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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 | 9-10
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.
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Chapter 11
Sephiroth was almost embarrassed by how easy it was to escape from the place he'd been imprisoned. He had thought that it might present a bit of a challenge since, after all, they had managed to capture him in the first place, something that no one had ever managed to do no matter how many were sent against him. Well, except for Hojo, but that didn't count. No one without Shinra's authorization, perhaps he should say. Wutai had tried often enough during the war, knowing that without him able to lead, to stand against them, the war would suddenly be a lot more even. Perhaps even favor them, since they were on their home ground and knew the land inside and out.
But if this was their idea of confinement, perhaps he had given them a bit too much credit.
Granted, the stink-bomb and incense had worked against him with humiliating success but to think for one moment that paper sutras, wooden bars, and a bit of chanting would be enough to prevent his escape... sheer carelessness. Had these people forgotten everything they had learned from going up against SOLDIERs?
Two passes with the Masamune was all it took to reduce the heavy wooden bars to just so much kindling.
The watching monk's eyes widened in shock even as he scrambled to his feet and backed away, stammering.
Sephiroth ignored him, stepped out of his former prison and into the room beyond. A quick glance around revealed a single exit and one more cell like the one he'd recently occupied, empty now.
All of which was beside the point as he spotted a familiar bundle of leather and steel on a table in the far corner. Good; the draft he was getting up the robe was getting to be a bit disconcerting. And to think that he'd once thought traditional Wutainese clothing a prime example of modesty! He couldn't wait to squirm back into his own pants!
Movement behind him, more sensed than anything else, had him bringing up the Masamune even as he spun, blade ringing against the surprisingly sharp edge of the headpiece of the monk's staff, meeting furious brown eyes with his own calm gaze over their crossed weapons.
"Demon!" the monk growled, glaring. "You won't get away!"
"I am not a demon!" Sephiroth said, keeping the edge of his frustration from showing through with an effort. He disengaged, then with an almost lazy flick of the sword sent his opponent to the floor, clutching at the gash that had suddenly appeared on his leg, his screams rising to join those he could still hear further away. "I am SOLDIER. I have never had problems with Wutainese monks before; please don't make me have to kill you."
"...'Wutainese'...?"
He said it only partially out of respect for those monks he'd met during the war with Wutai, the only people he'd ever met who had simply taken his physical differences in stride; even his own SOLDIERs needed time to get used to him. But not them; they'd only offered him tea - and it hadn't been poisoned, either. They were actually the ones who taught him most of what he knew about their culture and beliefs.
That being said, his main reason for not slaughtering his assailant was a purely selfish one. If he killed them and word got out, he didn't doubt that the news would spread across the country like wildfire and spark a wave of outrage and political unrest. And if Wutai was uneasy, Shinra would have to send in troops to re-secure it, which would spark more anger and end up costing a lot of gil.
If there was one thing that President Shinra hated, it was to see the numbers in the company accounts go down instead of up.
At one time, the President's displeasure over his actions would have meant little to nothing to Sephiroth; the man's threats rolling over him like just so much hot air. How could the man possibly censure him? He was the irreplaceable SOLDIER-General Sephiroth, after all; he could hardly be demoted!
Then Shinra discovered that there was a way. The next time he angered the President, he was relieved of his duties under guise of a 'vacation' and ordered into Hojo's custody in the labs for a week.
He had to admit that as far as deterrents went, President Shinra would be hard-pressed to find a better one.
So he left the monk alive behind him and turned back to his things. One familiar, rolling squirm later and he was encased in skin-tight black leather from waist to ankle, the robe he had been wearing folded neatly and put aside. Granted, the robe had been easier to move in than his preferred gear but for him it was still in no way practical.
He was searching for the wide, SOLDIER-issue belt when the priest moved again. This time when he turned, the Masamune went straight for the heart.
The monk's eyes widened in shock, a small trickle of blood escaping one side of his mouth. His hand, that had slipped into his robe with the sudden move that had alerted Sephiroth, thudded to the floor, hand opening to let a familiar ball roll harmlessly to the floor. One of those damned stink-bombs. Did they all have them, then? He would have to assume so.
Death was fast approaching but the monk only smiled, though his eyes glared with fanatical hatred. "You won't get away," he said again. "It is the end for you, demon!"
This time Sephiroth didn't bother trying to correct him. He just pulled his blade free then went back to his things and finished dressing. He saw almost immediately that his Materia was gone; his bracelets mangled to the point of uselessness by whoever had removed the orbs. What kind of fools were these monks? Granted, Shinra had prohibited Wutai from posessing Materia since its defeat but it hadn't always been so. How could they not remember how to properly unset them?
Maybe he was reading too much into it. Perhaps the destruction of his bracelets had been intentional. Even he couldn't easily replace them as he had spent a lot of gil to have them custom-made to his exact specifications. Did he even still have those notes stashed away somewhere...?
He shook the thought aside; there would be time for that later, once he was well away.
He moved for the exit. The screaming that had started before had quieted somewhat, but not yet stopped. He supposed it would be as good a direction as any other; if he was lucky, it would be a Shinra troop come to retrieve him. Leaving aside the question of just how they would have found him since he was on a different continent from where he should have been - some Turk secret, most likely - he moved toward the noise.
oOo
Sephiroth could only stare.
He'd made his way through the temple, this time not bothering to give any monks he encountered the benefit of the doubt when they called him a demon. In most cases his preemptive strike had been justified as he found more of those stink-bombs on the bodies.
At last he'd reached an outside door and there was only one more group of monks standing between him and freedom. Their backs were to him, their attention elsewhere, but that only made it easier to cut them down.
Now, though.
Now he found himself standing there, monk blood slowly creeping towards his boots as he stared at the man standing just a few steps below, one thought echoing in his head.
What in Shiva's name had Shinra's PR department been doing to his image?!
Over the years, he'd come to tolerate - but not accept - the fact that thanks to Shinra publicity and that damned fan club of his, his image was everywhere and that some people, hoping to shine by reflection, were willing to do everything they could to look like him. He'd seen the bad bleach jobs, the creepy reptilian contact lenses, the outfits straight out of an 'adult' store. He'd seen poor copies of himself on tall people, short people, fat people, and skinny people. He'd even seen it on women. Men he could sort of understand as idolizing and mimicing him, but women? He wasn't that androgymous, and his customary lack of a shirt should have made it obvious that yes, he was male, thank you very much. Still they persisted.
He'd seen a million bad reflections, but he'd never seen anyone like that. What had the PR department been up to? Had his image been superimposed on a snowy backdrop in a new poster and the white furry thing over the man's shoulder supposed to be their 'Sephiroth version' of a fur coat?
Hmph.
Well, at least the other man got the hair right; though the fringe was too short, he'd managed to bleach it in such a way that it actually looked natural. The clothes, though; he'd never worn anything like that. And what was the big idea with the markings on his face? It reminded him of what it would look like if the Turk Reno suddenly decided he wanted to be one of the clones! And while he got the shape of the pupils right, the color of the eyes was way off. What was this guy thinking?
The sound of cracking knuckles brought his attention back to the situation at hand, and he met cold golden eyes with his own blue-green gaze.
"You stole my lawful prey," the other man said.
'Prey'? Since when do I speak like that? When I get back to Midgar, I think a visit to PR is definitely in order!
Then he had no more time to think as his oddly-dressed fanboy surged up the few remaining stairs with surprising speed and swiped at him with glowing green claws.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Chapter 12
Sephiroth sidestepped the other man's swipe with SOLDIER speed then retaliated with a flick of the Masamune, only to find himself hitting nothing but air and having to dodge yet another swipe of those glowing claws. His instincts and nose both told him that he didn't want the source of that sickly glow on him. Then again, that was just common sense; most of the substances that Hojo so delighted in testing on him glowed, and none were very pleasant.
The claws, though. As they each moved, attacking and avoiding and attacking again, moving slowly back down the stairs as they did, he'd been close enough to those stubbornly-persisting swipes - didn't the guy see by now that he wasn't just going to stand still and let himself get hit? - to see that no, they weren't some new kind of press-on; the ends of his fingers were padded differently, and the claws shaped unlike a normal human's nails.
Were even the more humanoid of Gaia's monsters trying to be like him now? Lovely.
This was ridiculous.
And getting annoying, he added as he dodged yet another swipe. Perhaps it was time for a little attempt at diplomacy.
"Why are you attacking me?" he asked as he swung, the Masamune's blade glinting in the sun, once again hitting nothing as the other man dodged with a speed he'd only ever seen in SOLDIERs.
His opponent's expression never changed. "You stole this Sesshoumaru's lawful prey from him."
"I thought you said they were yours."
"They were."
"So you're 'Sesshoumaru'?"
A sound almost like a growl came from the oddly-dressed man. "Filthy human! Know your place! I am Sesshoumaru, daiyoukai of the Western Lands."
"Did it ever occur to you that I might have a prior claim to them? They did abduct me with no reason."
"That is of no consequence. They dared challenge this Sesshoumaru, therefore their lives belonged to him."
Sephiroth frowned. He wasn't exactly in agreement with that declaration, but he was willing to go along with it in order to avoid a dispute that might get back to Shinra. Which brought up another point. Calling up his mental map of Wutai, he searched for the other's so-called 'Western Lands'. Presumably it was in the western part of the country, but it wasn't any of the towns, nor any of the provinces or territories he was familiar with. And what was a 'daiyoukai'? The monks had called him that, when they weren't calling him demon. Shaking that thought off for later, he avoided a swipe, retaliated with equal lack of success, then asked: "These 'Western Lands'... where exactly are they in Wutai?"
They had made it to the bottom of the temple stairs to the courtyard which, though littered with parts and bodies, gave them more room to move and allowed them a greater variety of moves than the monotonous swipe-dodge they had been trapped in. Both moved apart to give themselves some breathing room and plan their next attacks.
"This Sesshoumaru knows of no Wutai." He raised his arm - his only arm, Sephiroth noticed - to the side, then flicked his arm and wrist.
Sephiroth's eyes widened in surprise when what seemed to be a whip made entirely of light shot out of Sesshoumaru's fingers and snapped in his direction. Where had those come from, and what were they?! His caution in springing back instead of simply ignoring it - light couldn't hurt him, could it? - was justified when he saw flesh and stone alike split apart like nothing at the slightest touch. What was that? Some kind of new laser?!
Even as new questions piled on top of old, the man's reply left him guessing. Maybe that was the point; maybe he was trying to distract him. A good ploy, but not good enough. "This has to be Wutai," he countered. "The look of the people and clothing points to it. I don't want to fight you. I just want directions to the nearest town with a phone."
"This Sesshoumaru cares not what you want," came the haughty reply. "You stole his prey and so you will die."
"Not likely," Shinra's SOLDIER-General retorted. A thought; perhaps 'this Sesshoumaru' might be open to a deal...? Somehow he doubted that an offer of gil would impress him, but perhaps a show of force...? "If we fight and I win, will you give me directions to a phone I could use?"
"This Sesshoumaru will not lose to the likes of you," came the reply. "What is this 'phone' you speak of?"
"Funny," Sephiroth said drily. "Fine. Not to a phone, then. How about to the nearest Shinra outpost?"
"This Sesshoumaru knows of no Shinra."
This time Sephiroth's shock was enough that he was almost late indidging the latest flash of that odd whip, and didn't bother launching his own speedy attack.
"No... Shinra?" he said at last in disbelief. What kind of fool did Sesshoumaru take him for? "Everyone knows Shinra!"
This time Sesshoumaru paused as well. "I am daiyoukai of the Western Lands," he reinterated. "My information networks are vast and stretch across all of Japan and onto the Continent, and there has never been any 'Shinra'."
Sephiroth shook his head. Putting aside the new place-names to stick on his mental map at a later date, he focused on that one term that kept popping up. The monks had used it on him, and now the man before him was using it on himsefl like it was something of great importance. "What is 'daiyoukai'?" he asked.
"Are you a fool? Daiyoukai are what you ningen call Demon Lords."
Bemused, Sephiroth stared. He couldn't be serious! "And you claim to be one?"
Golden eyes narrowed. "This Sesshoumaru is daiyoukai, as his father before him and all of his line back to the beginning."
Sephiroth scoffed. "There is no such thing. You might look odd - though it might help if you stopped trying to look like the PR-poster version of me - but you are not a demon!"
oOo
Sesshoumaru had to admit - to himself if to no one else - that the fact that the human was managing to stay not only alive but unharmed as the minutes of their fight flowed by impressed him. Granted, were he to draw Toukijin against him he was certain that the fight would be over in mere moments, but the fact that a mere ningen was physically capable of evading both his claws and whip was notable in and of itself.
He also posed an intriguing riddle.
To look at, his appearance was human enough, though there was something about the eyes that struck him as odd, though he'd never been close enough to get a good look. He was also unusually tall for a human, almost of a height with him, in fact. And yet while the physical shape screamed 'human' and his main scent agreed, that odd sour-sweet overlay and almost-demonic speed said that he was something else, though he was almost certain that that 'something else' was not hanyou.
Curious.
Also strange were his chosen clothing - he could think of no group of either humans or demons who dressed so - his unusually-long sword, and his questions.
Such odd questions.
Though Sesshoumaru had no love for humans - Rin, as far as he was concerned, was no longer one of them - he also didn't lie. Bend the truth until it screamed if it suited him, but not lie. He had never heard of this 'Wutai', 'phone', or 'Shinra', and he made a mental note to query his network of informants about that lack.
The fact that the human even had to ask what a daiyoukai was had him revising his earlier impression of the man's intellingence downward, but it was the man's almost-mocking reply to his answer that had his eyes bleeding red and his blood boiling with anger inside him.
Bad enough that he'd been accused of being a poor imitation of a human. Bad enough that for all intents and purposes he'd been called a liar.
But for the man, this filthy ningen, to deny the very existence of both demons and daiyoukai in a single breath, for him to deny the existence of his heritage and spit on his great and terrible lineage-
He had almost enjoyed their sparring, but no one insults him and his family so and lives to walk away.
It was time to end this farce and put the human down in the dirt where he belonged.
He drew Toukijin.
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