While his brother snored atop the battlements, Saitou gazed in contemplation at the sword laying naked in his hand: Tessaiga, the blade his grandfather Touga had forged from his own crushing fang. The blade which had passed to Saitou’s uncle, his mother’s first mate—the hanyou Inuyasha. Rusted and scarred, the sword’s battered appearance belied its vast power.

Tessaiga is your inheritance, Saitou, his mother had said as she’d gifted it to him, not long before vanishing from his life. Use it well—use it to protect the ones you love. Promise me you will?

Solemnly, Saitou had nodded, studying the sword that had weighed so heavy in his small hands. I’ll always protect you, Mother.

Her lips had quirked. And Touma, too?

At this, Saitou had scowled. Only earlier that day his pesky little brother had broken his favorite toy. Though he had laid into Touma until he’d cried, Saitou had still been sore about it—keenly so, after their father had laid into him. Nevertheless, he’d given his mother his grudging word.

Touma, too.

Looking over at his brother now, Saitou remembered the day that promise had been put to the test.

…

The years immediately following Kagome’s disappearance had been all but unbearable. Apart from the agony of missing his mother, Saitou’d had his father’s wrath to contend with—as Sesshoumaru had torn apart his household, his kingdom, and the country at large in his furious search for his absent mate. Each day that had passed without success had only deepened Sesshoumaru’s violent resentment.

It had become clear early on that Kagome had not been captured—but that she had fled of her own volition. That her rejection had wounded Sesshoumaru’s pride was glaring. Whether it was her scorn of him or his want of her that had driven him to such heights of rage, Saitou still could not be certain. But it had been terrible, indeed.

The rampant executions, the brutal tyranny. An atmosphere of cold dread had gripped the whole of the Western Lands, and even Saitou and Touma’s noble blood had not been enough to spare them from the unique brand of punishment their father had reserved especially for them. The slightest misstep was enough to earn them a lashing—or worse. As the eldest, Saitou had naturally borne the brunt of this cruel treatment. Though he had never been particularly fond of his father, he’d soon begun to hate him in earnest, all the more so because he’d suspected Sesshoumaru was to blame for it all.

Too young to understand the circumstances, Touma had become frightened and withdrawn at Sesshoumaru’s cold hostility. While he saw how his little brother suffered, between his grief and his anger Saitou’d had no room in his heart to spare. He’d lashed out at Touma instead, driving him off though the hanyou had never failed to come slinking back. Like a second shadow, he’d dogged Saitou’s footsteps, ears lowered and spine hunched as if always anticipating a blow.

At the time, Saitou had wondered in his irritation why his brother had persisted so. It hadn’t occurred to him that Touma’d had no one else. Their father had seemed to despise him with particular vehemence, and even their grandmother had yet to warm to him. While Saitou had been born Sesshoumaru’s full-demon heir, Touma had been born a half-demon—an outcast merely to be tolerated, in Kagome’s absence.

It was after a particularly horrible whipping at their father’s hand that Saitou had decided he’d had enough of it all. Enough of the pain. Enough of the misery. Enough of his hateful father and his annoying little brother.

He was going to leave the Western Lands—

He was going to find his mother.

…

With a patience and forbearance he would learn to perfect over the decades to come, Saitou bided his time. Not only did this make his father’s cruelty easier to bear, it served to lessen it as well. The more carefully Saitou chose his words, the more schooled he was in his actions and expressions, the less prone he was to provoke Sesshoumaru’s ire altogether. A moment or two arose, in fact, when the demon lord was visibly taken aback by this, when his sharp eyes had narrowed upon Saitou not in anger, but in estimation.

It was an observation he would appreciate only in retrospect. At the time, Saitou’s chief concern had been to avoid confinement, to gather information and to create an opportunity for his escape. His mother would call it ‘keeping a low profile’—and while she herself was terrible at it, the demon prince found that he could play the part well.

With his father away, his grandmother preoccupied with visitors, and his aged tutor drowsing at last, such an opportunity finally arose. After the first snore signaling that his tutor’s sleep had suitably deepened, Saitou rose from his meditative crouch and crept stealthily across the yard.

Last week, beneath a slab of stone in the surrounding overgrowth, he’d found a few minutes to stash Tessaiga there. Extracting it now, he strapped the broadsword to his back and approached the crumbling stone wall. Damaged in an ancient battle, this end of the palace had been largely deserted for centuries—guards rarely patrolled here, and as for the diligent few who did, Saitou had committed their routes to memory. Slipping through a crack in the wall, he knew he’d have more than enough of a window to disappear into the outlying wilderness before their sharp eyes could spot him.

Still, he made for the dense heart of the forest without delay. Panting, he drew up against the rear-facing side of a tree, a grin of pure exhilaration on his face. He’d done it!—he’d managed to escape the palace undiscovered. But there was still the matter of descending to the mortal realm, and of leaving his homeland altogether.

Stepping out from the tree, he started to set off, when a pull on his sleeve had him reeling in sudden shock and anger.

“Touma!” he gasped, glaring down.

Claws still caught in his sleeve, the hanyou shrank back. Frowning, he peered up at Saitou through the long messy fringe of his bangs.

“Brother…where are you going?”

Exhaling through gritted fangs, Saitou yanked his haori free. “Nowhere,” he snapped. “Go back to the palace.”

It infuriated him that Touma had followed him undetected. But it wasn’t the first time his little brother had managed to conceal his presence from him. Masking youki required considerable strength and skill. Despite his extensive training, even Saitou himself could not yet accomplish it to any degree of satisfaction. Yet Touma seemed able to do so with little conscious thought or effort.

Once, when Saitou had grabbed him by the collar and demanded to know how he’d done it, his brother had responded with a whimpery, “I don’t know—I just do!” It had exasperated him, angered him—almost as much as it exasperated and angered him now, to see Touma still standing there frowning up at him.

“Go,” he growled, raising his fist, “or I’ll hit you.”

Touma tensed, flinching to one side as though he’d already been struck. His amber eyes were wide, his lower lip trembling.

“You’re leaving,” he said, almost on a whine. “Just like Mother.”

Saitou’s fist lowered slightly. “I’m going to find her.”

“But, what about Father?”

“What about him,” Saitou seethed, anger boiling within him. “He hates us, and I hate him too.”

Tears welled in Touma’s eyes. As he hiccuped, Saitou glowered.

“Stop that. You’re always crying—it’s pathetic.”

Touma hiccupped again. “D-do you…do you hate me, too?”

“Of course I don’t hate you,” Saitou said irritably. “You’re my little brother.”

Touma’s ears perked as he swiped a sleeve across his splotchy face. His eyes were bright as they met Saitou’s again.

“I want to go with you, Saitou. I want to see Mother, too.”

“You don’t even remember her,” the demon prince bit back.

“I remember her scent,” Touma protested, his brow furrowing. “Take me with you, or I’m telling Grandmother.”

Saitou’s eyes narrowed at the threat. Touma generally avoided Inukimi and her retinue at all costs, but there was a determined glint in his gaze that showed he wasn’t bluffing.

“Fine,” Saitou muttered, turning, “you can come along. But if you slow me down, I’m leaving you behind.”

With Touma trotting along after him, the demon prince continued through the woods. Here, in this forest, it was eternally autumn. The air was crisp and cool and darkly fragrant. Leaves of gold and garnet glittered from the white-barked trees, crackled underfoot. Between the swaying branches, the jewel-like eyes of forest spirits glimmered at them, their whispered words flowing around them in drifts of breeze.

“How are you going to find her?” Touma asked from his brother’s side.

“She’s from the East,” Saitou said, “so that’s where I’ll start.”

“Where in the East?”

“A place called Edo.”

“Where is it?—is it very far?”

Saitou frowned. In truth, he didn’t know where Edo was. The maps he’d studied were of youkai territories, not human. Beyond escaping the palace, he hadn’t had a clear plan in place.

“…Saitou?” Touma pressed, frowning as well.

The demon prince grit his fangs. “It isn’t far,” he lied. “Now stop pestering me with questions.”

The hanyou fell silent. As the clifflike boundary that divided the mortal realm from the immortal came into sight, Saitou paused. Leaning over the edge, he squinted down into a shimmering sea of mist. Swallowing nervously, Touma peered forward with him, tiny claws grasping in his brother’s sleeve once again.

Saitou’s shoulders sank. He’d forgotten in his preoccupation that his little brother couldn’t fly. The youki cloud Saitou had recently learned to summon wasn’t yet large or strong enough to accommodate them both. At the risk of being more easily sighted, the demon prince had no choice but to assume his true form.

“Stand back,” he barked at Touma.

As his little brother released him and warily retreated, Saitou gathered his power to him in a glowing storm. The markings on his face blazed and extended. His claws and his jaws lengthened as well. Launching into the air, he felt youki rushing into him, enlarging him. His skin stretched. His growing bones broke apart and reassembled beneath it. The fur at his shoulder rushed over the bulk of his canine body, his demonic aura clearing like smoke as all four paws touched back down to the earth.

His senses were heightened as he scented the air on instinct. Though his thoughts were murky, he remembered his destination—and his brother. Turning his hot, red-hazed eyes upon Touma, he lowered his muzzle to the ground and rumbled at him, Come. Ears flat, Touma approached. Using fistfuls of ivory fur as handholds, the hanyou climbed slowly up to rest behind Saitou’s draping ears.

At once, Saitou sprang over the edge and down into the crystalline mist. Touma gasped, clutching tighter at Saitou’s fur. Shards of ice and magic chafed at them both. Squinting his eyes, Saitou tossed his head with a growl. As the mist thinned and the skies above the mortal world came into view, Saitou flew swiftly toward the nearest boundary of the Western Lands. Landing just within it, he transformed back upon impact. Touma rolled off him with a yelp.

As one, both brothers collapsed to the ground. A deluge of unfamiliar sights and smells assaulted their unprepared senses. Gagging, Saitou dug his claws into the rich earth—unleashing another fresh wave of punishment upon himself. His eyes watered. Bile rose in his throat at the cloying stenches of flora and fauna, of rawness and ripeness, of filth and blood and sweat and decay. He shuddered and panted, overwhelmed.

The immortal realm was timeless, muted. Later, Saitou would compare it to a dream—and the mortal world to reality. With his blunter senses, Touma acclimated more quickly. As Saitou struggled to still his spinning head, his brother crouched at his side and shook him by the shoulder.

“Saitou! Saitou, are you all right?”

“Stop shaking me,” the demon prince snarled, shoving him off as he breathed in as deeply as he could without taking in another nauseating flood of smells. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

But it was several long minutes before Saitou was able to unscrew his eyes, let alone rise to his feet. Blinking in the overbrightness, he clutched a nearby tree trunk for support. Unlike the stalwart trees in the immortal plane, his claws sank straight through this one’s chalky bark, sickly-sweet treesap bleeding along his wrist as he sagged down onto a large, upraised root. Sitting cross-legged in the dirt at his feet, Touma stared up at him in watery concern.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Saitou said tersely as he stood, gritting his fangs. “We need to get to the river, or they’ll be able to track us down by scent.”

Though progress was slow in the beginning, with each step Saitou felt himself adjusting to the harshness of this place. Neither he nor Touma had ever ventured beyond the palace before, let alone their homeland, and as terrifying as this strange new realm was, it was just as enthralling. Their eyes were wide as they gazed around them, captivated by the sheer vibrancy of it all. No wonder demons ventured to this place. No wonder they sought to claim it. It was as beautiful as it was loathsome to behold.

Frowning, Saitou wondered if perhaps this was the reason why his mother had returned here, after all.

The temptation to stop and stare at every new sight, at every passing creature was difficult to resist. Especially for Touma, who was younger and more easily distracted. Even as a songbird shrilled to make him flatten his ears, he gazed up at it in frozen wonder.

“Come on,” Saitou said, hooking a claw in Touma’s collar and dragging him off. “Enough dawdling.”

Keeping them more or less on a steady eastward course, Saitou heaved a sigh of relief as the trees began to thin, and the dark glint of a river appeared in the valley below. Starting to flag, Touma eyed the flinty slope in trepidation. Saitou sighed again.

“Get onto my back,” the demon prince said, crouching so that his little brother could clamber aboard.

With Touma’s arms locked around his shoulders, Saitou picked his way toward the valley below, using his youki to stabilize and support them both. The last few dozen feet they glided down, Saitou’s boots landing lightly on the river bank at last. Touma grunted as Saitou shook him off onto the sand.

“We’ll stick to the shallows for a little while,” the demon prince said, eyeing the broad swathe of rushing brown water. “Then we’ll cross.”

As Touma picked himself up with a nod, Saitou descended the sloping bank, letting just his feet sink beneath the water’s surface. Hugging as close as possible to the shore, he set off, glancing sharply back every now and then to make sure his little brother was still picking his way along behind him. Snowmelt had engorged the river, and not far from them it surged in a roaring, white-edged rush.

Just as Saitou’s skin began to numb, he paused, looking askance to find Touma halting beside him. “That should be good enough. Follow me.”

Lightly, Saitou sprang across the river. Yet when he turned back, he saw Touma still hesitating on the opposite bank.

Saitou glared. “Come on—jump.”

Touma’s features screwed up in determination. Crouching, he clearly leapt with as much strength as he could muster—but the river was a few feet too broad. Saitou’s eyes flared wide as his brother flailed, falling with a splash and a cry into the current that snatched up his small body and swept him away like a twig.

“Damn it!” Saitou snarled, racing along after his brother’s hurtling form.

Touma screamed as he was thrown over one rapid, then the next. It was when he stopped screaming that Saitou truly began to fear. In horror he watched his brother’s red-clad figure bob listlessly along in a current that was far too swift even for Saitou to ford it.

Dashing along the shore, the demon prince rushed ahead, spying at last a fallen tree that speared out into the river. With a hard veer to the right, Saitou alighted on it and sprinted to the end, snatching up Touma just as he swept by. His amber eyes were closed, his mouth slack. His face was tinged blueish white as Saitou hauled him to the grass and gave him a violent shake.

“Touma!—wake up! Do you hear me? Wake up!”

Whether it was the jolt of Saitou’s youki, or all the sheer jostling, the hanyou boy shuddered and began to cough. Expelling a mouthful of water, he peered up blearily at Saitou. Little claws dug into his chest.

“Brother…you s-saved me…”

Angry heat rose to Saitou’s cheeks. “Of course I did, you little fool. If you couldn’t have the made the jump, you should have just told me.”

Touma’s wet ears flattened. “I-I didn’t know…”

Saitou released him, scowling as Touma shook himself off on instinct and doused him all over again.

…

The going was much easier now—so easy in fact that Saitou let down his guard. If he hadn’t, he might have been able to sense the ominous threat of youki bearing down upon them. Wild and dark and rapacious.

“Touma—” Saitou shouted, a moment too late.

As if in slow motion, he watched his little brother turn toward him—his amber eyes wide as dark figures materialized around them both, closing in…

…

“Heh, heh—this one should fetch a pretty price.”

“And as for the other?”

“The half-breed? Well—a passable stew he’ll make, methinks.”

A chorus of gruff chuckles rose at this. Wincing, Saitou turned upon his bed of straw. He’d awoken in a cave of some sort, the mouth of which was sealed with iron bars. Through them, he spied a group of oni raiders sitting about a fire. Slung across the oafish back of one of them was Tessaiga.

Saitou grit his fangs. Rising, he gathered his youki and rushed the iron grate head-on—only to be thrown back smoking from the enchantment that seared red along the bars.

Beyond the grate the chuckling stopped. Rusted armor clanked as one of the raiders rose and lumbered over to him, leering. Saitou wrinkled his nose as sour breath washed over his face.

“Roused are ye, princeling? Best save your strength. Your new master will require much of you—if half the rumors be true.”

The others snickered at his. Saitou scowled, bristling.

“My brother—where is he?”

“Worry not for the half-breed. He’ll be mince-meat soon enough.”

Fangs bared, Saitou gripped the bars, acid boiling from his claws. “You filthy scum—the one who’ll be mince-meat is you.”

“Quite the sharp mouth ye have,” the oni said darkly, shoving Saitou back with the metal toe of his boot. “But no matter. Those pretty little fangs will be ripped from ye one-by-one. Ye’ll be praying to the gods to keep your trap shut, then.”

Digging his claws into the dirt floor, Saitou glared venomously, though his heart pounded in dread. Touma…

Saitou would never forgive himself for dragging his little brother into this mess. Would their mother ever forgive him, either?

“Fuck you,” he seethed up at his captor. “Whatever you do to us will come back on you ten-fold—all of you.”

The oni spared him an ugly glower. From the campfire, another bit out, “Might get a head-start on that fang-pulling, captain.”

Drawing a dark hooked knife from his belt, the oni captain phased through the red glowing grate. “…Mayhaps I should.”

Picking himself up from the ground, Saitou drew back in a defensive crouch. His head lowered, youki crackling around him as his lips peeled back from his lengthening fangs. But he couldn’t transform in here—the cave would crush him back down to size. Unarmed and undersized, he was at a terrible disadvantage against his opponent. Smiling nastily at him, the oni captain clearly knew it.

“Now, be a good whelp and—”

The captain froze as the night darkened further, a vast suffocating presence thundering down upon the clearing. Green fire sparked through the air as tortured screams rose from beyond the grate. The oni stiffened, eyes wide as he turned—just in time for the torn bars to come slamming back into him, slicing him raggedly in two.

Sesshoumaru hadn’t lifted so much as a finger to do it. From the mouth of the cave he stood glaring red-eyed murder, his massive dark youki roiling around him in a scintillating storm. Saitou tensed as that searing gaze narrowed upon him.

“Touma,” Sesshoumaru spoke, his voice cold as ice as he seized his eldest son up by the scruff like a wayward pup. “Where is he?—where is my son?”

Saitou’s lips parted on impulse to say, I am your son too, Father. But he thought better of it. He had never heard such raw anger in Sesshoumaru’s voice before. He’s frightened, Saitou realized, and the knowledge frightened him in turn.

Saitou’s eyes stung. “I—I’m not sure. They wouldn’t—”

Sesshoumaru turned his head sharply, as though he’d heard something that Saitou could not. Just as swiftly as he’d snatched his son up, Sesshoumaru dropped him back down into the dust and swept from the cave in a burst of white light.

Stunned, Saitou stared after his father for a moment, before wrenching Tessaiga off the dead oni captain and taking off into the night.

Transformed, Saitou dashed through the air, narrowing his eyes. But even with his keener senses, Sesshoumaru’s form was a starry pinprick against the velvety dark. Relying on his father’s scent trail instead, Saitou raced after him up the mountainside, skirting the treetops with his paws.

As the trail ended, Saitou landed heavily, panting as he returned to his two-legged self. The raiders’ hideout loomed before him—a great timbered hollowing in the side of the silvery cliff.

Or at least it had been.

Wandering forward, Saitou clenched his jaw against the scene of carnage that sprawled before him. The timbers were smashed and splintered. Torn from the mountain dwelling, great chunks of rock had tumbled down to snap the great green pines below like twigs. The twisted, mangled bodies of oni raiders lay scattered about as Saitou made his way toward a vast glowing orb whose aura had his hackles rising.

His father stood a short way from it, his fists and fangs clenched warily. The long white fall of his fur faintly singed where it must have come too close to that blinding white dome. As Saitou drew up beside Sesshoumaru, he gasped aloud in shock at what he saw—

Within the orb, his little brother sunk into a feral crouch. His eyes were two seething violet slits of pure madness. Ragged purple stripes stood out on his cheeks. Dripping dark venom, his fangs protruded like sabers from his tiny mouth, his claws and clothes and the rocky earth around him slathered in hot, steaming blood.

The one who had wrought this devastation had not been his father, Saitou realized grimly, but Touma.

Calling out his name, Saitou watched with mounting dread as his words fell on deaf ears. His little brother—what had happened to him? Anxiously, Saitou advanced another step—his father’s clawed grip striking out to arrest him.

“That is a reiki barrier—stay back, or you’ll be purified.” Viciously, Saitou shook his head—Touma would never hurt him. With all his strength, he ripped himself out of his father’s hold and sprang forward. “Saitou!”

It was a chilling sensation, passing through that pale shield which had scorched even his mighty father. But though it jarred him to the bone, Saitou didn’t burn. Through to the other side, he eyed his snarling brother with regret, padding toward him.

“Touma…”

“Come back here now!” Sesshoumaru roared, but Saitou ignored him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Saitou murmured, as those violet eyes glared at him with the same total, hostile lack of recognition they’d glared at his father. “Touma, please—”

With a deranged howl, Touma lunged at him with claws outstretched. Gritting his fangs, Saitou dodged the strike, looking in anguish as his brother wheeled around to attack him again.

“Touma, stop!” Saitou yelled desperately, reaching for the sheathed sword at his back.

As Touma bore down on him, Saitou brought Tessaiga up, shoving it straight between his brother’s gnashing fangs. Blue light sparked out on contact, throwing Touma back and making Saitou wince. But as he rose from his daze, he saw his brother sitting hunched and shivering, his eyes a clear sheening gold once again.

“S-Saitou…” Touma rasped. “I’m scared…”

“It’s all right now.” Panting, Saitou crossed the distance between them and caught his little brother up in a crushing hug. “You’re all right…”

Clutching him back, Touma sniffled, dampening Saitou’s haori. Somewhere in the confusion, the reiki barrier around them had fallen. The two brothers glanced up as the haze cleared, and Sesshoumaru approached them.

“Stay away from us!” Saitou shouted angrily, pushing his brother behind him as he shot to his feet. Whipping Tessaiga from its sheath, he levelled the sword at his father, scarcely noting how it had transformed into a great grey-white blade. “We left because of you—because we couldn’t stand another day living under your heel! It’s not our fault that Mother left you, but you take it out on us anyway. You’re a monster, and we hate you—we fucking hate you…”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze flickered, though he continued to advance upon his glaring son. Saitou’s grip on Tessaiga trembled violently as Sesshoumaru pressed it aside and knelt before them both.

“My sons,” he said quietly, gathering the two of them close to his chest. “I am here.”

As Touma began to cry in earnest, Saitou choked past the lump in his throat. Warm fur enfolded him as it hadn’t since he was a small child. He felt like a small child again, as a cloud of youki formed beneath their feet, spiriting them together toward home.

…

Touma slept for a day and a half. All the while, Saitou scarcely left his side. He hesitated even to sleep, for fear that Touma would wake and be mad again.

But sleep claimed Saitou eventually. It was the night of the new moon, though this fact had slipped his mind until he stirred awake and saw his brother slumbering in human form. The dark, wavy shock of his hair was as startling to Saitou as the human ears that peeped out from beneath it.

Saitou didn’t think he would ever grow used to his brother’s monthly transformations—but compared to that demonic horror he’d become the other day, Saitou didn’t think he would mind this form so much any more.

Like this, Touma’s resemblance to their mother was unmistakable. Frowning, Saitou studied him from across the room—but he wasn’t alone. By the shadows of Touma’s bed, his father sat, his golden eyes tracing over Touma’s human features as well. As Touma turned onto his side, blinking groggily, the blue of his eyes was visible to Saitou for a heart-wrenching moment.

In the catch of Sesshoumaru’s youki, Saitou felt the echo of this wrench.

“Father,” he whispered out, though he didn’t fully understand why he did.

Not lifting his gaze from Touma’s sleeping face, Sesshoumaru rumbled at him, “Leave me be.”

…

Now, decades later, as Saitou recalled that night, he gave voice at last to the grim certainty in his heart. In the expressions in his mother’s and father’s eyes, Saitou had read the unspoken truth: that both of them loved Touma best.

And why shouldn’t they, Saitou reflected, as he gazed down into the muddled image captured by the rusty blade. Saitou was little more than a scion of Sesshoumaru, warmed to life in Kagome’s womb—but Touma was their child in truth. In him was the true melding of their flesh and spirit.

He was conceived in love, and so they loved him.

A bitter half-smile touched Saitou’s lips. To him went the kingdom, the glory—but how empty these trophies seemed. Even Tessaiga seemed a hollow prize as he held it in his hand.

Selfishly, Saitou had coveted this sword, as he had coveted the woman who gave it to him. A sword that would serve his brother better than him—this Saitou had known for years, yet he had held to Tessaiga anyway.

Truly, he was his father’s son. And the thought cheered him as little now as it ever had.

Rising from his stony perch, Saitou walked over to his brother, who slept as soundly as a pup. Touma…the only one who had ever truly loved him. At last, Saitou saw his mother’s gift to him for what it was—a charge. A sword to be held in keeping for the one who’d never thought to ask for it in the first place.

Saitou knelt down. Through his brother’s folded arms, he slipped the sheathed blade without so much as a whisper. Against Touma’s shoulder, the frayed hilt rested, and the image looked so right to Saitou that a true smile tugged at his lips.

Perhaps he couldn’t let go of his mother, but this—this much he could part with in peace.

Turning away, Saitou gathered his youki to him and sailed high into the lightening sky, toward a destiny of his own making.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

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