InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Footprints in the Snow ❯ Part I ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Note: This story is mainly based on the opening scene from the third Inuyasha movie that described what took place on the day that he was born and written for the one person who was left truly alone after the dust settled. For those of you who haven't watched the movie, the focus of the story appears to be about seventeen or eighteen though of course I don't know how old he really was at this time.

 

Footprints in the Snow

By: Silver Spider

 

His father was dead. He'd known his fate was sealed from the moment the Lord of the Western Lands chose to sacrifice the remainder of his already failing strength to protect his human lover and their unborn bastard of a child. He had stood on the edge of the ocean, glaring daggers at his father's back, speaking words of conquest and power, as if to distract himself from the inevitable truth: his father would not be coming back, and Sesshomaru hated him for it.

It was a feeling he'd grown quite accustomed to over the last year or so. His father's strength was failing. The Lord Inutaisho had grown weak in his son's eyes, sparing his enemies, showing leniency in his rule of the human villages within his provinces. When he had taken that worthless mortal woman as his lover, Sesshomaru realized that his father would never regain the former glory and respect that had been associated with his name. It wasn't so much that he'd rutted with the female. Though he abhorred it, what his father did on his own time was none of the young demon's business. Others had been known to indulge in a few choice human women from time to time, but there were rumors whispered about the estate that the Lord had actually fallen in love with her, that once the child was born, he would bring them both to the palace, and she - this weak mortal - would be Lady of the Western Lands. She would hold the position that had once belonged to his dead mother. She would bring his great father to his knees, and that was the one thing Sesshomaru could not forgive.

He hated his father. He hated this whore of a woman, but most of all he hated the babe that by now was almost fully grown in her womb. That hanyo... that abomination that should have never been conceived in the first place... His father considered it worth dying for, and Sesshomaru hated it for that, not because he thought his father would not have done the same for him, but because it was this half-breed's fault he would never see his father again. Inutaisho abandoned him.

Despite the cool breeze of the ocean, Sesshomaru could feel his skin aflame and the blood in his veins began to boil, but not from anger. The time of his father's demise was nearly at hand, and the young demon felt every stroke of the opponents blade as if it fell upon himself. One more agonizing feeling of being consumed by fire, and then all was still. Inutaisho, the great dog demon, lay slain amidst the burning rubble. Sesshomaru was now Lord of the Western Lands, but he felt no satisfaction, only emptiness.

The cold winds of the night had long ago subsided with the approach of the dawn, but Sesshomaru remained where he was, not moving an inch from the spot that his father had occupied hours earlier. He looked down at the sand that had accumulated a thick blanket of snow throughout the cold night and noticed that he had been standing directly in his father's footprints. They were still a little big, but soon he would grow into them. No, Sesshomaru thought with utter conviction. I shall surpass them.

His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. His father was the greatest man he'd ever known, yet this woman and half-breed only brought him this dishonorable demise. Yes, he would rule the Western Lands with an iron first, he would slay all who stood in his way, but first Sesshomaru would restore his father's name, even if it was only for the memory of him. None would ever think of the hanyo that now tainted his father's mighty bloodline.

There was a scent of burning wood on the wind. From miles away, smoke rose from the burning village, but Sesshomaru knew that his prey was no longer there. The smell of singed wood was strong, but the scent of blood was even stronger and slowly moving west. A snarl tugged at the corner of his mouth. So the woman planed to flee deeper into his father's... no, his lands? She actually thought she'd be safe with that whelp. He took another long sniff of the air and realized that the scent had stopped moving. His golden eyes scanned the surroundings and finally came to rest on a small village in the distance.

He had no trouble identifying the hut that held his targets. After all there was only one hanyo scent for many lee and this one happened to be very fresh. Sesshomaru had no trouble at all slipping through the shadows and past the few villagers who were still awake. His acute hearing picked up talk of a foreign princess who came in the middle of the night, bloodied and exhausted, clutching a tiny bundle to her breast that no one quite got a good look at.

Only a few candles burnt throughout the house, and all the servants were fast asleep. The woman rested in a separate room, clearly exhausted but turning fitfully in her sleep. Sesshomaru thought he heard her call out to his father, and a low dangerous growl raised in the back of his throat. How dare she speak his name when she and that wretched child of hers were the cause of his demise? Sesshomaru's jaw was locked with determination, and his hand went for the hilt of his sword when his sensitive ears picked up a different sound. In the adjacent room, a child was crying.

It was merely curiosity that drew him to the woven crib that hung from the ceiling. Inside lay a whimpering infant wrapped in red swaddling cloth, but as soon as Sesshomaru looked inside, the child's cries subsided. He opened his eyes, golden-yellow like his father's, staring up at the stranger in curiosity. He was clearly far too pale to be a human child, and if that or the pair of canine ears and snow-white mane didn't betray his demonic heritage, than the eyes were an unmistakable sign. Yes, this was the son of Lord Inutaisho. Unaware of the danger, the boy reached up with tiny hands that bore the faintest hints of claws, expecting to be picked up, but of course Sesshomaru did no such thing, merely staring back at the infant. Disappointed, the baby began to fuss again, kicking at the blankets.

“Silence,” Sesshomaru chastised him. “You'll wake your mother.” But the infant was having none of it.

Annoyed, the demon drew his sword, fully intending to put the half-breed out of his misery, but once again his hand was stayed. This was not a cry of hunger or discomfort. This was a cry of fear, and Sesshomaru knew that he was not the one the child was afraid of for the soul reason that the brat didn't know better. His keen senses scanned the room, and finally he saw them. Scavenger demons. Ugly misshapen creatures who were rarely a match for adult humans, let alone other demons. No doubt drawn to this place by the scent of blood. Usually they would feast of the carcasses of those slain in battle, but when the opportunity presented itself, they were not against the fresh meat of a helpless infant, especially one as potent as a hanyo.

Sesshomaru's golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. This was his kill, and none other's. This worthless things dared to claim the life of one who had his father's blood flowing in his vanes? They were sourly mistaken if they thought he would let them take the child.

“You are not welcomed here,” he told the mass of scavengers, pointing his sword at them. “Return from whence you came or suffer the consequences.” The hideous demons chattered and hissed amongst themselves, unhappy that their prospective dinner was interrupted but knowing full well that they didn't stand a chance against the full-blooded demon. With a snarl in his direction, the creatures vanished.

Satisfied, Sesshomaru returned to the crib where the child had stopped his cries, tear streaked cheeks now pulled back to reveal a toothless smile. He reached out again, hoping that his apparent savior might pick him up this time but was once again met with disappointment.

“Don't be foolish,” Sesshomaru told him. “I didn't do it for you. Imagine how Father would feel if he knew his son met his end at the hands of mere scavenger demons. Pathetic.” He leaned closer to the crib. “Know this, little brother: when your end comes, it shall be at my hands and my hands alone. I suppose, if only for our Father, I owe you an honorable death.”

Against his better judgment, he reached into the crib and pulled the red cloth that the child had kicked off to tuck it around the baby, but before he could retrieve his hand, his little brother grabbed it. A frown creased Sesshomaru's brow when he realized that the child was trying to pull it into his mouth. He already managed to slobber all over his knuckles, and Sesshomaru growled in disgust. He only had to extend a single finger and his poisoned claws would end this hanyo's miserable existence, but somehow the idea of the child's death no longer seemed satisfying. At least not at the moment.

“Listen well, little brother,” Sesshomaru pulled back his hand, wiping it unceremoniously on the blanket. “You will grow strong and proud, and you will do nothing to bring shame to our father's name, or I will hunt you down myself, understand?” The baby didn't seem to pay attention, focused only on reaching for Sesshomaru's hand which had apparently become his new favorite toy. “But until you are of age such that you may defend yourself, no harm shall come to you. I'll see to that.”

The child no longer heard him. Having lost his toy, he wasn't willing to give Sesshomaru any more attention and promptly fell fast asleep once more, but amidst the sounds of nature from outside and those of the child's soft snoring, the demon lord could distinguish a pair of approaching footsteps from the other room. He growled; the human woman was awake. Slipping into the shadows, he watched her rush into the room, franticly searching for any sign of trouble. She approach the crib with caution so as not to wake the child. Satisfied that he was still asleep, her eyes drifted to a singed pile on the bamboo floor and widened in horror. Against his better judgment, Sesshomaru rose his voice.

“They were no threat,” he told the woman, remaining concealed by the shadows. “Your child is safe.”

The woman's head snapped up and if it was possible, her eyes grew even wider. “ Inutaisho.” she whispered, and Sesshomaru inwardly winced at the sound of his father's name.

“No,” he told her. “Your lover is dead, and I strongly suggest you put him out of your mind. Your concern now should only be the child.”

“Hai,” the woman lowered her head in a bow of respect. “Whoever you are, thank you for my son's life.”

Sesshomaru only scoffed in response before turning to go, but he paused at the door. “What is the boy's name?” he inquired, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Inuyasha,” she replied, gazing fondly at her slumbering son. “The only thing his father could give him before his death.”

“Inuyasha,” Sesshomaru repeated to himself as it testing the taste of it in his mouth. “Strong name.”

Then he disappeared into the night, leaving behind nothing but footprints in the on the snow covered ground which were soon filled once more with a fresh blanket of white. His father had considered the child worth dying for. Perhaps Sesshomaru owed it a chance to live.