Will make more sense if you’ve read this one…

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Seated across from Sesshoumaru’s mother in her solar, Hirokin poured them both another cup of tea, his ceremony as smooth and refined as his own mother’s had been, in his memory. It was fair to say that Hirokin sought to emulate her in all that he did, to be a mirror of her understated elegance, her measured poise. Of all her children, he liked to think that he bore the closest resemblance to her.

He liked to think that she would have thought the same.

Inukimi reminded him of his mother Haname in many ways. There were few whom Hirokin respected, even less whom he admired, yet Sesshoumaru’s mother was decidedly among them. Her regard for him was mutual, and while in the past he had leaned on her for guidance, now often she consulted him. It was a gradual shift in their dynamic which Hirokin hoped would play to his advantage, in the events to come.

But for now, he put thoughts of such machinations aside and pressing matters of diplomacy discussed, simply enjoyed her company.

Apart from an initial bland inquiry, he had been careful not to bring up Kou to Inukimi directly, though her continued good opinion of him was a constant source of anxiety in Hirokin’s mind. Fortunately, she seemed pleased enough with her newest guard, and offered up anecdotes with reassuring regularity.

“Did I tell you that one of my maids has been stealing jewels from me?” Inukimi began with a sniff.

“No, my lady,” Hirokin replied, smiling slightly.

“Only the occasional theft, here and there it seems,” Sesshoumaru’s mother resumed. “It wasn’t even a necklace I’d often worn, but Kou noticed that it was short a pearl—can you believe it?” Her amber eyes glittered, bemused. “The poor thing had a time trying to convince me of it. First there was this note—” Rising, she opened the drawer of a lacquered writing table and extracted a slip of rice paper, which bore in a barely intelligible scrawl the phrase ‘gem gone’. “—and then an elaborate miming routine. I got the gist of it soon enough, but I’ll admit I let him carry on for a while before I had the maids’ quarters turned out.” Inukimi’s smile was wry as she shook her head. “Who would have guessed that Kou knew some letters? He must have taught himself.”

In fact, it was Hirokin who had been teaching him—though the character for ‘gem’ was one Kou must somehow have discovered for himself, for Hirokin had not taught him that. Easily disguised as amusement, the demon prince’s eyes were alight as he handed the note back to her—a curious sort of pride surfacing within him.

“Necessity breeds resourcefulness, Inukimi-sama,” Hirokin remarked dryly, raising the teacup to his lips. “He is, after all, a mute.”

“I shall continue my guard’s education, then,” the Western Lady said, a keen glint in her gaze as she let the note flutter down into the open drawer. “And see what other secrets he has to tell.”

With perfect nonchalance, Hirokin took another sip of his tea, though inside he was shaken. A mere coincidence, in all likelihood. And even if Inukimi did happen to be fishing for something, it was far from tangible.

But all thoughts of Kou instantly escaped him as Hirokin happened to catch sight of another note in Inukimi’s desk drawer. The flourishing, fanciful penmanship was unmistakable. The demon prince dropped his cup with a clatter, agitation spiking through him.

“That is my father’s writing,” he spat, pointing to the offending note in accusation. “Has he been petitioning you, Inukimi-sama?”

“In a sense,” the Western Lady replied, her expression pinched in a way Hirokin could not readily divine. “Here, read it for yourself.”

Struggling to keep his youki contained, Hirokin stood and snatched up the note, the tea in the kettle nearby nevertheless simmering anew as his eyes scored over the page.

My Dearest Pet—

Though it cannot compare to the Gold of Your Eyes, I hope you will find the enclosed Trinket to Your Especial Liking.

As it warms to Your Fair Bosom, so I long to cleave to you in Heated Passion. I, Banded in Your Fur—and you, Coiled in My Scales, as ever we are in My Private Thoughts. Such Exquisite Pleasure we shall share, whence joined in Flesh and Spirit.

Your Devoted Lover,

—Ryuu

The parchment crumpled in Hirokin’s shaking fist. Never before had he felt such an upheaval of rage and revulsion. The depths of his mortification were so great that he could not yet discern the extent of them, though he had no doubt they would be made known to him soon enough.

“This is vile,” he hissed out, the liquid contents of the kettle and teacups bursting into steam. “Reprehensible. The ingrate even had the audacity to sign it with this revolting nickname.”

“You made it to the end?” Inukimi said, arching a brow. “I couldn’t stomach more than the first line.” Frowning down at her empty cup, she added, “It’s not the first note I’ve received from him, by the way.”

Hirokin grimaced. “Forgive him, my lady. He is a hopeless fool.” His tone darkened as he stalked toward the door. “I will set him to rights.”

It was as he strode past her that a brilliant gleam caught his eye as it hadn’t before—a fine chain of soft, lustrous sea-gold, delicately encircling Inukimi’s throat. Not quite meeting his stare, she touched her claws lightly to the chain, a faint trace of red dusting her cheeks.

“It is a lovely piece,” she said.

…

Beneath a crystalline fall, the dragon dozed—sprawling and sea-green, her translucent wings folded against her sides in a shimmering veil. At Hirokin’s approach, her fanned ears perked. Golden eyes slid open as she lifted her head toward him.

“Ohana,” he greeted, his boiling fury calming slightly as he patted her smooth, tapered snout. “We are going home.”

Snorting out a fine icy mist, the dragoness gave her wings an irritable snap as she slid reluctantly into the pool. Hirokin’s lips twitched. It was his sentiment precisely.

“At least your father is respectable,” Hirokin said as he stepped atop her proffered tail. “That is some consolation.”

His dragon flicked her ears in agreement before diving down, spiriting them along waterways mystic and labyrinthine. Still relatively young, Ohana had yet to learn all the paths, but her intuition was keen, and in only a short while, they arrived at the underwater colossus that was Hirokin’s ancestral home—the Great Water Palace of the West.

Gliding through the floating, shell-encrusted gates, they soared high over the imperial city toward the castle at the center. Though the whole palace lay beneath a vast enchanted Lake, only the lower stories were currently submerged. Breaking the surface of the inner lake, Ohana spiralled up toward the great veranda. As she passed it, Hirokin slipped from her back and alighted gracefully onto a plaza of water-worn stone. Shaded by the blue-green glow of the Lake surface above, the pitted marble was cool beneath his bare feet. As he approached the great hall, the lines of trident-wielding soldiers parted, bowing, before his advance.

Inside the many-chambered space, he met with the usual display of clannish indolence. Low-ranking lords jockeyed at the fringes. Higher-ranking ones circled hopefully toward the center. All of them were at least distantly related to Hirokin himself. Ignoring their simpering salutations, Hirokin pushed past them toward the innermost chamber, where his aunts, uncles, siblings, and a few favored cousins lounged with his father at the very heart of the serpents’ den.

Reclining on plush velvet couches and cushions, bedecked with precious metals, silks, and jewels, they were the very picture of slothful extravagance. Despite the earliness of the evening hour, most of them were already drunk on the finest sake gold could buy—even his youngest sister Himamori could barely keep her eyes fixed upon him as she staggered over to clasp his sleeve.

“Has Sesshoumaru-sama sent for me, Onii-san?” she asked in a silky slur.

Hirokin grit his teeth as he shook her off. Just the sight of her infuriated him, to wear Haname’s face so well and yet to be such an insult to her memory.

“No, he hasn’t ‘sent for you’, nor will he ever,” Hirokin snapped as she stumbled back from him with an ugly scowl.

“He doesn’t want either of us, Hima,” Hanako drawled. Drunk entirely on resentment, she glared at Hirokin from her perch on Houseki’s thigh. “Nor both of us, for that matter.”

“He doesn’t need you,” Houseki said, smiling nastily at his younger brother as he pulled Himamori into his lap as well, running his claws through her white-gold hair. “Not with Hirokin as his mistress.”

As the three of them laughed at this, Hirokin turned and strode toward the River Lord, who, as usual, was bickering drunkenly with his own siblings. “Father, I need to speak with you.”

Ryuutarou peered up from his throne, his lips pursing in their perpetual pout. “Nanda, Hirokin…can’t it wait? Here, have some wine.”

“No,” Hirokin said, spearing his wily father with a glare.

Loosely wreathing the River Lord’s lounging form, the overlapping rings of his silver scales froze in their sinuous orbit. From the chilling spread of Hirokin’s aura, his other relatives drew warily back.

“Gods,” Ryuutarou muttered, squirming a bit beneath the force of his son’s displeasure. “All right,” he groused as he straightened. “Everyone out.“

Grumbling and hissing, the rest of Hirokin’s family slithered from the chamber. Alone at last, Hirokin removed the crushed love note from his haori and thrust it into his father’s peevish face.

“Is this your latest foolish scheme to elevate yourself—by ‘seducing’ Sesshoumaru-sama’s mother?”

Staring for a moment at the crumpled parchment, the River Lord’s slitted emerald eyes slid slowly aside. “‘Ryuu’…that could be anyone.”

Hirokin seethed. “Don’t play stupid with me, Father. Do you think I don’t know your goddamned lettering when I see it? Do you think Sesshoumaru-sama wouldn’t be able to guess who ‘Ryuu’ is? You’re lucky I found this trash before him. If he knew you were calling his mother your ‘pet’, not even I would be able to stop him from ripping out your insolent throat.”

Ryuutarou was silent for a moment. “…Well, did she send a reply?”

Hirokin went red in the face. “No, she didn’t send a fucking reply. She would never—”

The demon prince cut off as his father’s gaze flicked toward a chest in the corner. Gliding along at Hirokin’s heels, Ryuutarou followed close behind as Hirokin stormed over to it, upending the contents of the chest onto the mosaic floor. Amidst a pile of trinkets were a few fluttering slips of parchment. Hirokin scarcely dared to breathe as he unfolded the first.

Ryuutarou—

You may continue to send me jewels, if you insist, but that is all.

—Inukimi

The rest of the notes were written with an equally dismissive, scathing air. Hirokin relaxed, reading a few choice examples aloud.

“She sees right through your ‘advances’, Father—it’s painfully obvious. And fortunate for you that she’s decided to take them for a joke rather than an offense.”

Ryuutarou waved, the light gesture weighed down by all the rings that gleamed from his finely-boned fingers. “What is obvious, my son, is that you have no understanding of females.” A polished silver claw glinted at him for emphasis. “And no sense of romance, in general.”

Hirokin glared. “And you are the expert, I take it?”

“How else would I have wooed and wed your mother?” the River Lord retorted, puffing out his chest. It was, in truth, a mystery which Hirokin had been puzzling over his entire life. “Inukimi is a prize—no bitch that worthy will be quick or easy to claim. What is clear to me is that she is testing me. It is there, in the subtext. A lesser demon would be dismayed. But I have the wisdom, the skill—and the patience.”

As Ryuutarou lay back on his throne and took another sip of sake, Hirokin translated ‘patience’ to indolence in his mind. As usual, his father was reading into things once again.

“Stop harassing her,” the demon prince said flatly. “If I find another one of these notes, you’ll have no buyers for your dragons or minerals. No suppliers who will sell sake to you, or any other luxuries. No other noble houses who will even entertain the notion of associating with you. You will be cut off, outcast. Impoverished and disgraced.”

The River Lord scowled. “You have no love for your poor father,” he accused, his voice rising in a petulant whine. “If only your mother could see how cruel you are to me…”

“If only my mother could see how faithless you are to her, writing lascivious notes to another female,” Hirokin shot back, his father’s words hitting their intended mark.

“Haname would want me to be happy,” Ryuutarou replied, his voice quavering with emotion as he emptied his cup. “My Haname…I took her maidenhead, you know. How snug she was, then and ever after. Such sweet sounds she would make when I brought her to pleasure. And when she was with child, she would ride me for hours upon end—especially with you,” the River Lord said with a sigh. “I would have put a hundred more of you in her, if only I could. Oh, Haname…”

Hirokin ground his teeth. The last thing he ever wanted to hear was a stream of sordid anecdotes about his mother.

“That’s enough, Father.”

Ryuutarou nodded, drinking straight from the gilded bottle. “Yes, yes, I digress. What I mean to say…what I mean to intimate, is that Haname is dead.” Hirokin clenched his fists, glaring. “Dead, though I lament it. And yet, here I am, still alive—Inukimi as well, though her mate has perished. Do we both not deserve a measure of solace in our widowed state? She is a dog, and I am a dragon—in the past, our kinds would never have mixed. But are you not yourself bosom friends with her only son? Times are changing, and we are both of us daiyoukai—and she has bewitched me. So, why not?”

At the fervent gleam in his father’s eyes, Hirokin could see that Ryuutarou was entirely immersed in his romantic delusion. Genuinely convinced of some mutual infatuation with Sesshoumaru’s mother. It was not an uncommon occurrence, and more aggravating to defuse than a simple plot or diversion. It would have to play itself safely out, in one manner or another.

Hoping to channel at least a portion of this romantic energy away, Hirokin said, “Shouldn’t you be more concerned with arranging a match for Houseki? He is your heir.”

“My heir was Hiraitou,” his father said woundedly. “Houseki is still young, still finding his way.”

“By fucking everything with breasts—including his sisters?” Hirokin said acidly, making Ryuutarou wrinkle his nose in distaste. “He is older than me, or have you forgotten? Find him a suitable mate and secure our family line.”

Ryuutarou squinted. “I might have already, if I didn’t think you would oppose it.”

“I don’t give a fuck who Houseki marries,” Hirokin said frankly. In terms of marriage alliances, his sisters were far more important. “So long as she flatters him, he should be satisfied. So long as she’s tractable, so should I.”

“Very well,” Ryuutarou said, his voice edged in a way that made Hirokin instantly wary. “So long as you arrange for my pet to visit me.”

“You are insane if you think Inukimi-sama will come here. If you want to see her so badly, go to the Western Palace.”

Ryuutarou cringed, his obvious—and very well-founded—fear of Sesshoumaru making this a moot point. As Hirokin turned to leave, his father clasped him by the shoulder, his voice hushed with a strained, cryptic urgency.

“Will you tell her, then, that I will await her in the valley, on that day?”

“What valley?—what day?” Hirokin said impatiently, shaking his head. “You’re speaking nonsense, Father.”

“I dare not say more. Promise me you will tell her only that?”

“Fine,” Hirokin said, though he had no intention of relaying such vague, drunken ramblings.

…

As Hirokin exited the main hall, he glanced around for Ohana, yet the dragoness was nowhere to be seen. Following the faint thread of their bond, he discovered her in the wild depths of the Lake, swimming alongside her father Okouji, who dwarfed even Ohana’s impressive size. For a time, Hirokin simply watched them furl and unfurl around one another, breaking apart and rejoining in the draconic semblance of an embrace. Despite his lingering irritations with his own father, a measure of peace transcended him at the sight.

“She should be mine, that dragon,” a sour voice remarked from over his shoulder. “That’s twice now you’ve taken one from me.”

Hirokin turned toward his elder brother, his eyes hard. “You had a dragon. Your squandering of Okashi can hardly be blamed on me.”

“That was Father’s doing, remember,” Houseki said acridly. His venomous gaze bore into Hirokin’s as he touched down before him, the silver-green hair of their father’s haloing around him in the deep. “But Okashi was never truly mine. He was Hiraitou’s.” Taking a swig from the wine flask in his fist, he glared at Hirokin. “Am I only ever to have his leavings, while you get to take whatever you want?”

“You are the heir to a great kingdom, what else could you possibly want?” Hirokin bit out, at the end of his patience. “You have only what has been given to you because you’ve never lifted a finger for anything more—and because you haven’t, you don’t even appreciate what do you have, which is considerable. You are lazy and entitled, and you will always envy and resent me, because I am not.” Hirokin’s lip curled. “Yes, I took two dragons from you. And if there were two more, I would take them, too. You may be River Lord one day, but I will forever be above you, Ani-ue. Now and always.”

Summoning Ohana to him, Hirokin settled behind her silver-horned crown.

“Think yourself high and mighty if you like, little brother,” Houseki called wrathfully up to him. “But you are no less Sesshoumaru-sama’s pawn than the rest of us. He’s using you as well. You’re just too in love with him to see it.”

“No, Houseki,” Hirokin laughed. “I just don’t fucking care.”

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Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi