If only a handful of years ago, someone had told Hirokin he’d be taken like a woman against the wall of some musty old abandoned guard shack, he would have smiled his most slight and silvery of smiles, and had them tortured to death long and slow.

As it was, he was frantic to have his ass pounded into frenzied submission. Against the dank, moldering boards, his face was hot as hellfire. His balls threatened to explode with the friction of each goring thrust, with the hot damp panting of his lover’s breath against the vein hammering in his throat.

“…Hirokin,” Kou groaned against him with a rasp of fang, his youki fraying in that predictable, inevitable way. “I…”

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Hirokin hissed back. His own fist clutched around the big clawed hand pawing coarsely at his cock. “If you go limp on me before I’m through, I swear I will boil you alive.”

Kou nodded roughly, changing his pace and angle in a way that made Hirokin want to boil him anyway—from the sheer maddening pleasure of the sensation. At this tortuous new brand of assault, he cursed aloud. No longer bottoming-out in him with every stroke, Kou’s cock pistoned within him instead. Slowly and sublimely, Kou’s thick length cored him open, grating with perfect cruelty over the gland that stoked a dark fire in the root of his sex.

With a strangled shout, Hirokin’s lust overtook him. Weak and delirious in the aftermath, he sagged against the wall. Picking up the pace behind him, Kou growled as he surged into his prone backside. His fist tormented Hirokin anew, as it continued to slick over his spent, half-hard cock.

“You feel so good,” the inuyoukai rumbled, his powerful hips jerking with a ferocity that left Hirokin dazed.

“…Kiss me,” he murmured, turning his face aside. “Show me just how good I feel.”

It was a mad request. Distantly, Hirokin realized this even through the fog that eclipsed him. Kou’s mouth was hard and sharp on his own, smothering and lancing in the most exquisite way. Pleasure rushed through Hirokin, light and heady. His knees threatened to buckle. It seemed as though the cock spearing through him was all that was holding him aloft.

He gasped as Kou broke from him, slick fangs crunching into the junction of his neck and shoulder instead. Blood coursed hot and quick over Hirokin’s chest and back. With a flare of lustful agitation so violent and strong he nearly bucked Kou from him altogether, Hirokin simmered on the verge of coming again.

It was the pain that stoked him to such furious heights of rapture. The pain that made him writhe and thrash and cause Kou’s bite to rip through him all the more. His pummeled channel throbbed and choked around the hard knot of flesh swelling within him. Youki thundered. Fangs scraped bone. Claws tore through wood and flesh.

They exploded together, and the aged structure around them trembled, caving in upon them both.

Hirokin panted, coughing against the dust. Rubble weighed upon him almost as heavy as the demon at his back. Only his nails embedded in the wall before him had kept those boards standing upright. Prying his hands loose, Hirokin struck out, clearing a path through the debris. No longer knotted in him, but still clinging with his claws, Kou trailed after.

“Stupid,” Hirokin muttered. “How could I be so fucking stupid.”

Grimacing, he wrenched out a fragment of wood spearing him through the side. Kou clapped his hand to the wound at once. Annoyed, Hirokin shoved him off.

“Let it bleed. I deserve it,” Hirokin seethed, turning angrily on his heel. “Fuck.”

Thank the gods he’d had the foresight to erect a concealing barrier before things had gotten too out of hand. True, they’d been carrying on in a remote place. But when the barrier was gone, someone was going to notice this old outpost had been destroyed.

It was an unlikely trace to leave, but a trace nevertheless. Hirokin was furious with himself. He was never sloppy—not ever.

When had he become so reckless?

Raking a hand through his splintery, disheveled hair, Hirokin cursed himself again. Kou frowned heavily at his side.

“Koi,” he said, reaching for him. “I’m sorry I dragged you off. I know you would rather have waited. This was my fault.”

“Of course it’s your fucking fault!” Hirokin exclaimed, whirling upon him. “Because of you, I don’t even recognize myself. Damn it all…”

Digging his busted nails into his arms, Hirokin stormed off. Steam rose from him as he paced alongside the wreckage. Kou left him be, which was a smart decision. But Hirokin could still feel him hanging back, his dejected aura dampening Hirokin’s hostility.

The demon prince sighed, shaking his head. Still brooding, he cleansed himself of the blood and soot caking him with a wave and summoned back his clothes. He could lash out at Kou all he liked, but he knew he was the one to blame for this indiscretion. Kou could hardly ‘drag him’ if Hirokin didn’t wish it. No, he had chosen to submit to this. Abandoning all restraint, like a total fool…

“We cannot take such risks,” he said sternly, turning back to Kou, who perked despite his tone—merely glad to be acknowledged. Hirokin scowled, glancing away. “For fuck’s sake, dress yourself already. I can’t take you seriously with your cock hanging out.”

Kou flushed ruddy, but did as he was told. When he was dressed and armored once more, Hirokin’s eyes cut back to him. He drew some reassurance from the imposing figure Kou cut—dark and broad, his golden gaze as solid as the heavy blade strapped across his back. Still, despite Kou’s raw strength, which was considerable, he was yet young and untried in many ways, compared to Hirokin.

“You must listen to me, Kou,” he said. “No more fucking around. If Sesshoumaru-sama catches wind of this, you will learn what it means to suffer.”

Kou’s voice was gruff. “Why should he care?”

“The fact that you even ask such a question proves how little you know,” Hirokin said cuttingly. “Sesshoumaru-sama does not share what is his.”

Kou stepped toward him, his expression dark. “Is that what you are to him, Hirokin?—a possession?”

“More or less.”

“And you are content with this?” Kou challenged.

“Content?” Hirokin scoffed. “What a ridiculous question. Sesshoumaru-sama is my lord and master. Long before you drew breath, I consigned myself to him. Don’t presume to think I have ever wished otherwise.”

“You are still scared,” Kou accused, peering at him. “Perhaps not so much of him, as of yourself without him.”

Levelly, Hirokin returned his look. “Believe what you like. It is not a matter of fear, Kou. It is a matter of fact.”

Kou set his jaw. “And if I cannot accept it?”

“Then, leave.” Coolly, Hirokin turned aside himself. “You should return to the palace ahead of me, at any rate. Bad enough we left at the same time; I’ll not compound this mistake any further.”

“‘Mistake’…” Kou mumbled. “Perhaps that is all I am to you.”

“Kou!” Hirokin snapped, turning back—but the inuyoukai had already taken to the sky.

…

Sullenly and covertly, Hirokin returned to the Western Palace. The spring that fed into his inner quarters he traversed with ease. Few might have even guessed he’d been gone.

None save for Sesshoumaru would dare question his comings and goings, regardless.

Unhappily, he settled in for the night. With Sesshoumaru’s present whereabouts unknown, as his regent, Hirokin knew he must stay near. It was this very necessity which had forbidden he and Kou from their usual rendezvous at the skyborne castle—and prompted the inuyoukai to steal him away for that hasty, ill-advised fuck in the ruins nearby.

Setting down his brush on the desk, Hirokin held his face in his hands. Though they’d parted on sour terms, Hirokin couldn’t forget the hard heat of Kou’s body bearing down on his, or the urgent clash of their lips and tongues. The afterimage of their passion smoldered in his mind. He couldn’t dismiss it.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, either.

Somewhere in another part of his palace, he heard a distant clamor. Hirokin ignored the sound, figuring the guards and servants were rushing about because something had happened which might displease him. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Hirokin was easily displeased these days.

But the commotion drew sharper and nearer. Outside the door to his bedchamber, a kneeling shadow was cast against the screen.

“Hirokin-sama!”

Hirokin lifted his face from his hands with a glare. “What is it?”

“Forgive me, my lord, but you must come quickly! There has been…a disturbance. At Inukimi-sama’s palace.”

In a few brisk strides, Hirokin was at the door. Wrenching back the screen, Hirokin stared witheringly down at the hunched servant. A few other demons hung back warily behind him.

“What sort of disturbance?” Hirokin demanded.

The young servant paled, too frazzled to say.

…

Flanked by his personal guard, Hirokin arrived at Inukimi’s palace.

The crowd of servants, guards and nobles that had gathered in the outer courtyard made it impossible to see clearly what was happening beyond. But the auras that flared in the distance made Hirokin grit his teeth in dread. The crowd drew back before his advance, his guards shoving aside any who didn’t clear out expediently enough for his liking.

Hirokin swept forward through the throng, only to freeze in swiftly-mustered shock at the sight that met his eyes—

Within the inner courtyard, Sesshoumaru stood, with Kou’s neck crushing in his claws.

Battered and bloody, Kou bore his fangs. He strained against Sesshoumaru’s hold with both hands, putting all of his strength into keeping his windpipe from collapsing. Beneath his booted feet, the ground had split. Red-splattered white stones tumbled into the spreading cracks.

On Sesshoumaru’s face was a look of such savage disdain it curdled Hirokin’s blood in his veins.

Rebounding slightly from the horror of what he was seeing, Hirokin stole a glance at Inukimi, who stood with her shrinking retinue across the courtyard. Darkly she met his eye. In that brief, fraught exchange Hirokin’s dread grew that much direr.

Sesshoumaru, Hirokin realized—

He knew.

“Do you think I cannot smell what you are?” Sesshoumaru spat. Shifting his grip, he hurled Kou across the courtyard. “Bastard.”

Kou smashed into the high garden wall. Bricks tumbled, dust billowing up so thick Hirokin could see nothing through the haze. He doubted Sesshoumaru could either, yet as he advanced kenatsu streaked out from him in a hailstorm of glowing, green-edged splinters. In shards of sparking light they deflected from the cloud. The haze cleared with them. Crouched and panting, Kou held his ancestral sword unsheathed before him at a defensive slant. The last few venomous projectiles pinged off its wide dark blade, and the faint aura that surrounded it.

“So you wish to fight me?” Sesshoumaru smiled darkly, drawing his own virulent sword. “Very well. I will show you what your blood is worth. Lowbred scum.”

Green flames wreathed the length of Bakusaiga as Sesshoumaru shot forward, nearly taking off Kou’s sword arm. Blood sprayed from the gash as Kou veered aside at the last instant, bringing up his blade to deflect Sesshoumaru’s wicked backslash. Sesshoumaru’s eyes glowed with bloodlust. It had been some time since anyone had withstood him even this much.

Not since his hanyou half-brother, Inuyasha.

Phasing, parrying, striking and deflecting—the flurry of blows followed so quickly Hirokin’s eyes could scarcely keep up. Still it was clear even to him that Kou was woefully outmatched. How could he not be? Sesshoumaru was merely playing with him, and Kou was losing ground with each passing second. Though the rest of the gathered crowd could hardly follow the flow of their battle either, they leered and chuckled every time Kou was driven back a few steps more.

Hirokin clenched his fists in impotent fury, hating them one and all.

Yet how was he any different? Here he stood ogling the one-sided fight just as ignorantly as the rest.

When Bakusaiga cleaved through Kou’s sword and ripped him open across the chest, it was all Hirokin could do to bite back the gasp that surged in his throat. Blood gushed dark and rank across the golden grass. Bakusaiga’s fell venom went to work at once, decaying Kou’s flesh before Hirokin’s despairing eyes. The broken sword fell from Kou’s claws as he sank to his knees—as Sesshoumaru’s acid-green whip materialized in his left hand and brought Kou careening to the ground that much faster.

“Insolent cur,” Sesshoumaru said, lashing Kou even as he crumpled. “On your belly before me—that is your natural place.”

The back-slice of the whip scourged Kou across the face, the tail end of it shearing off a fang. Blood streamed from Kou’s cut eye like a perverted fall of tears. Hirokin’s chest was so tight he could barely draw breath. Whatever Kou could bear, Hirokin was at his limit. He felt the lash that coiled around Kou’s neck as if it had fallen upon him instead. As he moved forward, it would surely have—

But a hand tipped in red enameled claws interceded first.

Catching her son’s youki whip, Inukimi snapped it clean in half. “Sesshoumaru, enough.”

The look he leveled upon her could have melted stone. Slowly, he stalked toward her.

“‘Enough’, Mother?” Sesshoumaru’s mouth slanted, thin and cruel. Mirthless and dark. “Yes, I have had more than enough.”

Warily, Inukimi held her ground between him and the unconscious Kou. She barely flinched, even as Sesshoumaru’s claws seized her by the jaw. For a few tense moments, he held her in his stony grip. But Inukimi’s gaze, though lowered, did not waver.

“How shameless you are,” Sesshoumaru said, his claws slashing her across the face as he shoved her away from him in contempt.

Inukimi faltered a few steps, letting the blood from her cuts rain down. This display rendered the onlookers silent. As Sesshoumaru turned upon his heel to leave the courtyard, the crowd drew back like a receding tide. Hirokin would have withdrawn with them, but Sesshoumaru’s searing eyes cut to him.

“You,” the demon lord said. “Come with me.”

…

Hirokin had no choice but to follow, though it felt as if he were proceeding toward his own demise.

Alone with Sesshoumaru in his private quarters, Hirokin stood, awaiting his sentence. But when the demon lord finally turned back, his seething gaze stared past him.

“Did you know?” he demanded. “Did you know that my mother was harboring such a creature?”

Hirokin frowned. “I—”

“Of course you did,” Sesshoumaru snapped. “What is there you don’t know…”

Bracing himself, Hirokin tried again, “Sesshoumaru-sama, please—”

“‘Please’ what?” Sesshoumaru shot back, closing the distance between them. “Please forgive you for knowing? Please forgive her for housing my father’s by-blow beneath my very nose?”

Hirokin’s eyes widened in surprise. Sesshoumaru scoffed.

“What a convincing display,” he said, his voice dripping scorn. “I can almost believe your surprise is sincere.”

Hirokin shook his head, which felt dazed once again. “…Truly, my lord, I did not know.”

…Not for certain, anyway.

Of course Kou’s description of his father had caught Hirokin’s attention. But only for a moment. Apart from Inuyasha, Touga had never claimed another bastard. Knowing his character, Hirokin was certain Touga must not have known he even had another bastard. Though Sesshoumaru’s immediate family was small, his extended family was vast. There were many ‘golden-eyed lords’ among them.

Hirokin had thought this notion of Kou’s paternity to be mere paranoia at the time. Or perhaps he had simply wished it to be.

“She knows, of course,” Sesshoumaru continued darkly, pacing about in a prowling circuit. “Her senses are no less keen than mine. She knew, and she chose him for her pet anyway.” Abruptly, Sesshoumaru stilled, his eyes snapping to Hirokin. “How long has she been fucking him?”

Hirokin blanched. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the hysterical impulse to laugh.

“My lord,” he replied carefully, “you misjudge her.”

“I misjudge nothing,” Sesshoumaru said sharply. “She couldn’t even look at me.” His voice pitched lower as he cracked his claws. “Neither can you. I should thrash you both to the bone.”

Hirokin kept his head bowed still. Bitterly, Sesshoumaru glanced away. His voice left him in a snarl.

“Must all insist on trying me this day?”

Hirokin glanced up at him. Sesshoumaru’s expression was thunderous, and Hirokin realized then that this anger of his ran far deeper than the discovery of a new bastard brother. In such a black mood, Sesshoumaru had been spoiling for a fight. If not Kou, his ire would have been vented upon someone else. Most likely Hirokin—

Still likely him.

But there was nothing for it. Hirokin drew what solace he could from the fact that Sesshoumaru didn’t know the whole sordid truth. It was a slim reassurance.

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” Hirokin ventured, “has something gone amiss between you and Kagome-sama? If so, I must know.”

Sesshoumaru rounded upon him, his eyes flashing cold fire. “Speak not to me of that accursed woman.”

Hirokin inclined his head.

…

So it had come to pass, at last.

From the beginning, Hirokin had known that the only one who could discourage Sesshoumaru from his designs upon Kagome was the woman herself. And so he had schemed in secret to make it so, wielding pawns both mortal and immortal to the purpose.

All while increasing her power and dominion, according to his and Sesshoumaru’s plan, Hirokin had worked subtly to drive a wedge between them. Of course, he could not do this himself.

Instead, he had given Kagome the tools and incentive to make it so.

And so, it seemed, she had.

…

Faced now with the fruit of his labors, the culmination of his most deeply cherished aims, Hirokin felt strangely hollow.

Was this not what he had wanted? For Sesshoumaru to abandon his pursuit of her?

Now at last in this room, there was no phantom of hers standing between them. There was only Sesshoumaru and himself. The two of them together, as they had always been.

Two miserable, twisted wretches.

No, Hirokin realized. Nothing had changed.

He was no closer to happiness with Sesshoumaru now than he had ever been.

If anything, he was further from it. All he could think as he looked upon his lord was of Kou lying in a bloody heap somewhere, with ‘mistake’ the last word hanging between them.

But it was a lie; the only mistake had been this.

Hirokin wanted to turn from it. He wanted to turn from Sesshoumaru and go to Kou instead. He wanted to tell Kou the truth, with the same fearlessness he had once spoken to him before.

But Sesshoumaru’s piercing gaze was still trained upon him. Hirokin felt it as surely as a skewer riveting him in place.

Sesshoumaru would not let him go.

…

It was the same, tired pattern that had been playing out between them for the better part of a millennium.

For hours, Sesshoumaru detained Hirokin, ostensibly to discuss political matters. In truth, so that Sesshoumaru could flay Hirokin with criticism. Nothing Hirokin did was swift or sure enough for Sesshoumaru’s liking. He laid into every decision as ‘dallying’, scorned every action as ‘soft’.

No matter how Hirokin argued for adaptability and foresight, Sesshoumaru deemed him not incisive enough to seize for what was presently at hand.

It was tortuous. Sesshoumaru knew it was tortuous. But he didn’t care—he only wanted Hirokin to suffer as he did.

But there was no satisfaction in it for either of them.

…

Kou had been removed from the palace.

This was a wise decision. Had Hirokin been free to give the orders, he would have done the same.

Instead, Inukimi had seen to it. In a cave on the outskirts, she sat with him still. Her hair and clothes were mussed and flaking with streaks of rust. The scratches Sesshoumaru had given her still stood out, red and fiery, along her fair cheeks.

She looked as depleted as Hirokin felt. It must have taken a great deal of her strength to counteract Bakusaiga’s virulence.

But Kou’s wound, though tender, was healing. His breathing was faint, yet even. His eyes were closed, a light sheen of sweat misting his dark brow. Hirokin knelt beside him, opposite Inukimi.

“Did you know,” he asked her, gazing down at Kou’s sleeping face, “that Touga was his father?”

Inukimi’s glance slid aside. “I knew,” she answered, “though I endeavored to conceal it. The scent trace is subtle. Alone it is not enough to warrant suspicion, but Sesshoumaru must have seen what I saw.”

“What was that, my lady?”

“His eyes,” she said simply. “They are the mirror image of his father’s.”

It was a truth that disconcerted Hirokin. How often had he looked into those eyes as he’d come apart with passion? Inwardly, he berated himself. Well done, Touga, he seethed in self-reproach. You have revenged yourself upon me fully. And how long you have been dead!

“Why did you save him?” Hirokin pressed her, after a while. “Why did you keep him so close to you, if you knew the truth?”

How could you stand to, Hirokin wondered, but did not say.

A shadow flickered across Inukimi’s face. She looked almost guilty, and Hirokin was taken aback. Could there be a sliver of truth to Sesshoumaru’s accusations? It was hard for Hirokin to imagine that Inukimi’s pride would allow her to pine so desperately for her dead mate that she would cling to his bastard.

“Who can say,” she answered with a slight, rueful smile. “It does seem a strange thing to do, does it not?” Her gaze rested cool and even with Hirokin’s. “But you are fond of him, and I am fond of you. Perhaps that is enough.”

The corner of Hirokin’s mouth lifted. “Perhaps.”

Looking askance, Inukimi nodded, though whether to Hirokin or to herself, he could not say. Gracefully, she rose to her feet, no less elegant in her bearing than if she weren’t streaked from head to toe with dirt and blood.

“He should stay clear of the castle,” she pronounced, her eyes flicking to Kou once more. “Or Sesshoumaru will be provoked again.”

“Yes, my lady. It shall be done.”

With a parting curve of lip, Inukimi left the cave. Alone with Kou at last, Hirokin waited. It was several hours still before the inuyoukai stirred.

“…Hirokin?” he rasped.

Hirokin tipped a cup of water to his lips. “Yes, it’s me.”

“You…” Kou groaned, brushing the cup aside as he started to rise. “You should not be here…”

Rolling his eyes, Hirokin pushed him back down toward the mat. “Probably not—yet here I am. Drink.”

Kou took a sip, frowning deeply. “But…Sesshoumaru-sama…”

“Quiet,” Hirokin said. “Don’t concern yourself with him; just lie still.”

As Kou lay back, Hirokin ran his fingers over the sealed rends in Kou’s flesh. The inuyoukai swallowed thickly.

“He…meant to kill me.”

Hirokin snorted. “If Sesshoumaru-sama meant to kill you, you would surely be dead. These wounds will fade with time. Consider yourself lucky he didn’t maim you instead.” Trailing his hand from Kou’s chest to his face, Hirokin traced the hard line of his jaw. He really was quite handsome, in a rugged way. Still Hirokin added wryly, “Perhaps I should consider myself lucky, since I am the one who has to look at you.”

Kou slid his eyes shut as he turned his face away. “Please,” he said gruffly, “don’t pity me, Hirokin. I cannot stand it.”

Hirokin’s lips remained quirked. “When have I ever pitied you?”

The last time Hirokin had pitied anyone, it had been a girl who was already dead.

Kou shook his head. “You have made your feelings clear. You regret me.”

“A dramatic overstatement,” Hirokin replied with a wave. “You should know me well enough by now to dismiss such remarks. I don’t regret you. If I did, why the hell would I be here?”

Kou’s voice was soft with hurt. “…But, you do not love me.”

Hirokin’s mouth twisted in chagrin. Taking Kou by his brutish jaw again, Hirokin steered his frowning face back toward his.

“How dense can you be?” Hirokin’s voice lowered to a murmur as he leaned down to graze his lips against Kou’s. “Of course I love you, you fool.”

…

Hirokin had a perverted knack, he supposed, for turning hatred into love.

Perhaps this was his true deviancy, from which all the rest were born.

His fixation with Kagome was no exception to this. Yet it was by far the most astounding to him. Hirokin struggled even now to accept this latest aberration.

Comparing her to Sesshoumaru was helpful. In many ways, she was as monstrous as him. If there were two sides to his doomed obsession with Sesshoumaru, in Kou Hirokin had discovered the cure for one, and in Kagome the other.

How strange, that a mortal woman should have become so vital to him.

Returning to his study, Hirokin took up a large, gleaming crystal in hand. The stone was clear, though faintly mirrored in silver at the edges. A seeing-stone of his own creation. A tiny splinter of it Hirokin had broken off, and slipped into the hem of the Robe of the Fire-Rat, whose youki would conceal its own faint signature. It was a way for Hirokin to keep track of her, knowing she would never leave her late husband’s heirloom behind.

Asking Sesshoumaru of her whereabouts was clearly out of the question. But so long as she was not masking her presence, Hirokin should be able to locate her with this.

As Hirokin flooded the crystal with his power, the stone swirled with mist from within. The mist took the form of images, silvery silhouettes viewed from on high. Clouds drifting above the immortal realm. Hirokin peered closer, and the images below drew into sharper focus—a wooded mountain range, the damaged tower nestled within it, and the woman who lay somewhat removed from the center, lying naked and curled in the rubble.

Hirokin smiled. How long she would remain unconscious there, he did not know.

He must act swiftly, he decided.

…

As the two inu daiyoukai entered his study, Hirokin spared them the briefest of glances. Akamaru and Kaigamaru—two ambitious young officers in Sesshoumaru’s army. Third cousins of his, Hirokin believed.

Their arrogance was palpable. Behind his upheld scroll, Hirokin smirked—

Perfect.

“Prince Hirokin,” Kaigamaru asked at last, shifting the heavy spear in his hand. “You summoned us?”

His voice was deep and self-assured. Clearly not one accustomed to being kept waiting. Hirokin set down his scroll and fixed the two brothers with an assessing look. Their resemblance to one another was striking, though Kaigamaru, the elder, was slightly taller and stockier in build. His red cheek stripes darkened slightly in consternation as Hirokin continued to stare him down, while Akamaru’s stripes thinned to blue slivers as sharp as his impatient glare.

“I did,” Hirokin answered curtly at last. “There is a tower gate which needs defending. You two will hold the gate, against any who would dare attempt to enter. Or to leave.”

Kaigamaru was indignant. “You are posting us as gate guards, Hirokin-sama? I demand to know what we have done to warrant such a demotion.”

“In our last border skirmish,” Akamaru said with an edge, “Ani-ue and I alone slew more than a dozen foes.”

Hirokin returned to his scroll. “How uninteresting to me,” he replied, as their auras flared, incensed. “If this simple task is too much to ask of you, perhaps a demotion is in order. But that will be for Sesshoumaru-sama to decide.”

The two brothers exchanged a sullen glance. As they bowed and left to do as commanded, Hirokin took up the seeing-stone once again. Of course, Sesshoumaru had nothing to do with these orders. But they had no way of knowing this, and neither would she.

“Your move, my lady,” he murmured. Tracing her sleeping figure through the stone, his thoughts raced ahead, strategies and counter-strategies unfolding in his mind like plays upon the board. “Forgive me, but I cannot let you go.”

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Whew nearly 5k words…this is Hirokin’s last side-story! 😿 We’re getting close to the end, y’all 💕