was even weaker than himself. "Never mind, just put me down," he growled, then abruptly rapped the imp's round head with his knuckles, "DON'T put me down. Let me stand on your shoulders."

He did so, and the boy stretched as high as he could, latching onto the wood with his razor-sharp claws. Kicking away from his make-shift ladder, Sesshoumaru began to make his way slowly to the very top of the cabinet.

The slave was uncertain as to what exactly the boy was looking for, but the pile that presently surrounded him seemed to hold everything the mischievous scoundrel could ever want. Daggers, swords, spell-books, ki-enhancing runes printed on the skin of the monks who had discovered them, poisons, potions, and even some rather interesting wood-block prints of an indelicate nature (which the imp was trying to burn into his memory); all were like gold to the quick, intelligent, and naughty mind of his devious young master.

Casting a glance upward, he held a claw over his mouth to stifle a scream. "Milord," he whispered, not wishing to upset the child's ponderous position. He covered his eyes with both hands, as the boy lost his footing, claws gouging into the side of the cabinet.

"Are you TRYING to kill me?" Sesshoumaru yelped, the dark look in his amber eyes promising more than the usual amount of beating when he got down.

Shaking his head, tears welled in the imp's eyes as he whispered, "Of course not, milord…come down, please, before you fall."

"Feh. I'm fine. I have to find the Staff, that's all. As soon as I do, I'll come down," Sesshoumaru said, almost comfortingly. His companion imagined he saw a look of fondness pass over the little lord's face, but the moment passed too quickly to be certain.

"The…the…Staff?" he questioned suddenly, "Is milord perhaps speaking of the Staff of Skulls?" He had heard of it, of course, but the lord would not like the news, not at all.

"Heads, not skulls," the boy snapped, "And yes, that's what I want. Why, what do you know of it?" He had reached the top of the cabinet, and was leaning over the edge, peering into the darkness for his prize. "I've looked all over this place for it. It must be here."

"Ah…umm…ano…well, milord, I don't know how to tell you this," the imp began slowly, but quickly finished as the lord passed his evil golden eyes over him menacingly, "TheLordgavetheStafftoahumanforsafekeeping,andnooneknowswhereitis."

The small demon sat down on his heels, staring straight ahead as he struggled to grasp what he had been told. "You mean to say, that the Staff is not here. That it is with a human. And that my Father gave it to this human?" The questions were drawn out, as if to a fool, but the imp took no offense.

"Yes…although there are rumors that the man who holds the Staff lives in the same village as Lord Inuyasha's mother," the servant said, thinking to give his lord some hope. The village was far enough away that the boy might tire of looking for it, but not so far that they couldn't go on a quest to get it. The Taiyoukai would probably have their heads if they went after it, but he was used to taking beatings for the young master. He didn't know what the child wanted it for, but one thing was certain, if Sesshoumaru wanted something, then that is what he should have.

"Inu…yasha. Inu…yasha. Inuyasha, Inuyasha, Inuyasha, I'm so damned tired of hearing everyone say that name!" the boy said harshly, fishing out a rather hazardous-looking paperweight and lobbing it as his slave. The young master had his nose out of joint, today was his younger brother's first birthday, and the attention that he usually garnered from all and sundry was being directed toward the hanyou. The imp didn't understand the little lord's hatred of the baby, he thought Inuyasha rather cute for a half-breed, though of course he didn't say so. The feelings had come from the Lady, Lord Sesshoumaru's mother, of this he was certain, because Sesshoumaru was usually a rather loving, if shy, pup.

His mind wandering, he didn't notice the pup's intentions until too late. "Forgive me, my lord," he squealed, moving out of the way just in time. The boy said nothing more, grunting softly as he pounced from the immeasurable height onto his small companion. The imp screamed, although more from habit than from any physical injury. The pup had been jumping at, on, and from him for as long as either could remember, with neither ever getting seriously injured.

Slave and master lay in each other's arms for a moment, Sesshoumaru breathing heavily from his frustration and anger, the house-demon from the boy's landing directly on his chest, forcing all air from his lungs. Silver hair tickled his face, but a pleasant sort of tickle, reminding him of why he didn't leave, or go mad, or kill himself, as many of Lord Sesshoumaru's keepers did. He wasn't sure of the exact number, but the lord's reputation preceded him now, and no one would accept the position. The imp had been part of the cooking staff, but his obvious interest in the boy had made him the best and only choice.

"You might have told me before I got all the way up there," the boy said infuriatingly, for how could his lowly servant have known the young master's intentions. The boy snorted at this, lying his smooth head against the imp's belly. "You SHOULD know. It's your JOB to know."

"It is my job to keep you safe," his servant countered. Sesshoumaru said no more, closing his eyes and turning over to rub his face in the familiar warmth of his slave's belly. In a moment, the pup was asleep, he had been running around like a madman all day, and the imp gratefully pulled the child's kimono over the both of them. They would be found out, of course, but neither he or Sesshoumaru ever backed down from their punishments. Yawning, he pushed an errant hair from the boy's face, and drifted off to sleep.

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The little toad imp struggled to remove his master's blood-soaked kimono, his efforts hampered by the weight of the fabric and his own tiny form. "My lord, please," he squealed, "We must remove this, or I cannot see the wound." Panic made his voice even higher than usual, piercing the sensitive ears of his Lord.

The demon lord's voice came back to him, flattened, toneless, even the mocking sarcasm he habitually used with his servant was absent. "Leave it, Jaken. There is no need for you to see what is not there."

"The wound, my lord, not the arm," Jaken shrilled, fearing that Sesshoumaru might bleed to death. The ravaged stump of his missing arm was not healing, the blood that poured from it was black and viscous. The lord seemed to be in shock, his golden eyes staring, and the imp wondered if his master would come back to haunt him in an even more fearsome guise. He hardly thought it creditable, Lord Sesshoumaru was intimidating enough as it was.

Jaken could not imagine a life without his master. He knew also that without Sesshoumaru, he would not only be without employment, but likely without his head. He was not popular with the demon populace, and without the protection of the great dog demon, he was as good as dead. "Please, please, please, Lord Sesshoumaru," he wailed, pulling at the kimono with all his might, moving it not one inch.

Sesshoumaru sighed, his amber eyes smoldering with pain. He was in great distress, although not from the devastation of his arm, bur rather from his ignominious defeat to the half-breed. He had never tasted this particular bitterness in his mouth, and it disgusted him. Failure, shame, humiliation…all of these burned in his belly, just as the fang of his father had seared his flesh. The blow had done far worse damage to his pride, however, than it could ever have done to his body. A bitter pill to swallow, it was, the great demon lord brought low by a human's whelp.

For the first time in his life, he was unsure how to proceed. Would killing Inuyasha free him from this emasculating embarrassment? He could not have degraded himself more…in front of the boy, a human girl, and worst of all, Jaken. Had he been a few decades younger, he might have howled in frustration.

He leaned back against the white stole that had once been his mother's. The demon-hunters had killed her in her highest form, skinned her, and sent her fur to her husband, who had not recoiled from the sight as his heir had done. They had died of course, within hours of it, but at the time it had seemed as if they must be great beasts to have killed one such as she, and that his death could not come far behind. He had always been a shame to his parents, in one way or another, but took comfort in the strength and power that still flowed and emanated from the remains of his mother.

As Sesshoumaru's thoughts meandered, Jaken feverishly continued his efforts to extricate his master from the gory kimono. The more he saw of the terrible damage to his ethereal employer, the more convinced he became that this was no ordinary wound. He could not be sure if the Tetsusaiga's influence was being felt, or if it was because the arm had been lost while in his largest form. Blood from the laceration seemed to flow more heavily with every minute.

The two were already surrounded by a great lake of blood, resulting from his master's foolish attempt to revert to his canine aspect when he found that changing to his lesser form had not brought back his arm. The fear in his unguarded eyes had nearly been Jaken's undoing, and when the hailstorm of blood and bone had rained down on his head, he had almost fainted, only his concern for the master kept him from it. Screaming at the lord to change back quickly before he killed himself, he had been forced to wield the Staff of Heads against his beloved proprietor. The smell of singed fur still wafted over them, and a large blister was apparent on the master's remaining arm. For this he would die, but Jaken knew there was no life without the merciful bounty of his lord.

Standing on Sesshoumaru's legs, trying to keep out of the sanguine pool, he leaned over as far as he could. As he did so, his toe-claws dug into the perfect thighs, but there was no reaction. Not until Jaken's clawed fingers inadvertently scratched the torn flesh of his arm did the demon show any sign that he was in pain. The whites of his eyes stained crimson, his face elongating for a moment, and Jaken was propelled sharply into a nearby tree.

Lying with his head down, the small imp was stunned for a moment, his small toe-claws twitching. This side-trip into normalcy made Sesshoumaru feel somewhat less homicidal, although he was still largely in shock. As the imp splashed his way back to Sesshoumaru's resting place, he whined, "Milord, I cannot help you in this ridiculous guise, I'm much to small to be of any use to you…please, you must change me into my larger form."

An elegant eyebrow arched questioningly, and Jaken continued, "I cannot do it myself, lord…please?" Large yellow orbs begged piteously, but Sesshoumaru was unfazed. "Milord, surely you cannot mean to die here? Your father would be most displeased for his son to commit meaningless suicide." Staring balefully at the ground, he awaited his lord's answer…or the end of his life.

It was a gamble, and he knew it. He knew nothing of his larger form, only

that he could not initiate it, and that when he changed, he returned with large gaps in his memory. The master had some use for him in his larger form, of that he was sure, and now was as good as time as any to put it to use.

The beautiful youkai stared at his faithful servant and sighed. "It is out of the question. Leave me." He turned his face away, silver hair sliding through the pool of blood and bone, and Jaken wondered for a moment if the pup had gone mad. A blush tinged his swamp green cheeks as he realized that Sesshoumaru's current state brought out a curious protectiveness in him. He could remember as if it were yesterday the little mewling bundle in the Great Lord's arms, the delightfully pointed ears and small sharp talons.

An even deeper blush turned his face a frightening shade of brown as he remembered sneaking a kiss of the little upturned nose. Not that he hadn't paid for it later, when the scratches to his face had begun swelling immensely from the deadly poison in the pup's fingertips. It had been worth it, all of it, to be with his Lord Sesshoumaru. He could not bear to lose the only being he had ever cared for. He could think of nothing else to do but beg, kneeling in the corrupt cesspool, head bowed and eyes closed.

Sesshoumaru spared his servant a glance, and sighed. The imp had been with him as long as he could remember, and as annoying as Jaken could be, he did indeed have a point. Something was terribly wrong, the wound should have healed by now. He wondered idly if Jaken knew what he was asking, but was fairly certain the tiny being knew no more about his larger form than what he had been told. He would die if he bled much longer, and the thought was unbearable. Jaken could help him, would help him, although the fact that he needed that help at all was more than a little galling.

"Very well," he said finally, and to Jaken it seemed as if an infinity had passed. He said it as if he were bestowing some great honor, and Jaken accepted it as such. He would serve his master once more...even if Sesshoumaru killed him for his insolence, at least he would have that.

Sesshoumaru sat up, laboriously, his movements hampered by his weighted kimono, and the still-surprising absence of his arm. "Come here," he barked, and Jaken complied readily. His singed right arm rested with astonishing gentleness on the tiny green head. Jaken squeezed his eyes shut, in fearful anticipation of he-knew-not-what.

Cat-slit pupils were shuttered suddenly by long silver eyelashes. A deep growling seemed to issue from deep within the lord. Sesshoumaru's eyes opened wide, and all Jaken could see was red fire. The flickering in those depths was hypnotic, and the imp felt as if he were spiraling into a deep, endless pit. "Milord," he wailed, clawing helplessly at the air.

The growling seemed to be all around him now, he was being eaten, tumbling farther and farther into the visceral abyss. He shrieked as the lord's voice echoed all around him. In the inky blackness of near-unconsciousness, he was certain only of impending death.

A strong pressure seemed to be lifted from his mind, as Lord Sesshoumaru intoned simply, "I do unbind thee."

He was floating now, the gentle touch of his lord's fingers a cloud of affection to be reveled in, his soft voice a warmth to be basked in. He became aware of another being beside him, as familiar to him as the lord himself. Beautiful, it was, like a pixie or fairy, but he did not know its' name. He meant to ask it, but remembered suddenly that its' name was Jaken. His own name he could not recall.

Lord Sesshoumaru's voice echoed once more, telling him to sleep, to dream, and to wake only when called for. He said more, but he did not speak the name he so wanted to hear, but another hated one, remembered as if from long, long ago...

Tears flowed heavily from his round, yellow eyes as he scrabbled to be set free from his murky, miasmic tomb. As darkness overtook him, he screamed into the darkened silence, "My name, milord, what is my name?"

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I have been unbound, Jaken noted thankfully as he rose to meet the comforting, dark voice of Lord Sesshoumaru. He did not fight against it, as the Jaken-who-was-not-Jaken had, and it went easier for him. He could feel his spirit fighting against the forced imprisonment of the tiny imp's body, and he yearned for his own body.

As if his thoughts were made real, he could feel flesh and bone begin to move about him, a whipping, whirling dervish that coalesced miraculously into his natural form. He forgot how to breathe for a moment, but the lord's hand pushing in harshly on his chest quickly reminded him as the words of the spell continued about him.

Opening his eyes, he took in a deep breath of air, the pain in his chest as beautiful as the sight of his lord. Gasping, he turned to cough, his lungs hurting from non-use. "Dammit, Sesshoumaru!" he snarled, but the rest of his tirade was cut off by the spasms in his arms and legs and back.

Bending, stretching, twisting, he was able to accustom his muscles to working again. As he turned, the sheer horror of his surroundings caused him to pause, to reflect, finally remembering all which he had seen from deep inside the mind of the little imp. "Sesshoumaru," he breathed, as his gaze fell onto the demon lord.

"Jaken," Sesshoumaru said gravely, not precisely looking at his captive, but not looking away either. Jaken immediately fell to his knees beside the damaged shoulder of his lord and began to examine the extent of the wound. Sesshoumaru was glad for a moment of reflection, it had been almost a year since Jaken had last been unbound, and he could think of little to say.

From the corner of his eyes, he watched his prisoner, marveling as he always did at the other's beauty and grace. Almond-shaped sage green eyes flashed, as the stern mouth twitched with anger. Gentle hands lighted softly, but there was no pain from the touch of his slight fingers. A curtain of ebony hair draped over his thin shoulders, and he caught it up expertly, sliding a set of chopsticks into the mass.

Sesshoumaru almost laughed at that, the young man's thievery was well-documented, but it always surprised him when Jaken managed to secrete items on his person for later use. The body of his captive was still lithe and lissome, even after all these many years, and as desirable as ever.

The thought was cut short as Jaken stood up sharply, and began to read the riot act to his lord in no uncertain terms. He was a damned fool, he should have known better, and did he think this was all a joke? Didn't he realize the power of the Tetsusaiga, of his father, of his little brother's protective feelings towards humans, no matter what the boy said? Was he mad, stupid, crazy, out of his mind? Did he delight in worrying him, making trouble, being a damned fool?

On and on it went, as Jaken took up the Staff of Heads and rapped his captor soundly on the head with it. "The poor little thing was worried sick," he said, motioning to the limp form of the Jaken-imp. Sesshoumaru shrugged, only to be thwacked again.

A feral growl did nothing but make Jaken laugh at him, as he settled in beside the dog demon, the hem of his robe already saturated with blood. "I don't even know if I can heal this, your Father's powers were immense, and you still might die. You should have unbound me at once, instead of being foolish and stubborn."

Sesshoumaru glowered, "I should bind you again. Or perhaps I'll just snap your neck with my teeth." He was in pain, and his mood was suffering, not that he could ever be called jocular.

An eyebrow raised haughtily, "Do it, and see what happens. You'll be dead inside of an hour. Besides, human blood would just make you sick to your stomach. You'd die with vomit in your hair." Nodding his head smartly, he stared down his youkai captor fearlessly.

A snort, then silence. Jaken replied, "As I thought. Now, be quiet, and let me do this." He raised the staff, switching it from hand to hand experimentally. A disgusted sigh, then, "Do you mind?"

Sesshoumaru gave him a pained look, raising his hand slightly and motioning. The Staff elongated to its' true size, over six feet in length, and Jaken smiled. "Infinitely better, my lord," he said with a mischievous grin. He moved his fingers to touch the wound, causing Sesshoumaru to jerk away involuntarily, shaming himself even further.

"Shhh...it's alright," Jaken said gently, his smooth voice soft and soothing. His fingers once again pressed against the laceration, blood pouring steadily over his forearm. Closing his eyes, he took the Staff in his other fist and pounded it three times against the ground.

The Staff seemed to light up from the inside, the Heads strangely quiet, their eyes staring, mouths slack. "Heal him," Jaken said simply, although he added a few more spells in a human language unknown to Sesshoumaru. A few long minutes passed, but still the Heads did nothing.

Growling, Jaken passed the Staff to his other hand, and repeated the spells, this time gesturing with his other hand. Still nothing. He sighed, and handed the Staff over for Sesshoumaru to hold. "It seems I'll have to do it myself. Are you ready?"

A nod. The human cradled the remains of the demon's arm against his chest, causing Sesshoumaru to screw his eyes up sharply. He did not cry out, of course, but Jaken would have preferred it if he had. Putting his face as close to the wound as he could, his hands slipping into the ruined flesh, he began to pray.

Sesshoumaru ground his teeth together as tightly as he could, as the human's fingers caressed the smooth end of bone. The prayer, of course, did nothing, it rather served to focus the other's ki onto healing the wound. The sharp rise in ki was always surprising to him, he rarely felt that much power in other youkai, much less a human. He could feel the tingling in his arm that signaled healing, a tingling which quickly gave way to a stinging, itching, burning tidal wave of pain that made him want to tear his arm off and have done with it. Sesshoumaru vainly struggled to pull away, but Jaken held onto him, still praying, and did not let go until the smell of burnt meat and charred bone filled the clearing.

With the wound finally closed, Jaken rocked back on his heels, releasing Sesshoumaru almost reluctantly. Leaning his head back, Sesshoumaru inhaled deeply through his nose, most likely trying not to faint. Jaken knew that a lesser youkai would have died from such a wound, and certainly from the insane amount of blood loss. He had healed many demons in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had ever tried to heal one damaged in his higher form...not to mention one who had been injured by the fang of the Taiyoukai. "Your father would be proud," Jaken said suddenly.

"I'm sure," Sesshoumaru said sarcastically, pushing himself upright. The Jaken-imp flopped over his knee, eyes rolled back in his head. Jaken took the little servant into his arms kindly and stood before their master. He held out his hand to Sesshoumaru, who looked at it disdainfully before turning his face away. Using the Staff, he stood upright, if a bit unsteadily, the loss of his arm undermining his habitual agility, the large white stole of his mother (as black and reeking as his kimono) throwing him off balance until he became accustomed once more to its incredible weight.

Sniffing bemusedly, Jaken said, "Ah, you don't mind a human healing you, but I can't touch you, is that it?" He slung the imp over his shoulder and crossed his arms, awaiting an answer.

Sesshoumaru eyed him warily, then said, "I mind it greatly, but it was necessary." He took a few wobbly steps, and then handed the Staff back to Jaken. "I don't need any help." His walk was slow, but steadier than a human's would have been after such a wound.

Shaking his head incredulously, Jaken asked, "Where are we going then? The Shiro no Taiyoukai (Castle of the Great Demon) is two day's walk or more...you won't be able to get there in your condition." A growl was his only answer, and he decided that now was not the best time to defy Sesshoumaru. Later, when the demon lord was feeling a bit better, with rest and some food in his belly, then they would have a nice, loud, satisfying row.

Jaken couldn't wait.

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"My lord," Jaken said quietly, not wishing to anger his youkai captor, but uncertain as to their next move. They had traveled the largest part of a day, with scarcely a sound from Sesshoumaru. Not that the demon was ever talkative, but Jaken would rather a fight than this maddening silence. "Will you speak to me, please, I'm starting to worry."

"Shut up," was the considered reply, and Jaken rolled his eyes. The blood on his kimono had dried, blacker than the fabric itself. Sesshoumaru's kimono was still completely soaked, his long quicksilver hair matted with gore, and the look on his face promised death to anyone who mentioned his undignified state. Jaken himself was exhausted, he could hardly imagine the fatigue that Sesshoumaru must be feeling, although he knew better than to ask.

They walked on a bit more, over some hills and into a small forest, finally emerging into a large expanse of pasture. Following behind meekly, Jaken looked about him, trying to determine their current position, wondering exactly how far from his home village they were. As they moved forward, familiar landmarks began to present themselves, an old shrine, an oddly-shaped boulder, and finally, most convincing of all, his own initials childishly carved into a hangman's tree.

"Sesshoumaru," he breathed, scarcely able to believe it. He was home. After fifty years, his feet once again touched the earth of his people. Jaken hurriedly caught up with his master, inadvertently bumping into his extremely sensitive left side.

Sesshoumaru snarled, his fang-teeth bared, and Jaken ducked his head. "Gomen," he said simply, slipping under his master's right arm. Without thinking, the lord leaned into the touch, momentarily tolerating the support of his captive.

"It's not as you think," Sesshoumaru said gently, "They're all dead, you know."

"I know," Jaken said simply. He had accepted this fact long ago, when Sesshoumaru had first taken him from his home. The time spent bound inside the body of his lord's servant had been tedious, yet it had given him time to deal with the facts of his life. Fifty years had passed, and the villagers he had known were either dead or so decrepit they might well have been.

"Not just the ones you knew," Sesshoumaru continued doggedly, "All of them."

Jaken paused, forcing the lord to stop with him. Slowly he asked, "Did you do something?…"

"Don't be simple. I have no reason to kill them, any of them. I took what I needed fifty years ago," the youkai stated blandly, adding, "A few shards of the Shikon Jewel were found nearby. Unfortunately, the ones who found them were already enemies of the village."

"Oh…" was all Jaken could say. In truth, not a living thing was left in the village itself, not even a blade of grass. The destruction was perhaps days old, but it seemed as if it had always been thus, there were no wild dogs or screaming vultures, only a creeping, stealthy silence. Jaken wanted to stop a moment, to say a prayer at least for the children and grandchildren of the people he had left behind so long ago, but the force of Sesshoumaru's gaze kept him moving.

"Certainly there were some survivors?" he asked hopefully, wondering idly why the imp had know nothing of this. Everything that was said to the Jaken-demon passed to him, although he could not act or speak on it. Of course, that didn't stop him from trying, and sometimes he did manage to get an idea across to the imp. Sometimes Jaken wondered whom the little demon's outbursts surprised more.

Sesshoumaru said nothing, which was as good an answer as any. Sighing, Jaken shifted his small burden, in order to make room for the larger one. The lord's pace began to lag, and Jaken snapped, "Can we please stop somewhere before you fall over? There is no way I can carry your heavy ass."

Looking affronted, the master clenched his teeth, grinding out, "I am NOT heavy. I will NOT fall over. I will stop when we get where we're going." Had Jaken not known better, he would almost have called the lord's tone petulant.

Jaken stuck out his tongue, making Sesshoumaru want to beat him and kiss him at the same time. They passed through the village, halting only once, long enough for Jaken to realize that nothing and everything had changed. Bodies littered their path, but Sesshoumaru refused to walk around them, painstakingly stepping over each one. Jaken turned his face from the destruction, preferring to keep his eyes on his stunning escort.

Beautiful in the extreme, there were no words that could accurately describe the man. And man he was, though Jaken often forgot it, having met the youkai when he was just entering manhood. The Jaken-imp still thought of the master as a particularly precocious and talented pup, although Sesshoumaru had long since passed sixty years of age. The habit had leeched into Jaken's thinking over time. Ethereal was about right, but then, that didn't take into account his feral nature. Plum-colored markings on slender wrists highlighted the lethal claws, thin red lines on the eyelids accentuated the royal golden eyes, the wine-colored stripes on his face and amethyst crescent moon on his forehead proclaimed his youkai heritage.

"You are staring," Sesshoumaru pointed out, not without a glimmer in his eye. He was used to being the center of attention, his looks catching the eyes of both male and female, non-human and human alike. Even in his present disheveled state, he was strikingly attractive.

Jaken pulled himself together and shot back, "I'm wondering how the hell we're going to get your hair clean again, short of cutting it all off."

Sesshoumaru sniffed disdainfully, as if he knew exactly what Jaken had been thinking, and was not amused at his pitiful attempts at covering up the truth. He gestured slightly with his right hand toward a place in the distance. "We are going to the hot springs.. Surely you remember them?"

Nasty bastard, Jaken thought, merely nodding his head, keeping the peace for now. As soon as they were bathed and fed, well, all bets were off. The rest of the trip was made in silence, as Sesshoumaru focused all his ki on walking.

There was a cabin not far from the springs, where presumably the Great Lord and his human wife had met and conceived the Lord Inuyasha, if the rumors were to be believed. It was possible, even probable, considering Lord Sesshoumaru's acquaintance with the spot. As far as Jaken had ever known, the lord had only been to this village once before, when he was taken into service, but now he was not so sure.

The area was clean of the smells that had lingered around the village, death mixed with burnt flesh and old blood. Not that they could have smelled it themselves, reeking as they did. Jaken couldn't wait to have a bath, the little imp didn't bathe as regularly as he might like, and besides, it wasn't the same thing at all.

They stopped at the cabin for a moment, leaving the Jaken-imp to rest on a clean, soft futon and beside him they laid the Staff, pitching their clothing in a pile to burn later. There was no cleaning Sesshoumaru's kimono, and Jaken's wasn't much better. The lord assured him that there was spare clothing, kept for just such an occasion. The stole, however, was carefully placed to the side, and Jaken knew it would be cleaned while he was sleeping, every single strand arranged and attended to, lovingly restored to its' rightful glory.

To the springs they went, naked as the day they were born, Sesshoumaru pretending not to lean on Jaken, and Jaken affecting not to notice. The springs had been manipulated into pools of varying sizes, a vast area for the men, and a secluded place for the women. It was an enchanting spot, the warmth of the water combining with the redolence of the sakura trees, their pink-white petals feathering down to the surface, skimming away with the gentle current.

Sesshoumaru stepped into the bath gracefully, long white legs sinking gratefully beneath the surface. Immediately he doused his hair with water, and when it seemed to make no impression on the filthy mass, he ducked under completely. Jaken wondered at him, the wound though healed should still be extremely sensitive, and yet he seemed not to be experiencing any discomfort. Removing the chopsticks which kept his hair in place, he dove into the pool, a child again for a moment, splashing water every which way.

Sesshoumaru soon found that swimming, while difficult without one arm, was not impossible, compensating with the motions of his legs. The pain had passed now, although he would prefer not to be touched on that side of his body ever again, thank you so kindly. With the fingers of his hand he pushed at the knots in his hair, attempting to untangle them, but in truth, only making them much more riotous. A low, steady growl began, interrupted by the sound of his companion's laughter.

"What?" he said pettishly, and his prisoner smiled back impishly. He swam over to Sesshoumaru, standing as close as possible without actually being in his arms.

"You're cute when you're frustrated," the boy said, and pressed a bit closer.

Sesshoumaru did not reply, but neither did he step away from his aggressor. He went back to worrying his tangles, the growling in his belly vibrating against the skin of the other. "Let me do it, stubborn ass," Jaken scolded, and abruptly pushed the demon lord underwater. A particularly vicious scratch to the thigh forced him to release Sesshoumaru, but not until the greatest part of the knots had been removed.

Forgetting his usual reticence, the lord asked with astonishment, "How the hell did you do that?"

Jaken grinned, and pressed him under the surface once more. He let him out after a moment, saying, "Why don't you do something useful while you're down there?" which caused quite a bit of sputtering even before he was dunked again. When Jaken finished, the silvery mass was once again manageable, although it still needed a good soaping. He led the pink-cheeked Sesshoumaru (whether from blushing or being half-drowned, neither could say) over to the women's part of the pool, and ordered him to sit.

Struggling to retain his composure, Sesshoumaru put on his most dreadful face. Unfortunately, Jaken had seen all of his faces at least twice, and was unimpressed. He clambered out of the pool for the moment, returning with a jar of slimy soap. Dipping some of the smelly substance onto his arm proved the theory that this soap would probably take off every kind of dirt and filth imaginable, along with three or four layers of skin. His unsuspecting victim had sunk into the water a bit, looking rather comfortable and complacent. Unceremoniously, Jaken dumped half the jar onto the head of his master, and made for the other side of the pool in a flash of bared back.

"Quit yowling, and rinse it out," he reproached the demon lord, who responded with a word so lethally foul even demons didn't use it. "Quit being a baby," he said, making sure to keep well away from the "baby" who looked ready to carve him up and eat him.

"I have never yowled in my entire life," Sesshoumaru argued, as he rinsed his hair obediently. A naughty grin from Jaken extinguished the rest of his argument, because he could indeed remember yowling on at least on occasion, if not many more in the company of his captive. The young human's eyes flashed menacingly, and he swam over to his lovely captor.

"Sorry," he said, planting a kiss on the alabaster forehead. A "hmphh" was his only answer. A gentle kiss on his soft lips was met with the same answer, although with a bit less force.

Pushing Jaken away suddenly, Sesshoumaru tentatively touched the smooth remnant of his arm, washing it carefully, not allowing his captive near enough to see it. His claws stroked wistfully as he said, "It will never grow back." It was obvious that Jaken had been forced to use his ki to burn the wound, healing was a slow process when done by a human. Once cauterized, the demon flesh could not heal itself, the extensive burns were quite past its' power, although the burn from the imp's earlier attack had already healed.

Jaken bowed his head, "I'm sorry, my lord, but I had to." It had been a painful decision, and he had known that Sesshoumaru would not approve, which is why he had not asked his permission.

"It might have healed," Sesshoumaru said accusingly, but he didn't sound convinced. He continued his bathing, immersed in thoughts, broken only by the sound of his companion's voice.

"It wouldn't have. If I had been allowed more time…but you had already bled far too much. I had to cauterize the wound, milord, there was no help for it. Much longer, and you would have bled to death." Despite himself, he was becoming defensive, wanting the lord to understand his reasoning.

"You are a healer," was the next observation, which sounded vaguely like an epithet.

Sesshoumaru had never before needed a healer, to him it signaled an inferior youkai. He had been wounded in more ways than one today, his ego taking a thousand times more damage than his body had.

Jaken was a healer, but no ordinary one. His father had been a healer of humans and demons, but his son had only inherited half of his gift. It had led to a very unhappy childhood, being seen as the abettor of fiends and monsters, but it had kept the village safe from the wrath of the powerful youkai. The Taiyoukai, Sesshoumaru's great Father, had been healed by Jaken's father many ages ago and had never forgotten the deed. Out of gratitude he had given the Staff of Heads to Jaken's father. Jaken himself had used the Staff once to rescue Lord Inuyasha's mother from a particularly nasty youkai, although he wisely had kept that secret hidden all these years.

"I am a healer, but I can't work miracles," Jaken explained patiently, and hoped that would be the end of it. He had done what he could for the lord. Surely Sesshoumaru didn't think he had been purposefully handicapped? He cupped some water in his hand and began to trickle it over his own body, the other hand working the harsh soap into tired, aching muscles.

"The Tetsusaiga is a sword for killing demons," he said suddenly, forcing Sesshoumaru to look up, "And you're a demon. A lesser youkai would have been slaughtered immediately, you realize."

"The hanyou handled the fang of my father as if it were made for him," Sesshoumaru said, golden eyes flashing in the afternoon sun. The look on his face could have been called hatred, but to Jaken it appeared to be jealousy. Neither he nor the imp understood the Lord's hatred of his brother, and Jaken wondered if the Lord understood it himself.

"It probably was made for him," Jaken answered, even though that was probably not what the lord wanted to hear. "You have the Tenseiga, why shouldn't he have the Tetsusaiga?"

"Because it belongs to me," was the irritable answer.

Jaken countered harshly, "You have the Tenseiga. And the title, which gives you power over all of the lands and people, both human and youkai. Bribes, taxes, tithes, and tributes, not to mention the Shiro no Taiyoukai, the largest castle in all the Western lands, and quite possibly all of the lands. Isn't the boy allowed something of his Father?"

"No," Sesshoumaru said flatly. Long silver eyelashes shuttered his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Jaken stuck out his tongue, and considered drowning his youkai lord. He would probably be dragged down with him, but at least the infuriating bastard would be dead. Pushing the issue, he added, "You're just angry, because the Lord chose him to guard over his resting place."

In a flash, Jaken found himself out of the pool, head slammed into a jagged rock, an unforgiving knee in his chest, poison claws ready to deliver him a slow, painful, and very ugly death. The greatest danger of living with Sesshoumaru was forgetting his immense power and speed, in favor of his feminine looks and reserve. He was, in the end, a youkai, and an extremely dangerous one at that.

Closing his sage green eyes, he breathed as deeply as the lord's knee would allow, and apologized. "I shouldn't have said that."

"You should not have." Tawny eyes glittered dangerously, the cat-slit pupils dwindling to near-invisibility.

"I was angry and wanted a fight." Jaken wisely did not add that he was right, although Sesshoumaru's reaction certainly seemed to prove it.

"You have one," was the reply, warning Jaken away from his territory. They both knew that Jaken was privy to quite a lot of information about Lord Sesshoumaru which he would have preferred to keep hidden, but his choice of prisons had precluded that particular desire.

He moved his hands away from the lord's thigh, where he had been trying to extricate himself in vain, and threw them out as wide as he could, a gesture of absolute supplication. "Forgive me. I am but a lowly servant."

"You are nothing," was the answer, hissed between clenched teeth. Jaken recognized this anger, as his impish counterpart would have, as the wounded feelings of a pup. He was hurting, the pain in his arm had subsided, but the pain in his heart had not. It was easy to forget he had one, but Sesshoumaru needed love desperately.

His father had loved him, but it was not the single-minded devotion that the boy had always desired. He liked nothing more than to be the center of the universe, which perhaps explained the Jaken-imp's continued existence. The gift of the Tetsusaiga, the choice of his resting place, these were hurtful, but it was the fact of Inuyasha's birth that still galled Sesshoumaru. Somehow, he felt that the Lord had not thought him worthy, as if a replacement had been brought forward should need arise. Worse was the fact that he knew himself to be unworthy, and with his defeat, had cause to question his own suitability as heir.

The pressure on his lungs subsided, as Sesshoumaru finally backed away. Jaken forwent the usual harangue he might have thrown at his lord, and settled for breathing again.

"I should kill you and have done with it," Sesshoumaru said evenly, as if reminding Jaken of an appointment or asking him to dinner.

Jaken sighed, coughing as he did so, "Perhaps you should."

In that moment, their eyes met, and the truth suddenly became patently clear. Sesshoumaru had stolen him from his home, many years ago, because he desired the Staff to find his father' tomb. The Taiyoukai had placed certain wards on the Staff, perhaps the very same that had kept the Tetsusaiga from answering to his touch, and Sesshoumaru had needed someone who could wield it for him, someone he could manipulate, someone who was not his brother.

It was painfully obvious that Jaken's presence was no longer needed, and in fact, was probably a hindrance to the lord's future plans. He gasped, as he saw the same thought pass over the other's face, the wine markings deepening to a harsh burgundy, eyes dusky with their homicidal fantasies.

"I can kill you," Sesshoumaru said simply, but they had always known that. It was no surprise, no matter what spells he had been taught, what skills he had picked up as a child, he was no match at all for the great lord Sesshoumaru.

"And it please you," Jaken answered, stating another fact, that whatever the lord wanted to do, he could, and there really was nothing that Jaken could do about it.

Sesshoumaru sniffed disdainfully, abruptly getting to his feet. Naked, he was incredibly haunting, a ghostly vision, and one could see the same markings that striped his face made themselves known all over his body, a soft lavender that reminded Jaken of spring flowers. "I'll keep you a while yet," he said, claws moving to touch his disabled bicep. "You have proven your worth, for the time being."

Jaken wanted to scratch his eyes out for that, but realized it was Sesshoumaru's way of saying that he wanted him around. He accepted a languorous hand to his feet, and without a word, slipped back into the pool. His lighthearted mood of before was gone, replaced with sadness and longing. He would be bound again, soon, and the thought made his skin crawl. In that prison, he had no weapons against Sesshoumaru, and he knew that if the lord told the tiny demon to throw himself from a cliff, then that is what would be done.

In the near-darkness of twilight they made their way back to the small cabin, Sesshoumaru walking on his own, although Jaken perceived that the master's steps were slow and careful, and matched his pace to compensate. The crimson moon had risen before they reached it, fatigue overtaking the master, forcing him to lean once more on his prisoner for support.

Jaken didn't mind, in fact, if things were a bit different he would gladly walk beside the lord for the rest of his days. It was damning, this love he felt for the youkai which kept him chained in more ways than one. Their earlier confrontation had only convinced him further that things had changed irrevocably, and that an understanding between them would have to be reached. The lord could no longer hide behind the façade of captor, just as he could no longer hide behind the mask of captive.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Milord, please, come back, you haven't yet eaten," the small imp cried, knowing that he would fare better beating his head against the stone flooring. The lord was already outside, his feet bare, long legs covered only by a sheet hastily wound around them. The female youkai would be screaming at the sight, and the servant predicted a boom in the demon populace. At fourteen, the lord already had more lovers than his Father had accumulated in a lifetime, none of whom lasted longer than a week or two with the moody youkai.

The house imp wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, as he busied himself arranging the futon which had been kicked aside in the lord's haste, choosing a suitable kimono for his master (who would probably go about naked if left to his own devices), and setting the lord's breakfast table for his return. Once finished, he sighed deeply, knowing there was nothing for it, he would have to go fetch the pup, and probably get a beating for his trouble. Not that he minded, really, Lord Sesshoumaru's beatings usually consisted of a boot to the head or a well-thrown rock. He could have dodged them, but often didn't, it was just a game they played.

He shuffled down the grandiose halls, wishing not for the first time that he had been given but a third of Lord Sesshoumaru's stature. He didn't even think to wish for a third of the lord's beauty, such a thing was completely alien to him. No one could hold a candle to his young master.

The going was harsh now, he had not been young when brought into service, and the years were not as kind to imps as they were to youkai. Not much longer, and I'll be dead, he thought, and then who will look after Lord Sesshoumaru? He scarcely thought of himself, of the little imps he might have left behind, had he married and made a family of his own instead of becoming lackey to the Great Lord's arrogant whelp. Lord Sesshoumaru was all that mattered to him, the shining star of his existence, the epitome of all that was beautiful and terrible and good.

He knew something was wrong even before he entered the Great Hall, the noise and clamor that usually resounded through the lesser halls was eerily, almost painfully smothered. The Taiyoukai must have returned, or the pup would not have been so eager to leave his bed, today was the anniversary of his Mother's death, and also Lord Inuyasha's birthday.. The silence, however, was unusual, and it made him wonder if something unfortunate had happened to the Taiyoukai. His thoughts were shattered suddenly by a great wail, a howling cry that seeped into his heart and mind.

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" he screamed, running as fast as his tiny legs would carry him. He found the young lord on his knees, holding the limp body of the lifeless messenger whose misfortune it had been to inform the boy of his Father's death. Jaken wailed, pushing himself between the lord and his kill, forcing the pup to look at him, not to fall into the depths of madness which had extinguished the mocking light in his eyes. The lord was crying as if his heart had broken, which it most likely had, pain and grief sounding death knells in the young voice.

Everyone had fled in fear from the main hall, the advisors, the guests, the servants, all of them leaving the pup there with his first human kill, news of his father's death still ringing in his ears. Jaken could have killed all of them in that moment, demons and humans alike, he would have destroyed all of the Western Lands and beyond if it meant his lord's heart would be mended. He held the boy's forehead to his own, and cried his pain alongside him, the loss of the Great Lord meant the loss of his pup, forced early to manhood, forced early to his rightful place as Lord.

They stayed there alone for hours, alternating between tears and silence, until the young lord was able to gain control of his emotions. It was if a large, implacable wall had been set down behind his eyes, sealing away the boy which had been, in favor of the man who must be. "Let me go," he ordered, and not for the first time did the imp curse his lack of a true name. He would have given his life gladly to hear his name on the boyish lips, but they were set firmly now, intent on doing his father no more shame.

The imp removed himself from the lord's lap, the sheet stained with the human's blood obscene against his lord's ivory thighs. "Milord," he whispered, and moved as if to remove it.

"Let me alone, Dorei," the Lord snapped, softening the blow by taking the imp into his arms. "I'm not a child. You can't go around undressing me."

It was comforting, being told off this way, and the imp rested his face against the chest of the new Lord. His pup was all grown now, it hardly seemed a day had passed since first he'd held the wiggling, squirming infant youkai, dodging poisoned talons and razor-sharp fangs.

The young one stopped off at his room, placing the imp on the freshly-made futon,

swiftly kicking aside the blood-soaked sheet and shrugging into his kimono. He wrinkled his nose at the imp's choice, blue not being his favorite color, but he put it on without an argument. He ran quick fingers through his hair, and then pulled himself upright, shoulder squared firmly. "You'll move my things to the Lord's bedroom," he said, "I don't know when I'll be back, so don't go around whining for me. I'll send word to you if I'll be gone all night, but if I catch you sneaking after me, I'll burn you at the stake."

The little imp sniffled, but more out of habit than anything else. "Where are you going, milord?" He could not say if the pup would commit suicide in his present state, and he could not bear the thought.

"I want to see my Father," he said simply, and his servant said nothing more. The lord's breakfast was cold, and he began to pick at it, moving the plates around in an attempt to fill the silence. Sesshoumaru finished putting on his boots, then bent down beside his servant. "Thank you," he whispered, slight fingers resting on slim shoulders for a mere second, but it was a lifetime for the little slave.

Lord Sesshoumaru exited without another word, and the imp laid down on his futon, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of his beloved lord. He held back his tears, if the lord would not cry any more, then neither would he. After a while, he began to move the lord's effects into a corner, readying them to be placed in the Lord's Room. It was slow going, and tedious, but memories of his pup kept his mind busy.

The lord did not return for a week, and when he did, it was as if the child he had once known was dead as well. There was no body, and without it, the boy would never find peace. His servant grieved as if mourning the death of his own child, but there were no more tender moments to be had.

~To be continued~