InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ I Came to Read, I Stayed to Write ❯ Dojo ( Chapter 4 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities to the character in this drabble… he's entirely too much for this forthright to handle, so I keep a respectful distance!
Dojo
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Swish, thrust, stumble.
Turn, slash, grunt.
Feint, extend, falter.
Sesshoumaru glared at the sword in his hand, hefting it briefly to test his balance against its weight. Unacceptable. He stood in his personal training hall, stripped to the waist with bared feet on smooth wooden planks. Shoji screens stood open. Moonlight flashed on waiting blade. Breezes pulled at hair, lifting it away from heated skin. Hours of exercise had raised a sheen of sweat. He'd lunged and twisted until hakama rode low. Whorls of magenta curled in sharp relief against pale skin—hips, shoulder blades, wrist.
Charge, sweep, curse.
Twirl, dart, hiss.
Pivot, leap, sway.
He would live this down. Bad enough to have his arm taken—by the hanyou no less. It was a bitter thing, to accept defeat at his brother's hand. But that did not mean he had to accept the limitations of a missing limb. For days he'd driven himself, convincing his body to compensate. Brows knit slightly as he misjudged another arcing slice and had to take a stutter-step. Sesshoumaru huffed. He would not add to the disgrace by allowing the loss to affect his skills. Relearn basic movements. Retrain muscle responses. Reclaim mastery. Perfection must not be hindered by imperfection. His was a deadly dance—one quickly regaining its grace. Sure, deft, bold. Gradually, he built speed until the dojo housed a silver whirlwind.
Swoop, ripple, glide.
Flex, weave, launch.
Surge, circle, drive.
Eyes fierce with personal triumph, Sesshoumaru sheathed his sword. Acceptable.
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End note: This drabble was written in response to the Live Journal iyissekiwa community's contest on the theme, “Acceptance.”