Sesshomaru's Story

Kaoru went to check on the shrine, as his father ordered. He was running late for school, but every morning his dad had him place Sacred sutras along the entrance to the well and around the building. Kaoru had never seen the well before, not even as a small child. His father warned him to never go inside the shrine, unless he wished to be devoured alive by a powerful demon. Kaoru, now seventeen highly doubted his father's claim so for the first time he never placed the new sutras. He opened the door, cracking the paper of the previous sutras. He stepped inside, swallowing hard. The well looked rather spooky, covered in cobwebs. The rest of the shrine was void of dust but the well itself. He walked over, running his hand across the side before leaning over it and peering down. It's a long way down.. He thought to himself.

Then he lost his footing. Kaoru fell face first down the well. He let out a scream and his eyes widened. The walls of the well disappeared and all he saw around him was blue lights and he was no longer falling, but floating. Before he had more time to react, he was in the well again. Only.. he heard birds. He looked up only to realize there was sunlight overhead. He shifted himself up, remaining quiet otherwise. His father warned him about demons and now strange things were happening.. Aside from his initial scream he didn't want to push his luck! He finally hoisted himself high enough to grab the top of the well and finally emerged from it. He fell to the grass, panting softly. He wasn't used to that kind of workout. He was a normal schoolkid. He wasn't used to his life depending on strength.

He looked around, and his blue eyes instantly widened in horror. There were no cars or trains.. He saw only trees. There were no houses or skyscrapers... There was forest as far as the eye could see.. Just where was he? He sat there frozen for a moment, but the rustling of bushes startled him. He instantly shot from where he sat and started running. He paid no attention to his direction, but he didn't want to be devoured by a demon. His father, for once, had been right and he didn't listen. In his fear, he barely noticed the light emitting from his chest and as if like a raindrop, a small jewel dripped from his chest and into his hand. It was beautiful...

Before he knew it the creature pursuing him caught up. It was a horrid goblin looking demon and it swiped for his body, only to be destroyed by a brunette woman with... cat ears!? (Aduhi :P )

"-Thanks..."

But he'd spoken too soon. Not too long after that, the woman began attacking him, shouting something about a Shikon jewel. Does she mean the jewel that came out of my chest..? He thought, falling to the ground. The jewel in his hand suddenly thrown in the air. He didn't want it if it would put his life at risk. The woman shot for the jewel, swiping to grab it but hit it with her claw only. As a result from the blow, the jewel shattered and shot in every direction with amazing force.

"That doesn't look good..." And then the humanoid woman grabbed him by the collar and began shaking him. This girl is crazy!

"HELP ME!" He shouted desperately to anyone who happened to be nearby.

The eerie quiet of his humble halls echoed back the jarring sounds of footsteps. As though in all the great halls that made up the castle, there remained only a few bodies to occupy it. The footfalls rocked through the corridors moving swiftly. The legs that rushed by belonged to a messenger, a sun burnt, youthful looking man but looks can be deceiving within the grand halls of the Western Lord.

Through the archways he sprinted till he found himself standing before a strange shrine. The steps were of stone, and appeared cracked. Pillars of white and red adorned the sides of each, though their coloring was interrupted with the green of overgrown vegetation. At the top was housed a strange seat adorned with the symbols of ancient demonic clans. Intricate scrawling of many famous sigils, almost all of them dashed with red paint. Their implication simple, they belonged to demons whom no longer exist.
Yet none of that would terrify the messenger more than the piercing stare of the throne’s occupant. The messenger threw himself upon his knees, daring not to try to the steps of the throne before him. Knowing well that to ascend toward the Western Lord uninvited was to gain almost certain death. The great Daimyo was utterly silent. Poised and dignified; looming over his empire. The golden gleam of his eyes shifted down to greet the runner prostrated before him. Though no words escaped his lips, the messenger knew he shouldn’t keep this lord waiting. Fear was a very healthy thing in the Western castle, as it kept many from perishing.

“M-my Lord. Many of your vassals have vanished from their posts.”

From behind the throne emerged a rather small creature. Its large eyes honing in on the runner, while its clawed hand scratched in pondering at the words, before long it addressed the matter in the stead of the silent being beside it. Its voice harsh to the ears, almost squeaking as it bellowed with disdain a rather crude response.

“What! Have they lost their minds? To abandon the charge that Lord Sesshomaru has so generously offered them is nothing short of despicable! Why M’lord will have every one of their heads for such disrespect! If I had the time I’d hunt down every one of those disgusting, smelly, ungreatful-“

“They talk of a miracle my Lord.” the messenger interjected.

It was a subtle movement, but Sesshomaru’s eyes widened some. His interest piqued at the mentioning of such a thing. For so many of his followers to discard their loyalty all at once was a surprising turn of events. What could possibly be so important? Even the small green creature seemed to take note.

“A miracle?”

“Yes, they say that the four souls have returned.”

“Four souls?” the raspy voice asked. Jaken thought momentarily but wasn’t sure what the runner had meant by this. Yet even as the diminutive being speculated, the Lord of the West rose from his seating. The black of his boots touching the ground as his white kimono flowed about him. The floral pattern that adorned his sleeves a sign of his royal blood. The tiny yokai gave a half leap away, startled by Sesshomaru’s movement.

“M’lord?”

“Jaken…” The Lord’s voice was soft in tone, yet as icy as the deepest winter. “Gather the Bakusaiga, and the Tenseiga. I will investigate this matter for myself.”

“Uh, Er, yes me lord right away!”

The air was still, barely a breeze pressed against the travelers as they went. Yet there was a thickness to the wind. Was it an ill omen perhaps? The scent was muted, filled with hints of vegetation and earth. The world was as it should be outside the castle’s walls. Even as the grass was stamped with the sole of black boots, they seemed careless to their guest’s passing.

They had left with an immediacy that made the small advisor nervous. It was rare for the Western Lord to express his thoughts and spend time talking during these trips. So Jaken would quietly work over his lord’s intentions in his mind. Debating with himself as to the purpose of their journey. In the old days it wasn’t unusual for Sesshomaru to chase his own goals in person. In fact every gain the lord had made was by his own hand. Yet, in the luxury of ruling was it not more fitting that a Daimyo command his warriors from the seat of safety? True they had lost a great number of vassals, but there were those still loyal to the great yokai. Whatever the reason, Jaken was assured that it warranted Sesshomaru’s presence, and it was this fact that worried the minuscule Yokai.

The two of them had journeyed together before, but this time it appeared to be just them. A-un was left behind in the comfort of the Western Castle, where he is allowed to graze the day away. Also there was the entire lack of their other compatriots. The likes of Kohaku and Rin.

Jaken hesitated momentarily stopping in place. His large bulbous eyes actually shifted downward. There was a sadness in his features as he stared to his feet. There hadn’t been much laughter in Jaken’s life since the absence of their former allies. Sometimes he found he actually missed that brat’s annoying giggling. The way she would greet them each morning with such enthusiasm. It made Jaken disgusted, how little a human life was by measure of someone like Sesshomaru. Yet, even Jaken knew there was something of a void where that once eager child use to be.

He glanced up to find that Sesshomaru hadn’t stopped, and briefly panicked. Running as fast as his tiny form could take him. His warbling and squawking quite vocal as he hurried to catch up.

“L-lord Sesshomaru please wait!”

They had been on plenty of adventures. Jaken had made it known that he had seen himself the great Lord Sesshomaru rise to power and build an empire by the edge of his own blade. He had struck children with awe in recounting the battles. He had even cowed ignorant servants by recounting tales of Sesshomaru’s strength and courage. Indeed the green demon could come to guess his lord’s thoughts by merely looking to him. The nearly undetectable changes in Sesshomaru’s expression were an open book to the likes of Jaken.

Sesshomaru was dressed for battle. He bore his traditional armor from their days in contestation with the likes of Inuyasha and Naraku. A spiked pauldron rounded over his left shoulder, attached to a black curiass which held firmly over his upper torso. Petal shaped faulds rested over his upper thighs and pelvis, accented with a long flowing sash that bore patterns of a blue river-like design across its brilliant yellow surface. Over his right shoulder rested his mokomoko, which at a casual observance appears to be a large furry boa of a stark white in color. Looks however can be terribly deceiving. At his left side tied firmly were two sheathes and what seemed to be traditional katana. Two hilts with ornate handles jut out from the side of his waist, his weapons of choice: The Bakusaiga and Tenseiga. The tools of a lord, one a blade of his making terrible and cruel, said to fell a thousand demons in a single swipe. The other a fang of redemption, a blade that will not cut, said to be able to save a hundred lives. Where ever they were off to. Sesshomaru was ready.