Mother

Sesshoumaru lifted a hand to the small sewn‐in pocket of his kimono, making sure, once more, that the trinket was still tucked safely away. In a field of small 6‐petaled white flowers, he lifted his face to the gentle warmth of the morning sun. His eyes followed the dips and swells of the clouds above as they slid lazily along, searching out a particular shape in them.

He did not have to wait long.

A large, bold silhouette darted swiftly behind them, and Sesshoumaru rose to join it in equal grace. His blood burned, and he reveled in the familiar sensation that now washed over him. He allowed his guise to melt away, his body swelling and morphing to reveal his true demonic form.

With a great roar, he bound higher into the sky, easily catching up with the sleek inu youkai there. She roared back at him, more in greeting than in warning, and dove into a lower patch of clouds to begin the usual game with the more muscular creature that now tailed her.

As much as Sesshoumaru disliked visiting his mother, this part he actually took pleasure in. The chase and romp were relaxing to him, for in this shape he was free and true to his nature. He could recall a time in his younger, smaller days when he existed solely in this form; pure and swift and savage.

Only lesser demons, however, remained as their wild selves, so as they arrived at her sky castle, he forced himself to condense once more into the human‐like shape most demons knew him for. His mother joined him in this form, her trailing haori lined with fur at the bottom and shoulders hopping from step to step as he followed her lead up the tower of stairs.

The large platform below was made for just this; to provide a receiving area for the natural forms of her guests which possessed the gift of flight. The staircase took her guests up past walkway after walkway on either side, filled with demon guards of all breeds. While ripe with age, experience, and her own form of wisdom, Sesshoumaru's mother was not what one would call a combatant. At the top, a smaller, more patio‐like area spread out before them. Here resided a home‐like structure in the center and an adorned throne‐lounge at the heart of a clearly outlined meeting area.

Waving off the nearest guards, the woman herself comfortably into her lounge, resting her striped cheek delicately on a clawed fingertip as she examined her son with a gentle, self‐satisfied expression.

"How kind of you to come visit your dear mother, Sesshoumaru. It has been far too long. Tell me, did you miss me?"

Her tone was sweet and mocking.

Sesshoumaru instantly lost every vestige of pleasure he had been nursing from the journey here. He fetched the small crescent moon hair adornment from his kimono, passing it to a servant to deliver back to his mother wordlessly. It was better not to speak here, Sesshoumaru knew. The two were similar enough in nature and mannerisms that she would understand the words in his silence.

Sesshoumaru was also well aware that his mother would find some way to use whatever he said to her advantage. That was their game, after all, more a battle of teasing, wills, and wits. It was enjoyable enough, usually, though Sesshoumaru did not care for the teasing. The servant offered the trinket to his mother and she examined it with, what Sesshoumaru knew was fake, shock and relief.

"Oh, my! I have been looking everywhere for this." She gave him a teasing smile. "Only the most generous of sons would come so far for something so trivial."

She tossed the trinket over her shoulder carelessly, her nearest retainer diving to catch it before it hit the ground without her seeming to notice or care.

Sesshoumaru's eye twitched.

'You did not lose it, conniving bitch, you had father plant it.'

"I have placed on hold temporarily my own business so I might come to this place, as you have requested of me. Now, tell me, dear mother, why am I here? Surely your trinket is not so important as to require my traveling all this way."

His tone and smirk were equally mocking. Two could play this game. His mother's smiled lessened only slightly.

"So direct. Dear Sesshoumaru, did I not spend years teaching you the art of conversation?"

"Indeed, you did, hours of time spent dancing through pleasantries, placations, and pedantry. I've no such time to waste anymore. Tell me why I am here."

"Always so crass and bold. Surely your business is not so pressing that you cannot spare at least a few moments to entertain your dearest mother?"

'I will not be your plaything. If you want gossip and conversation, find another bitch of your rank.'

His eye twitched again, but remained silent, his own form of protest against this foolish waste of time. After a moment, she seemed to grow tired of his lack of participation. Abandoning all pretense of hospitality, she finally did as Sesshoumaru silently begged she would and got to the point.

"Tell me, where will you go from here, after you leave my castle?

���I will make my way south to the Boar tribe and investigate them."

"That is the business you find so important, then. Is this in service to your father or for your own purposes?"

"It will satisfy both my desires and assist father in his own campaign."

"I see…"

She sounded as bored with the exchange as Sesshoumaru felt. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded slightly and straightened herself, and he could feel the weight of her noble command in her honey eyes and voice.

"It cannot be helped… Sesshoumaru," she declared boldly, "your father has decided it is time for you to learn the dance of politics; it is also my will. While you may see no value in these skills currently as you focus on maturing yourself and your sword, you will find them undoubtedly useful in forging your own empire in the centuries to come.

How long you remain in your father's domain is for you to decide, however, it is inevitable that you will strike out in search of your own power, and with great success. At that time, you will become competition, blood though you may be. Do not expect any such considerations from your father or myself at that time. These skills will also serve you well then."

Sesshoumaru gave a long blink as he sifted through what was posturing, what was placating, and what was the cold truth.

'So, you've brought me here to scold me, to force father's will upon this Sesshoumaru. You truly have nothing better to do with your time, do you, female?'

"And what would you have this Sesshoumaru do?"

He did little to refrain from sneering. Her tone was suddenly sharp.

"Foolish brat, if you cannot discover the wise path from this, then you truly are a hopeless dolt; without grace or charm or wit; nothing more than sharp claws and malicious intent."

She turned her face away, as though saddened and shamed.

"I thought I had raised a princely whelp, not this barbarian before me who treads on pearls."

She glanced at her son from the corner of her eye. Finding him unmoved by her 'distress' and insults, scoffed, then chuckled.

"This cannot be avoided, Sesshoumaru, no matter how you detest it. Use this opportunity to posture yourself as something more than a mindless crusader at your father's command. Though you may find them unappealing now, the females will carry your reputation to their territories, and remember your considerations when you do come to call. It is, in the end, a mutually beneficial endeavor. "

Sesshoumaru slipped a lock of hair back behind his ear, smiling gently to himself as he spoke with a tone of finality. He was finished with this drabble. Did she honestly think he had not considered these things?

"That is a tempting proposition. However, this Sesshoumaru has no such time to waste. My reputation is mine to establish, with my own hands. As such, I have more important things to tend to."

He gave his mother an appropriate bow and turned to leave.

"Oh? Indeed? Such as toying with that half‐breed pet of yours?"

Sesshoumaru paused on a step and turned his head back to his mother with a carefully stoic expression.

"'Pet'?" he asked sharply.

'How did she…?'

His mother smirked, resting her cheek delicately atop a clawed fingertip once more.

"Oh, come now, don't think your father has been completely ignorant to your little form of amusement. Besides, her smell pervades everything about you. Honestly, when he told me you had taken a hanyou as an attendant, I made a bet that she would not last more than a year under your 'care'. To hear that she is still around and kicking, well, to be honest, I'm surprised, though it means I do owe your father those silks from the mainland for winning our wager. Do bring the thing with you next time? Her scent is strangely familiar, and I think I would find her entertaining, considering she's survived five years under your special 'attentions'"

She laughed softly.

"Enlighten your mother, Sesshoumaru, why did you choose such a plaything?"

He was truly finished with this now; finished with the pointless conversation, the teasing, the interrogation. Rage shot through Sesshoumaru as he turned to face his mother, the ice in his tone matching fire in his eyes.

"The half‐breed is of no concern to you or father. It is a creature of service, nothing more. I, Sesshoumaru, am not so afflicted by childish tendencies as to keep a 'pet' or 'plaything'. That, mother, is your purview."

He did not bother excusing himself again. With a flick of his wrist, he swathed himself in his mokomoko and quickly removed himself from his insufferable matriarch.