InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Once and Future Black Tessaiga ❯ One-Shot

The Inu no Taisho watched Shishinki flee leaving his shattered spear and bits of his shattered skull behind. One part of him growled, his wild, youkai blood tempted to chase the running prey, to haul it down and feast on the defeated blood and youki. But he did not stir, as his hooded eyes watched the youkai disappear. Did not move from his wary stance, the glimmering black blade held in a two-handed grip. Shishinki had proven himself a deadly and treacherous foe, and the dog youkai had long abandoned the recklessness of youth.

The defeated youki's aura faded to nothing. The victor eased his stance a trifle, sniffing winds both physical and youki, and found nothing amiss. Relaxing, he straightened, dropping his left hand from the blade, shifting his right grip preparatory to sheathing it.

But he did not complete that gesture, as the sword began shaking. Eyes narrowing, he lifted the blade, watching as the black, star-lit energy pulsed and skittered across the curving blade. He felt the hilt vibrate, as the energy within the blade grew more chaotic. Tightening his grip, the ini youkai concentrated, then ran his left hand across the flat of the blade. The storm of energy settled down as his hand passed over it, leaving the black blade still. Amber eyes studied the blade a moment further, then drew the hand across the blade a second time, banishing the black, leaving the blade glowing its original silver. He moved to sheathe the sword again, this time successfully. Carefully, he eased his concentration, and the blade remained still.

His sigh was a breath of thanks to the old friend--an old magnolia youkai, Bokusenko--who had allowed a tiny portion of his body to be carved into a sheath to hold and protect the blade. Tessaiga was safe, for the moment. But as he lifted his head to note the darkening sky and glance at the sinking crescent of moon, he knew that he had a problem.

Tessaiga was too new. For all the decrepit appearance of its unpowered state, the blade had been forged but days ago. He knew what the blade was capable of: what he had asked of Totosai, what the sword smith had promised him; what he had sacrificed to give the blade its nascent strength. The blade was not even fully yet trained to the Kaze no Kizu, let alone the Bakuryuuha. He had not intended to invoke its secret skill for moons yet, if then. The sword's potential was enormous, but it needed tempering if it was to become what he had dreamed. A sword to protect the weak. A sword that would answer only to the hand of one who wanted to protect. A sword that required passion and compassion and strength of will, a sword that would answer to those qualities, and not the purity of wielder's youkai blood.

A sword to protect the one who was his blessing and his bane.

Izayoi.

The Inu no Taisho closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath, wishing he could scent her delicate, maddening and precious self. He wished he would dash back to the side of that winsome, stubborn, seemingly fragile but resilient human beauty who had somehow captured his eyes and then his heart. A mere, mortal woman who had taught him more about living in a few meager years, than all the hundred battlefields and thousands of dead youkai he had left behind in his millennia of life.

He shook the yearning off, returning his attention back to where it belonged. Touching the hilt, he thought his regrets to Tessaiga. My fault, he thought, for letting himself be trapped by the duplicitous youkai, who had once come to him claiming a desire for friendship and training. His fault, for underestimating how long it would take his youki to truly recover from the power he had bequeathed to the fang as it was forged into the sword. His fault, for testing the sword away from both his stronghold and Totosai's cave. If he had been faster, a trifle more agile, as he leapt to close the distance with Shishinki, if he could have avoided being faced with a meidou starting to form directly in front of his path—there had been no time to think of an alternative. There had only been time to sweep down the blade directly through the cloud of forming energy, willing Tessaiga to cut through and absorb the attack, then then, even as he touched down, sweep the blade back through its previous path, willing the meidou to form and move towards its former master.

It had worked, to his relief and Shishinki's stunned shock. The meidou had been tiny—not much more than the size of his fist. And it had moved fastfaster than an arrow show from a bow: faster than one of his son's blindingly quick moves. Jetting from the tip of the blade, it had slammed through the middle of the crescent-shaped blade of Shishinki's spear, and had not even slowed up as it took a neat, quarter-circular chunk out of Shishinki's face and skull. It--and all the other meidous--had vanished a mere moment later, but the victory was obtained. He had waited, Tessaiga extended, quite ready enough to will a second meidou and a third. But there had been no need as Shishinki staggered, gave him a stunned, horrified stare from his remaining eye, and then spun on his heels and fled.

Tessaiga shivered under his touch. Something, almost like an inaudible whine of a puppy, came to the dog youkai. The Inu No Taisho felt his sword's eagerness to be everything he wanted, and the desperate strain of absorbing the strange and wild attack. Rubbing his thumb across the plain pommel, the inu youkai decided that he was going to have to make Totosai find a way to remove the attack from his young sword. The attack was too strong, too unpredictable for the inexperienced blade. Tessaiga had the theoretical strength to contain the attack, but only under the guidance of a will as strong and experienced as his own. He knew he could tame the attack. But--

He did not want it. He did not want to claim the attack of a liar, a back-stabber. He did not want to tame an attack that consisted of black spheres that sucked anything touching them into Hell. The weapon he was attempting to perfect was a sword--a sword that cut. Round, edgeless spheres didn't belong in a sword that cut.

On the other hand...

The dog youkai looked up at the crescent moon again. A small smile twitched his lips, and ancient eyes glinted in his youthful-seeming face. He knew someone who would probably like big, black, sucking spheres. Someone who would one day have more than enough strength of mind, skill, and patience to tame the unruly and dangerous energy of the Meidou Zangetsuha. A person who would scarcely need the meidou attack, given his potential. But someone whom--he strongly suspected--was going to someday need some salutary lessons about compassion, and about generosity towards kindred blood.

He gave a short nod of his head, and turned around. His intended future talk with Totosai was going to be much sooner than originally planned. The Black Tessaiga had to go--but not forever. The fire-breathing youkai had grumbled once, in his hearing, about the unimaginative nature of most weapon requests made of him. If Totosai wanted more of a challenge than even Tessaiga, he would give him one. And when he and Totosai were done, he would return to mortal woman he intended to claim, and take the next step on the path he knew would almost certainly lead to his doom.

He did not fear that fate, so long as he had time to sip the heady brew of his new love, so long as his plans had time to be realized. Two sons, some day. Two swords for two sons: one to protect, to destroy the strong that threatened the weak. The other? That, he had not quite yet determined. Only that it would be a blade a certain over-proud youkai boy would never choose. A sword to teach lessons the Inu no Taisho was certain that the young taiyoukai would never seek out on his own. Lessons, he would, ironically enough, need to realize his own full potential.

Another smile quirked. The boy would probably take centuries to forgive him.

He wondered if being unforgiven bothered the dead.

Tessaiga shivered again, not quite pulsing. Taking a firm grip on the hilt, the Inu no Taisho willed strength and calmness to the stressed blade. It quieted, and he petted the tattered leather wrapping with affection.

He wondered if the future Black Tessaiga would be able to make meidous that cut.