Bloodlust

1433, mid-Muromachi Period, Autumn, Musashi

Sesshoumaru remained perfectly still as he listened carefully to the conversation happening just beyond the tree line. The demons Jaken was speaking with would have no clue he was there, thinking only that they were trading information with a tiny loremaster of sorts. The stories they shared filled in the final pieces of the fractured rumor he'd been chasing for months now, and as they left he also turned to leave, knowing now where he must go.

Jaken scrambled to catch up, only barely finding a handhold on A-Un's tail as the three of them rose swiftly into the sky.

"Milord, where are we off to?"

"Is it not clear?"

Sesshoumaru didn't bother glaring at his often mindless vassal, focused solely on his target; a gravesite in the wilds, rumored to be haunted as though by demons, and it was in the direction the nintoujou indicated. This could be it, the end of all his wandering, his searching.

The place was, indeed, remote, with only a small colony of humans nearby, no doubt to make use of the rich fields and clear river. Sesshoumaru gave the stones of the gravesite a cursory examination, determining that they were of the proper age to qualify. The earth around the grave was clean and well-tended, a bundle of dried flowers set neatly at the base along with a variety of sutras and offerings. He narrowed his eyes.

Flowers are a human tradition, they do not belong on a demon's memorial, he sneered. Then again, knowing his father's particular weakness, perhaps it was only disgustingly appropriate in some way.

Somehow he knew before Jaken even set the staff against the stones that the woman's head would sound, indicating this was not the grave he sought. The woman's cry frustrated him, as did Jaken's indignant sputtering and curses, his groveling apologies.

Sesshoumaru clenched his fists against his growing rage until his claws bit into his skin.

'Why? WHY, father? I was your first-born, your heir! Why have you treated me so? Why do you continue to evade and taunt this Sesshoumaru in such a way? I seek only what is rightfully mine, yet even in death you continue to deny me! Why?! ANSWER ME!'

He knew there would be none, for the dead did not speak.

He barely registered Jaken's call, the sounds of people approaching. Their stench drew him from his thoughts.

Humans.

He slid his golden eyes to consider them with a piercing gaze, his demon blood beginning to boil as they tried to order him away, threatening him with their pathetic farming tools and rusted swords.

"Begone, all of you! Or you will suffer the wrath of my great and mighty lord!" the imp squawked.

"This is our land! You've no right to be here!" the humans snapped back.

"Call the headman!"

"Apparitions at the gravesite! Someone fetch the priestess!"

"I told you this thing was haunted!"

Their sounds rose, like chittering rats, but through it his ears honed in on a single sound; the cries of a frightened whelp. His eyes found the source almost immediately, its mother cradling the thing and shushing it in equal terror.

Something about the sight of the pair made him snap. His eyes bled red, his demon nature demanding blood, demanding suffering and death to quench his rage.

His youki spilled from his fingertips into his whip and he snapped it to life; the woman was the first to go. The horrified and livid screams as he continued the stroke, slicing apart the men before him, pleased him deeply.

"Demons!"

"Run! Run for your lives!"

"Call the priestess! Someone!"

The remaining few fled back toward their colony, and Sesshoumaru gave easy chase.

He cracked his claws, relishing the sensations and sounds; warm and slick, crunching and snapping and tearing, as he gutted, shredded, and dismembered each and every last one of them.

Inside the colony now, he felt the petty surge of protective reiki from the local miko push at him like little more than a gentle spring breeze; she was challenging him. That one he saved for last, easily avoiding her pitifully aimed arrows and flimsy sutras.

With a final slash, it was finally silent. The air was thick with all the things that soothed him; blood, terror, suffering, despair. He breathed deeply, finally calming even as the miko screamed curses at him.

She leveled another arrow in his direction. He was certain her insignificant power would have no effect on him, but it was the principle of the matter. How dare she raise a weapon at him!

"Foolish wench…"

He was a blur, flicking his claws up to impale her through her belly and into her chest, drinking in the medley of expression and sound as she melted from the inside out on his poison claws.

As the silence fell once more, he took a moment to examine his work. The area was littered with mutilated bodies and their various parts, the ground slick in some places with blood and viscera. His claws dripped crimson, flecks of it splattered across the front of his armor and kimono.

'What a mess,' he thought as he slowly licked his claws clean.

The flavor was exquisite, addictive, and he savored every last drop.

***

1434, mid-Muromachi Period, Spring

Sesshoumaru was letting his mind wander a bit this morning, contemplating which lead to follow next when Jaken's voice sounded behind him.

"Milord, look; samurai. Perhaps returning from battle."

"Hm?"

Sesshoumaru glanced up at the long rows of soldiers marching in line some distance down his path, led by, what he assumed was, their general on a grand black horse. They bore no crest he was familiar with and were in every way common and dismissible. He paused as the general did, simply blinking up at the man as he demanded Sesshoumaru make way.

"Move," he said simply.

The man opened his ghastly mouth to argue, but a swipe of Sesshoumaru's claws silenced him. The men at the front recoiled at first as their leader's head-less body toppled off his horse and the beast fled with a panicked whinny, but quickly angled their spears at him, bent on revenge.

"Always so barbaric."

Sesshoumaru allowed himself a slight smile as he showered them in his poison, pleased by the screams their comrades made as they dissolved into nothing. Some continued to contest him, meeting the same fate, but the rest seemed to make sense of the situation, abandoning the path and leaving the way clear for this Sesshoumaru to continue.

Jaken guffawed as he waddled along behind him.

"Well done, milord! It would have been easier for them if they had only heeded your words in the first place. Such arrogance these warriors have."

***

1435, mid-Muromachi Period, Summer

Jaken remained as silent as he possibly could, loath to draw his master's murderous attention. It did not frighten or disturb him, the slaughtering, the evil his master committed as they traveled, but he certainly did not wish to be the target of any more of it than he already endured.

He poked at the small lizard he had skewered near the fire, testing if it was ready to eat and finding it needed more time. His master was perched nearby on a flat rock, an arm hanging from his drawn-up knee as he gazed up in his usual manner at the full moon.

Just what Lord Sesshoumaru's fascination with it was, Jaken could only guess. Was it a dog thing? Did the moon, particularly the full moon, hold some significance for his master? Or was Jaken overthinking it all, and the moon was simply a convenient place for Lord Sesshoumaru to settle his gaze as he thought? Whatever the reason, Jaken wasn't about to disturb him.

The night wore on, and finally, Lord Sesshoumaru turned his gaze back down to the earth. He must have worked through whatever contemplations he had, and now pulled a small comb from its pocket inside his kimono, drawing it through the tangled mass of his silvery hair.

Jaken felt uneasy.

Such a thing should have been a servant's task, his task, and yet Lord Sesshoumaru had never allowed him to even touch his hair. It was odd, certainly, but he wrote it off as one of his master's many quirks and continued biding his time, judging when Lord Sesshoumaru would be most receptive to his questions before venturing.

"Um..Milord?"

"What."

His tone was the usual cold and disinterested.

"I was wondering, sire, and I know it is not the place of a servant to question, but, what exactly is it about your father's sword that makes it so desirable to you?"

The lord's eyes opened to slits, almost as though he were remembering something. Jaken marveled silently once more at his master's perfection and beauty.

"The Tessaiga is capable of great feats of power, even slaying one hundred opponents in a single stroke."

Jaken gawked.

"The T-tessaiga?! I have heard tales of the sword, so then it is real! I had no idea your honorable father was the one in possession of it. Many demons have sought it as well, haven't they, and they all met their doom."

"Indeed, it is so."

"I understand why you desire it so much now. Such a magnificent weapon, what will you do with it?"

"I will ascend to a far greater power than I currently am, and forge for myself an empire."

"Of course! I should have already known. It is only your proper place."

Sesshoumaru gave no response.

"Um… Tell me, sire, once your empire is forged, what role might I play?"

"You intend to serve me for so long?"

"But, of course! I owe you my very life! I will stand dutifully by your side until the end of time if you so desire."

Sesshoumaru seemed to consider him with those honey-gold eyes, as icy as ever.

"Hn."

Jaken fell silent. Usually, this meant the conversation was over, and he had come to accept that sometimes Sesshoumaru simply did not answer him; as was his right, after all.

"Perhaps," Lord Sesshoumaru mused, and Jaken perked to listen, hopeful, "I might find the service of a Prime Minister useful at that time."