Hollow Victory

He shivered in the slight breeze, his skin tingling in anticipation of further contact. Phantoms of her fingers still crawled all over him, jolting up his spine and sparking in his core like electricity.

This, all of this.

He wanted to imprint this on his memory, the image of her wrapped in his slate grey, blinking up at him with those yellow-jade eyes, tufted ears perked for his command, his mokomoko curled around her feet.

He wanted to memorize this sensation, the contented tranquility; he would freeze it over, tuck it into a dark corner of himself for another time.

Her scent…he wanted to remember this as well, rich and molten and right.

It wasn't about silly predilection or the petty desires of the flesh, or even the profits he gained from her labors for him; it was about presence, the fact that she was there, always, either within sight, in reach, or dancing at the edge of his youki, quickly returning to him when he called.

It was ridiculous, he thought, that in only the blink of an eye she had become a natural part of his routine, that he even entertained such a pathetic sentiment as attachment. It was a pitiful word, a dirty word, and he refused to use it in any relation to himself.

The same could be said of 'half-breed'. He couldn't wrap his head around it, and it frustrated him. He knew half-breeds were feeble, useless, ignorant runts meant to fall by the wayside in insignificant heaps. She, however, this creature before him, had proven herself to be none of those things. He wouldn't outright admit to himself that she had been correct all those years ago about making the unfortunate state of her birth a thing of lesser note, but he would consider that, perhaps, her idea had some merit.

She was and was not a half-breed; she was and was not weak and regrettable. In the same way, he was and was not becoming soft; because of her… He had to be rid of her, for his own sake. This had been her plan from the very start, he was sure, to have him turn her out; and he both hated and applauded her for its successful execution.

She would not leave him, he decided; she was not allowed to leave him. He would send her away. That was the proper way of things between them; he, the lord, the authority, and she, the vassal, the instrument.

He let his demeanor grow cold, already distancing himself from her even as she blinked up at him with those jade yellow eyes.

"Do as you please until I return."

There was nothing more to be said. He would speak nothing of what he was thinking; not this time.

He wanted to remember this…but he knew he could not. He would not. He would leave it all behind him once he sent her-sent it- away, for a conqueror had no attachments.

He would abandon his destiny for no one.

***

Summer was upon them. For the last several months, Sesshoumaru had become distant and cold, which was all well and good for Kuroihi considering what she was planning to do, even though it set her on edge. She had prepared for his rage, his violence, his declarations of ownership and control over her very life. She did not, however, expect him to be the one to initiate the conversation; and sooner than she'd planned.

He'd watched her all through the morning as she and Kazawa ticked and tacked their Go pieces to and fro. She'd been so close to winning this time, but the way he watched her had been more than distracting. He'd dismissed the others, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he commanded her to kneel before him, and he'd looked right at her when he said it.

"I've no further use for you, half-demon, you are dismissed. You have two days to make your arrangements."

The finality in his tone had been unmistakable and it left her feeling shaken, and she had not questioned him. She had bowed deeply, declaring it had been her pleasure and honor to serve before leaving the room. She'd heard him whisper as she left, "liar," and it hurt.

Now, as she collected the few things she owned from her storage room, her hands were unsteady, her palms clammy. This was it, this was what she'd toiled and fought for, trained and studied to do. As she laid herself down for the last time in her little closet, this alcove of her own she'd grown to hate so much, this place and all its cruelties, suddenly felt so precious.

***

He waited for it in the forest, sensing as it drew closer. It had taken nothing from the castle and asked for nothing, bade good-bye to no one save the war master. He watched it come into view, leading its horse by the bridle, hand at its chest, and eyes focused on the road ahead. He waited for it to pass, stepping out onto the road behind it.

It stopped, turning its head slowly to look back at him. It blinked at him in silent query as he approached.

He said nothing, face set in a stony glare as he reached towards it, calling back the bit of himself he'd given it.

No pity stirred in him as it groaned and gasped in pain, clutching its stomach. He felt its own meager youki pulse and flare, finally expelling the foreign energy from its body. He could smell the salt on the air as it panted, leaning heavily against its beast. Something akin to apprehension lighted across its features, and he smiled maliciously down at the wretched thing.

"Do not return, half-breed. If you are found in these lands again, I will kill you."

There was no confusion now as it bowed and continued along the road. He did not watch it go, instead returning quietly to the castle, the orb of his youki clutched in his hand as he cleansed it of the taint from having resided inside the half-breed for so long. He met his father on his way out, and he knew the greater demon read what had happened instantly in Sesshoumaru's countenance.

The Inu no Taishou simply sighed his censure and shook his head.