InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Lord's Son ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

The Lord's Son

by Swasdiva

Be prepared. I slaughter the Tetsusaiga/Tenseiga canon, play a little...or a helluva lot...with Sesshoumaru's age and massacre the standard historical principles of Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism and even a touch of Shintoism, all to suit my deluded fanfiction aspirations. I'm ready for the purists to bring their pitchforks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or Christmas, but I'm pretty sure Jesus isn't going to sue me, thank you...uh...Jesus. And because for some reason I like it better than Touga, even though I'm pretty sure this particular Inu-papa name is even more obscure in origin than that, I'm going to call him Sugimi. So sue me. Or don't. C'mon, it's Christmas. Have a heart.

FREE GIFT: At the end of every chapter I have a handy-dandy nano-encyclopedia of historical facts/fictions so you, the reader, can understand what in the hell is going on.

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Pulling thick layers of rich silk tighter around his facial markings, Sugimi studied the two caravans warily from across the campfire. They were both adorned with treasures equal in measure to his own convoy, but crafted in styles that were exotically unique. Servants bustled through ornate, heavy tent flaps as they prepared the evening meals. They never ventured into the other's territory, but not out of fear. Quite the contrary, the two head priests had quickly developed a ready rapport, even without understanding a word between each other. They had tripped over introductions, resorted to comparing astrological charts and prophecies, and then laughed it off while adjourning with several interpreters into one hut to pass along a smoking pipe.

For human food, their spiced mutton tickled Sugimi’s keen senses enough to have his mouth watering, but he would never approach either priest for a sample. The polite reason was that his status as a foreign prince disavowed him to impose upon another noble. The simple reason was that, while the other two lords had overcome language barriers, he had given the cold impression he didn't care whether they understood him or not.

The real reason, however, was neither polite nor simple. It was deadly.

They were sent as peaceful envoys from their respective countries to verify astrological predictions of an impending divine birth in the far west. He was sent to find the child, the supposed king of a people called 'Jews', and kill him.

The order came at the start of prior year in the early blush of spring, when primitive human collectives in Japan were preparing for their Ontohsai festivals on the outskirts of Mt. Moriya and ripe for the taking, according to the whims of his father. The great Inu no Taisho despised humans, more so than any of his predecessors, and wouldn't hesitate to casually 'forget' the centuries-old truce developed to keep peace during important religious feasts by attacking them at the height of their vulnerability. It didn't matter that more than half of his current imperial court despised him for this dangerous neglect, since the Western Lands would also be violating the practices of their own seasonal traditions. At the end of every argument was the damning fact that the Inu no Taisho's word was more than law. It was commanded through the mouth of a living god.

Or so his people believed. Snarling lightly under his scarf, so much that his breath warmed his chin against the arid desert chill, Sugimi damned his father and his ignorant countrymen. If they knew the tyrant as he did, they would have revolted long ago.

One day, when he knew without a doubt that he was strong enough to succeed, Sugimi would challenge his father before the crowds of his subjects and depose him. Until then, he was required as the last surviving son of the Inu no Taisho to do his every bidding.

Even if it meant the death of an innocent child.

To anyone passing by the Inu no Taisho’s warmly lit study on the night Sugimi received his mission, the conversation between father and son would have seemed deceptively casual. The Western Lord always decreed his darkest bloodlusts to the shadows, foregoing the publicity of court in favor of more direct coercion. He was a master strategist, a coffer so full of cunning cruelty there was no more room for conscience.

Sugimi had realized his father’s true nature late in his youth, when his older brothers were sent to raid the Dragon kingdom to the north and the Moth dynasty on the mainland coast. They both returned half-dead, two great warriors nearly sacrificed for their father’s gratuitous greed. The Inu no Taisho blamed them when the two clans united in a counterattack, his icy disdain leaving scars that had never truly healed, even up to each son’s death.

When his father’s summons came, Sugimi’s mind quickened with their memory: Jomeimaru’s stoic responsibility and quiet care, Arashi’s untamable passion and wandering spirit. He felt their phantom hands restrain him as his footsteps echoed down the tomb-cold hallways. As the guards escorted him into the lavish study, his father dismissed the anxious look that pulled Sugimi’s pupils into taut slits. He only cared that Sugimi acquiesced, as did everyone else, and the Inu no Taisho expected nothing less.

With one clawed hand nonchalantly sloshing a small cup of plum wine, his father addressed him.

"Sugimi," he stared blankly at the flickering hearth, "I have need for your love of travel."

"Hai, my lord," Sugimi responded. He was perturbed and wary of this strange request. Travel before the start of spring, at the height of their festival season?

"My son," the king smiled. It stretched his lips so thinly and with such superficial pomp Sugimi was sure they'd crack. "Have you ever been so far as a land called Judea?"

"Honestly I have never heard of such a place.”

"Hmm," the Inu no Taisho snorted, "I fear if something is not done soon that could very well change."

"Forgive my ignorance," Sugimi bowed curtly, "I do not understand."

His father chuckled condescendingly and Sugimi's fists clenched in response.

"Of course you don't. I don't expect a lamb to harbor the knowledge of a lion."

Sugimi could feel the heat bleeding into his eyes, and thanked the gods he had enough sense to keep his head down submissively. "Hai, my lord. I humbly ask for you to share this knowledge."

If his great and terrible father had any inclination of his son's shifting emotions, he made no verbal acknowledgment of it. Raising his head after a strained silence, Sugimi came face to face with his father's piercing, assessing stare. He shuddered as a warning wave of youki traced a sharp edge down his spine. Sugimi steadied himself and returned the stare, aware of the warning and, with his stance, almost going so far as to challenge it. They battled wordlessly until his father took a deliberate sip of wine and licked his fangs.

"I have a request that, as my son, you must obey.” He whispered venomously. “I want no arguments.”

"You will have none."

"Of that, I am sure." His father's lips lingered near the rim of his cup. Narrowed, focused eyes picked Sugimi apart. "This request requires that you travel with a caravan of Buddhist priests from the Yuezhi country to the land of Judea, a province on the eastern outskirts of the Roman Empire." The Inu no Taisho twirled his wine and Sugimi gasped.

"R…Rome?" he sputtered, at a loss for words. Sugimi fumbled with anger and excitement. He'd heard enough stories of Rome's grandeur to fill his head with years of dreaming, but he could not begin such a quest now. His life had changed dramatically in the last year, and while his young mate gave him leave to travel to the mainland when he wanted, she was in no condition to be left alone for so long. This quest would take months. It was valuable time he would not and could not miss. "But Father–"

"Silence," the Inu no Taisho snapped his jaws around the quick command. He wallowed in the moment of his son's instant and complete subjugation before continuing with silky indifference. "You will address me properly. I will bow neither to your temper or your pathetic conscience. The Yuezhi are going and you will keep an eye on them. They violate our treaty with collaboration from Parthian mongrels in Persia."

Gritting his teeth, Sugimi lowered his eyes. "My Lord, forgive my impudence, but I am uncertain how this could be. Yuezhi and Parthians despise each other. What could make them travel together?"

"This quest seems too important for them both, thus they have resigned to a temporary truce. The Parthian lords are also sending an envoy of Zoroastrian priests to this Judea, for reasons similar but entirely more treacherous. While the Yuezhi travel to substantiate the work of their amateur sages, the Parthians are built on centuries of astrological knowledge. They know with great certainty that their predictions will prove true, and if that is the case, they go to plan espionage against Rome."

Sugimi paled. His anger quickly shifted from the demon in front of him to lands far away. The distant Parthian Empire had never formalized relations in East Asia farther than the courts of the Chinese Han Dynasty, but he wasn't inclined to fault them for it. They had always been peaceable enough with him when he traveled there and held audience with their lords. They were a more gregarious group of demons than those of his land - as many empires held demons in their ruling ranks - and normally very public in dealings with their Roman enemy. The only reason his father loathed them was their ready acceptance of hanyou as legitimate nobility. While their war with Rome was not his, if he went with their envoy to validate the astrological prediction then perhaps he could curtail any clandestine plot underfoot and knock some sense into whichever Parthian lord had connived such a scheme.

Sugimi's heart ached with uncertainty as his mate's brilliant smile came to mind. This task was not important enough for him to abandon his family when his son was newly born, however much he wanted no harm to come to Rome before he saw it with his own eyes. Snickering wryly inside, he selfishly realized the only reason he cared about the Parthian plot was because Rome might be sacked before he got there. He drew a deep breath and made his decision.

"I will not go." He squared his shoulders defiantly. The Inu no Taisho's eyes blazed.

"You will not go," his father repeated, torturously languid as his posture froze in rage, "Even if our country is threatened because of this pending conflict?"

"It would affect our borders? A dispute so distant?"

"This Parthian prediction is nothing short of a war declaration, if we idly sit by and allow it to pass. It foretells of a miraculous child-king born in this degenerate land of Judea, a 'king of the Jews', whoever they are." The Inu no Taisho sniffed derisively and paged through a few scrolls lounging on his desk. "Judea is occupied by Rome, and its people are Rome's citizen-slaves. They detest Roman rule, even as their hierarchy gorges themselves on Rome's wealthy teat. But," he lingered emphatically, "This child-king would change all that. Based on a rare planetary alignment at the moment of his birth, he is reportedly endowed with holy power unlike anything our kind has ever seen. Even humanity will not escape his power."

"My lord, is that possible?" Sugimi interjected.

"I assure you, it will be. The people of Judea will raise him as a living vengeance against Rome, and every great civilization on earth will fall to ruin." His father's ire slid down his face into a menacing smirk. "Unless I send you to stop it."

Startled, Sugimi felt his pulse quicken. He didn't want to consider the implications of what he was hearing. He knew his father was malicious, but he never fathomed the demon king would stoop so low. Shaking slightly, Sugimi stared, aghast, as his father's smirk widened into a face-splitting grin. He'd never looked so evil in all of his long life.

"You...want me..." Sugimi stuttered and trembled. Blood dribbled from where he unknowingly ground his claws into his palms.

"I want you...to...what, Sugimi?" His father tilted his head benignly.

"You'd have me kill the child." Sugimi growled. His father cackled like the fire in the hearth.

"Hmm," he wiped at his eyes, "You can be astute when you want to be. You will kill the child, yes, and return his body to me so I can feast upon his flesh."

"You wouldn't–"

"I would, and I will. The Parthian magi are journeying to pay homage to this new 'king' because he will be their weapon against Rome. Many Jews were once exiled in Persia, scattered across the earth by foreign kings, and now that slavery has reclaimed their homeland they are ravenous to destroy all their oppressors. Do you see, my son, why I must be prudent with my judgment? If the Persians put so much faith in this boy to topple an empire as formidable as Rome, then who is to say his reign will not spread here? I cannot have that."

"My lord, if I may speak openly." Sugimi's voice quivered, sounding meek even as he shielded his wrath. The king gave him a scathing look and nodded.

"Speak."

"My lord, we are Japanese Youkai. We have held off attacks from human and demon kingdoms all across the mainland for centuries. Our island is rumored to be impervious to invasion because of our strength. I don't see how a helpless human child from a worthless country could rival us enough to cause such worry." Even as he quaked inside, playing up the superiority of their race was Sugimi's only viable attempt to cajole his father into reconsidering. It was against his deepest honor to kill a child. Didn’t his father respect the old ways, the intrinsic character of Japanese values that had been upheld and ingrained since the first eras? Their culture abhorred the slaughter of innocents, no matter the species. If an enemy could not mount a comparable defensive, there was no challenge or honor in the fight, and no recognized glory. What did his father hope to accomplish in the eyes of his peers by slaying a child in cold blood?

Almost in precise reply, his father stared at him, sharp and merciless.

"Any child rumored to have as much holy power as this child is worthy of my claws through his heart. But I am too important to leave my kingdom for such trivial work. As my son, you shall be my assassin, hidden in the guise of praise. You will journey with these priests bearing a singular gift, as they will be. I have prepared something fitting for this holy heir."

"What gift, my lord?"

"Tell me, have you heard of the spice called Myrrh?"

"No, my lord, I have not." Sugimi scowled. The Inu no Taisho grinned.

"It is a valuable product of the young king's homeland, according to reports from my contacts in that region. It is used in funerary rites to purify the corpse. It will suit him well, I think. I have acquired an amount fit for such a king. You will give him this, with grand humility."

On the edge of combusting with hatred, Sugimi stepped forward to protest.

“I will do no such thing!” he bellowed and struck his father’s intricately carved wooden writing table, shattering a few inlays under his fist. “I will not bring dishonor to our ancestors so you can appease your paranoia! This insignificant human child is halfway across the world, lying as a pitiful infant in a nameless village. There is no feasible way he could raise arms against you! I will not be an accomplice to your needless slaughter!”

“Are you finished?” his father murmured sweetly from behind a face of stone.

“I mean this, my Lord,” Sugimi threw the title in a flurry of spit and rage. His chest heaved with burgeoning courage. It felt thrilling, but besides the juvenile reveling of his beast, his mind was maturely determined. He would not submit to his great father’s lunacy. “I will not go.”

“You say that,” the Inu no Taisho flicked his claws and poison shimmered against the hearth’s firelight, “as if you have a choice.”

“I will not go.” Sugimi reiterated forcefully.

“My son,” the king sighed, “no matter what you say, by this year’s end a child will die, but it will be you who determines which child that is.”

“What are you saying?”

“You seem to care much for this ‘pitiful’ infant, as you call him, even though he is a worthless human–“

“I will not kill a child, no matter the race or kind!”

“–However,” his father seethed, “I wonder if you’d go so far as to forfeit the life of your own newborn son to save him?”

Sugimi’s heart shattered. “You can’t–“

“–Kill my own grandchild?” The king snickered against his cup. “As long as you’ve lived under my house and you still question me? You are a foolish boy.”

“You would make me choose between innocents.”

“Such idealism is weakness,” The Inu no Taisho's eyes slithered into thin, sparkling bands of gold. “I have no other recourse if you defy me. If I choose to let you live with this disobedience, you will have another heir. The runt’s name can be given again.” He snorted in distaste. “Truly, you would have been known as “Sesshoumaru” had it not been for the pleading of your mother. Perhaps if I had silenced her then, you would have more blood on your claws instead of oozing out your heart.”

“My son…” Sugimi felt the blood drain from his head and limbs, and he nearly buckled under the strain. Visions swam amidst his unshed tears of his son’s tiny body prone before an executioner, or tossed like a bag of rocks into the sea. Millions of morbid scenarios circled inside him like vultures, coiling in clusters so dense they turned the world black with their wails and pecking. His mate would die of anguish; he himself would die unless he gave into his father’s demands. His guilt would plague him if he killed the human child, but his life would end to watch his only beloved son murdered.

“My son…” Sugimi choked again, “will live. I will obey you and journey to Judea.”

“A wise choice,” his father murmured with smug satisfaction. “I’ve left a special gift for you in your chambers, a kubikiri tonto courtesy of our sword smith.”

“A head-cutting blade? You’d not have me use my claws?”

“And leave the child's fresh blood for you? I think not.” Dark wine lined his father’s lips. “The tonto is forged from my fang. I've designed it to taste flesh as soon as it cuts, no matter how far it is from me or who wields it. Meaning, if I am not drunk on the holy child’s blood by the year’s end I will know you have failed before you set one foot outside the desert. Then, when you return, it will be your pitiful little son who dies.”

Sipping languorously, the Inu no Taisho waited for Sugimi to react. Seeing nothing but the quiet quivering he expected, he dismissed Sugimi with a lazy wave, but gave a final warning as he pulled open the shoji screen door. “Do not think to trick me, Son. I cannot be outwitted. No kingdom on earth is beyond my grasp.”

‘Nor any heart.’ Sugimi thought as he wordlessly walked away, his chest heavy with pain.

Now, sitting thousands of miles away around a dying campfire, Sugimi’s heart was empty. He was sure if he retraced his exact steps there would be a trail of blood mapping the way to his father’s keep. Left alone in the frigid deserts of ancient Persia, there was nothing his heart could be except hollow and cold, and it was just as well. No heart with one beat left could accomplish his mission. There was no room for feeling in the plans of a child's murder.

The dagger made from his father’s fang bowed like a farmer’s sickle and was sharp enough to thresh bone in a single swipe. Such a compact shape disappeared beneath the fullness of his robes and curved comfortably against his hip, keeping its deadliness discreet and his traveling companions oblivious. Thumbing its obsidian hilt under his cloak, Sugimi abandoned his sullen thoughts to eavesdrop on the Yuezhi and Parthian priests as they barbed and bonded through bumbling interpreters. He was slightly surprised the ruling clans had sent human magi to oversee this journey if it was of such importance, but through his exploration he had discovered that some humans possessed laudable skill. Perhaps their ability to peacefully overcome political rivalries in the face of religious significance made the holy men best suited to this particular journey. Whatever the case, there was one certain, glaring trait that set them apart as a species to be loathed.

They were as loud and crass as the morning cock crowing, and just as harsh to his ears. Even though he was smugly grateful they thought his reticence meant he had no understanding of their tongues, they didn’t have to shout all the way to Rome itself. He would’ve been just as content to listen in on whispers, for either way he would’ve heard every word clearly, especially since they were all about him.

“The Japanese prince is quite formidable, don’t you think?” The Yuezhi priest queried eagerly.

“Yes, very!” The Parthian priest agreed. “He is larger than a Philistine, that one! Are all men from the far eastern island equal in stature?”

“Only the royalty, I hear,” the Yuezhi priest responded. “While he may be tall like the Philistines of legend, he certainly doesn’t act like one. He is strange and quiet, but quite refined. I do not feel threatened in his presence. Honestly, as we traversed the Hindu Kush I have never been more at ease.”

“I can see why! If those mountains fell, he could stop them with his bare hands!”

They laughed again like two old, drunk friends, and Sugimi couldn’t help but snort to himself. He may be youkai, but he was no more capable of moving a mountain than they were of raising the dead. He was intimidating, as all youkai were, but he mostly used it to his advantage for space and respect.

The two magi’s slurring speech kept the interpreters stumbling over their responses, but the sudden bursts of jovial laughter continued, signaling either a budding alliance or a near depletion of their pungent smoking herb. Soon their conversation grew unintelligible and Sugimi lost interest. Although he slept little, he shut his eyes in hopes the night’s frivolity would prevent the coming dawn. Before retiring, he took one last look at his hands. They were white in the full moonlight, but in a week’s time they’d be red with a baby's blood.

~~~~~

Yes, I am a Wikipedia whore:

Parthians were the ruling class of the enormous Persian Empire during the time of Christ. They were one of the big dogs of the ancient world, being a major player in development of the Silk Road, and were well known for their knowledge of astrology.

Zoroastrianism was the popular religion of the Persian Empire. It thrived for a long ass time (try two thousand years), only steeply declining when Islam came to power in the Middle Ages.

The Magi were traditionally a hereditary caste of Zoroastrian priests, but the term Magi has come to mean any order of religious priest. I obviously take liberties with this term.

The Yuezhi were an ancient tribal civilization of Indo-European descent spanning from western China through nearly every Central Asian country ending in "Stan" (Pakistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan...you get the idea). They were chiefly Buddhist and probably not part of the Magi on route to visit Jesus. I use them for creative effect, in order to include a nation that the Inu no Taisho, residing so far away in Japan, would more likely have business with. Ironically enough, a Chinese translation of their name means "Clan of the Moon". Ooo, serendipity. Who wants to write a fic where Sesshoumaru's mom comes from there? What? No hands raised? Schnickerdoodles...

The New Year - When the current asshole known as the Inu no Taisho mentions returning by the New Year, I'm referring to the ancient Chinese/Japanese new year based on the lunar calendar, which would put it closer to spring, around the beginning of February.

Ontohsai Festival - The myth of the "Ten Lost Tribes of Israel" follows the tribes exiled in Babylonia, and later, Persia between 700-500 BCE. There are numerous theories of where these tribes were scattered, if they really did emigrate past the edge of the Persian empire, one which suggests some settled as far as Japan, corresponding to the end of the Jomon period when Shinto traditions were solidifying. According to this random guy, Arimasa Kubo, The Suwa-Taisha shrine in Nagano prefecture celebrates a festival in April called Ontohsai, which is remarkably similar to the Biblical story of Abraham and Isaac: http : // www5 . ocn . ne . jp/ ~magi9/isracame . htm (It may be a little kooky, but it's hella interesting!)

The Hindu Kush is a mountain range in Afghanistan. Simple enough for you?

Philistine - a person from a small kingdom right next to Israel during super-ancient Biblical times (we're talking 1150 BCE, people). They pretty much died out around 600 BCE, when the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar squashed them under his royal foot. They were known for their rowdy nature and tall stature. If you're familiar with the Old Testament story of King David, the giant Goliath was said to be a Philistine.

WHEW! Is that everything? Expect chapter 2 in a week!