InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Dog and Dragon ❯ Like Father, Like Son ( Chapter 6 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Carefully, the Lady removed the ties from her hair. She let the silken locks fall untamed over her shoulders, and she threaded her comb through them as she watched the sun set.
Somewhere out there, past the mountains set ablaze in the sun’s orange fire, her mate was fighting a years old war. With Tetsusaiga and Sounga there was no question he was fairing well, and the Lady wondered when he would visit home again.
The last time he had come home to rest he had begun training Sesshoumaru in the art of swordsmanship. Many moon cycles had passed, and it seemed that Sesshoumaru hadn’t laid his sword down for a moment since. She found him at dawn most everyday in the dojo, practicing what his father had taught him. After his calligraphy lessons, he would disappear to his practices again.
The Lady sometimes watched her young son train, though he made it clear he preferred she didn’t. Sesshoumaru was like his father in his dedication, his commitment to honing his skill. Yet Sesshoumaru and his father were dissimilar as well.
Her mate was boisterous, his voice like the roll of thunder. He laughed, he joked, he enjoyed the company of his friends and warriors.
Sesshoumaru could not have been more different. He rarely spoke, and he seemed to prefer his own company to that of others. As he grew older, he also grew increasingly reserved and aloof.
He was every bit his mother‘s son as he was his father‘s.
Somewhere out there, past the mountains set ablaze in the sun’s orange fire, her mate was fighting a years old war. With Tetsusaiga and Sounga there was no question he was fairing well, and the Lady wondered when he would visit home again.
The last time he had come home to rest he had begun training Sesshoumaru in the art of swordsmanship. Many moon cycles had passed, and it seemed that Sesshoumaru hadn’t laid his sword down for a moment since. She found him at dawn most everyday in the dojo, practicing what his father had taught him. After his calligraphy lessons, he would disappear to his practices again.
The Lady sometimes watched her young son train, though he made it clear he preferred she didn’t. Sesshoumaru was like his father in his dedication, his commitment to honing his skill. Yet Sesshoumaru and his father were dissimilar as well.
Her mate was boisterous, his voice like the roll of thunder. He laughed, he joked, he enjoyed the company of his friends and warriors.
Sesshoumaru could not have been more different. He rarely spoke, and he seemed to prefer his own company to that of others. As he grew older, he also grew increasingly reserved and aloof.
He was every bit his mother‘s son as he was his father‘s.