Lust for Power

Sesshoumaru licked away the cut inside his lip, watching the sun begin its decent into the west. His father had long-since departed this marred and scared battlefield, but Sesshoumaru couldn't bring himself to do the same. Truth was, he couldn't move. His wounds would heal, certainly, but these would take more time than he wanted to admit. He would be lucky to make it home before midnight; and he did need to go home.

His kimono and armor were in tatters and shatters, his sword in pieces and trampled into the earth.

What had happened to the man he'd fought not ten years ago, the one he had come so close to forcing into a draw? Where had all this savagery and power suddenly come from? Sesshoumaru approved of the change, certainly, for his father better resembled the supreme being that he was, but he still wanted to know.

'It's the sword,' he thought, 'it has to be, because of that wretch. Nothing else would explain it.'

How he wanted that sword, and as he examined the battlefield, his lust for it only grew. He would have it, one day, and he would turn it on his own enemies, lay to waste any and all who opposed him; even that miscreant half-breed of his if she did not fall into line the way he wanted soon.

The very thought of her insubordination, the way she had shot daggers at him with those jade eyes, made his blood boil in that strange way. It was enough to make him will his youki to life, tending to his wounds more quickly. As he predicted, he managed the trip home shortly before midnight.

He held his head high despite his current appearance when he arrived, going directly to clean and dress himself properly. Settled in his room, he let his mind examine the clash with his father again as he drew a section of his hair over his shoulder and picked at it with the comb. There had to be a way to wrench that sword away from his father

He considered threatening that human of his but tossed the idea away. It was a juvenile idea with little to no chance of success. Trying to challenge his father for it didn't seem likely to end in his favor just yet either. Even without Tessaiga, the general was still a force to be reckoned with.

He felt the echo of his youki move, stalking slowly around the castle grounds. He paused the silent argument between himself and his hair, considering the comb for a moment. It was ridiculous, but this felt…off. Thus far, he'd been willing to care for his hair himself or have Aoiki do it, not wanting to even look at that traitorous bitch of a half-breed, but… Perhaps enough was enough.

He sent a summons across the connection.

He felt its movement stop and remain still. He waited; then sent another.

It moved slowly, hesitating, but eventually made its way to the kitchens, through the halls, then pause in the hall outside his quarters.

He gave another summoning tug, setting the comb beside him as he watched her enter.

She knelt, bowed, and served his tea, but said nothing and didn't look at him. He examined her wordlessly for a time, sipping his tea, and tried to suss out her current mood. Her scent was of no help in the matter. Nearly forty years, and not once had he been unable to determine the state of her when he so desired. Was she truly so apathetic at the moment, or was he simply unable to register whatever it was she was thinking?

Still considering, he set his cup down just out of her reach. Her jade eyes fell on it and her motions requested the item silently. He did not move. She seemed to sigh and leaned to reach for the thing. As she did, he caught her about the wrist. Her heart skipped, anxiety on the air. Slowly, he turned her hand palm up, slipping the comb into her fingers before releasing it. She hesitated and their eyes met for a moment before she shifted gracefully to yield to his desire.

Finally, he relaxed, the familiar sensations fluttering again across his skin and down his spine as she coiled and smoothed her fingers through his hair. Her eyes had been strange, almost balmy, reflecting something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Did the connection work both ways? Was that the expression was about, had she felt his struggle as he often felt hers? Had she been…concerned? And why hadn't he considered this possibility sooner?

He turned his head to glance back at his hanyou knelt behind him, breathing softly, his falls of silver cradled in her fingers. She might as well have been arranging his kimono on its stand for all she seemed to notice his movement, wearing that same baffling expression, touched slightly with something else he couldn't discern.

It bothered him.

It bothered him that he couldn't read her, that she seemed unaffected by his scorn and torment; that she sat there with the same attentive care in her work as she always had as though nothing had happened and yet seemed so disconnected from the moment, from him. Almost as if he wasn't even there…

'Yes,' he decided, enough was enough. Besides, he'd left her idle for far too long.

"Hanyou," he said softly.

She paused but said nothing.

"I have a task for you."

Her pulse jumped, eyes lighting for a moment.

'There you are.'

He entertained the idea that she'd been waiting for this, his regard, his command, his voice, and it pleased him.

***

1344 early-Muromachi Period, Spring

"Well, I'm not surprised it's been acting strangely. If this Meido thing is as powerful as you say it is, even in its incomplete form, I can't imagine my Tessaiga would be able to handle it along with all of its other abilities." Totosai examined the sword the Inu no Taishou had laid before him, nodding in agreement with his master.

"How long will you need to re-forge it as I have requested?"

The swordsmith cocked his head.

"Hmm, well, perhaps a week, and another of your fangs, if that's alright with you."

The general took up a smaller set of tongs, plucking out one of his canines without any hesitation or sign of pain. Totosai accepted it graciously.

"I must thank you again, my friend."

The swordsmith waved it off.

"Not at all, serving you continues to be my pleasure."

He took up the Tessaiga and turned to his forge to begin.

"So, how is that pup of yours doing? Still as temperamental as a wildcat?"

The general laughed.

"That is one way to describe him. I think, perhaps, he grows. Somehow I feel my lessons on compassion are finally getting through to him, one way or another, though I fear his lust for power is still misguided. He speaks of conquest and supremacy, of a grand destiny, yet still cannot be made to recognize the havoc he wreaks."

Totosai grunted.

"Well, knowing what his mother is like, I can't say that I'm surprised. Oh, Myouga took off a few days ago. He said he was headed to see you; did you happen to catch him on your way here?"

"I did not, however, if he is headed to the castle, I can perhaps find him on my way back; a journey I should begin." Totosai craned his neck to look up as the general rose to tower over the old smith.

"Ah, before you go, did you want to go ahead and pick a name for the new sword?"

"Hmm. Perhaps, it is not unwise to. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, with the healing abilities, why not Coffin-Cheater?"

The general thought for a moment then smiled.

"I will call it Tenseiga."