Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Blood Contract	By : ShadesofNight Category: InuYasha > General Views: 2544 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 2: Whispers

The cool air of Angelus’s
interior washed over Miroku as he pushed inside, but he barely
noticed the change in atmosphere.

Sango. His mind dwelled on her,
whispering her name like the soft song of the sirens he’d
accused the women of being. That was no surprise; his encounters with
the lovely Detective Sango always left him faintly confounded. He was
never sure whether to be amused or offended at her continued,
sometimes violent rebuff of his advances. Even more confounding? He
enjoyed them—them, and every self-righteous huff, expressive
gesture and irritated twitch that moved the fine detective's
delectable body.

For the past month, they’d been
working closely together on security issues for the upcoming trade
expansion talks between the youkai and human governments—her as
lead police detective, he as government liaison for the loosely
networked human mediator families. It was a position he’d
balked at initially; playing babysitter for visiting youkai
dignitaries, even if it was part of an effort to open up interaction
between the two species, was not his standard modus operandi. He was
used to having the freedom of a lone agent, with the privilege of
easy movement between the territories. He preferred it that way.
Still, he was flexible, and his father had deemed him the only one
for the job, so he’d settled in for a long, slightly boring
stint in the capital.

He’d changed his mind when he’d
walked into his temporary government office and met his contact: the
leggy, short-skirted, luscious Detective Hoshinuma. She was, he’d
realized after only a few days, damn good at her job: sharp, reliable
and with good instincts, besides being sexy as everything in every
level of hell. She was also a strong woman, as he’d found out
after more than one close meeting with her right hook. A jewel quite
befitting of the Hoshinuma name, and Miroku had found himself quite
thoroughly in lust and not nearly as unamused as he’d expected
to be on this particular assignment.

It was such a shame that she didn’t
seem willing to oblige him with anything more than some verbal
sparring. He knew she was interested; that adorable pink blush
colored her cheeks every time he threw even a hint of a tease at her.
She was just so damn stubborn. Which was also, interestingly
enough, a characteristic of the Hoshinuma family.

A droll smile quirked the edges of his
mouth as he glanced around the restaurant’s interior.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He blinked at the host, a young man
with a polite smile, a nice dress jacket, and polished shoes, and
gave a polite nod in return. “My name is Sakurai. I’m
meeting someone here.”

The young man’s face lit up in
recognition and…relief? “Ah, yes. Takeda-san has already
arrived and is waiting at your table.”

The name brushed over him with a wisp
of surprise. “Takeda?”

“Yes.” The host swept a low
bow. “Please follow me, Sakurai-san.”

Plagued by a sudden suspicion, Miroku
obediently followed the host through Angelus’s lush interior,
past potted greenery and sleek white columns, and always with the
spectacular view of the ocean just beyond the windows. Miroku had
always liked Angelus for the relative privacy it afforded its guests;
for all its openness to the water and the coast, the interior décor
was scattered about in a pleasant arrangement that granted its
customers a certain amount seclusion no matter where they sat.
Perfect for discreet business meetings, especially those called a
mere hour in advance by one’s father. Of course, usually one
expected surprise meetings called by one’s father to be
attended by one’s father.

So why was he meeting with a member of
the Takeda family?

They passed by another column, and
Miroku spotted the Takeda in question, sitting in a rounded booth
against the back wall. His expensive suite was in disarray, as usual,
and he was cheerfully feeding a tasty-looking morsel to the tiny
white monkey sitting on his shoulder.

Miroku sighed. “Nobunaga, huh?”

Just as they came into view, Takeda
looked up and caught sight of them, and his young, earnest features
lifted in a welcoming smile. He stood and waved, the action so quick
that if he had been sitting in a chair, it would have gone tumbling
over.

“Sakurai-san! Over here!”

Miroku noticed the half-flinch from the
host, and smiled. “My compliments on the choice of location,”
he murmured, lifting a hand to wave back. “It was very wise of
you to choose such a sturdy…er, setting.”

The younger man turned his head and
offered a wan smile back. “We sat him at a table first, but he
managed to knock over his chair three times and trip two servers in
the span of ten minutes. We thought perhaps moving to a less-traveled
area would be best for this particular customer.”

Miroku allowed himself a chuckle. “Yes,
very wise indeed. And…the monkey?”

The host gave an uncomfortable laugh.
“Since this is the Prime Minister’s nephew, we thought it
best not to object. And, as it turns out, the monkey has actually
managed to prevent him from breaking a few dishes, so he is more than
welcome.”

“Just as well. You would have had
a hard time separating Nobunaga from Hyoshimaru.” Giving a
little shake of his head, Miroku stopped and bowed to the host,
letting him know that he needed no further assistance. “My
thanks.”

His escort nodded and headed gratefully
back for the front, and Miroku took a deep breath and called up a
reserve of patience for the young man currently babbling from the
booth.

“Sakurai-san! Thank you for
coming on such short notice. I hope you don’t mind,” he
gestured at the array of steaming dishes arranged on the table. “I’ve
taken the liberty of ordering some food.”

“Nobunaga. Hyoshimaru.”
Miroku gave a brief bow in greeting to both the man and the monkey
(who stared at him with bug eyes while chomping on another piece of
meat), then slid into the other end of the booth. He looked over the
seafood carefully before taking a few helpings for his empty plate.
“The food is quite acceptable, thank you. How is your family?
Is your father well?”

Nobunaga laughed and ran a
self-conscious hand through the neatly cut black strands of his hair.
“My mother is quite well, thank you, and my father is due out
of the hospital any day now.” He looked vaguely sheepish. “It
was only a trip down the stairs, after all. Barely anything broke
anyway. However….” He drew a deep breath and bowed low
over the table. “Uncle sends his greatest respects to the
Sakurai family, as well as all the mediator families for whom they
act.”

Miroku’s chopsticks paused
halfway to his mouth; he felt his smile stiffen just a bit, and had
to force it to relax. “On behalf of the mediator families, the
Sakurai thank the Prime Minister for his respects, and extend our
own.”

Nobunaga nodded, his brow tensing
uncomfortably. “Given the state of the relationship between the
government and the mediators, I thank you for that, Sakurai-san. It
means very much to us that the mediators continue to work with
Uncle’s administration.”

Nobunaga’s uncle, Seikai Takeda,
was in his second term as Prime Minister of the Human Territories of
Japan. He was also at political odds with the mediator families. The
Takeda administration had always been a bit hesitant in regards to
opening interaction with the Youkai Territories; still, the mediators
and the government had managed to work together despite their
differences. Takeda’s re-election, however, had made him
arrogant, and the restrictions regarding youkai visitors and goods
had been steadily increasing in recent years.

The real break between the
administration and the mediators had come early the previous year.
The mediator families had announced the upcoming trade talks, lauding
them as an opportunity to increase the cooperation of a Japan too
long divided. To them, brokering agreement from both sides had
represented the epitome of generations of effort.

Prime Minister Takeda had balked. His
administration’s attitude had taken a radical turn towards
hostility, despite high public support for the talks on both sides of
the Barrier. This, in turn, had led to a heavy strain on territorial
relations that had only begun to improve in the past few decades.
Needless to say, the mediators were displeased, and the strife
between the centuries-old mediator families and the popular, though
increasingly anti-youkai, Prime Minister was the subject of mass
speculation, both public and private.

Miroku sighed, feeling a bit wry. “The
tradition of collaboration between the mediators and the governments
is still honored for a reason. For now, at least, the mediators see
more benefit in dealing with the Prime Minister than in openly
warring against him.”

“Yes. Again, I thank you and
your family on behalf of me and mine. And as always, you have our
full support.” Nobunaga folded his hands and bowed his head low
over the table. “As long as we continue to work together, we
have a chance of changing Uncle’s mind about the trade
expansion. I know it.”

Miroku sat back and gave the younger
man across from him an appraising look. Either Nobunaga had
deliberately called the old friendship between the Sakurai and
Nobunaga’s branch of the Takeda into play as a shrewd political
ploy, or the thanks had been a genuine, openhearted acknowledgment of
their families’ mutual history. Knowing Nobunaga as he did, he
was inclined to think it the latter.

Nobunaga’s family was an offshoot
of the Takedas, apart from the main branch and only distantly
influential with the Prime Minister; but it was Nobunaga’s
family, and their inherent purity of heart, who had won Seikai Takeda
mediator support during his first term. In the current political
climate, Nobunaga’s branch was the only thing that kept the
mediators from throwing their political heft in direct opposition of
the Takeda administration, despite its recent aggressiveness towards
the mediator cause. And Takeda knew it, which was why he always sent
either Nobunaga or his father to meet with mediator representatives.

A gentle, genuine smile quirked the
edges of his mouth. “It’s too bad, Nobunaga, that you are
only an aide. The process would benefit greatly from having someone
with your spirit in charge.”

The response from across the table was
a grin. “Don’t worry. I may be only an aide, but I’ll
still do what I can to help reunite the territories. Opening up the
borders and expanding trade on the water routes will give all of
Japan greater autonomy than it has ever had before.” His dark
eyes glinted with enthusiasm. “Imagine, not having to pay the
exorbitant export fees to route goods and communications through
mainland China. Imagine allowing youkai tourists to travel the Human
Territories as freely as the humans would like to do with the Youkai
Territories.”

Miroku’s mouth quirked up again.
“The Youkai Territories are very dangerous, Nobunaga. The laws
and traditions over there are very different from our own.”

“All the more reason to explore
and understand them!” Two spots of high, bright color shone in
his cheeks at the thought.

“You have high expectations from
mere trade talks, Nobunaga.” Still, Miroku was amused. For all
his apparent idiocy and clumsiness, Nobunaga was one of the most
sincere, unaffected people that Miroku had ever met. In the world
they lived in, where most put up facades and plotted and grabbed
selfishly at whatever they could get, his very presence was
refreshing.

And that thought, of course, brought
him back to the reason he was sitting in a restaurant with a hapless
young man instead of enticing his reluctant detective into a dinner
date. He set his chopsticks down and rested his fingertips together.
“Not that I’m not enjoying the delicious meal, but I am
curious to know why I am eating it with a Takeda aide when it was my
father who called me here?”

The smile dropped away from Nobunaga’s
face. The somber, almost guarded look that replaced it startled
Miroku. Nobunaga set down his chopsticks and pushed his plate to
Hyoshimaru, who chirped happily at the half-eaten offering, then
reached down and lifted a dark briefcase up onto the table from the
seat beside him. “Ah. Yes, well, your father is actually with
Uncle at the moment, and he will stay there until he is relieved by
Monk Miyatsu, who should be in the capital within the hour.”

Miroku felt a dark shadow of concern
settle in his chest as he watched the younger man fiddle with the
case’s combination lock. A faint tension drew the muscles of
his back and face tight. “And why,” he drew out, “is
my grandfather coming to Tokyo?” Monk Miyatsu detested the
city; he preferred to spend the majority of his time at the main
family estates near Mt. Fuji, and only came into the city when
something significant required him to be there.

“Well—” The briefcase
popped open. The papers inside, of course, scattered all over the
table. “Ah!” Nobunaga jumped to assemble the papers in
some form of order.

Miroku watched him calmly, impatience
bubbling up from his gut. He drew a deep breath and sighed it out in
a conscious effort to release his tension, then plucked up one of the
papers from the table. The official mediator seal on the front caught
his eye. It was a signed contract giving him the right to speak and
act as a representative of the mediator families…and granting
him access to their accumulated wealth for any purpose he
deemed necessary. His dark eyebrows hitched. “Nobunaga, I think
it’s time you explained the purpose of this meeting.”

“Ah…yes. Your grandfather
is intending to take up a position as advisor to Uncle while you’re
away. Your father has already taken over your liaison duties.”
He managed to gather the papers together within a manila envelope.
“You’re being reassigned.”

“What?” A flash of long,
thick black hair and a luxuriously rounded bottom had concern nipping
at the edges of his mind. His spine snapped straight and he plucked
the folder from Nobunaga’s hands. “Why am I being pulled
from the liaison position? My father was very clear that the families
wanted me to be the chief representative for the talks.”

“The families have changed their
mind,” Nobunaga said, his tone grave as he watched Miroku flip
open the folder. “They believe your services as a mediator will
be better used elsewhere. Uncle agrees.”

“You uncle?” His brow
wrinkled “Why is the Prime Minister involved?” On the
very top of the papers in front of him lay an official government
travel pass—to a private island about four hundred miles off
the pacific coast of Japan. Miroku frowned and studied the man in
front of him with increasing perplexity. “This is Mimisenri’s
Island.”

A strange look passed over Nobunaga’s
face. “Yes. You’ve heard of it?”

“Anyone who’s spent any
time in the business community knows of Mimisenri, and his Island.
It’s the most exclusive pleasure park in the world. You can get
anything your heart desires while there—as long as you can pay
the price for it. Most of the time, the only way to even be allowed
on the Island is by private invitation, and those are only extended
to those with big enough bank accounts.” Miroku paused. “I’ve
been there…once or twice. It’s quite a place.”

“So you’re aware of
Mimisenri’s annual Nihon Conference?”

“The international business
conference? I've never attended, but I'm a mediator. Of course I'd
know about one of the only events in or near Japan that promotes free
interaction between humans and youkai.”

Silverware and glass clinked and
clattered as the little white monkey started scouring the tabletop
between them, cleaning the remaining food from forgotten plates.
Nobunaga didn’t even seem to notice his companion’s
antics. “Of course. This is actually the first I’d heard
of it. Ostensibly, the conference promotes new business ideas and
international commerce, because it allows some of the greatest minds
and resources in business to come together under relaxed
circumstances. They say a fourth of the world’s business
ventures start during Mimisenri’s Nihon Conference.” He
hesitated. “But, there are also rumors….”

“The private auctions,”
Miroku murmured. “The black market ones. Yes, I’ve heard
of them.” In fact, he’d been present at, and even
participated in, a few. Not that he intended to tell Nobunaga; the
boy looked upset enough about the rumors alone. “I don’t
imagine anyone actually believes that Mimisenri acquired his wealth
by legal means alone. The businessmen don’t care because he
gets them what they want; and because he facilitates sorely needed
business deals between the territories, neither government is willing
to expend the resources it would take to arrest and prosecute him. So
Mimisenri’s illegal dealings are overlooked by the
international community.”

Nobunaga shook his head, an indignant
frown darkening his already dark eyes. “The things they say
happen on his island—”

“Happen in many other places in
the world as well, Nobunaga,” Miroku broke into what looked to
be a looming rant on basic human rights, trying to bring him back to
the point. “You must learn to pick your battles wisely if you
intend to stay on the political path. Attacking Mimisenri, a youkai
with nearly unlimited means, would be a foolhardy and pointless thing
for either of the governments to do without a very good reason.”
He sighed, then leveled dark violet eyes on Nobunaga. “So why
am I being assigned as the mediator representative on Mimisenri’s
Island by an aide to Prime Minister Takeda?”

Nobunaga’s jaw clenched and he
stared down the way his hands fisted tight against the tablecloth.
“It’s customary for Mimisenri to request a mediator for
the week, just to keep things running smoothly, isn’t it?”

Miroku flipped the folder closed. “And
quite a pleasant assignment it promises to be. It still doesn’t
justify pulling me from another important deal to see to it. Nor does
it explain why a government aide is involved in mediator business at
all.”

Nobunaga was already shaking his head.
“Sakurai-san. A rumor has surfaced about this year’s
conference, pertaining to several of the items up for auction.”

He hesitated. Looked around. Leaned in
close.

Miroku’s impatience rose again,
putting a twitch in his eyebrow. His finger began to tap against the
white cloth. “Nobunaga—”

Nobunaga’s dark eyes speared him
with the gravity of the situation. “Sakurai-san. It’s
said that Mimisenri has in his possession, and will be auctioning off
to the highest bidder, several shards of the Shikon no Tama.”

Miroku felt his eyes go wide, his
pupils dilating until the violet in them looked nearly black as his
brain went numb with shock. “The Shikon no Tama? But the Shikon
hasn’t been seen for almost a hundred years.” He blinked,
then breathed, “Oh, great Lord Buddha. Did you say shards?”

“For once, both the government
and the mediators agree on the seriousness of the situation. You’re
to go, confirm the presence of the shards and retrieve them—and,
if at all possible, find any indications of where the rest of the
jewel might be.” Nobunaga’s baby-ish features looked
grim. “Under no circumstances is any piece of the jewel to fall
into youkai hands. That is an order from both the Prime Minister of
the Human Territories and the collective heads of the mediator
families.”

%%%%%%%%

----

YOUKAI TERRITORIES

New Musashi, capital city

----

InuYasha was having a bad
afternoon—hell, he’d been having a bad week—and
he had no qualms about taking it out on anyone who crossed his path.

“Get out of my way, you little
moron!”

Especially not the annoying little
phone-answering, paper-shuffling, pencil pushers who populated the
seventeenth floor.

Youkai of all shapes and sizes
scattered away from desks or hallways into nearby offices, leaving
trails of papers behind them in their attempt to avoid being trampled
by a thoroughly irate and obviously travel-worn hanyou. He had dust
on his clothes and shoes, and his usually healthy silver-white mane
of hair hung in dull, unkempt hunks down his back. The ragged-looking
sword hanging in full view at his waist, however (and every youkai
who saw it breathed a quiet thanks for small favors), remained
sheathed and untouched.

InuYasha barely noticed the scuttling
mass of office workers. He just steamrolled his way right through the
hallways and cubicles to the wall where the executive elevators were
located, and punched an impatient thumb into the call button. Then he
stood, boot tapping, mumbling. “Calling me straight back like
this…had to run all the way…fucking hungry…better
be one hell of an emergency.”

From the office space behind him,
whispered comments (pointless because he could hear them with crystal
clarity), reached out and rubbed like razors over his already
strained nerves.

“InuYasha-sama is upset
today.”

“Of course he is. He failed to
deliver the latest shipment to the dragons.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard
that.”

When the elevator finally responded to
his summons, the low-pitched, cheerful bell signaling its arrival
prompted a canine-baring snarl. He stepped into the tiny box, shoved
his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket, then turned to find
countless bug-eyes peeking from their various hiding spots throughout
the room: above, around, and below desks, behind windows and doors.
Most of the youkai viewing him with such terrified fascination were
small and toad-like, members of a weak-but-numerous clan who had
latched onto Sesshoumaru nearly a century ago.

The sensitive white dog-ears atop his
head twitched his irritation. Just to scare them, he wrapped a hand
threateningly around Tetsusaiga’s tattered hilt, slammed the
toe of his dirt-clumped boot into the side of the elevator, and
snarled again. “What the hell are you looking at?”

At the bang, the whole room seemed to
jump, and he watched the youkai’s scurrying movements with a
small spurt of satisfaction until the door closed them off from his
view. His stomach flipped at the weight shift as the elevator climbed
upward, but his ears continued to catch the low whispers from below
for several moments.

“I heard he was robbed before
the shipment made it to Ryukotsusei-sama.”

“Well I
heard that he didn’t even make it into dragon lands before he
was beaten and robbed. By simple,
everyday low-level bandits.”

“Eeeeeeh?!”

“Poor InuYasha-sama. If only
he were half the youkai that Sesshoumaru-sama is.”

“Hmm? But isn’t he
already only half the youkai Sesshoumaru-sama
is?”

His teeth ground together, his eyes
closing tight as he tried to suppress the urge to go back and beat
some sense into the useless little youkai. “I didn’t
fail, you tiny, stupid, gossiping toads.” He let his
head fall back against the elevator wall and scratched absently at
the back of one ear with a claw, trying to relieve some of the stress
of the last few days. How the hell did the rumors always start up so
quickly anyway? He hadn’t been back in the city for more than a
damn hour!

His lip curled. “Fucking frogs.”

Another low-pitched ding, and the doors
in front of him opened up. With a quick shake of his head, InuYasha
stepped out. The executive lobby had lush carpets, dark oak paneling
on the walls and doors, and a soothing color scheme in grays and
tans. Tasteful indoor lighting peeked from the ceiling, potted plants
stood at attention at random intervals, and large windows along the
walls let in plenty of sunlight. A wide, dark-stained half-circle of
a reception desk sat directly across from the elevators.

InuYasha didn’t care about the
opulence; he focused on the two hallways, guarded by the desk, that
led back into the offices.

His father’s secretary, Centi,
sat behind the desk, her long black hair pulled into a sedate
ponytail. Each of her six arms was engaged in a different activity:
one hand typed, while another sorted and occasionally stamped papers,
a third watered her newest dying desk-plant, and the fourth held a
phone to her ear. He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing with
the fifth and sixth. They weren’t visible over the high desk.
At his entrance, all her arms paused, and she stared at him.

He started to storm right past the
desk, but froze halfway across the carpet when an odd, wet, tacky
sound wormed its way into his ears. He rolled his shoulders,
trying to shrug off the unsettling noise, and scowled at Centi.

She had weird eyes—big, yet
somehow beady, too—and they were fixed on him. She said
something into the phone in some obscure youkai dialect that he
wasn’t familiar with, then put the receiver against her
shoulder. She didn’t seem to care about his scowl; he could
swear he saw a smirk curving the blood-red texture of her lips.
“Welcome back, InuYasha-sama. The Taisho wants you in
Conference One as soon as you get here. As in, immediately.”
The words stopped coming, but her mouth continued moving in a slow,
cow-like motion.

InuYasha nodded, but his ears twitched
again at the sounds still coming from her mouth. “Fine. He
better have a damn good reason for pulling me back from—”
He paused again at halfway around the desk and gave the company
secretary a narrowed look from golden, slit-pupil eyes. “What
the fuck, Centi? Are you
chewing gum?!”

She turned her head at him, a slow,
deliberate, too-far twist over her shoulder, and slipped her long
tongue out to slide along her lips. Her jaw continued to work around
the gum. InuYasha fought off a disgusted sneer, because he knew very
well she'd just take it out on him at some later, much more important
moment. Centi was a bitch that way.

“Yes. The Taisho wants me to quit
smoking. Says the smell bothers him.”

InuYasha caught the scent of
medicine-laden mint, scowled again, and gave her his back. “Keh.
He’s going to tell you to quit chewing, too, if you don’t
stop making so much damn noise.”

Centi cackled, a disturbing, grating
sound that followed him down the hall. “Funny. Sesshoumaru-sama
said the same thing. Though he offered to help me by removing my
teeth.”

InuYasha snorted, but didn’t
bother to respond. Letting her know that the insinuation that he was
in any way similar to his brother had irked him would only encourage
her to do it again. Centi had been the company secretary for as long
as he could remember, and for as long as he could remember, she'd
taken a sadistic personal joy in torturing her employers. The horror
of the thing was, she could get away with it, and she knew it. The
Taisho males, aggressive and knowledgeable though they were, hated
paperwork; thanks to her multitasking, paper-filing, organizational
perfection, Taisho Transport and Services maintained its reputation
as one of the smoothest, most reliable import/export companies in the
Eastern hemisphere.

InuYasha and Sesshoumaru put up with
her because avoiding red tape headaches was worth the aggravation of
her presence; InuYasha was pretty sure his father put up with her
because he liked the fact that she was an aggravation. The
Taisho also had a certain fondness for her talent in scaring off what
his father termed his “regular ass-pains”: they
occasionally visited the executive offices, seeking jobs, favors, or
“other things” from one of the most powerful daiyoukai in
all of Japan. Rarely did they make it past Centi.

That, InuYasha understood
perfectly. Centi had always creeped the fuck out of him.

He shrugged her off and headed for
Conference One, bypassing the shower and change of clothes he knew
he’d find inside his office. He found the dark-stained, solid
oak doors just where the hallway began to curve. They were shut, and
he took great pleasure in smacking them hard enough to make them
tremble; the doors flew open under his palms and slammed back into
the walls.

Inside, a lone male figure sat towards
the other end of the long, oval conference table, near the windows
that made up the back wall. The jacket of his immaculate suit was
thrown over the back of his chair, leaving him in a crisp white dress
shirt—sans tie, as always. His long, white-silver hair hung
free, straight and slick around his shoulders, and he sipped what
smelled like tea from a clay cup. On the table’s shiny black
surface, a small laptop whished with electricity.

Not the youkai he had been expecting. A
string of swear words, all of them good, but none of them entirely
appropriate to express his annoyance, ran through his head. “Where
the hell is Dad?”

At InuYasha’s crashing entrance,
golden eyes with cat-slit pupils, eerily similar to his own, rose
from the computer. One eyebrow hitched slightly, distaste and a faint
smirk in his otherwise-indifferent features. “InuYasha. You
smell remarkably like a filthy dog. Keep your stink on the other side
of the table.”

InuYasha sent a glare right back at
him. “Fuck off, Sesshoumaru. I just got back from dragon
territory, delivering the fucking sake that you promised them.
I ain’t had time for a bath.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes had already
dropped back to his laptop, and a few sedate clicks emanated from the
keyboard. The faint glow from the screen added a weird hue to the
magenta stripes slashing against his cheeks. “It was wine, and
it was very expensive to ship from France. It better have all been
intact. The terms of the contract with Ryukotsusei were—”

“Yeah, yeah. I fulfilled your
damn contract. To the fucking letter.” InuYasha ground the back
of his teeth. “Thirty barrels, babied like eggs, just in time
for that weird festival of theirs.”

“And the payment?”
Sesshoumaru still didn’t look up, though the keyboard tapping
had stopped. It looked like he was reading something now.

“A hundred pounds of scales, a
hundred pounds of some weird-smelling powdered shit, and a hundred
pounds of flowers, all trucking their way here though the friendly
routes.” Though why the dragons never paid in money like most
of their clients did escaped him. They damn well had enough of it.

“The bonus?”

InuYasha rolled his eyes. “Twenty
samples of that blue plant you wanted? Yeah, that, too.” He
cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “I brought it with me and
dropped it off in the warehouse. It’s all yours now.”

“Humph.”

InuYasha growled again. “You
could thank me, you know. If I hadn’t handled the shipment
personally, it wouldn’t have made it on time.” He glanced
around at the deserted seats and wished he could smell coffee along
with the tea. The weariness of a solid week of handling high-priority
goods was starting to catch up to him; he needed sleep, food and a
bath, in whichever order got it all to him fastest. “Thanks to
you and your damn last-minute negotiations, I haven’t slept in
three days.”

He sighed again, and rolled one tense
shoulder as he walked around the table—towards Sesshoumaru,
just to get the bastard back for the stink comment. “So? Where
the hell is Dad? He was the one so damn insistent about me getting
back as fast as possible. I had to run all the way from Hokkaido and
cut through Panther lands. Damn cats nearly took my head off just for
walking on their precious grass.”

That earned another “humph”
from Sesshoumaru, this one filled with contempt. “I haven’t
spoken to Father in several days. I’ve been in the Ookami
lands, meeting with their Elder Council about the bone-ware deal.”
A brief sidelong glance, filled with golden irritation. “Kouga’s
demanding compensation for the sacred weapon you broke the last time
you two fought. And you should have just taken a plane.”

“Keh. Kouga can kiss my ass; it
was his fault for getting me drunk before he challenged me.”
InuYasha stopped just behind Sesshoumaru’s chair and glared
again. “And it’s the dragons, remember? They’re not
real fond of technology to begin with, and screw machines that can
fly. Running was faster than waiting for decent transportation, and
by the time I got through the Panthers, it was just easier to avoid
the roads and cut straight through.” He peered over
Sesshoumaru’s shoulder at the computer screen. His brow
wrinkled as he gave an absent shot at translating the foreign words.
“Austria? What the hell are you reading?”

Sesshoumaru’s palm slammed
against the tabletop as he stood and whirled, the motion so abrupt it
sent his chair rolling backwards. The chair saved InuYasha from
serious injury; it forced him to spring backwards just as the claws
of Sesshoumaru’s right hand shot out, swiping at his chest.

InuYasha cursed as his back hit the
wall with a jarring thud; his hand groped for the tattered hilt at
his side. A faint hissing tickled his ears, and he looked down to
find four ragged slashes in the front of his shirt slowly eating
themselves into gaping holes. He looked up, glaring in disbelief.
“What the fuck is—that’s my shirt, you bastard!”

Sesshoumaru was facing him now, the
glare back in his eyes. He held his right hand out, fingers curled,
ready to strike again. “I told you,” he said, a quiet,
lethal note in his voice, “to keep your stink on the other side
of the table.”

“I’ll go wherever the hell
I damn well please!” A rip, a flare of power, and InuYasha
pointed the large, smooth, deadly curve of his sword at the youkai in
front of him, his gut burning with anger and anticipation. “You
got something up your ass, Sesshoumaru? Fine. Tetsusaiga and I
haven’t had a good workout for while. We’ll pry it out
for you.”

Sesshoumaru’s face went subtly
tight, and his eyes took on a menacing narrow. His lip curled, and
the crack of his knuckles echoed through the empty air of the
conference room. “Let’s see if you can.”

InuYasha sensed nothing. No sound, no
approaching smell in warning: one moment he was facing Sesshoumaru,
bristling and bracing for a clash that promised to be bloody; the
next, a huge, familiar body stood between them, powerful shoulders
and outstretched arms blocking his way with ease. Long silver hair,
gathered high into a ponytail, swung from rapid movement, and a deep
warning growl ripped through the air. One large, clawed hand had a
restraining grip on Sesshoumaru’s wrist, and the fingers of the
other had clamped down tight on Tetsusaiga’s blade, completely
ignoring the sharp edge that cut into its palm.

For a moment, everything froze.

A heavy sigh drifted between them, and
a deep, smooth voice spoke as yellow-amber eyes darted an exasperated
glance from brother to brother. “Enough, you two. I didn’t
call you both back here to wreck more office furniture.”

InuYasha blinked, only vaguely
surprised and a little pissed at the old man's interference. He
watched a droplet of blood run along Tetsusaiga’s heavy curve
to meet the hilt, then relaxed and stepped back. “Che. Dad.
Where the hell have you been?” He flicked Tetsusaiga free of
his father’s blood, and pushed the huge blade back into the
slim, black conformity of its sheath.

“Making arrangements. Since you
two have managed to get along decently well for the past decade or
so, I made the mistake of assuming it would be safe to leave you
alone with each other for a few minutes.” The Taisho released
Sesshoumaru’s hand before he turned a raised brow at InuYasha.
“And since when is a father accountable to his sons?”

Sesshoumaru “humphed” again
and returned his chair to in front of his computer. “Perhaps
when a father summons his sons away from important business without a
sufficient explanation.”

The Taisho’s dark gold eyes went
with amusement to his eldest son. The jagged violet slashes that
lined his cheekbones made a striking contrast to the multiple magenta
ones of the face looking back at him. “The explanation I have
is more than sufficient, though I’d prefer to tell you over a
table that remains in one piece.” He glanced at InuYasha, and
nodded to the other side of the table before sauntering over to the
huge leather chair that sat at the head of the conference table.

InuYasha followed him and continued on
to a chair on the other side. He watched his father stop at the
window directly behind the head chair and draw an invisible symbol
against the glass. He reached into the pocket of his casual sports
jacket and retrieved a slim pair of file folders and a much smaller,
folded piece of paper. The paper he unfolded, then slapped flat
across what he’d drawn. They heard a small hiss and a hum
before the background noise permeating the building went silent.

InuYasha’s confusion drew across
his brow. The hiss had been his father’s hand burning when he
activated the power in the sutra. What could be so important that his
father had to use a human seclusion spell?

The Taisho settled into his chair,
ignoring the burned flesh on his hand, and placed the folders on the
table in front of him. He crossed his arms and sat for a moment, his
vexed gaze going from Sesshoumaru, to InuYasha, and back again. A
faint, rumble passed through his throat. “I thought you two had
gotten over your petty squabbling years ago.”

InuYasha suddenly felt as if he were
pre-pubescent pup again, being scolded for hiding creepy crawlies in
the fluffiest parts of Sesshoumaru’s moko-moko. He scowled
again. “Hey, don’t blame me. The bastard over there is
the one who wanted a fight. I was just obliging him.”

“I warned him to stay away. He
didn’t listen.” Sesshoumaru looked both unrepentant and
stubborn. His eyes were still narrowed. “Idiot hanyou.”

InuYasha slammed a palm against the
polished black surface in front of him. “You know I can wipe
the floor with you anytime, you bastard!”

“Enough!” The Taisho’s
voice echoed through the room like a thunderclap, his voice steely
and commanding. “You both obviously have other things on your
mind today, but that ends—” he picked up the folders and
tossed them, one to each son, “—now. This takes top
priority.”

InuYasha slapped his down, then pried
it off the table. “What’s this?”

“Contracts for you to sign and
blood seal. You two are going to the Nihon Conference as
representatives of the Inu.”

“Blood seal? What’s so
important that it needs a blood seal?” InuYasha flipped open
his file and picked up the travel pass lying right on top. “You’re
sending us to Mimisenri’s Island?”

“You’ve both been there
before. You’ve also met Mimisenri, which is one of the reasons
we’re sending you.”

Sesshoumaru looked up from his file,
eyebrow slightly hitched. “You want InuYasha to attend a
business conference?”

The Taisho looked amused again. “You
know very well that InuYasha is fully aware of how to conduct himself
in such a setting, Sesshoumaru. Just because he chooses to be a
handler doesn’t mean he is incapable of doing so, or that his
education in that area is lacking.”

Sesshoumaru's brow inched a little
higher in a scathing hint of sarcasm. “No, only his practice.”

“Since when do you give a flying
fuck about what I practice?” InuYasha sneered before he turned
back to his father. “You're damn right. I choose not to
hang around a bunch of stiff assholes. So why the hell do you wanna
send me to an island full of ‘em?”

“Because during his Grand Auction
this year, Mimisenri will supposedly be giving several pieces of the
Shikon no Tama to the highest bidder.”

InuYasha head jerked up, and whatever
comments he’d been preparing to refuse the job died in his
throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Sesshoumaru, too,
had straightened in his seat. The Taisho watched them and waited, the
skin between his eyes creased.

“The Shikon no Tama?”
InuYasha ran a rough, travel-weary hand down his face. “The
jewel that was the only thing left of Midoriko after she threw up
that damn Barrier? The one that’s been fought over like a bitch
in heat since its creation?”

“The very one.”

“Well, hell.” InuYasha sat
back in his chair. “I thought it was gone.”

“It was.” Sesshoumaru’s
voice sent chills into the air. “Almost a century ago, the
Shikon disappeared along with its last guardian, a priestess by the
name of Kikyou.”

The Taisho gave slight nod. “And
now Mimisenri’s found it. That is, assuming he hasn’t had
it all along.”

“And he’s selling it,”
Sesshoumaru murmured, eyes narrowed in thought.

The Taisho’s mouth gave a quirk
upward, though it lacked any of his normal humor. “No, he’s
selling pieces of it.”

InuYasha scowled. “So he broke
the damn thing? What the hell? Wasn’t it too powerful to fuck
around with?”

“It is powerful. Dangerously so.
Beautiful, too. It attracts, pulls sentient creatures to it and then
traps them.” The Taisho sat forward, lacing his fingers
together in front of his face. “Right after the Barrier split
the territories, pretty much everyone on both sides was after the
damn thing. But each time someone got their hands on it, they were
overwhelmed by its power, possessed and corrupted by it, and
destruction was always the result. For about a century, both we and
the humans tried to contain it, but the cursed thing managed to
bounce between us, mysteriously vanishing from one side, only to
appear on the other. And every time it appeared, more pointless
bloodshed surrounded it. The seven Daiyoukai lords decided that the
jewel was too much a temptation to exist, and we tried to destroy it.
We failed. ”

InuYasha listened, still and silent. He
knew his father had been alive back when the Barrier first sprang up,
but it had never occurred to him that he would have direct memories
of the jewel.

“Throughout all the conflict, the
only time the jewel had ever been safe was in the hands of a human
with enough spiritual power to keep it from being tainted. Once we
figured that out, we handed the jewel over to the human government on
the condition that the jewel is kept safely in the hands of a
guardian capable of controlling it. If we’d left it to run free
across the regions, the result would have been unending civil war.”
He lifted a brow. “That was the first time the territories
worked together on anything.”

InuYasha’s ears twitched. “Hold
on. If the combined efforts of the Daiyoukai lords couldn’t
destroy the Shikon, then how the hell did Mimisenri break it?”

“And why is he selling it?”
Sesshoumaru didn’t seem to ask the question of either of them
in particular. He was staring out the window, at the distant,
ever-present glow of the Barrier out at the very edge of the city.

Lines bracketed the edges of the
Taisho’s mouth as he gave slight nod. “Mimisenri doesn’t
want for money. He is already wealthier than most countries. Like the
other daiyoukai, he doesn’t even need power; he has the secrets
of many of the rich and powerful who stay at his Island. So, even if
it is broken into shards, why sell the jewel at all?”

InuYasha shrugged. “Maybe he just
wants to show off. Isn’t possessing the jewel supposed to be
some sort of status symbol?”

“Possessing the shards, perhaps.
Selling them will do little more than cause a stir.”
Sesshoumaru spared him a scathing glance. “Mimisenri built his
name on shadows and rumors. If he were the type to show off, he
wouldn’t avoid the public so diligently. Even you and I have
seen him only once, and that was because of Father.” He didn’t
wait for InuYasha’s retort, just turned his gaze back to their
father. “So? What else? You don’t simply want us to
retrieve the pieces on auction.”

“No.” The Taisho’s
gaze went hard and dark, and his brows dipped low into a furious
glower. “Naraku will be participating in the conference as
well.”

A deep growl ripped from deep in
InuYasha’s chest; his fingers curled against the smooth table,
his claws scratched into the surface, a grating sound that
reverberated oddly within the confines of the seclusion spell. “And?
You want me to kill the son of a bitch?”

“You would be a fool to try.”
Sesshoumaru said, though he looked no more pleased about the
situation than InuYasha felt. “Mimisenri’s entry
contracts forbid unauthorized violence between guests. It is one of
the reasons he requires a blood seal from his guests. Killing Naraku
on Mimisenri’s Island would most likely cost you your life.”

His teeth snapped together on a snarl
and he shot to his feet. “Shut up. What the fuck do you have to
say? Your mother is still—”

The
Taisho's palm slammed into the table, rattling glass and metal.
“Enough, InuYasha.”
His voice was little more than a steel-laden thread of fury.

InuYasha froze and
cast a wary look at the head of the table.

The
Taisho's eyes were hard. “Seeing Naraku dead is as
important to me as it is to you, but that is secondary to what's
taking place now. Sesshoumaru’s right. Calm down. Sit and
listen.” He waited for InuYasha’s grudging compliance.
“We think Naraku has been in direct contact with Mimisenri for
several months at least. The daiyoukai lords are very concerned about
this communication.”

“Fuck him.” InuYasha
clenched his fist around the soft leather of the armrest. “He
wants the jewel pieces.”

“If it were only the shards, the
auction is enough to sort out a high bid.” Sesshoumaru narrowed
his eyes at his father. “Naraku seeks power. If Naraku gains
power from a private partnership, what does Mimisenri gain?”

“This is one of the reasons the
daiyoukai lords are in such complete agreement. We've suspected of
working with other daiyoukai in the past, but this time it involves
one of the oldest of us, and one of the most powerful objects in
recorded or spoken history. What Naraku might have to entice
Mimisenri into cooperating with him is almost as concerning as what
Naraku might use even pieces of the jewel for.” The Taisho
slanted a glance at his younger son. “And then there's the
power that managed to shattered what everyone thought couldn't be
shattered.”

“Fucking terrorist.”
InuYasha shifted in his seat, finger tapping impatiently at the
glass. “Does any of this change anything? We have to stop
Naraku from getting the shards either way. Who knows how much of the
thing Mimisenri actually has, or what Naraku is offering Mimisenri?
Whatever it is, it can't be good, right?”

“Nothing about this situation is
good.” Sesshoumaru stood, folder in one hand, and shut his
computer with the other. “I’ll go. InuYasha’s
presence isn’t necessary.”

InuYasha ignored him. “Even if
this isn't all about the jewel, Mimisenri can’t be stupid
enough to think he can trust Naraku. He'll plan for being
backstabbed, and it's bound to get messy once they start
double-crossing each other.” He growled. “Shit. And no
matter what, it’s walking into enemy territory if Mimisenri’s
actually working with Naraku. Shit.”

“That’s why you’re
both going. InuYasha is someone you can trust, Sesshoumaru.
He’s our best handler for a reason, and you'll need each
other's skills. I want you two to work together. This is not a
request.” The Taisho stood as well, his expression hard,
indomitable. “Find out what Naraku and Mimisenri are up to, and
relieve them of however much of the Shikon no Tama they have. You
have the complete financial support of this company and the private
wealth of the seven Daiyoukai lords. Use it wisely.” He turned
and stepped over to the window, where the sutra still stuck against
the glass. “And InuYasha…if you manage to find out
anything about Naraku in the process, that’s a good thing.”

For the first time since he’d
gotten back into the city, InuYasha found himself grinning, an almost
bloodthirsty show of fangs. “Heh. And if I manage to kill him?”

The Taisho glanced back over his
shoulder. “I won't hold it against you.”

InuYasha stared, had to stop himself
from stepping back. His father's golden eyes held a familiar cold,
ruthless glint—but beneath the ruthlessness, there was an
equally familiar, disconcerting hint of time-worn grief. InuYasha
gritted his teeth, refused to swallow the searing spike of fury in
his throat.

“How much time do we have to
prepare?” Sesshoumaru sounded irritated. He stood by the door,
one impatient claw tapping gently against the slim handle.

“You’ll be leaving first
thing in the morning. Have your offices ordered by then.” The
Taisho reached up and fingered the sutra keeping them enclosed in
tamper-proof privacy. “The youkai mediators are sending
representatives as well. Since their goals coincide with ours, I
expect you to cooperate with them; as mediators, they’ll have
access to information and events that you might not alone.”
Amusement filled his voice as he ripped the paper off the window; it
flared brightly, then dissolved in the air. “Try not to make
too many enemies you two.”

As the last of the paper vanished into
smoke, the ever-present background noise filled in the silence, and a
heavy pounding from on the other side of the oak doors reverberated
through the room.

A faint, squawky wail accompanied the
pounding. “Sesshoumaru-saaamaa! Please open the door,
Sesshouuuumaru-sama!”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened
briefly before he yanked open the door and glared down at the
knee-high, green-skinned imp that tumbled forward onto his face. It
took the littler youkai a moment to realize that his cries had been
answered. He looked up with tears in his beady yellow eyes. “Oh
Sesshoumaru-sama! Thank you for answering the door! Forgive me for
interrupting, Taisho-sama.” He paused, then muttered,
grudgingly, “InuYasha-sama.”

InuYasha had to hold back a snort at
the thumping vein in Sesshoumaru’s forehead, and a wince;
Sesshoumaru’s freakishly loyal personal secretary had an
annoying voice on his good days. “Oi, Sesshoumaru, shut
your pet toad up, will you? He’s giving me a headache.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes had already
narrowed into lethal near-slits. “Jaken. I told you I would be
unavailable until this meeting ended.”

Jaken didn’t even bother to get
off his knees before he started groveling. “Forgive me,
Sesshoumaru-sama, but your mother is on the phone again. She is
absolutely insisting that you speak with her immediately. She refuses
to await a return call, and she says she knows that you’re not
in Ookami territory, out of the country, or sick. Please
Sesshoumaru-sama, you must speak with her. She’s threatening to
serve me up as a delicacy at her next business party.”

The Taisho’s deep chuckle rumbled
from the back of the room. “It sounds as if your mother wants
to discuss your contract deadlines again, Sesshoumaru.”

The information didn’t seem to
improve Sesshoumaru’s disposition any. His fingers clenched
tight around the folder in his hand, and the paper crumpled, hissed
beneath his claws. He stared down, unmoving for a moment, then turned
on his heel and strode out into the hallway. “Tell her I’m
dead.”

“Eeeeeh?!” Jaken
gawked after him, then scrambled onto his feet and darted into the
hallway. “But, my lord, the last time I told her that, she kept
me busy for hours planning the best way to bury me alive with your
body!”

The Taisho continued to chuckle as the
sound of Jaken’s fretful muttering trailed down the hall, then
cut off abruptly with the slam of a door. “My foolish son. He
can run all he likes, but he will eventually have to deal with her.”

“Keh!” Restlessly, InuYasha
stood. “Stupid ass.” He grabbed the folder off the table,
and then headed for the door. “I’ll take care of Naraku.”

“InuYasha.”

Halfway out the door, his father’s
voice stopped him. He looked back.

“All this aside, the anniversary
is next month. Will you be coming this year?”

He looked away, down the hallway
towards his own offices and the shower that awaited him. The Taisho’s
piercing gaze didn’t let up even though he was no longer
meeting it. “Don’t I always come?”

A deep sigh. “I meant to her
grave.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned to meet
his father’s eyes. “I visit her. Every year.” Just
never with him. Never with anyone who could see him grieve. No one,
not even his father, had ever had the right to see him grieve.

Except one. And he wasn’t sure
she had ever been real.

The Taisho studied him for a moment,
then nodded. “All right. I’ll trust you with this and
make the arrangements.” He gave his son one more long,
considering look. “InuYasha. Don’t let your pride get in
the way of working with your brother. The game you’re about to
play is very dangerous. No matter how capable you are on your own,
you’ll need your allies. They’ll make you stronger, not
weaker.”

InuYasha snorted. “You don’t
need to tell that to me.” He vanished down the hall, in
the opposite direction of Sesshoumaru.

The Taisho stared hard at the empty
doors. “I shouldn’t have to tell that to either of you,
my foolish sons.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I really appreciate them.
Two important notes on this story.

1. This is an experiment of sorts for me, and I’m still
uncertain as to a few of the elements and characterizations, so this
is an under-construction work. Don’t be surprised if I have to
go back and change a few things along the way.

2. I’m working without a beta, and though I’m doing my
best, I’m certain that there are things I’ve missed.
Also, I’ve found recently that my “w” key is
getting sticky, so if you see any wording that seems a bit weird,
please don’t hesitate to point them out. I promise I won’t
get bitchy about it. I’m more than pleased to hear any and all
comments.

Thanks so much for the feedback,

ShadesofNight
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Blood Contract