“Toutousai,” Sesshoumaru said. “I see you have answered my summons.”

“Indeed I have,” the old smith returned, muttering dryly aside, “not that I had much choice in the matter.” Turning back to the daiyoukai, he pointed his long-handled hammer at him. “So, you’re in need of repairs, eh? I’ll not touch that infernal Tokijin, if that’s what you’re angling for.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes flashed. “Tokijin is no more.”

“Ah,” Toutousai said, relaxing. “Good, good. It was an abomination, you know.”

“So you say,” the demon lord replied, in a tone Kagome recognized as particularly dangerous. “But I did not summon you here for your opinions. You will repair my armor and forge me a new sword, worthy of this Sesshoumaru.”

Toutousaid paled, looking queasy.

“New sword?” Kagome asked with a frown, pulling her towel up a little higher over her damp chest. “But, what about Tessaiga?”

As his cool gaze rested upon her, she thought back to the battle on the mountain. Sesshoumaru must have transformed after Tokijin was broken, which meant…

The young miko’s eyes widened at him in comprehension. “You…you still can’t wield it, can you?”

Around them, the temperature seemed to drop a few more degrees. Myouga, Toutousai, and  even Shippou were all backing away from her in trepidation. Eyes narrowed, Sesshoumaru turned, setting a course for the village.

“Come,” he commanded frostily.

As Toutousai and his bovine steed cantered reluctantly after the demon lord, Kagome and Shippou hung back to dress, Myouga politely averting his gaze.

“That was a close one,” the flea exhaled in relief.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Shippou said under his breath, his expression positively vulpine as he glanced over at his adopted mom. “Sesshoumaru must really like you, Kagome-chan.”

Kagome tensed, the shampoo bottle in her hand slipping into the hot spring with a splash. “Like me? No way.”

As she fished the bottle out, Myouga hopped up onto her shoulder, peering at her through squinty eyes.

“The young lad speaks true,” the flea youkai said, one hand braced beneath his chin. “I have seen Sesshoumaru-sama strike down many a man for far less than that. He must esteem you greatly.”

Kagome shook her head. “Trust me, you guys—nothing could be further from the truth. But he’s here fighting on our side, and that’s what’s important.”

Hesitantly, Myouga nodded. “As you say…”

His inquisitive stare remained upon her all the way back to the village. A small crowd had gathered around as Toutousai set up a makeshift forge outisde of Kaede’s hut. Fire streamed from his puffed cheeks as he hammered away at Sesshoumaru’s armor atop an anvil he’d scrounged up from Kami-knows-where. Reclining against the wall of the hut, Sesshoumaru supervised, golden eyes flicking toward her as she approached.

“Looks like he’s really going at it,” Kagome said, crossing her arms over her jacketed chest as she stood beside him on the porch.

“An admirable display of skill,” Miroku remarked wryly from the steps. “One would almost suspect that his life depended on it.”

Next to him, Sango hid a smile behind her gloved hand. Kagome struggled to suppress her grin as well, watching another drop of sweat bead on Toutousai’s forehead every time he snuck a panicked glance at Sesshoumaru.

A while later, as the youkai smith was putting the finishing touches on the armor, Kagome sighed, turning toward the daiyoukai. “I guess he’ll be making your new sword next, then.”

Toutousai froze, his breath of flame sputtering to smoke as he looked toward them. “About that…” He shrank in upon himself. “Can’t be done, I’m afraid.”

“Huh?” Kagome blinked.

By the time she opened her eyes again, Sesshoumaru had Toutousai by the collar, his poison claws wreaking even more havoc on the old smith’s frayed kimono. Gasping in shock, the onlookers withdrew, Miroku and Sango tensing warily.

“Yowww!” Toutousai yelped, his pinprick pupils spinning wildly as the daiyoukai tightened his hold. “Threaten me all you like—there’s nothing for it! Your fangs are too caustic for swordmaking. The blade would be unstable at best.”

Sesshoumaru released him in disdain, a ribbon of youki spooling from his claws. “Then you are of no further use to me.”

“Sesshoumaru, wait!” Kagome cried, throwing herself between the demon lord and the cowering smith.

“Stand aside,” the daiyoukai said lowly.

Stubbornly, Kagome stood her ground. “He fixed your armor for you, didn’t he? And maybe…” she paused, grasping at straws. “…Maybe Toutousai has another suggestion?”

“Well,” the old smith said hopefully, rubbing his singed neck, “if we could dig up some of Inuyasha’s fangs and restore them with Tenseiga…”

He trailed off at Sesshoumaru’s murderous glare.

Kagome frowned sadly. “Inuyasha’s remains were cremated, Toutousai.”

“Ah, a pity.” The old swordsmith shook his head, his moustaches drooping. “Then, only one choice remains…but it’s a gamble.”

Looking askance at Kagome, Toutousai stroked his goatee in thought. She had a moment to question before his hammer ignited above her, swinging down at her in a fiery arc—

Only to clash against the blazing, transformed edge of Tessaiga.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

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