InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Spring Fever ❯ Madness and Fever ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I don't own the Inuyasha series, as it is © to Rumiko Takahashi, and her original characters are hers as well. If I did own all of that, you'd know.

A/N: Alright, I'm starting this story at the ending of the manga chapter 551, because the next one has yet to come out (at the time of my writing this) and I got the idea, so in case you want some history to the story, go to my bio/profile and open the link.

Other than that, I'll be making references to the manga in this, so expect to be either curious or confused. :P The last thing that happens in that chapter (SPOILER!! The rest of this paragraph is a spoiler!!) is Naraku's desperate attempt to take out Kaede's village with his body, because he's dying even with the jewel in him, and Sesshomaru's even there to help the gang out, so it's fun! REALLY drawn out and long, but fun!

It's pretty open ended after that (so far) and my mind wanted to fill that ending, so here we are

Note: This story is completely Sesshomaru's point of view, alright? Read and enjoy!! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Chapter 1

Madness and Fever

The slight scowl on Sesshomaru's face deepened with every step he took. Why was his infernal sword leading him to that village? Maybe it was drawing him towards something near the village and he wouldn't have to dirty his shoes with the dust kicked up by the humans…

Regrettably though, he had an idea of what the sword wanted of him, and it certainly was not what he wanted. The nuisance seemed to be contained, why was he needed? He never got too far away from the village it seemed.

That village...

Sesshomaru was there during the final battle with Naraku, and saw his demise. That despicable hanyou was now dead, and had tried to take everyone with him to his grave, including the tiny village and Sesshomaru himself. What a lowly being to sustain itself with the Jewel just long enough to kill others. To kill one's foes Sesshomaru could understand, and even a village of humans he could brush off his shoulder and forget about, but for some reason it didn't settle well with him.

Thus were his thoughts as he neared, and Tenseiga was practically dancing in its sheath as it guided Sesshomaru closer. The slivered moon overhead helped to hide the fact that Sesshomaru was full out glaring at nothing now. If that blade was not an heirloom of his father's he'd have been done with it long ago.

The spring night breeze presented itself to him, and along with the continued smell of his maddened demonic half brother it bore the sweet and tangible scent of fever.

Sesshomaru stopped dead in his tracks, and Tenseiga paused, seeming confused, before violently leaping at the inugami daiy?kai's hip.

“You test your power, Tenseiga,” Sesshomaru informed, beginning to walk away. The sword unsheathed itself and shot like a steel star against the night and straight into the village. Sesshomaru hesitated only a moment before chasing after it.

The sword was, if only to be annoying, faster than himself, and decided to enter a small lodging before sinking to a stop in the floor. Sesshomaru sliced the cheap hanging wood of a door off, and it fell with a wild clatter at his leather boots.

Maddened red eyes met his own placid golden ones.

Inuyasha let out a low growl, finding his feet and giving the enchanted chains around his wrists an inch of slack. They were secured impressively to the ceiling, as were the links of metal around the hanyou's feet to the floor. For good reason, too.

The corrupt boy let out a snarl and tried to leap at Sesshomaru, who watched nonchalantly as the chains extended to their limit and swung the hanyou back to his upright resting place. Minor sutra burns still lingered on his cheek and clothes, and a minute amount of blood lay dry and out of reach of his tongue on his chin. Tetsusaiga lay mere feet away, but glowed with an evil aura, pulsing in response to it's brother's proximity. Tenseiga beat merrily in reply.

`They failed in purifying the blade,' Sesshomaru thought to himself, his right palm enclosing around his sword and yanking it up. Or rather, trying to yank it up. Tenseiga refused to leave, and stuck to the hut as Tetsusaiga had in his father's grave. He tried to yank it free again, and glared with displeasure at the disobedient utensil. Why did his father leave him that burden?

Sesshomaru straightened and let his hands hang at his sides. Apparently Tenseiga was not needed. “What would you have me do?” he asked, at a lost.

The sword pulsed twice, and stilled. He glared at it until his attentions were caught by heavy breathing.

Stepping to the side of the window, the daiy?kai glanced out into the clear darkness, eyes detecting the most minute traces of light. The monk who traveled with his pathetic half brother was jogging towards a dimly lit home, his shoulders burdened with the weight of two buckets of water. Sesshomaru had a passing curiosity as to why the human was making such efforts at that hour of the morning, but then it passed and he looked away from the window.

Tenseiga pulsed, demanding the attention of its master. Closing his eyes so he could roll them Sesshomaru slipped out the door and discretely went to the home, his presence masked and patience ticking. Again he found a window, but it was closed to the outside. Making a quick circle, he found all of the windows to be closed, and he was not about to stand outside the door to look through the cheap wooden strips that covered it. His present actions were galling enough.

He was ready to go back and cut a hole around his sword and walk off with it like that, but he decided to stay and listen. He wasn't going to be dragged all that way for nothing.

“How's her fever?” the monk asked, grunting as he set down the water buckets with two solid thuds.

“It's still high,” came the voice of Kohaku's sister, the slayer. The boy, after the final battle with Naraku, told his sister in person that he wanted to travel with the inugami for a while longer. Sesshomaru had the impression that the boy had developed feelings for his charge, Rin. For being at such a tender age, Rin had already died twice, and it would be impossible to revive her again. Sesshomaru was not going to let her wander until she was mature enough to do so. She needed protection. Not that he would ever admit that aloud.

“How long do you think she has?” the monk questioned. Sesshomaru heard the shifting of fabric, bubbles rising from it being submerged, and small pouring splashes as it was wrung out. They were trying to reduce the fevered one's temperature, and from what he gathered it was the young priestess who had given Naraku the fatal blow. He had left soon after Naraku's downfall, returning to his companions who were waiting safely out of range. That was only at midday, and now his stubborn blade had dragged him back to that miserable excuse for a village. It was his brother's sword that had been tainted by the jewel, not the miko. Why did she fall ill? Why did he care? Why didn't he just let Tenseiga stay there for the rest of its unnatural existence and be done with it? That could work. Have an innocent demon blade in the center of a human village, they'd love it.

There was a delusional moan from inside, and he could almost see the girl turning in pain, her skin pale and damp from the fever. It was sickening to think about.

He stood, ready to make that hole in the floor, when a snippet of conversation reached him.

“The bite is looking worse.”

'So that's it,' he thought. 'She's sick from Inuyasha's bite. The fool.'

Tenseiga pulsed in greeting to its master.

“We are leaving,” he told it, securing the hilt in his grip and yanking. The sword gave way, but tested Sesshomaru's flexibility in the wrist with a jerk towards the hanyou like a child yanking at his sleeve, an all too familiar feeling. Sesshomaru looked at the beast that was related to him. Why not, he could use the feel of cutting the burden down.

Inuyasha cried out in apparent pain when the sword sliced from his left shoulder and to his right leg, lurching in his binds. Sesshomaru watched the red melt from the boy's eyes and his wounds disappear before the breath left him and his head slumped down with his body, unconscious.

“Pitiful,” he commented, moving to sheath Tenseiga. The sword protested in turn with Tetsusaiga's cry for help, the Shikon no Tama still buried in its transformed length. Sesshomaru pressed the tip of Tenseiga against his father's other sword, and slowly the blades merged, Tenseiga dipping into its brother like it would into a lake. Stroking the side of the Jewel with the Blade of Heaven, Sesshomaru flicked his wrist and Tenseiga sent it rolling across the room. He picked up the sword he once sought to be his own, it crackling in his demon grip as it transformed to its relic self, and he placing it in its sheath still at his brother's hip. He wouldn't turn into a demon again any time soon.

Although Tenseiga whined and complained as much as a sword could, claiming that there was unfinished business yet to take care of, Sesshomaru left. He had far better things to do than muddle in the business of the hanyou's pack of humans.

Still, the scent of a scared and ill priestess would not leave him no matter the distance he traveled, and despite how utterly sickening it was it called to him, beckoning for him to relieve the human of her pain.

A/N: Hello! Just wanted to say that if you liked it, please review, because I'm not continuing unless I get at least one. I'm on here to know how well I write and to improve it, not just to entertain random readers, so no reviews (depending on the hits) tells me that it's bad writing and I will drop the time waster and move on. I know, that's abrupt and possibly even crude to some, but that's the way I am :P Flame me all you want.