I Promise You

I’m surprised that so many people like this story. It makes me really happy. I just hope that my story continues to thrill you. I honestly thought that no one would read it, so I’m so happy that people have taken an interest in it. I even got my first question which is so exciting.

Heartstar: How did you get the idea? I got the idea for this fanfiction because I was bored one day and I really wanted to write but I was on a stalemate with my other stories. So, I tried to think of something unconventional and it hit me. I thought, “What would happen if Sesshoumaru wasn’t the beloved, pampered prince?” The rest is history. Thanks for the question and I hope you like this chapter.


Chapter 2: Blame

Amarante stood outside the healer’s hut wringing her hands and pacing. Her hair hung in matted strands, her white kimono was dyed with a splotchy crimson color. Her face was blanched, pained and bespeckled with tears. She stopped her pacing as Masami emerged from the tiny hut.

“Amarante,” she said, “Please return to the castle, you nervous energy is causing me discomfort.”

Amarante looked indignant for a moment, but not wanting to jeopardize her son, she left. Masami stared at the painfully pale face of Sesshoumaru as she entered the hut. She watched his chest shudder. She knew that he had broken some ribs, bruised his lungs, but it was the trauma to his head that worried her the most. His head was heavily bandaged. The bone in his arm was pressed and placed in a sling. She raised her hand over his still form, shaking a small wooden object with a handle and a smooth rounded end. She shook the object in fast and slow motions, paying special attention to his head. After a week under her care, Sesshoumaru’s breathing evened and his bones healed nicely. He also opened his eyes which was a bittersweet event for Masami.

Inutaisho stormed angrily to the hut, his eyes vengeful at being denied entry.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” a women with blue hair, pale skin, and aqua colored eyes, bowed in front of him, “Masami has denied entry to everyone. The boy is still very weak. His punishment will have to wait for a later date.”

His return to the castle left him with many questions, “Will Sesshoumaru live? How could I have…?”

He pushed that thought aside; he wasn’t ready to face it. Izayoi studied him. She could see the worry etching lines in his face. Even the bubbling, smiling face of his younger son couldn’t cheer him. She was shocked when she when word first came to her. Her husband had always seemed so gentle to her. He was gruff. He expected a lot and had to be stern, but she always thought that deep down he was kind. It pained her to think he could do this, but she loved him. She could love him even if he became a beast. She let these thoughts slip from her mind as she stared at her downy haired child. He smiled at her and flung his arms around her slim waist.

“Okaasan, why are you sad?”

She rubbed her fingers across his cheek and kissed his forehead.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Inuyasha. It’s getting late. Come, I’ll tuck you in.”

Inuyasha scrambled to his feet and slipped his small fingers into her hand.

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Inutaishu slipped into bed silently as to not disturb Izayoi. Almost immediately, visions of his son’s blood soaked body appeared beneath his eyelids. He tried desperately to will his mind to sleep. He was finally in a deep sleep when a messenger arrived at his rooms.

“Masami asks permission to return Lord Sesshoumaru to the castle.”

Inutaisho let a sigh of relief escape his calm personage. He was impatient to see his son, but tried very hard not to show it. He stared out of the latticed window, his gaze imploring. He sighed than began to pace back and forth. His face was calm, blank, and his hands were folded. His calm demeanor dissipated as the mid-morning sun dipped below the horizon, and the steely blue of noon took its place.

“Inutaisho, he will be here soon.” Izayoi said, “Please sit with me. You need to eat something.”

Inutaisho continued to pace fretfully. He started as he caught a familiar scent on the wind and rushed out of the room. He watched a procession of four headstrong air nymphs hefting a long palanquin. The procession continued to move through the crowd at a steady pace. Inutaisho struggled for a glimpse of his son, but the heavy maroon curtains blocked his view. He continued to watch the procession as it entered the west end of the castle heading for Sesshoumaru’s room.

Masami awaited his arrival as he stood on the lacquered redwood engawa*.
She leveled a glare at him as he stepped up to meet her.

“Move Masami,” he said sternly.

“Not until I’ve said my piece. As soon as the boy is completely recovered, I am taking him away from here. I will not allow you to hurt him further. This is the last time you shall see him Inutaisho, cherish it. Enter silently, he is resting.”
“You have no right to take my son,” Inutaisho said his voice low.

“Can you truly say, you have any claim to him?” She asked sternly, “You are the one who injured him. You have caused him enough pain. Don’t forget, he isn’t you son. You never wanted him, remember.”

She didn’t allow him a reply as she walked disrespectfully away. Inutaisho pushed open the shoji silently, and slipped into the room. He watched the moonlight dance across the rounded contours of his son’s face. Sesshoumaru moaned turning his face to Inutaisho and sliding his hand out of the ruffled blanket to rest palm up beside his face. Inutaisho stared at the thin bandaged wrist, and his breath caught.

“Would he be better off?” he thought as Sesshoumaru moaned again, his small hand clenching into a fist. He was breathing hard.

“Father,” his voice sounded broken and pained, “Please, I’m sorry.”

Inutaisho felt his heart clench.

“Don’t leave me.”

A crystal sheen of tears slipped down Sesshoumaru’s face. Sesshoumaru was prone to nightmares when he was younger only Inutaisho could calm him. He smoothed strands of hair off of Sesshoumaru’s forehead and rubbed a hand across his cheek. Sesshoumaru’s breathing evened immediately. The pained expression on his face softened. Inutaisho slipped his fingers off his forehead as Sesshoumaru calmed. His eyes fluttered for a moment, then opened fully.

“Who’s here?” he asked his voice firm, but soft.

He pushed himself up in the futon. Small, slim fingers slid across white linen. He pushed the tips of his fingers along the cold redwood. He rested both hands on the redwood, and rose shakily to his feet. Inutaisho stared in confusion, while Sesshoumaru’s hands weaved in the air in front of him as if trying to remove a veil from his eyes.

“Name yourself,” he said sternly as he moved forward.

He continued to step forward his arms outstretched as Inutaisho watched in utter horror as Sesshoumaru’s fingers groped through the air.

“Sesshoumaru,” Masami said as she shut the shoji behind her, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

She gently grabbed his arm and led him to the futon.

“Someone’s in the room with me, Masami.” he said, “Who is it?”

“I’m in the room with you.” Masami said, “You need not worry about anyone else.”

“I know that…”

“Silence,” Masami interrupted, “You need your rest. Now, sleep Sesshoumaru.”

She watched his eyes slide shut as if entranced, then motioned for Inutaisho to follow her out.

“Now you understand.” she said, “It’s a disgrace to have a blind son. Enemies could use him against you. It’s better this way. I hope you have said your goodbye. We will be leaving soon. I expect you not to approach or talk to him during the days that we remain here.”

She walked back into the room and shut the shoji behind her. Inutaisho walked away the shock still playing on his senses.

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Masami stood poised listening to the cicadas buzzing and watching the clouds dart against the darkening sky. The breeze filtered through her hair as she stood in the open air of the engawa. Her eyes then turned to the young boy who stood nervously in front of her.

“Can I see niisan?”

She stared at the downy haired boy, “who are you?’

“Inuyasha, can I see him please?”

“Yes, but you must be quiet, Inuyasha. He is still resting.”

Inuyasha padded quietly into the room. He slid to his knees next to a sleeping Sesshoumaru. Masami watched bemused as Inuyasha’s eyes sank into sadness as he stared at the bandages that adorned Sesshoumaru’s body.

“Inuyasha,” she hissed as he raised his hand.

She watched soft milk white fingers skim the surface of his crescent mark. Sesshoumaru’s eyes slid open.

“Hanyou,” he murmured his eyes pointed somewhere on the ceiling.

“Niisan,” Inuyasha cried his voice breaking softly with sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

He flung himself on Sesshoumaru’s chest, tears slipping down his cheeks. Sesshoumaru’s body tensed in surprised. The hanyou was crying for him, a person who hated him more than anything and wanted him dead. He gripped Inuyasha’s slim shoulders hard and pushed Inuyasha off of him.

“Get out,” he said calmly.

He could still hear the hanyou sniffling. Masami felt her heart wrench as she watched the disheveled boy, his head held low, tears dripping on his fingers. He backed away from his brother.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Get out,” Sesshoumaru exclaimed finally allowing his anger to show.

“It’s all my fault.”

Inuyasha slid to his knees his head resting on his hands, which were held in front of him. It was an honorable gesture, Masami wished Sesshoumaru could see.

“I’ll make it up to you, niisan.” he said with determination, “I promise.”

Out of the darkness, Sesshoumaru could see a silvery sheen slid through his vision, then Inuyasha’s hasty breaths vanished as the shoji slid shut with a slight clanking sound.

“Inuyasha,” Masami called.

Inuyasha froze mid-step. He turned to stare at the tall dark haired women, who’s silver eyes gazed at him without the distain he was used to.

“Where did you get that bruise?” she asked staring at the large purple bruise that dotted along his collarbone.

Inuyasha shrugged pulling his kimono tightly and covering the bruise.

“Inuyasha answer me.”

“I don’t know, Masami-san,” he said without meeting her gaze.

“Has Amarante been to see you, Inuyasha?”

“Amarant-sama came to see father, not me,” Inuyasha said his eyes drifting down to his hands.

“Remove your kimono, Inuyasha,” she said softly.

His head jerked up, golden eyes staring apprehensively into silver. He shook his head.

“Inuyasha, you know I’m a healer.” she said, “I need to put a salve on your bruise. I can’t do that with your kimono on.”

He shook his head again. She caught his arm before he could dart down the steps.

“Remove you kimono,” she said sternly.

Inuyasha gazed of to the side shamefully as he slipped out of his kimono. Masami stared, she hoped, impassively at bruises that ran across the boy’s arms and chest. His body was so thin, it was also transparent. His skin was stretched thinly over his ribs making the bruises clearly visible. A large purple bruise darted across his forearm. Blue and blackish bruises ran across his ribs. They stood out like dark splotches against his skin.

“Who did this to you?” she asked resting her hands on his shoulders limply.

He took this opportunity to jerk his kimono off her forearm, and rush down the steps. She stared at the small boy as he darted down the stone path until he disappeared from her sight. She stepped into Sesshoumaru’s room.

“I suppose you were listening,” she said not fooled by Sesshoumaru’s attempted at even breathing. He slid his eyes open and sat up in bed.

“What did you see, Masami?” he asked with undue calm.

“He has bruises along his chest and arms. He also hasn’t been getting enough to eat.”

“You believe that my mother could have done such a thing?”

“It was merely a question, Sesshoumaru.” she said calmly, “Your mother was extremely angry about what a happened to you. It would not be unheard of, but Inuyasha’s reaction suggests that it was probably a different person.”

She hoped to dislodge his anger. Inuyasha behavior hadn’t told her anything conclusive. She knew too little about the child to properly gauge his reaction. The most pitiable thought was that she couldn’t help the child. Sesshoumaru was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t properly defend himself the way he is now. Most of his injuries had healed or were close to healing. His eyes were his greatest disadvantage. He still needed time to adjust to a world lived in the dark.

“Since you appear restless let’s prepare for our departure.”

Ok, I think I’ve written enough, and I hope this lives up to the high standards set by the first chapter.