InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Gods and Monsters ❯ Chapter 54: Foul Whisperings ( Chapter 56 )

Chapter 54: Foul Whisperings

 

A/N: Okay, so this was initially meant to be a lot longer than it is, but it looks like if I do that, it'll take even longer to write, so you get this now while I work on chapter 55 (which is basically the "second half" of 54).

 

With that, I would like to thank my lovely beta-readers for their endless patience, support, and advice. We're gradually getting to the end of a long road, and it's been a heck of a trip. Enjoy!

 

 

Foul whisp'rings are abroad.

 

~William Shakespeare, Macbeth

 

Fama, malum quo non aliud velocius ullum, Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo.

 

(Translation: Report, that which no evil thing of any kind is more swift, increases with travel and gains strength by its progress.)

 

~Virgil, The Aeneid

 

 

It had been many years since the Hydra had fed. It had forgotten the sensation of spreading its wings, the feel of wind on its face, carrying the scent of prey. It had forgotten the sun, the moon by which it would hunt. It had known nothing but cold stale air and the stench of rot as its body withered away in the dark, foul hole that had been its prison for so many centuries.

 

But then Hera, its queen, had released it -- had promised that it would hunt again, on just one condition. It had but one task, and afterward, it would be liberated and would soon roam these skies again, free to kill, to feed.

 

But it was still weak and needed to eat; it certainly needed no more rest. For five days it hunted, at first catching only small animals, then larger ones, and soon lost men and shepherds and their flocks in its jaws, grinding their bones between its teeth, savoring the cries of its prey. With every meal, it felt its strength return, filling its veins with heat, sparking its desire to please its queen, to seek out the one who had soiled the great Olympian line. The Hydra hungered for that tender flesh; it salivated, aching for the taste of a mother's blood. The Hydra had forgotten the sun, the wind, the rain -- but it had not forgotten the way its teeth pierced supple flesh, or the sensation of that thick, savory liquid cascading down its throat.

 

The Hydra needed time, but not very much.

 

***

 

By and large, the villagers considered themselves to be reasonable people -- even progressive, as far as these things went. Kaede-sama had welcomed the strange girl and her companions, and once it had become evident that the girl was Kikyou-sama's reincarnation, the rest of them had embraced her as well. Welcoming the hanyou had been somewhat more difficult, but his presence meant far fewer attacks on the area, and for that they were thankful. The houshi and the taiji-ya were also welcome -- the former more so now that he seemed not to be constantly trying to seduce their maidens.

 

All in all, they'd been quite tolerant. But this was bordering on ridiculous. A youkai -- a taiyoukai -- in the village. Living there.

 

"There goes the neighborhood," some were overheard saying.

 

With every day that passed, more and more villagers sought out Kaede-sama, asking her when the youkai would be leaving. The human could stay (even if she was giving birth to a hanyou) but the youkai was not welcome anymore, if ever he had been in the first place.

 

Kaede-sama was not pleased with this line of questioning, and answered each question the same way: the two would be staying for as long as they needed. One by one, the villagers left the old miko's hut feeling duly chastened.

 

But eventually they began to wonder why Kaede-sama tolerated the youkai. Was she repaying some unknown debt to him? What were the details of the arrangement that allowed an inuyoukai to wander freely about the village? For Kaede-sama was wise, and would not invite a youkai into their sanctuary without good reason.

 

On this particular evening, they peered at him from their homes. He'd left some time earlier, and despite the many prayers that had gone up, he'd come back. He carried a bucket and walked with an even, purposeful gait, staring straight ahead, never so much as glancing their way.

 

Watching him, they whispered amongst themselves, as they had been since the youkai arrived:

 

"He's threatening Kaede-sama; I'm sure of it. I heard that he vowed to taint our crops if she didn't let the woman give birth here."

 

"I don't doubt it, youkai scum. If she turns him away, he'll only return to feast upon our children in the night."

 

"Little Hiroshi fell sick the night that monster and his human arrived. It was an omen, I'm sure of it!"

 

"It's very bad luck for a hanyou to be born in any village. This does not bode well for any of us. If only the gods would persuade Kaede-sama to see what she's doing to us..."

 

"Doesn't this winter seem colder than last? The wind is sharper, I'm certain. It must be the youkai's doing."

 

And, foolishly, they believed themselves unheard.

 

Sesshoumaru was only too aware of the increasing anxiety and animosity around him. He smelled it; he saw it in the way the humans looked at him, heard every word they whispered amongst themselves. Mothers dragged playing children indoors when he walked past; many of them were suddenly and inexplicably forbidden to play with the fox-child who traveled with his brother. Sesshoumaru watched these cowering humans now as he made his way through the village, giving a derisive snort at their ridiculous antics. As if ending any of their worthless lives would give me satisfaction. They flatter themselves.

 

He reached the quarantine hut and ducked inside, setting down the bucket of fresh water he'd gone to collect. Sheltered from the worst of the winter chill, Teles lay on her side, warming herself by the brazier, and he took a moment to admire the way the firelight played across her features. When his eyes drifted to the prominent swell of her stomach, a primal surge of protectiveness welled up inside of him. Sesshoumaru was resolved: he would ignore the rest of them; for the moment, this was the only human who mattered.

 

What the youkai could not ignore, however, was the fact that, aside from his mate's increasing discomfort, his child seemed no closer to making his entrance into the world. They had been guests of the village for five days, and every day the old miko came by regularly to check on Teles. Each visit brought the same news: the mother and child were healthy, but the latter was not yet ready for his journey. They would have to remain patient.

 

Patience was not typically a problem for Sesshoumaru, except in matters involving his mate. The current circumstances were putting him in an unfortunate predicament: his impatience made him restless; his restlessness made him want to kill things. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but Inuyasha did a frustratingly good job of keeping the surrounding woods free of violent youkai.

 

It was, in sum, an unfortunate situation.

 

He sat down in the warm glow of the firepit. "Has there been any change?"

 

She shook her head slowly. "I feel him, and I know he is eager to join us, but..."

 

The youkai let out a deep sigh. "But he will only do it on his terms."

 

Teles smiled a little, though Sesshoumaru could see fatigue in her eyes. "Yes. He is much like his father in that way."

 

"I had thought that made him more like his mother."

 

Chuckling, she closed her eyes. "Just between the two of us, I have a feeling he's going to be quite a handful."

 

"Perhaps."

 

"I only wish..."

 

Sesshoumaru looked at her. "Yes?"

 

"I only wish we lived closer to the village. It will be quite a journey for Inuyasha, should he decide he wants to visit his nephew."

 

The youkai had no desire to put his son anywhere near this place, in the path of so many small, cruel minds. "The greater the distance between them, the better," was all he said.

 

She shot him a reproachful look. "Come now, beloved. You don't mean that."

 

"He will be a bad influence on the child." Yes, let her think Inuyasha exists at the root of this. Because, clearly, he has nothing whatsoever to do with it. "Besides, his quest is not yet complete. I sincerely doubt he will have time for such frivolity."

 

"He will love the child," she countered. Sesshoumaru did not answer; he only frowned in reply. "And the child will love him. And he made time to visit once before. Perhaps he won't have the time for frequent stays, but surely, once in a while, he would be able to see his nephew." When her husband did not respond, she placed a hand on his arm. "Or perhaps that's part of the problem, hmm? Are you concerned that a hanyou child might prefer the company of his hanyou uncle?"

 

Sesshoumaru grew very still. Somehow, without meaning to, Teles had uncovered a concern that had been gradually growing in his breast, a worry that he'd been trying -- unsuccessfully -- to ignore. No, he didn't want the child growing up anywhere near these humans, but...

 

He remained silent for many moments before remarking stiffly, "He will have more in common with Inuyasha." The truth that had remained unspoken for so long was cast into daylight, and Sesshoumaru hated it. He was not insecure. He was Sesshoumaru; he feared nothing.

 

And yet...

 

No. No, his child would be nothing like his brash, uneducated brother; his child would not be short-tempered and defensive. No heir of Sesshoumaru's would be an outcast.

 

Teles chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Idiotic youkai. You are his father."

 

Arching an eyebrow at her, he said, "Parents and children are not required to get along, you realize."

 

"I see. Well, if this child does not please you, we shall have to continue until we produce one that does." Teles' words were designed to elicit a reaction out of her mate, and she was not disappointed. Sesshoumaru's head jerked up sharply as he looked at her, amber eyes wide. "What?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow. "Was it such a distasteful experience the first time that you shudder to do it again?" Teles grinned, green eyes dancing as she teased him.

 

After a moment, Sesshoumaru inclined his head and sent her a very level gaze. "You will not go through this again. I will not permit you to endanger yourself in such a way again."

 

At such an order, Teles arched an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon, youkai?"

 

"I will not have you risk your life, Teles. We will have only one child."

 

"And just how do you propose preventing me from getting pregnant again?" she asked, her voice lowering darkly. "Will you abstain from touching me? Will you refrain from making love to me? From claiming me as a husband should claim his wife?" Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Would you deprive me thus?"

 

The air suddenly felt charged, thick with arousal, and Sesshoumaru gritted his teeth hard. He knew himself to be a paragon of self-control, but she just made it so difficult.

 

"There are ways, I'm sure," he managed coolly. "Perhaps your mother will have some suggestions." That was, of course, akin to suggesting that clouds may perhaps produce rain. "Mark my words, Teles. This will be our only child."

 

"We shall see, youkai," she murmured, smiling sweetly. "We shall see."

 

***

 

For three days, Hera made regular trips to the caves at Lake Lerna to check on the Hydra's progress. Its recovery took less time than she had anticipated, aided by the prey it hunted in the lands surrounding Lake Lerna. Hera herself had bestowed healing energy on the Hydra to help it along, and in no time at all, it had grown strong enough to leave on its errand.

 

Now, as she stood in the mouth of the largest of the caves, Hera brought one hand up to the Hydra's stately head. Its scales glimmered green and silver in the moonlight, and its eyes -- now a sharper red, with slit pupils -- glowed at her in the gloom. She slid her hand down to its jawline, smiling fondly when the Hydra huffed, hot breath turning the air to steam around her. She took a moment to admire the grandest of Echidna's children -- its body was long and snakelike, strong enough to squeeze and crush the bones of any man or beast. Slim, graceful shoulders led to arms that were slender, but deceptively strong and aided by long, sharp claws -- powerful enough to tear through flesh and bone. Its wings were strong enough to carry it to the sun and back, its hide thick enough to withstand the heat.

 

Hera admired the Hydra's speed and strength, silently cursing Hercules for reducing the once-proud creature to a single head. Its graceful neck appeared unscathed; over the centuries, the wounds Hercules had inflicted had healed, smoothing away every time the Hydra shed its skin.

 

And in all of her musings, she thought only briefly of the repercussions that would follow the Hydra's release. She wasn't worried about Aphrodite, and it was very likely that she would be the only goddess that cared. Surely the others would not fault Hera for wanting to rid the earth of such a traitor. Zeus would be angry, of course, but when all was said and done, she was his queen. She was the Queen of the Gods, and she would do as she wished.

 

"No matter," she murmured, fingertips tracing the beast's hideous features with what could only be described as maternal tenderness, "I'm sure you'll share your secret soon enough." Would her demon husband attempt to protect her? And how many heads would tear at Teles' flesh, fighting for a taste like so many hungry wolves?

 

On this third night, Hera blessed the Hydra and sent it on its way. It knew little of its destination, save for the fact that it was a large collection of islands in the east where the sun tinted the sea red as blood. Hera had promised the Hydra it would know its destination, that it would be able to smell the scent of the tainted, fallen Olympian contaminating the breeze.

 

It flew only at night, the moon and twinkling stars providing light enough by which to travel. Its eyes were accustomed to the dark, and as the Hydra soared above snow-capped mountains, its enormous, leathery wings beating slowly, it saw its shadow slink along a vast stretch of rippling desert sand. The Hydra saw mountains and forests and icy lakes as if lit by daylight. Pristine snow caught and reflected the moonlight, creating a pale blue glow that seemed to illuminate the entire world beneath it.

 

For five nights the Hydra flew, and it seemed as if the land beneath it would never give way to the sea, but on the seventh night, the tang of cold sea air met its nose. Before long its keen eyes made out the island as it came over the horizon. The sun's rays had only barely begun to warm the sky from darkest blue to hazy purple, but the Hydra saw the ocean, and the waves moved like so many flames.

 

It had arrived.

 

With dawn threatening, the long, serpentine body glided downwards into the dense forests that seemed to cover so much of the land. A craggy mountain range shielded it from the sun, giving the Hydra a few extra moments to feed before searching out shelter from the sun that would blind its sensitive eyes.

 

It was not long before the Hydra found both, following a thick, musky scent and the sound of playful yips and whines.

 

Its mouth watered for flesh.

 

At the mouth of a cave there were a pack of wild mountain dogs, a pack whose alpha -- a large, burly male with a thick black coat -- had sensed the ancient danger almost immediately. The Hydra heard its deep, warning growl, but it was too late -- the breeze already carried the smell of fear in the younger, smaller dogs. It was a rich scent only increased its hunger, like a sharp, dry wind feeding a wildfire. Saliva dripped from its jaws, hissing and spitting as it hit the ground, singeing the cold, dead ground.

 

Hissing and slithering, the Hydra advanced, hunger driving it; it threw back its head, letting out a high screech when the black male stood in front of its pack, hackles raised, its lip curling as it snarled. Red eyes regarded the animal; its lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth it growled, a low and dangerous rumbling.

 

This would be a satisfying meal.

 

One by one, more males joined the leader, snarling, protective females hurrying past as they herded younger dogs to safety. The Hydra watched them go, tilting its head in predatory curiosity and snapping its jaws in anticipation. They would go, but they would not get far; the Hydra's prey never got far.

 

The dogs formed a half-circle around the Hydra, advancing gradually, intent upon forcing the intruder back. But ancient evils are not so easily intimidated. Though it had only two eyes, the creature saw all that was laid out before it -- every twitching muscle, every bristling hair; it viewed the dogs, not as opponents or adversaries, but as food for the taking. The air was thick with the scent of prey. It knew, instinctively, that it would feed, and they would die. If they wished to fight to live, the Hydra would fight to eat.

 

Suddenly, the black dog's coiled muscles released as it sprung forward, snapping its teeth, trying to take the Hydra by the throat. But the animal caught only a mouthful of leathery, scaly skin when the monster darted to the side with snakelike speed, catching the dog in its powerful jaws and clamping down on the unfortunate animal. A sickening crunch and a high, sharp yelp followed as the dog thrashed, despite its bones snapping under the pressure of the Hydra's jaws and teeth. Soon the cries subsided, though dark blood and saliva continued to froth and pour from the Hydra's mouth like tar, blackening the earth as it fell. When the dog was dead, the monster snapped its head back, tossing the animal into the air before catching it again and swallowing it whole.

 

The taste of flesh and blood, of fur and bone, awakened the Hydra's appetite. Hunger flooded every corner of its mind, driving it to consume more and more, until it had had its fill. The red eyes blazed with preternatural fire as the Hydra let out a high, two-toned shriek. As if of one mind, the animals lunged forward, to avenge their fallen leader, sinking sharp fangs into the creature's thick hide. The unlucky few that drew blood wrenched away, yipping pitifully, writhing on the ground as the Hydra's blood ate away at fur and skin, leaving only bones and ruined muscle. The creature slashed at the dogs, its claws slicing through fur and tendons, effortlessly cutting through bone.

 

Some latched on to its wings, but with a single mighty beat, canine bodies went flying through the air and slammed into the mountainside. Dead and dying dogs littered the ground -- spines snapped, necks broken, distorted, sizzling bodies burned and ruined by the Hydra's blood. Never wasting a second, the ancient monster's head swung around, surveying the carnage. Its coiled neck moving with one swift strike after another, the Hydra snapped up the dogs, devouring each and every one of them, one by one. With each dog it swallowed, the Hydra's throat bulged grotesquely, and in moments they were gone; the only thing left of the animals was their blood soaking into the earth. The creature then turned, sniffing the air and disappearing into the woods after the rest of its meal.

 

It was not motivated by spite, only blind, raging hunger. And when that hunger was sated, it would rest until it fed again. Its entire existence revolved around the kill, around feeding -- and around the intense desire to obey and please its queen. In the forests, the Hydra fed on mountain dogs, on strange fox-like creatures and other animals for which it had no name. It discovered men on horseback, and ate the men first, leaving very little behind. Those lucky enough to avoid its path spread stories of slaughter, hinting of something worse than youkai lurking in the forests.

 

By sunrise the Hydra returned to the mountain dogs' cave, stinking of death and blood, and in this cave, littered with sticky tufts of fur and bits of bone, the Hydra slept.

 

***

 

It was nearly dawn, but Teles couldn't sleep.

 

This was hardly a novel event for her; she'd had difficulty sleeping even when she'd shared Sesshoumaru's bed on the other side of the well. The only difference was that now she had no ice cream and no technology to entertain her in her waking hours. What she usually had was an overprotective youkai hovering nearby. It was nearly enough to drive her mad: five -- no, six days in this hut, with nothing to do but wait. She knew her temper was growing shorter with every day that passed. Sesshoumaru was the most convenient target for her ire, but by this point she'd managed to snap at Inuyasha, the little monk and his taiji-ya, the old miko, and even Kagome.

 

They all bore it remarkably well.

 

For his part, Sesshoumaru woke whenever she stirred, and remained awake until she lay down again. It would have annoyed her if not for the fact that she usually needed assistance moving around, and, nine times out of ten, if Teles woke, it was usually due to the infant resting against her bladder. She had yet to reconcile herself to that human indignity, no matter how many times Kagome and Sango both assured her it was completely natural.

 

Now, though, she was awake simply because she was. She lay on her side, Sesshoumaru's solid warmth behind her, his arm curled around her body. She looked at the clawed hand splayed on her belly -- elegant, deadly, and a source of immeasurable comfort.

 

She reflected on the many things Sesshoumaru had been to her over the past months. He had first been little more than a fascinating, if troublesome, youkai who in turn became a worthy adversary. He'd then become her lover, her pursuer, and next her husband. He'd become a source of vexation, angering her enough to leave him for five centuries. He'd then grown into the voice of age and experience, convincing her to return to his younger, more foolish (his words, not hers) self. He was her protector, her beloved, her friend. And all of it in only half a year's time.

 

Teles brought her hand up to cover Sesshoumaru's, trailing the backs of her fingers across his knuckles.

 

He spoke then, his low, smooth voice rough with sleep. "Are you all right?"

 

"I'm fine," she murmured. "Just thinking."

 

"Why are you not sleeping?" And then, in a moment, the slumber left his voice; he was awake. "Is it time?"

 

She laughed softly. "No, beloved. Not yet."

 

"You are sure?"

 

With a chuckle, she rolled back a bit to glance at him. "I'm nearly certain I'll know when it's time, Sesshoumaru." A tiny frown knitted between her brows. "I hope it's soon."

 

"I'm not surprised. After waiting for--"

 

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly and settling on her back with a soft grunt. "It's--"

 

"You should not rest like that."

 

"It's uncomfortable, yes, but I wish to look at you." She brought a hand up to cup his cheek. "I know you do not like it here, beloved. I've heard them, what they say."

 

He shrugged gracefully. "They are presumptuous and rude. I expect no less from such ignorant humans."

 

"They call you a fiend. A beast."

 

"As well they should." When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off with a shake of his head. "I not here to make friends, Teles -- if they fear me, I am glad for it. Neither I am here for their acceptance. I am here for you to give birth to our child -- our only child," he added sharply. "I have no interest in what a collection of humans think of me, and I wish for you to cease worrying about it."

 

A long silence passed before she blew out a sigh and nodded. "Very well." At her words, Sesshoumaru looked at her, lifting one eyebrow a fraction in mild surprise. "What is it?" Teles asked as she eased herself onto her other side.

 

"You yielded," he replied evenly.

 

"I'm pregnant."

 

"An excellent point. I will not grow accustomed to such an occurrence."

 

***

 

"Sango-chan?"

 

The taiji-ya paused and turned, Hiraikotsu on her back. The sun was high in the sky, and she had been on her way into the forest to get some target practice in before lunch. But Kagome was taking quick, hurried steps, snow crunching beneath her feat as she closed the distance between them. "Yes, Kagome-chan? Is something wrong?"

 

The other girl came to a stop, clasping gloved hands in front of her. "Wrong? No, no. Nothing's wrong. I just..." She looked up and nodded at the giant boomerang. "I was just wondering if you were going to get a little target practice in today."

 

Sango smiled and shifted the weapon on her back. "Yes, I wanted to take advantage of the daylight. It gets dark so much earlier this time of year."

 

The other girl hesitated, tapping the tips of her index fingers together for a moment before speaking. "Do you want a little company?"

 

There was something in the girl's voice, the way she bit her lip hopefully that nudged at Sango. Kagome might have said nothing was wrong, but it seemed to Sango that something wasn't completely right, either. Of course, so much had happened lately, Sango didn't dare venture a guess; it could have been anything. "Of course, Kagome-chan. Come on."

 

The two had just passed the rice paddies when Kagome cleared her throat and spoke. "I've... I've been thinking..."

 

"Mm? About what?"

 

"About the baby."

 

Ah, of course. The infant's arrival was one of the first things on their minds lately. Though he never would have admitted such a thing, it seemed that Inuyasha was particularly preoccupied with it all. "What about it?" But Kagome didn't reply right away. Sango glanced to her left and saw the miko biting her lip in thought as they walked. "...Kagome-chan?"

 

"...Do you remember when Kirara was poisoned by Naraku's miasma? And Inuyasha and I went to get those medicinal herbs?"

 

Sango nodded slowly before answering. "Yes, I remember."

 

"The garden where we got those herbs -- it belonged to a hanyou..."

 

"That's right," she said, nodding again. "Jinenji-san, wasn't it?"

 

Pressing her lips together, Kagome frowned. "...Yes."

 

They walked in silence a little further. Sango watched Kagome out of the corner of her eye; something was bothering her. "What about him?"

 

"Jinenji-san's mother said something to me, and... and I'd forgotten about it until last night."

 

They were at the edge of the forest now. Sango stopped and plunged Hiraikotsu into the snow before turning to face Kagome completely. "Why? What happened last night?"

 

"Sesshoumaru had gone to get Teles some fresh water. And he was going back to the quarantine hut, and..." Kagome trailed off, biting down on her bottom lip, looking down. "The way the villagers were all staring at him, the things they were saying..."

 

Sango felt herself bristle. "They were saying things about the baby?"

 

"No, no -- about Sesshoumaru."

 

Sango blew out a deep breath. It didn't surprise her, really; when all was said and done, Sesshoumaru was a youkai, and not one overly inclined to like humans. The villagers' goodwill couldn't last forever; she was often surprised their small group had been tolerated for this long, though Sango supposed Kaede-sama had quite a bit to do with that.

 

Yes, Sango could imagine what the villagers had been saying about Sesshoumaru. Honestly, it probably wasn't anything different from anything they'd said in the past. Of course, things had changed so drastically that it was easy to forget precisely what they'd said.

 

"They were calling him a monster, Sango-chan. And... and they don't think he hears them, but I'm sure he must."

 

Surely she isn't concerned with someone hurting Sesshoumaru's feelings, Sango thought, frowning faintly. "Kagome, I don't underst--"

 

"Jinenji-san," Kagome said, as if that explained everything. "He wasn't..." Again, she bit her lip. "He didn't look..." After a moment's hesitation, the words tumbled out: "He... he was deformed, Sango-chan. It was like his bones didn't... grow right. The way he was hunched over -- and he never seemed able to walk properly. A-and I know it must have to do with genetics, but... but the people from his village called him a monster, Sango-chan. Jinenji-san -- they bullied him, because he looked different, he looked..."

 

"Like a hanyou?" she suggested gently. Kagome nodded miserably and Sango blew out a deep sigh.

 

"His mother told us that hanyou don't always turn out looking like Inuyasha. And I can't help but wonder what would happen if..." Kagome trailed off with a sigh. "What if the baby has the same problems that Jinenji-san had?"

 

Sango ran a hand through her bangs and blew out a deep breath. "It is true that hanyou children sometimes don't survive beyond the womb. And sometimes, yes, they do... inherit youkai traits that aren't compatible with human traits. But, from what I know, and from what Miroku and I read in the scrolls at my village, it often depends on what kind of youkai the other parent was. Did Jinenji-san know anything about his youkai blood?"

 

The other girl shook her head. "I don't think so. His mother only said that she knew he was youkai because he was bathed in light."

 

"We know that Sesshoumaru is inuyoukai, so, depending on how much of Sesshoumaru's blood the baby inherits, he will more than likely share physical traits with Inuyasha." Sango pursed her lips in thought for several seconds. "But, Kagome-chan, I'm not sure you understand--"

 

"I just want him to have ten fingers and ten toes, and be healthy and happy."

 

Letting out a deep breath, Sango put one arm around Kagome's shoulders. "That's all any of us want, but whether the baby looks like Sesshoumaru or Inuyasha -- or even has physical difficulties, like Jinenji-san -- he will be different, and... people are going to fear what's different. So no matter what happens, we're all going to have to be prepared for that."

 

Kagome sniffled, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "It's not fair."

 

"No, it isn't," she sighed, hugging her friend gently. "But what you must remember is that this baby won't be like Jinenji-san, or Inuyasha -- or even Sesshoumaru, for that matter."

 

"...What do you mean?"

 

"Sesshoumaru grew up hating humans. Inuyasha grew up with no family. Jinenji-san grew up with no friends. This child will have both family and friends -- youkai, hanyou, and human. And that, I can almost promise you," she said, with a small, warm smile, "will make all the difference in the world."

 

Kagome sighed and ran her fingers through her bangs. "You're right. I just want..." she trailed off, and for a moment a world of sadness passed through her eyes. "I want Inuyasha's nephew to have a happier childhood than he did. But... I guess he will anyway." After a moment, a sly grin lit the girl's lips. "Especially if there are children he can play with."

 

"That's true," Sango replied.

 

"Especially if you and Miroku-sama--"

 

Sango's blush reached the tips of her ears. "Kagome-chan!"

 

 

***

 

Lately, it took more and more to surprise Inuyasha. The fact that his half-brother was the father-to-be of a hanyou child -- and was apparently okay with it -- had been a hell of a shock. Everything that had happened between Teles and Sesshoumaru on the other side of the well had just about blown him out of the water, and the fact that Teles had returned to Sesshoumaru... well, the hanyou still had moments where he still struggled with that.

 

But even Inuyasha was surprised to overhear the villagers talking about Sesshoumaru.

 

Correction: he was surprised to find the villagers had remained unscathed after talking about Sesshoumaru.

 

He'd watched from a rooftop as his brother walked through the village, ignoring every last muttered insult, every whispered rumor. Inuyasha had no doubt that the youkai had heard them -- hell, he could hear them. But the youkai had ignored them all.

 

That had surprised Inuyasha.

 

Now he crouched on a tree limb deep in the forest as afternoon shadows lengthened around him, mulling over everything -- everything that had happened so far.

 

All this, and the kid's not even born yet.

 

Of course, that turned the hanyou's mind to the birth, which seemed to be hanging over all of them. Sometimes it felt like they were all holding their breath, just waiting for the kid to decide when to make his entrance. But what was going to happen afterward? They couldn't just abandon their quest. Naraku was still out there, and they were going to have to defeat him -- they had to. But something in him balked at walking away from this new family tie.

 

It's stupid, he thought, glowering into the mid-distance. Kid doesn't even know me -- it's not gonna matter to him if I'm around or not. Hell, I don't even know him. Shouldn't matter -- no damned reason why we can't just pack up and leave now. Why the fuck are we hanging around here, anyway? It's just making everyone soft. Ain't like Sesshoumaru needs us around here. And I've chopped enough stupid firewood to last the next six winters.

 

And yet...

 

"Keh," he muttered to no one in particular. He's all cool and collected now, but he'll freak out once the kid's born -- just watch. Inuyasha had seen some of the village men when their wives were heavy with some unborn brat. The biggest, strongest, bravest men in the village were reduced to hand-wringing idiots who paced the length of the rice paddies while their wives screamed their heads off in one of the village huts. Sesshoumaru wasn't that much different from the rest of those other expectant fathers.

 

Inuyasha stood up and stretched. "Sure," he muttered to himself, "he looks calm and collected now, but it isn't going to la--"

 

The entire forest fell still.

 

What few animals and birds had remained for the winter went silent. The hush felt unnatural -- too sudden and too complete; the silence felt as if it were loaded with malice. He frowned and tested the air, ears flicking back and forth, straining to catch even a sliver of noise. He smelled nothing on the air, and after a moment decided to climb higher to see if he could see anything in the distance.

 

Inuyasha had nearly reached the uppermost limbs when the wind changed, bringing with it a strange scent: whatever it was smelled rancid, like centuries' worth of rot and decay-- it smelled evil. Choking back a gag, Inuyasha pulled his sleeve over his nose; he had no idea what it was, but it stunk.

 

That same breeze brought with it a high, dual-toned shriek that was getting closer by the moment. Inuyasha's ears flattened as his mind grappled to identify the call, but it was unlike anything he'd heard before; the tone was such that it hurt his ears. It sounded otherworldly. And while Inuyasha could not place the scent directly, he could smell death, blood, and decaying flesh on the wind -- it grew stronger now and the hanyou's eyes scanned the sky and horizon for any sight of what was producing such an awful cry and stench. It wasn't long at all before he saw the long, serpentine body writhing on the wind. Its huge leathery wings were outstretched as it soared closer, growing larger, and when the wings beat, they filled the air with that same choking scent.

 

And it was heading straight for the village.