Chapter Thirty-One: Praise from Sesshomaru

Under the moonlight, less than fifty paces from the Hojo army camp, a massive demon, vast as a mountain, lay sprawled across the earth. A thin trickle of blood flowed from the mountain demon’s body, pooling into a puddle that resembled a stagnant pond. Not far from the beast, the soft glow of the moon illuminated a cold, aristocratic youth. Beneath his feet lay a crater formed by the brutal force with which he had slammed his younger brother into the ground; in one hand, he held that same brother, Inuyasha, hoisted high above him. To the onlookers, the scene possessed a strangely eerie beauty.

"Inuyasha!"

Kagome had initially assumed that this attacking demon would be much like Yura of the Hair, who had met her end not long ago. Despite some turbulence before the Hojo army, she had expected a smooth, happy conclusion. Especially after seeing a demon as formidable as the mountain demon defeated by the Hojo forces without even lasting a single exchange, and learning that the current attacker was Inuyasha’s own brother, Kagome had felt a flicker of relief, thinking that the demons of this world were perhaps not so terrifying after all. But fate is fickle. Seeing Inuyasha now, held captive in the grip of Sesshomaru after failing to last even a single exchange himself, she realized with sudden clarity just how dangerous this world truly was.

She looked left and right, shaking her head, desperately hoping for a hero to step forward and turn the tide.

"Still silent?"

Sesshomaru tightened his grip, causing Inuyasha to roll his eyes back in his head. He found it difficult to harbor any affection for this half-brother. Setting aside the fact that his father, the Great Dog Demon, had died because of this brother and his human mother, Sesshomaru had initially maintained his composure, choosing not to vent his grief on the boy and leaving him to his own devices as a form of tempering. After all, the progeny of a great demon was not so fragile as to require constant supervision.

But later... the attack by the Panther King had made Sesshomaru realize his own lack of power. He had considered the old adage that a father and son fight best side by side, and brothers are the strongest allies. After all, the legacy left by his father surely belonged in part to his brother, not to mention the treasure his father had bequeathed to him. Yet, just as he was preparing to seek him out, what was his good-for-nothing brother doing? Repeating his father’s mistakes, dallying with a human priestess, until he was disgracefully sealed away!

Thinking of this, Sesshomaru stared at the groaning Inuyasha, a nameless fire igniting within him. Such a failure, such a fool. Why should you be the one to inherit the legacy of a father you never even met? If not for you, would my ranks have suffered such losses in the battle against the Panther King? Those were men who trusted me implicitly, who were willing to follow me! And yet... and yet! They died on the battlefield! They died!

If only I could have obtained the Tessaiga, the sword capable of slaying hundreds of demons with a single strike, would that battle have resulted in my own agony?

"Are you hating Inuyasha? Or are you hating yourself? I can feel the sorrow in you."

Sesshomaru, caught in a moment of reflection, had allowed his focus to drift. Seizing this lapse, Hojo Akitoki successfully closed the distance. This came as a surprise to Akitoki; he had assumed a being like Sesshomaru would never commit such a amateur mistake. But once near, Akitoki, with his keen insight into human nature, felt the emotional turbulence radiating from the demon. Combining this with the information he already possessed, Akitoki instantly analyzed Sesshomaru’s inner state.

So be it!

He spoke words that sounded like concern, but to Sesshomaru, each syllable was a dagger to the heart. Akitoki intended to use the situation to his advantage, using language to disrupt Sesshomaru’s already agitated state, hoping to slow his reaction time by forcing him to divide his focus.

He drew his blade.

Seizing the opportunity, Akitoki unleashed his strongest and fastest technique: the Iaijutsu quick-draw. To the average observer, the strike was as swift as a gale and as sudden as a thunderclap. Neither Akechi Mitsuhide, Kagome, nor Priestess Kaede believed Akitoki could miss. With such an attack—especially since he was aiming not for Sesshomaru's hand, but for his neck—even in the worst-case scenario, surely the great demon would suffer a grievous wound?

"Lord Sesshomaru!" Jaken, who had just raised his head, shrieked. Even he held little hope.

But who was Sesshomaru? He was a figure of unparalleled stature in the world of Inuyasha. Faced with what should have been a killing blow, even after his mind had been rattled, his eyes shifted without a hint of fear, his cold face remaining as impassive as ever. With a speed greater than Akitoki’s, Sesshomaru used his own brother as a human shield. Had Akitoki’s strike continued, it would undoubtedly have landed squarely on Inuyasha’s back.

It happened in an instant. Seeing Sesshomaru’s swift counter-measure, as if he hadn't been shaken at all, Akitoki forced his blade to change trajectory mid-swing. One must know that a draw-cut technique relies entirely on momentum; it is a "kill or be killed" maneuver with almost no room for variation. But Akitoki changed it!

The silver blade grazed Inuyasha’s back by a hair's breadth. As the strike reached its peak, Akitoki pressed downward. The altered blade gained speed, slashing straight toward the top of Sesshomaru’s head. This strike was even closer; if Sesshomaru tried to use the same tactic again, he would have to sacrifice his brother—or be maimed himself.

"Not bad."

In the face of imminent danger, with almost no room to maneuver, Sesshomaru remained unruffled. Staring at the attack inches from his brow, he shoved his hand forward. Inuyasha was launched like a cannonball, colliding directly with the lunging Akitoki. The kinetic energy sent Akitoki flying, pulling his blade further and further from Sesshomaru.

"Damn it!"

The exchange concluded in a few breaths. The attack everyone thought was a certainty had been dismantled by Sesshomaru with effortless grace. Those on Akitoki’s side could only beat their chests in frustration. In their eyes, Akitoki’s response had been flawless; none of them could have done better. But against absolute power! Staring at Sesshomaru, who didn't seem to have a single speck of dust on his robes, their hearts turned to ice.

"Hahaha, did you see that!"

"You foolish humans, that is the power of Lord Sesshomaru!"

The tide had turned. If the Hojo army was unhappy, it was time for the little demon Jaken to rejoice. Dancing about and waving his staff, Jaken acted as if he were the one who had triumphed. He shouted at the top of his lungs, wishing he were scholarly enough to compose a poem to celebrate his master’s glory.

"Noisy."

Despite clearly being the victor, the praise of his underling did not earn Jaken any validation. Instead, Sesshomaru quietly inspected the corner of his sleeve and issued a cold rebuke. He then turned his gaze toward Hojo Akitoki, who was just picking himself up from the ground after rolling to absorb the impact.

"You are not bad."

Repeating the same praise as before, Sesshomaru lifted his arm under the moonlight, revealing the sleeve that Akitoki had managed to tear.

"What?"

What Sesshomaru considered "not bad" was not seen the same way by the others. With all the advantages of time, place, and unity, all Lord Akitoki had managed to do was tear the man’s sleeve? How could the Hojo army accept this!