InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Every Heart ❯ Chapter 17
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: LuxKen27 
The noose is tightened as the groups head west.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Action / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.17.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 727 | Status: Work In Progress
The noose is tightened as the groups head west.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Action / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.17.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 727 | Status: Work In Progress
Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the views and reviews. Want to see the ultimate author’s notes for this story? Visit me at LJ! Explanations, clarifications, spoilers available!
Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, story, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.
The character Ryûtatsu and the villagers of the western lands are original to this story.
The title “House of the Moon” is original to Resmiranda’s Tales from the House of the Moon. It is used here in homage to said fantastic story.
This is merely one girl’s dream of life after “The End.”
Miroku shifted against the wall, eyeing the sleeping forms of Sango and Kohaku. Day was beginning to break, bringing a welcome light to the darkness of the past night.
He sighed, sitting up and stretching his back, which had grown stiff from being propped up for the better part of the night. He was exhausted, his emotions having run the gauntlet in the last few hours. He knew his wife and her brother felt even worse, having gone through a living nightmare. But they had all survived, and they would now be able to truly move on with their lives.
He gazed down at Sango, who even in her sleep kept a protective arm around her brother. She had been through so much in the last three years. Last night he’d seen the depth of her anguish, and was relieved to know he’d never see such despair again. If she was indeed carrying their child, it was a miracle she hadn’t miscarried, such was the height of her reaction.
Kohaku looked small and broken, resting fitfully on the cold floor. His eyes were red and puffy even now, the delicate skin of his face blue with weariness, as if he alone was responsible for the weight of the world. It was obvious the torture had been too much for him; when his memory finally returned, it had very nearly killed him.
Miroku rested one arm on an upright knee, gazing thoughtfully at the siblings. He was in no real position to offer the boy what he so desperately wanted, complete purification and absolution from his murderous past. Yet, after seeing the display at the onset of his regained memory, he knew it was something the boy now needed. He knew what he’d done, and why; the only way to save his soul from further torture was to be granted forgiveness.
Part of it would have to come from Sango, as his only living relative. Miroku wasn’t worried about this in the least; she’d proven over the last few years that her love for Kohaku superseded any feelings about his actions. Part of it would have to come from Kohaku himself; he would have to learn to live with his past. Part of it could be granted by a monk – forgiveness in the eyes of man – but considering his involvement in the situation, Miroku himself would not be the one to finish this part.
Perhaps they could return to Mushin’s temple. Master Mushin had already seen a glimmer of the boy’s soul.
Kohaku awoke then, gazing steadily at Miroku as he sat up. “Lord monk,” he greeted his brother-in-law, nodding his head in deference.
“Kohaku,” Miroku replied, bringing his hands together.
Kohaku shifted his eyes to Sango, reaching down to touch her face. “My sister,” he said softly, brushing his fingers lightly through her hair.
“She will forgive you, Kohaku,” Miroku said, lowering his hands into his lap.
Kohaku didn’t look up. “Maybe,” he said, his gaze still steady on her sleeping face. “But will I ever be able to forgive myself?”
Her vision blurred as she recalled that horrible evening, when he had been so close to killing himself. If Kirara hadn’t come for her…she shook her head. Kirara, better than any of them perhaps, understood the importance of what happened. The demon-cat protected all of them unconditionally.
Three days had passed since, and all of them had overcome the agony of that fateful evening, coming together with new determination. Miroku had redoubled his efforts with his spiritual seals, while she was working on creating armor for all of them. Kohaku had taken to training with a new sense of urgency, and was even learning how to wield some of her newest creations.
When the snow melted, they would pick up the life of the village in full force, once again becoming travelling demon-slayers.
She was drawn so deeply into her work that she didn’t hear the shouts from outside the hut. Only when a knock sounded on the door did she realize anything was amiss. She stopped and walked out of the hut, shocked at the scene that greeted her.
Three men, shivering from the cold – and perhaps hunger – were kneeling in the dirt at the door. “Please, madam, is this the village of the demon-slayers?” one asked her, his voice thin.
Sango looked up, noticing Miroku emerging from their hut and hastening towards the small group. “Yes,” she replied, crouching beside the man that spoke to her. “Do you have business here?”
Miroku helped the other two men stand, wrapping them with blankets and kimonos. The one closest to Sango smiled gratefully at her. “We are in need of a demon-slayer. We have travelled long and hard in search of your village.” He paused as a blanket was thrown across his shoulders. “Our guide died a few miles from here, and we have wandered without direction for several days.”
Miroku took his place beside Sango. “Please, come inside and warm yourselves,” he invited, steering them towards their small dwelling. “Rest and eat, then you can tell us your story.”
Tears formed in the corners of the man’s eyes. “Thank you, kind sir,” he replied, bowing as best he could under the blankets. Sango and Miroku exchanged a look over their heads, wondering what possible twist fate had thrown their way.
Miroku and Sango exchanged a concerned glance as they turned back towards the makeshift kitchen. “Who would travel so far in this weather in search of a demon-slayer?” Miroku mused under his breath.
Sango nodded discreetly. “I can’t say I’m comfortable with this, either,” she agreed, “but we should hear them out.” She couldn’t help but turn a worried look towards her brother, who was sitting quietly in the corner, observing the scene before him.
Miroku brought another round of food to the travelers. “Please, tell us of your mission,” he prompted them as he collected the empty bowls.
One of them hastened to stand, the blanket around him falling to the ground. “Of course!” he stuttered, straightening his shoulders. “I am Totomi, of the Takeda clan. These are my comrades, Meiji and Date. We have travelled from the western lands in search of your skills.”
“The lands of the west are no more than a fortnight’s journey from here,” Sango commented. “Why would you attempt such a journey in the middle of winter?”
Totomi smiled warily. “We did not set out a mere two weeks ago,” he admitted. “We have been travelling for the greater part of three moon cycles. Our guide was an elderly man, with crippled legs, declining vision, and an even poorer memory, it seems. He was the only one of our village who had even heard of the mythical demon-slayers, much less knew where to find them.”
“Why do you seek our assistance?” Miroku asked, studying them all in turn.
Meiji shuddered. “Our village lies near the base of a mountain,” he explained. “For our entire lifetimes, it has been relatively peaceful, and the mountain protects us from the ravages of the sea.”
“Then, out of nowhere, the sky began to rain with black blood,” Date piped up, his eyes growing wide at the memory. “The mountain caught on fire, and then there was a fierce windstorm that carried off our children and our crops.”
Miroku glanced at Sango as they listened to the tale. Her face was neutral, but he could tell she felt the tension behind the villagers’ words.
“The old men of the village insisted it was the youkai, waging war in the mountains,” Totomi continued. “Indeed, a dark cloud settled over the mountain and the village, and the sea was especially restless.”
“Hm,” Miroku mused.
Date cast his wide eyes towards the skeptical monk. “Everyone knows the demons rule the mountains,” he said in a hushed voice. “The wolf demon tribe that resides there has plagued our village in the past.”
Sango’s gaze joined Date’s, studying Miroku’s face. Koga?
Meiji carefully put his bowl on the floor and bowed reverently. “Please,” he begged. “Come to our village and rid us of these youkai. We have lost women and children to their wrath and war games. All we want is our peace restored.”
Sango swallowed convulsively, eyeing Miroku with indecision. Koga had once been their ally in war. Could they really promise to exterminate him?
“I will accept your offer.”
The entire ensemble swiveled in their seats towards the quiet corner of the hut. Kohaku was sitting deep in the shadows, but his eyes glowed with resolution as he looked out at them.
The travelers eyed him skeptically. “Can you handle taiyoukai warriors?” Totomi questioned. “You are so young.”
Kohaku slammed his fist to the floor. “I can handle anything,” he vowed, his gaze steady on the villagers.
Miroku cleared his throat. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” he announced, watching as Sango moved towards Kohaku with understated grace. The trio trooped outside to discuss matters out of mixed company.
“Kohaku?” Sango hissed as they drew further out of earshot.
Kohaku stood defiantly. “This is my chance,” he argued, his gaze moving from Sango to Miroku and back again. “I can avenge all of those humans I slaughtered by turning my weapon against youkai.”
Sango shook her head. “Don’t be so hasty, Kohaku,” she warned. “If it is Koga and his clan we are going up against – or a taiyoukai, like Sesshoumaru – we can’t rush into this half-cocked. We must consider the consequences of such a battle.”
“Koga was once our ally,” Miroku mused. “He provided a great deal of help during our battles with Naraku.”
“I don’t care,” Kohaku said, the line of his jaw set with purpose. “I will take every chance I have to atone for my past.”
“Even if it means hunting down a friend?” Sango asked.
“I will accompany these men back to their village,” he announced, turning back towards the hut. “It is your choice to join me or stay behind.”
“Leave me!” he commanded, sending the masses scampering to safety. He growled again, satisfied that his irritation had been communicated, before sitting up awkwardly.
These treatments aren’t working, he thought with frustration. He gazed down at his broken body with disgust. Sesshoumaru’s attack had seriously injured him, leaving him without an arm and part of a leg. Every day since returning to his home, he’d taken these long soaks in seawater, hoping to activate the healing powers associated with it.
So far, he’d had little luck.
If only I’d been able to stay on the coast, he grumbled silently. But no, that stupid bitch had me shipped back to this landlocked hellhole. His youki heated up at the memory, glowing hot with desire for retribution at the one who’d put him in this situation.
“Soon, Snegura,” he vowed as he hoisted himself from the basin.
Taking that reignited adrenaline, he hobbled out of the room towards his sleeping quarters. These days, he barely had the strength to travel the length and breadth of his small castle. Without attendants, it was twice as hard to do as he wanted.
Damn that mangy mutt, he thought. I will have my revenge on him as well.
Finally making it to his bedside, he sank down with a slight sigh. Every part of him ached, whether the pain was physical or mental. The simplest tasks, once done without thought, were now arduous and taxing. He’d never been so frustrated or angry, or so bent upon vengeance.
He heard a slight commotion behind the door of his chamber. He growled again, but his visitors did not heed the warning, instead pushing their way into his private chambers.
“This better be important,” he demanded, latching a death glare onto the intruders.
The two sentinels had the sense to cringe under his scrutiny, but something akin to excitement was radiating from them. “My lord,” one of them said, quick to bow deeply. “We have found it.”
Ryûtatsu’s expression did not change. “Oh?”
His companion quickly joined the first sentinel on the floor. “Yes, my lord, we have found the girl who possesses the Shikon No Tama.”
The silence that followed this statement was deafening. Ryûtatsu swallowed another growl of aggravation, speaking through clenched teeth. “Then why is she not with you?”
The first guard looked up uncertainly. “There was a small complication in matters,” he admitted, his eyes quickly lowering to the floor again.
Ryûtatsu slowly stood up, reaching for his sword, which was propped against the bed frame. He pointed it at the second dragon’s bowed head. “And what was that?”
The second glanced up, his face within an inch of the unsheathed blade. He swallowed convulsively. “She is with Sesshoumaru,” he choked out.
Ryûtatsu was visibly stunned. “What?” he hissed.
The second dragon began to shake. “The girl we spotted with the hanyou in the village is now under Sesshoumaru’s care at the House of the Moon.”
Ryûtatsu pulled the sword away from him and put it at the other dragon’s neck. “And the jewel?” he demanded, drawing it down the length of his scales.
The first dragon also broke down under such threat. “We could not sense its presence,” he said. “But she was in the company of a kitsune fox, and we all know of their masking spells.”
Ryûtatsu nodded grimly. “So,” he drawled, heaving the sword down into the floorboards. “That old dog thought he was smarter than me. He left the human girl in the village with the hanyou before coming to battle me.” He cast his eyes towards the ceiling. “But he couldn’t live without her, or the jewel’s power, so he had to bring her back.”
The dragons shared a glance but said nothing.
Ryûtatsu laughed. “Did he think I wouldn’t find out?” he crowed. “Does he imagine I’m dead, no longer a threat to him?” His laughter was growing maniacal, as if he’d figured out the plot completely. His sentinels laughed along with him, albeit rather uneasily.
Ryûtatsu struck the floor once again with his sword, the mirth shuddering to a halt. “We will return to Japan,” he said, his eyes glowing red as his youki awakened once more. “We will return to the House of the Moon. I will take the Shikon Jewel for myself, and with its powers, I will slaughter Sesshoumaru for my revenge.”
Disclaimer: The Inuyasha concept, story, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.
The character Ryûtatsu and the villagers of the western lands are original to this story.
The title “House of the Moon” is original to Resmiranda’s Tales from the House of the Moon. It is used here in homage to said fantastic story.
This is merely one girl’s dream of life after “The End.”
Miroku shifted against the wall, eyeing the sleeping forms of Sango and Kohaku. Day was beginning to break, bringing a welcome light to the darkness of the past night.
He sighed, sitting up and stretching his back, which had grown stiff from being propped up for the better part of the night. He was exhausted, his emotions having run the gauntlet in the last few hours. He knew his wife and her brother felt even worse, having gone through a living nightmare. But they had all survived, and they would now be able to truly move on with their lives.
He gazed down at Sango, who even in her sleep kept a protective arm around her brother. She had been through so much in the last three years. Last night he’d seen the depth of her anguish, and was relieved to know he’d never see such despair again. If she was indeed carrying their child, it was a miracle she hadn’t miscarried, such was the height of her reaction.
Kohaku looked small and broken, resting fitfully on the cold floor. His eyes were red and puffy even now, the delicate skin of his face blue with weariness, as if he alone was responsible for the weight of the world. It was obvious the torture had been too much for him; when his memory finally returned, it had very nearly killed him.
Miroku rested one arm on an upright knee, gazing thoughtfully at the siblings. He was in no real position to offer the boy what he so desperately wanted, complete purification and absolution from his murderous past. Yet, after seeing the display at the onset of his regained memory, he knew it was something the boy now needed. He knew what he’d done, and why; the only way to save his soul from further torture was to be granted forgiveness.
Part of it would have to come from Sango, as his only living relative. Miroku wasn’t worried about this in the least; she’d proven over the last few years that her love for Kohaku superseded any feelings about his actions. Part of it would have to come from Kohaku himself; he would have to learn to live with his past. Part of it could be granted by a monk – forgiveness in the eyes of man – but considering his involvement in the situation, Miroku himself would not be the one to finish this part.
Perhaps they could return to Mushin’s temple. Master Mushin had already seen a glimmer of the boy’s soul.
Kohaku awoke then, gazing steadily at Miroku as he sat up. “Lord monk,” he greeted his brother-in-law, nodding his head in deference.
“Kohaku,” Miroku replied, bringing his hands together.
Kohaku shifted his eyes to Sango, reaching down to touch her face. “My sister,” he said softly, brushing his fingers lightly through her hair.
“She will forgive you, Kohaku,” Miroku said, lowering his hands into his lap.
Kohaku didn’t look up. “Maybe,” he said, his gaze still steady on her sleeping face. “But will I ever be able to forgive myself?”
~*~
Sango bent over the table in the weapons hut, studying her pieces of youkai bone intently. She was trying to figure out how to fit them together in the best possible combination. Now that Kohaku had returned to her, she was determined to protect him in every way possible.Her vision blurred as she recalled that horrible evening, when he had been so close to killing himself. If Kirara hadn’t come for her…she shook her head. Kirara, better than any of them perhaps, understood the importance of what happened. The demon-cat protected all of them unconditionally.
Three days had passed since, and all of them had overcome the agony of that fateful evening, coming together with new determination. Miroku had redoubled his efforts with his spiritual seals, while she was working on creating armor for all of them. Kohaku had taken to training with a new sense of urgency, and was even learning how to wield some of her newest creations.
When the snow melted, they would pick up the life of the village in full force, once again becoming travelling demon-slayers.
She was drawn so deeply into her work that she didn’t hear the shouts from outside the hut. Only when a knock sounded on the door did she realize anything was amiss. She stopped and walked out of the hut, shocked at the scene that greeted her.
Three men, shivering from the cold – and perhaps hunger – were kneeling in the dirt at the door. “Please, madam, is this the village of the demon-slayers?” one asked her, his voice thin.
Sango looked up, noticing Miroku emerging from their hut and hastening towards the small group. “Yes,” she replied, crouching beside the man that spoke to her. “Do you have business here?”
Miroku helped the other two men stand, wrapping them with blankets and kimonos. The one closest to Sango smiled gratefully at her. “We are in need of a demon-slayer. We have travelled long and hard in search of your village.” He paused as a blanket was thrown across his shoulders. “Our guide died a few miles from here, and we have wandered without direction for several days.”
Miroku took his place beside Sango. “Please, come inside and warm yourselves,” he invited, steering them towards their small dwelling. “Rest and eat, then you can tell us your story.”
Tears formed in the corners of the man’s eyes. “Thank you, kind sir,” he replied, bowing as best he could under the blankets. Sango and Miroku exchanged a look over their heads, wondering what possible twist fate had thrown their way.
~*~
“Thank you again for taking us in,” the stranger said, cupping his bowl in his hands. His fellow travelers nodded in agreement, greedily sucking down the hot broth as they huddled around the fire.Miroku and Sango exchanged a concerned glance as they turned back towards the makeshift kitchen. “Who would travel so far in this weather in search of a demon-slayer?” Miroku mused under his breath.
Sango nodded discreetly. “I can’t say I’m comfortable with this, either,” she agreed, “but we should hear them out.” She couldn’t help but turn a worried look towards her brother, who was sitting quietly in the corner, observing the scene before him.
Miroku brought another round of food to the travelers. “Please, tell us of your mission,” he prompted them as he collected the empty bowls.
One of them hastened to stand, the blanket around him falling to the ground. “Of course!” he stuttered, straightening his shoulders. “I am Totomi, of the Takeda clan. These are my comrades, Meiji and Date. We have travelled from the western lands in search of your skills.”
“The lands of the west are no more than a fortnight’s journey from here,” Sango commented. “Why would you attempt such a journey in the middle of winter?”
Totomi smiled warily. “We did not set out a mere two weeks ago,” he admitted. “We have been travelling for the greater part of three moon cycles. Our guide was an elderly man, with crippled legs, declining vision, and an even poorer memory, it seems. He was the only one of our village who had even heard of the mythical demon-slayers, much less knew where to find them.”
“Why do you seek our assistance?” Miroku asked, studying them all in turn.
Meiji shuddered. “Our village lies near the base of a mountain,” he explained. “For our entire lifetimes, it has been relatively peaceful, and the mountain protects us from the ravages of the sea.”
“Then, out of nowhere, the sky began to rain with black blood,” Date piped up, his eyes growing wide at the memory. “The mountain caught on fire, and then there was a fierce windstorm that carried off our children and our crops.”
Miroku glanced at Sango as they listened to the tale. Her face was neutral, but he could tell she felt the tension behind the villagers’ words.
“The old men of the village insisted it was the youkai, waging war in the mountains,” Totomi continued. “Indeed, a dark cloud settled over the mountain and the village, and the sea was especially restless.”
“Hm,” Miroku mused.
Date cast his wide eyes towards the skeptical monk. “Everyone knows the demons rule the mountains,” he said in a hushed voice. “The wolf demon tribe that resides there has plagued our village in the past.”
Sango’s gaze joined Date’s, studying Miroku’s face. Koga?
Meiji carefully put his bowl on the floor and bowed reverently. “Please,” he begged. “Come to our village and rid us of these youkai. We have lost women and children to their wrath and war games. All we want is our peace restored.”
Sango swallowed convulsively, eyeing Miroku with indecision. Koga had once been their ally in war. Could they really promise to exterminate him?
“I will accept your offer.”
The entire ensemble swiveled in their seats towards the quiet corner of the hut. Kohaku was sitting deep in the shadows, but his eyes glowed with resolution as he looked out at them.
The travelers eyed him skeptically. “Can you handle taiyoukai warriors?” Totomi questioned. “You are so young.”
Kohaku slammed his fist to the floor. “I can handle anything,” he vowed, his gaze steady on the villagers.
Miroku cleared his throat. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” he announced, watching as Sango moved towards Kohaku with understated grace. The trio trooped outside to discuss matters out of mixed company.
“Kohaku?” Sango hissed as they drew further out of earshot.
Kohaku stood defiantly. “This is my chance,” he argued, his gaze moving from Sango to Miroku and back again. “I can avenge all of those humans I slaughtered by turning my weapon against youkai.”
Sango shook her head. “Don’t be so hasty, Kohaku,” she warned. “If it is Koga and his clan we are going up against – or a taiyoukai, like Sesshoumaru – we can’t rush into this half-cocked. We must consider the consequences of such a battle.”
“Koga was once our ally,” Miroku mused. “He provided a great deal of help during our battles with Naraku.”
“I don’t care,” Kohaku said, the line of his jaw set with purpose. “I will take every chance I have to atone for my past.”
“Even if it means hunting down a friend?” Sango asked.
“I will accompany these men back to their village,” he announced, turning back towards the hut. “It is your choice to join me or stay behind.”
~*~
Ryûtatsu growled with impatience. The attendants at his bath gasped meekly, which only annoyed him more. He tried to settle further into the long basin, but found it impossible to concentrate with all of the movement.“Leave me!” he commanded, sending the masses scampering to safety. He growled again, satisfied that his irritation had been communicated, before sitting up awkwardly.
These treatments aren’t working, he thought with frustration. He gazed down at his broken body with disgust. Sesshoumaru’s attack had seriously injured him, leaving him without an arm and part of a leg. Every day since returning to his home, he’d taken these long soaks in seawater, hoping to activate the healing powers associated with it.
So far, he’d had little luck.
If only I’d been able to stay on the coast, he grumbled silently. But no, that stupid bitch had me shipped back to this landlocked hellhole. His youki heated up at the memory, glowing hot with desire for retribution at the one who’d put him in this situation.
“Soon, Snegura,” he vowed as he hoisted himself from the basin.
Taking that reignited adrenaline, he hobbled out of the room towards his sleeping quarters. These days, he barely had the strength to travel the length and breadth of his small castle. Without attendants, it was twice as hard to do as he wanted.
Damn that mangy mutt, he thought. I will have my revenge on him as well.
Finally making it to his bedside, he sank down with a slight sigh. Every part of him ached, whether the pain was physical or mental. The simplest tasks, once done without thought, were now arduous and taxing. He’d never been so frustrated or angry, or so bent upon vengeance.
He heard a slight commotion behind the door of his chamber. He growled again, but his visitors did not heed the warning, instead pushing their way into his private chambers.
“This better be important,” he demanded, latching a death glare onto the intruders.
The two sentinels had the sense to cringe under his scrutiny, but something akin to excitement was radiating from them. “My lord,” one of them said, quick to bow deeply. “We have found it.”
Ryûtatsu’s expression did not change. “Oh?”
His companion quickly joined the first sentinel on the floor. “Yes, my lord, we have found the girl who possesses the Shikon No Tama.”
The silence that followed this statement was deafening. Ryûtatsu swallowed another growl of aggravation, speaking through clenched teeth. “Then why is she not with you?”
The first guard looked up uncertainly. “There was a small complication in matters,” he admitted, his eyes quickly lowering to the floor again.
Ryûtatsu slowly stood up, reaching for his sword, which was propped against the bed frame. He pointed it at the second dragon’s bowed head. “And what was that?”
The second glanced up, his face within an inch of the unsheathed blade. He swallowed convulsively. “She is with Sesshoumaru,” he choked out.
Ryûtatsu was visibly stunned. “What?” he hissed.
The second dragon began to shake. “The girl we spotted with the hanyou in the village is now under Sesshoumaru’s care at the House of the Moon.”
Ryûtatsu pulled the sword away from him and put it at the other dragon’s neck. “And the jewel?” he demanded, drawing it down the length of his scales.
The first dragon also broke down under such threat. “We could not sense its presence,” he said. “But she was in the company of a kitsune fox, and we all know of their masking spells.”
Ryûtatsu nodded grimly. “So,” he drawled, heaving the sword down into the floorboards. “That old dog thought he was smarter than me. He left the human girl in the village with the hanyou before coming to battle me.” He cast his eyes towards the ceiling. “But he couldn’t live without her, or the jewel’s power, so he had to bring her back.”
The dragons shared a glance but said nothing.
Ryûtatsu laughed. “Did he think I wouldn’t find out?” he crowed. “Does he imagine I’m dead, no longer a threat to him?” His laughter was growing maniacal, as if he’d figured out the plot completely. His sentinels laughed along with him, albeit rather uneasily.
Ryûtatsu struck the floor once again with his sword, the mirth shuddering to a halt. “We will return to Japan,” he said, his eyes glowing red as his youki awakened once more. “We will return to the House of the Moon. I will take the Shikon Jewel for myself, and with its powers, I will slaughter Sesshoumaru for my revenge.”