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Silver Demons
by SkyFire (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
rabid_plotbunny)
Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8
Warnings: Eventual Sess/Seph (shonen-ai or yaoi, I haven't decided. We'll see when we get there. ^_^)
Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII or InuYasha and no money is being made.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Chapter 9
The young monk quietly stepped around his colleague - currently focusing on maintaining the barrier up - and looked into the small cell around the door's heavy wooden bars in curiosity. Unlike most of the others, he wasn't an orphan that had been taken in and trained to be a monk since early childhood; he'd only recently discovered his spiritual powers and thus his vocation, and was actually still in training. Also unlike the others, he'd grown up in lands claimed by the Western Lord Sesshoumaru.
He'd never actually seen the daiyoukai himself, but he'd been told of his deeds often enough growing up. How the demon protected them from other demons, how he had sent the village a share of rice and meat one season when the winter was especially tough and they had come close to starving. While he knew it had hardly been a charitable act - they could hardly send him their tribute if they were dead, after all - it was still enough for him to know that demons were not all the senseless, bloodthirsty killers that the others thought they were. If one merchant was to be believed, the daiyoukai could actually read and had sent servants to buy books and scrolls from him on various topics on more than one occasion!
He was somewhat disappointed to see that the demon they had captured almost a full two days before still lay where they had dropped him, not having moved so much as a limb after they had chained him to the floor with sutra-reinforced shackles. At least now the demon was dressed somewhat more decently in a plain white robe instead of what he had been wearing. Even if it hadn't been for his inhumanly beautiful looks, the young monk was almost certain that the fact that he was a demon would have been obvious from his dress alone. Certainly no self-respecting human would go around so indecently clad! Sinful!
The memory of that outfit had him glancing over to where the demon's belongings had been stored. Along with the leather clothing and odd footwear he'd had to be almost peeled out of, he'd also possessed a couple of small blades, a few demonic devices whose use they couldn't decipher, and an impressive collection of odd, round jewels. Some of them had been held in a pouch, but others had been embedded in those odd bracelets and blades and had had to be pried loose. The jewels had immediately been taken away for study when one of the monks sensed some kind of latent power lurking deep inside them. What were those colorful baubles, and why did the demon see a need to carry so many? They were no valuable gem that they could recognize....
Looking back toward their demonic guest, the young monk almost eeped in surprise when he saw newly-opened eyes of glowing blue-green staring straight at him. Frozen in shock, heart racing, it took him along moment to realize that no, he wasn't being stared at. He was being stared through. The demon may have opened its eyes but it soon became apparent that it was in no way aware enough to be dangerous. Not yet, anyway. Hopefully, the demon-slayers' incense, given to them by the same slayer that had provided them with the smoke-bombs, would keep it that way as it burned in one corner of the small cell. Even so, he couldn't help but glance toward the many sutras stuck to the walls, window, and door of the cell, reassuring himself that they were still intact, still working to contain the demon.
While he knew that not all demons were murderous beasts, he knew that even the most gentle being could be roused to a fuming rage if they had been treated as this one had for no reason.
It was odd, though, that he couldn't sense a demonic aura emanating from the imprisoned being. Did the sutras on the shackles suppress it? Maybe it was the barrier? Or maybe the aura of a daiyoukai was different enough that he'd simply not yet been taught how to properly sense one?
The possibility that he might - as he had implied before they had captured him - not be a demon at all was cast aside with barely a thought. Those clothes, that hair, those glowing, slit-pupiled eyes; what else could he be?
Even so...
This time his eep of surprise was audible as the prisoner pulled first one hand closer to himself, then the other, eyes narrowed in concentration. What was he doing? And how was he doing it? Wasn't the incense supposed to render dog demons incapable of movement?
He had to tell someone. Obviously, the incense wasn't strong enough to immobilize a daiyoukai like Sesshoumaru. Something would have to be done if they were to keep him confined long enough to receive the Western Lands' response to the letter they had sent. Surely the shikigami had delivered it by now. How long would it take for a response to come back...?
Sesshoumaru moved again, hands braced on the floor as he began to push himself up.
He had to tell someone.
Without sparing the room another glance, he fled. The other monks would know what needed doing.
oOo
Waking up to find himself without the full use of his body and senses was something that he'd sadly enough become almost accustomed to under Hojo's guardianship.
Keeping his eyes closed to block out as much distraction as he could - and he knew that in that state it wouldn't take much - Sephiroth turned his attention to pushing away the mists that clouded his thoughts and mind.
Despite his best efforts they didn't retreat very far which, while frustrating in and of itself, also left him with the knowledge that whatever drug was causing it this time was still being administered. A long moment spent scraping together the blunted and jumbled messages of his senses, the most notable of which were the heaviness in his limbs and an annoying half-tickle, half-burn from his nose down to his lungs. So it was in the air...
He opened his eyes. For a long while he couldn't focus enough to register anything he was seeing, staring blankly ahead. At long last, though, he managed to look around, seeing and dismissing the monk on the other side of the bars. What he could see of the room from his position was stark and bare, as was to be expected in a prison cell, except for the small stand in one corner where incense was burning, smoke rising up into the air in lazy tendrils. Considering their previous use of a smoke-bomb, he was willing to bet that that incense was the cause of his problems.
It was only when he managed to push himself up to his knees despite the unwillingness of his drugged body that he realized that not only was he drugged, he was also chained to the floor, more of those odd papers - sacred sutras, was it? - decorating the shackles at wrist and ankle, his typical leathers replaced by a long, flowing robe.
Honestly. Hadn't he already proven that those papers had no effect on him? Were they still so blind and determined to think him an actual, physical demon that they could see no other possibilities? Was this town actually backwards enough that they had never seen his picture splattered all over Shinra's recruiting posters and could actually not recognize a SOLDIER when they saw one?
He hadn't thought that there was anywhere anymore that Shinra hadn't reached, but apparently he'd been mistaken.
And why had they taken his clothes?
No matter.
First things first; he had to put out that incense and to do that, he had to get rid of the chains keeping him from reaching it.
It only took a moment's study even in his drugged state to realize that no, they really didn't know what a SOLDIER was. The shackles and chains were made of solid iron. While it wouldn't take much effort to snap them if he could pull himself together enough to attempt it, for now he settled for exploiting their weak point. In this case, the fact that the floor they were anchored to was made of wood.
Four quick jerks accompanied by the sound of splintering wood and he was free to move around, dragging his chains behind him. Vaguely, he registered the fact that not only was the first monk he had seen gone, presumably to alert someone to his waking, but another previously unnoticed monk outside the cell was staring at him even as his hands were folded together in prayer and he chanted loudly.
Ignoring his little audience, Sephiroth managed to pull himself to the corner where the incense was burning, having to fight off a wave of heaviness as he came up to the source of the drug affecting him. It was a simple enough affair; a few sticks of incense standing upright in a little pot of sand. It was also simple enough to defeat, as he took out the sticks, lay them on the floor, then upended the dish of sand on them, effectively smothering them and keeping any more smoke from escaping. Almost immediately his senses started to clear, the natural healing of his enhanced body working together with the fresh air being carried in by the glassless window to purge the drug from his system. Now that he could focus, it was the work of seconds to rid himself of the chains and shackles.
Much better.
Now, to get out of the cell, find his things, and get out.
He called the Masamune.
At almost the same moment in another part of the complex, the screaming started.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Chapter 10
It took Sesshoumaru only a few hours to reach the little village; nowhere near long enough for his irritation at his half-brother's ignoble capture to cool. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't know who angered him more; the monks for even daring to attempt what they had, or Inuyasha for being unable to prevent it.
He did admit - to himself if to no one else - that his half-brother's capture surprised him. Though he had originally held the common belief that any hanyou could never hope to obtain even a tenth of the strength of a full demon, years of observation and conflict between them had forced him to revise that opinion. Granted, the loss of his own left arm could be put down to overconfidence on his part and sheer dumb luck on Inuyasha's, but the results of every fight since then were not so easily brushed aside. Even more notable, the hanyou had managed to emerge victorious time and time again against foes that should have been able to grind him into the dust in mere moments.
How had the monks managed to drag him down, then? It could never have happened in an honorable battle, of that he was - however grudgingly - certain.
Knowing his own weakness only too well - much as he would like to deny that he had any - Sesshoumaru had Rin stay with Jaken and Ah-Un and wait for his return out of sight of the village. Thus assured that they were as safe as he could make them short of sending them back to the palace, he made his way to the village.
As he neared it, he was reminded once again - as if he could ever forget! - of why he usually avoided entering human settlements. It wasn't just the way that that many ningen in one place made his nose itch; what self-respecting daiyoukai wouldn't be thus affected when confronted with the scent of that much human? It wasn't even the way that any demon who entered would be charged more than double the normal cost of any item in what passed for a market. He avoided them also because of another, much less sensible reason.
He was Sesshoumaru, daiyoukai of the Western Lands. He was a being who had taken up his honorable father's rule upon his demise and powerful in his own right. It was also said that he had inherited his mother's beauty, and much as it annoyed him to be compared to a female - even one as powerful as his mother - he had to admit that there was more than a passing resemblance between them. He was, if not well-liked, then at least widely-respected, sought after by high-ranking females, and lusted over by those who knew they could never have him. He knew it beyond all doubt; an inuyoukai's nose never lied.
To walk into a village only to be greeted by hatred and fear was something he hadn't enjoyed since he'd left behind his adolescent years. What had once amused him as lesser beings showing their jealousy in the face of his perfection was now simply another source of irritation.
The fact that the villagers fled in terror when he approached also made it rather difficult to ask for directions to the temple he knew was nearby.
No matter. If they wouldn't come near enough to ask, he would just have to do it another way.
Bracing himself, Sesshoumaru breathed deep - manfully holding back a shudder of distaste as the scent of human village invaded his senses - and delicately picked through the scents in search of anything that would provide clues as to what had happened there and where to go next.
Beneath the normal village smells, the strongest was one he identified as an incense popular in temples and shrines. The strength of it told him that there had been more than one bearing that same scent. The next strongest scent after that was one that made his nose sting and his eyes water, even after the time that had passed since it was new, and it was one that he recognized as being one of the many tricks demon-slayers used against demons with a sensitive sense of smell - like inuyoukai. Made to incapacitate them, it did its job with a ruthless efficiency that he couldn't help but admire even as he hated the implications.
He could not smell Inuyasha, nor the old-fire-and-lightning scent of Tetsusaiga's attacks. There was one scent he was almost certain he'd never encountered before - almost sweet, but with an unmistakable sour edge - but it could be that his nose was confused by the residual effects of the slayers' smoke.
No matter; he had found what he was looking for. The incense trail was still strong enough to follow and he set off once again, leaving the relieved village behind.
oOo
It wasn't the largest temple he'd ever seen, but neither was it the smallest. Away from the interfering scents from the village, it had been ridiculously easy to follow the scent-trail to the nearby temple; even Jaken could have managed in his own inimitable way.
Still, he couldn't detect Inuyasha's scent, and the odd sour-sweet one was clearer than ever. Had he, Sesshoumaru, actually been mistaken? Not that it would make any difference as far as the monks were concerned. They had dared to attack and capture one they believed to be Sesshoumaru, then compounded their affront by sending that ridiculous offer attempting to barter his life in exchange for control of the Western Lands.
He would teach them what became of those who dared challenge him.
A single blast of Toukijin's Dragon Strike was all it took to bring down the temple gates and a good portion of the surrounding wall, in the process also managing to destroy enough of the warding charms to bring down their anti-demonic barrier. Not that their weak barrier would have stopped the daiyoukai who had walked the slopes of the holy Mt. Hakurei.
A few of the temple's guards shot at him as he walked into the temple grounds following Toukijin's path of destruction, but they were mere pests and easily dealt with with a graceful flick of his hand and flash of his acid whip. Why would he dirty his blade with the blood of such miserable vermin?
Besides, using his own innate abilities was so much more satisfying.
By the time he reached the bottom of the temple steps, a group of monks had gathered at the top. Some were trying to raise a barrier but their lack of focus was obvious in the face of the blood and bodies littering the once-pristine courtyard, the agonized screams that filled the air.
"You! Demon!" one of the monks said. "What do you want?"
With satisfaction, Sesshoumaru matched the man's scent to one of those he'd followed from the village. How generous of the man to save him the effort of hunting him down. Now he could get some answers.
"You are one who sent the letter to the West?" he said.
"Are you their messenger? Have you come to-"
"This Sesshoumaru is no messenger," he said, irritation flaring anew. "You will release the hanyou immediately."
"Of course Sesshoumaru's not the messenger; he's locked up in a room in the temple, and the barrier keeping him there will stay in place until we get what we asked for."
"Foolish mortal! The filthy hanyou in your possession is not to be confused with this Sesshoumaru! You will release him immediately, and die."
"Don't you mean 'release him or die'?" another of the monks asked timidly.
Cold golden eyes simply stared at them, slowly crushing all hope, before the answer graced pale lips. "No," he said. "All who dare challenge this Sesshoumaru will fall to him."
"So if that's the case, why are you here?"
Showing uncharacteristic restraint, Sesshoumaru didn't immediately shred the monk. And these were supposed to be among the best-educated of human kind? No wonder he could see them as nothing but lesser beings. Now, if only he could figure out why he was showing such restraint....
The answer was not long in coming, his nose assaulted almost simultaneously by the scent of Inuyasha, rapidly nearing the temple from the direction of the village, and the sudden scent of human blood from inside the temple, that sour-sweet smell coming closer.
Sesshoumaru all but ignored the monks before him in favor of watching his half-brother's arrival, though he did keep alert for any movement that might indicate that they had more of the slayers' smoke and were about to use it. He saw the hanyou slow as he came in sight of the blasted gates, then cautiously enter the courtyard, their father's fang at the ready and his pack at his back.
"So you got free already?" Inuyasha said once he saw Sesshoumaru standing at the bottom of the temple stairs. "Of all things, I would never have figured you for the type to get kidnapped!"
"'Kidnapped'? Inuyasha, this Sesshoumaru is not a sleeping goat!"
"That's not- never mind. You know, we came all this way to rescue you; the least you could do is say 'thank you'."
"As you can see, this Sesshoumaru is in need of no such aid, half-breed, nor would he ever allow himself to be in such a position."
"Funny, that's not what I remember."
"A pity that our great and terrible father's blood could not prevent you from going senile at such a young age."
"Uh..." one of the monks said.
"Who are you calling senile? If I'm senile, then you must be just plain decrepit, 'cause you're way older than me!"
"Hardly. This Sesshoumaru is pure-blooded youkai and thus in perfect health."
"Ah..." another monk said, frowning at the squabbling between the two demonic siblings.
"Ha!" Inuyasha scoffed. He sheathed his sword, then turned back to his group. "Let's go," he told them, already walking away. "I told you the bastard wouldn't appreciate our help."
"Inuyasha..." the indecently-dressed Miko said sympathetically.
"Keh! It's fine. Let's just go."
Inuyasha and his group left the temple grounds. Before following the others, the monk Miroku spoke.
"Lord Sesshoumaru," he said respectfully, "Inuyasha might talk tough, but he really was worried about you when we heard that you had been taken. He pushed us all hard just to get here in time to rescue you." A wry grin. "Once he stopped laughing, anyway. You two should really work on this whole sibling rivalry of yours."
Before Sesshoumaru could come up with a suitable reply - or have Toukijin reply for him - the monk was gone.
Another monk. Why were they being inflicted on him that day? Ah, well. His brother's monk might be beyond his reach just then, but the same could not be said for the rest.
He cracked his knuckles then allowed the tiniest smirk as he called on his poison claws, his hand glowing a faint green even in the fading light of late afternoon.
"You have dared challenge this Sesshoumaru," he told the monks once again, his tone the firm and unchangeable one of a Lord passing down judgment. "Die!"
Sesshoumaru surged up the stairs, claws ready to tear, to shred, to poison and ultimately dissolve those who had angered him, but before he could reach them they seemed to almost fall apart in a spray of blood and gore as a sword unlike any he'd ever seen sliced through them with the ease of a knife through butter.
The pieces that had been monks fell to the wooden floor even as their blood started to creep down the stairs in a bright red cascade and Sesshoumaru found himself facing the source of that odd scent.
Long silver hair, down to the knee like his own, swayed with every gentle breeze. Dressed positively indecently in what seemed to be black leather, he stared at Sesshoumaru through glowing blue-green eyes.
He was like no ningen Sesshoumaru could recall, but the complete lack of a demonic aura told him that it must be so, though he was easily the tallest ningen he'd ever seen.
All of which was beside the point.
At that moment, only one thing mattered to him, leaving him once again cracking his knuckles in preparation for tearing someone apart. "You stole my lawful prey."
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