Surprise

"If you're finished…"

Kaijou flinched.

Kuroihi blinked, the razor‐edged tones of her lord, strangely, rescuing her from the maelstrom of despair that had begun to overtake her, and she rose slowly to her feet. She blinked to clear her vision of the tears that had started to well up, fixing it on the blood and ash smeared claws that were her hands; hands that, for all their power and skill, had not been able to do anything to save this woman.

"…Yes…" she finally said, "There is nothing more to see."

Her body was heavy and hollow as she side‐stepped the patches of glass to fall in line behind Sesshoumaru, her head hung in shame.

Eventually, they made it away from the coast and into the valley of the Southern Boar Tribe. Sesshoumaru had the information he needed now. He would mull over what to do with it all later. In the meantime, he had another issue to handle.

His hanyou had served him well in the valley, that much he would acknowledge, but its little side trip had cost him precious time and effort. Not only that, it had yet to confess what drove it to such an asinine diversion. His half‐breed was keeping secrets from him.

His chest and gut clenched as his inner demon snarled.

It was not allowed any secrets, not from him.

He waited until they were well within the boundaries of his father's territory before dismissing the wolf and turning to address the creature. It stood before him in the appropriate demure manner, but still he glowered, the weight of his anger stilling even the wind. His voice sounded with a lethal edge.

"Tell me, my little hanyou, were the instructions given to meet me at the entrance to the valley convoluted?"

"They were not, my lord." it responded softly.

"Were they in any manner incomprehensible to you?"

"They were not, my lord."

"Then tell me in which part of them you found the permission to deviate from the path I, Sesshoumaru, dictated in such a manner that you had to be tracked down."

Its ears flattened, but it said nothing.

His fists clenched as he closed the distance between them to loom oppressively over his halfbreed.

"Servant, this Sesshoumaru is addressing you. Answer," he growled.

"In no part, my lord."

"Then explain yourself."

It did not flinch from him as it usually did, simply sank to its knees, much to Sesshoumaru's satisfaction. Perhaps even it understood that its life was hanging by a tenuous thread in this moment. He watched its shoulders rise and fall with a steadying breath as he tucked his hands into his sleeves.

It reached into its yukata, drawing out a round bone pendant on a strip of leather and cradled it in its still bloodstained palm for him to see. He inspected the design on it as his hanyou spun him a tale of a merchant and the trinket before him, of a pair of exiled half‐breeds, its parents, and the painful truths revealed to it by them. He would admit his hanyou was most likely correct in its conclusion that it was the only opportunity it would have to confront those creatures, however, that did not justify its actions, and he told it as much.

The silence that now fell seem awkward somehow, and as he pondered what to do the wind changed. He watched as his mokomoko swept around his legs, brushing against his hanyou as it went. Its heartbeat skipped, but he picked up no fear in its scent.

'I see.'

"Let your hair down."

It did so slowly, releasing its thick braid to tumble down its back, almost touching the ground.

'As long as my own. A pity, is it not, little one? '

He mused as he plucked the end of braid up between his fingers, pulling it high and taunt.

"Was it worth it?"

He unsheathed the short tanto blade he always carried. Its shoulders tensed, but, again, there was no fear in its scent.

"...It was not, but your servant has no regrets."

He wrapped a coil of the braid in his fist, pulling to force his hanyou forward onto its hands and knees. He had every right to take its head and be finished with the thing, and that seemed to be what his hanyou expected; but as its claws pressed into the soft earth, it had still no fear.

'There is nothin, absolutely nothing. Yes, this Sesshoumaru may have greater use for you after

all.'

Instead of her head, Sesshoumaru decided that several inches of braid would do. Enough to communicate its disgrace without shaming the thing completely. In a single motion, he sliced the length of hair, turned on heel, and sheathed his blade..

"Make yourself presentable before you return, and attend me in the scroll room."

Sesshoumaru did not wait for a response before returning to the castle.

He would not kill it; no, not yet. He had taken too many risks, spent too much time on the half‐breed to simply discard it like a common servant. No, he had other plans for this creature that did not fear death.

'Besides, my little hanyou has nowhere else to go.'

He allowed himself to smile, fingering the length of hair still coiled around his fingers.

'The bowl is now empty, cracked and falling apart and I have just the lacquer required to piece it back together.'

***

Kuroihi knelt in the grass for a long time, silently running her fingers across the freshly cut end of her braid. He could have taken it all, he could have taken her head. It was his right, after all, and she had more than earned such a punishment…but he hadn't. She pressed her hand to her throat to confirm that her head was still attached.

'Why? Why didn't he do more than this?'

It was completely against everything she knew and understood about him. The question ran in circles through her head, but somehow it seemed trivial compared to what the woman had said to her before finally succumbing to her wounds.

For the first time in her life, someone had apologized to Kuroihi and meant it. The woman was, at least in her final moments, repentant for what she had forced her children to suffer. It gave Kuroihi a sort of validation, and strength enough to rise once more to her feet and make the trek home.

She breathed deeply as she walked.

There was poison in the air.

She let the memory of how it had burned her melt away the tattered remains of the lies she'd let herself believe. They served no purpose in this place.

The tray of tea she brought to the scroll room was unusually heavy in her hands. As she awaited her lord's arrival, she examined her reflection in the cup she had poured. Kuroihi allowed herself to ache once more, wondering if, perhaps, her sisters had been gifted with eyes like hers.