Kiba: Voice of the Fang
Published on / 3 Chapter(s) / 4 Review(s)
This little collection of stories revolves around the swords of Inuyasha. Ever wonder what the swords would say if they could talk? You might just be surprised...
Chapter 1, Voice of Tessaiga: Common Goals
Disclaimer: The characters of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Warning: Some spoilers.
### Voice of Tessaiga: Common Goals ###
After so many years of lassitude, he awoke to the touch of the half blood prince. Like the fumbling fingers of a pubescent lad exploring himself for the first time, the hanyou coaxed him to his full size. The first blood he tasted in over fifty years was that of the other son, the full blooded youkai lord, and that sweet elixir soaked into his essence like honey.
He became hungry for more.
The balance between himself and the hanyou's potent blood surged to life, and he fed greedily, binding the legacy of the father's blood to himself so that the hanyou was safe from its own biology. Just like the father intended.
At first, the rough handling and blatant misuse were enough to send him into long fits of despair. He wished fervently for the time when he had rested upon a different hip next to his two companions, the little one, Tensaiga, and the dark one, So'unga. He suffered in silence, crying in voiceless misery as Totousai repaired him and left him in the hanyou's dubious care.
Until the hanyou protected him from its brother's onslaught; until the half blood wielded his power properly for the first time; until the little hanyou offered up one of his own fangs to repair him when he broke. Then he gave the hanyou the grudging respect and loyalty it had earned.
And in the end, the hanyou's goals became his goals…because he fell in love.
It started innocently enough as mere curiosity. There were only so many hours in the day that his services were called upon to do battle; the rest were spent in the dark quiet cage of his sheath. His awareness became a string of memories, of encounters where the little pink shards played such a vital role. Over time, he was able to figure out that the shards were the rightful possession of the miko the hanyou seemed to favor. Over time, he was able to make the logical connections that the one the hanyou had vowed to protect was the miko, and that that protection centered on those little pink shards of something called the Shikon no Tama.
He would “awake” to do battle; and his first thoughts would be of the pink shards, seeking after them as the miko with her extraordinary sense pointed them out. Always, he would be sent into the flesh, digging deep for those hidden treasures of electric power. As the quest dragged on, and still that remained his main purpose, he came to think of those pink shards as his. Rightfully won by his blade, those shards served as the tangible evidence of his prowess.
He was devastated when the hanyou and the miko lost them to the spider. In the darkness of his sheath, he single mindedly hungered for the blood of the one who had taken what was his.
He dueled and danced with the tainted blade Toukijin that stank of the one they called Naraku, who'd taken his treasure. He obligingly bit into the flesh of the brother when the hanyou asked it of him, knowing all the while that Tensaiga would snatch away her master away before the final kill. He had no quarrel with the brother and fervently wished the hanyou didn't either.
Naraku. He wanted the spider.
But, more than anything, he came to realize that he wanted the jewel.
Feminine. Delicate. Pure with a power that bit and snarled if he came too close.
Unlike any demon blade he'd danced with; unlike any worthy opponent he'd wanted to defeat; the little shards with their pulsing, electric, feminine aura captivated him. He watched with eager, possessive longing as the sharp, jagged shards were smoothed into a firm, round glass ball. One by one, he watched her take shape and took dark delight in the fact that he was making her whole.
He memorized the curve of her sphere, the way she sparkled in the sunlight, the way she glowed softly like a firefly calling its mate at night. And then in his sheath, he dreamed of wrapping her in his youki, of pouring that fiery warmth into her until she accepted the thrust of his power. He dreamed of overwhelming her, of making her his by force; and then of cradling her gently, of stroking her sweetly and absorbing the wisps of her aura as they leaked out in distressed surrender.
They would become one, and she would make him strong. He would be her protector, she his treasured heart.
He would never forgive Naraku for taking her from him.
He thirsted for the spider's blood even as the hanyou hungered for the spider's death. As bonded comrades at arms, they both instinctively recognized the common goal they shared. As one, they longed for the day when they would grasp that final triumph over the threat to what was theirs.
Together they would win—but the choice was not his but the hanyou's. Until the spider could be found, nothing could be resolved. And even then, until the hanyou drew him, he was helpless to save his love.
And so the sword Tessaiga dreamed; waiting to be called to war.
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