I would like to thank everyone who is still with this story. I had considerable trouble in preparing this chapter. There were plot inconsistencies, language problems, and basic writer's block. But I finally was able to get this chapter out, and I am pleased to say it should be well worth the wait.

I had previously wrote part of this and scrapped almost all seven pages of it because I couldn't bear to post it. It simply didn't do justice to the scenes in here and I felt it would have been an insult to all you wonderful readers to post something substandard after so long a wait.

So, again, I thank you all for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Sessysama

I do not owe InuYasha

Also: The e-mail has been sent out. If you did not get it and were supposed to I may not have gotten your full s-mail address. Please re-send it as Name(at)domain(dot)com. Or just e-mail me at DeadlyDogLord(at)yahoo(dot)com and I tell me in that. Thanks.

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"Aneue, please Aneue, come inside." Seto sat in the snow next to his sister, but Saraku had little desire to return to everyone. Perhaps she might one day accept whatever she was now, but she hated being looked on with such sickening pity as her relatives gave her now. Even in Seto and her mother's eyes she could see it. The bitter winds were far more tolerable than their stares.

"Leave me, Seto. I will return when I need to."

"Aneue, your hand shouldn't be out in the cold like this. It might not heal right."

Saraku looked down at her hand and instinctually closed one eye to assess it completely. The stiff fingers curled into a fist, and the white bandages tinged pink with fresh blood. There was no longer a demon sight for her to rely on. It was all human. Whatever she was really didn't matter, her body for the first time was really human and she would not return to normal with the rising sun.

"Chichiue can heal it when he returns, if needed." Saraku did not look on her brother's face.

"Aneue . . . I . . . I'm so—" Saraku's gentle grip on his wrist stopped him from finishing.

"None of this is your fault. Fate has been very kind to me. I won't complain about what I am now, no matter what I think of it."

She felt Seto's covered head rest against her forearm and knew, demon senses or not, that he was struggling not to cry in front of her. "How can you say that? You might never be the same again. How can you say fate is kind?"

Carefully, Saraku pulled Seto against her chest, making sure not to look down at him, but giving him a reassuring embrace regardless. "Seto, you are safe. That is why fate is kind. They let me get to you in time. They somehow got both of us out of that damnable place and we are alive now. Most importantly, you will one day recover from this. You are still a hanyou."

Seto ripped himself from her hold and knelt over her to try and see her face. "But, Aneue! You aren't anymore!"

"That was my choice."

Seto fell back slightly and rested on his heels. "But—"

His hand was somehow cool compared to hers as she gently stroked his fingers. "I will always protect you. That is my choice and nothing you do will change that. I could have just as easily left you there to be made human and came back once I was recovered. None of this is your fault and I'm glad you are safe." After a moment of silence Saraku let go of his hand. "Go back now. I will come in later."

She waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard on the crunching snow before exhaling the jagged breath she had been holding back. All of what she said was true, but not the whole truth. Her hatred and envy boiled just below her relief, too fresh and strong to hide completely. If she looked him in the eyes he would see the lie she would not say. The lie she would soon have to tell Sesshoumaru, if she could.

I'm happy we are safe.

A bitter laughter broke through the crisp air. "If I'm going to be like this the rest of my life, I wish you would've left me dead, Chichiue."

The sun was set before Saraku returned inside. Sesshoumaru had been gone for over a day now and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen when he returned. What would her life be like now? Would she ever be able to return to being a regular hanyou? The questions were almost as bad as her family's sympathy . . . almost. She could take scorn, hatred, and disgust, anything, just not pity.

She, Seto, and Rin were now staying in InuYasha's home since they had more space than Makoto and Tanshin's place. Saraku was staying in Makoto's old room, a futon, covers, and water basin brought in for her. As she entered the small room she saw that Kagome had left a few more bandages for her hand, also.

Saraku headed straight for the water basin. Something had been bothering her for some time now. The cold cloth slipped easily from her hand, even the places stained red from her blood. That should have been frozen stiff from the cold.

Beneath the bandages all the cuts on her hand, both shallow and deep, flexed raw and fresh, as if she had just cut them. Blood still seeped onto her palm, heating the skin at confusing levels. If it continued to bleed her hands felt like they would burn. She dipped her hand directly into the water basin to cool the searing skin.

None of it made any sense. Her body should be completely human, so why was her blood boiling in her veins? Her chest moved in labored breaths, as if weights were pressing it down. Even in the freezing cold she had not felt the full chill of the snow or winds.

No sense! It makes no sense. What am I now? Why did this happen?

A light knock on the door startled Saraku enough to cause her to hit the water basin to the floor and shatter it. Her heart was pounding and a light sheen of sweat already covered her face.

"Saraku, are you all right?"

Rin's voice. She needed to calm down. She didn't want her mother to see her so out of control. Just calm down.

"Saraku?" Rin called from beyond the door.

"I'm fine!" Saraku snapped, only to cringe in self-annoyance. She worked to soften her voice. "Please, Okaasan, let me be alone."

She waited a long moment, worried Rin wouldn't go. Finally, Rin answered, "If you need me, come. I will talk with you tomorrow."

"Yes, Okaasan," she hurriedly replied.

Saraku didn't listen as her mother walked away. The heat was overwhelming her. So suddenly, but unrelenting. Her chest rose in heavy breaths as Saraku stripped down to her thin under-robe, but even in that the heat seemed to swell around her, in her. Her hands shook as she wiped away the sweat now dripping down her face. How long would she be able to stand such a fierce fever?

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The moon was high when the cat demon finished wandering the area around the small village. Save for a holy tree there was nothing special about it, yet, inside the village stayed some very interesting creatures. A hanyou mated to a miko, rare indeed. A human woman with a demon escort, which never left her. That, he presumed, must be Sesshoumaru's human mate, her clothing indicated she was of high status. A young monk, one of the ones who had found the two he saved, also seemed to live in the village. Then, of course, there were the two hanyous he helped. What were they? The boy seemed healthy now, far more human than demon, but since he was cleaned and re-clothed the slight scent of youki could be found in him.

The woman was a different story. Something was in her scent he recognized, but couldn't identify. She was able to withstand the excessive cold with barely more than a kimono, and seemed to feel none of the effects of exposure. But that unknown scent had increased throughout the day. He was considering risking a closer look at her in the house when his target ran out and headed for the forest.

He followed with such swiftness the snow barely moved beneath his touch, and soon he had overtaken her enough to look at her from the front. Her eyes were wild as she ran and she had bitten a large gash into her right hand. Each rapid breath wheezed with pain and blood. But what shocked him the most was even with the bitter winds sweeping snow into the air, the woman was sweating. The white robe she wore clung to her skin and her body trembled from something, though he knew it wasn't cold.

The woman couldn't keep up her frenzied pace, though, and soon she fell onto the snow covered ground. The cat's demon gaze never left as he watched the woman crying out tearless sobs, her hands working quickly to cover her body in the freezing snow. He had never seen anyone with a fever such as that in all the centuries he had lived.

The confusing scent increased as the woman lay there shaking in pain. He watched her flesh steam as the blood burned its way across her skin. He watched the blood drip off her hands and fall on the white snow. He watched the snow melt beneath the crimson stain, a foul stench rising. And he finally knew the scent.

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Sesshoumaru knelt beside the barren patch of land and ran his claws across the infertile soil. Where snow covered the rest of the clearing, only here did he have confirmation he had arrived at the correct place. That place would never sustain life again thanks to the poison Saraku inherited from him. But for her to suddenly achieve the level of potency required was unimaginable. Her tolerance had been tested, and indeed showed potential, but to basically overnight obtain a level rivaling his own poison. There were pieces still lost. He needed to find them.

The only visible path that had been made recently came from Seto's escape, and even that was barely discernable thanks to the snow. But how did they arrive at the clearing, then? Saraku's poison should have made some kind of trail if she walked or was dragged. It would take someone carrying her at a decently high speed to avoid creating a lasting trail for him to follow. When it came to his children, Sesshoumaru despised unanswered questions, and this place created too many.

Dismissing the clearing in favor of better clues, the demon lord followed the scent of human flesh. He could not call it a village, for he could not sense life, only the smell of decomposition. Thus there was no surprise in finding a litter of corpses between the clearing and the village. What shocked him was the manner of their deaths. Limbs lay strewn about in frozen pools of blood, and not a single person remained in more than three pieces. Above him a headless torso hung skewered by a tree branch, claw marks scarring the now pale flesh.

This was not done by either of his children in the state they were in. A demon killed these men, not for sport nor in need. Sesshoumaru knew what kills like that ended up as. No, this scene was one he had seen many times, for he had many times left corpses such as these. This kill was simply a kill for the sake of moving on. The demon's goal was not these foolish villagers, they were merely in the way. The goal lay beyond them.

Without even a passing regard Sesshoumaru walked through the sordid, snow-made cemetery and continued onto the village. If the demon's goal was there, then Sesshoumaru's answers would surely be found there, as well.

The silence so near a village stirred darker emotions in the calm demon. No insufferable human talking could be heard, nor the cries of labor animals. Not even a bird's wings could be heard beating the wind for flight. All remained still, and with each crunch of snow beneath his feet Sesshoumaru's rage grew.

He would be denied his revenge?

Sesshoumaru took in the scene with nothing but contempt. Blood bathed the half-broken homes and frozen roads. The dead remained unceremoniously scattered. Families killed together. Those who had tried to flee now faced the earth they had tilled. One baby even still rested in its mother's arms, though the mother's body could not be seen nearby.

On all this he looked down from the poisoned hilltop. This demon may have saved his children, but it took his revenge as the price. His children had been attacked and disgraced. Did that not merit his right to kill all the offenders? None were allowed to harm his own and not suffer the wrath of the Western Lord. But it had been stolen from him by a nameless demon, and the mere thought made him seethe inside. He would have retribution one day. Sesshoumaru would settle for nothing less.

When he finally turned his attention to the destroyed building behind him, the scent of his daughter filled his senses. There was no doubt in his mind that the damage done was inflicted by Saraku. Nothing remained of what he presumed to be the shrine save for the foundation and a putrid lake of twisted, mangled refuse. It was impossible to determine what had originally been what, and only by judging from the gate could he figure out where the entrance once stood.

Whatever answers he sought would most likely be found among the pile of debris. Pulling Tokijin from his waist, Sesshoumaru swept it across the foundation area until the blade's power had torn up enough of the frozen surface for him to sift through. Time passed slowly as he searched, unsure if anything remained to provide even a new clue to his questions, but still he continued.

Finally, as his claws tore away another piece of half-melted bone, Sesshoumaru heard the sound of scraping metal. After digging further down, he pulled out Seto's sword completely unharmed by the poison. Figuring the mikos had not yet had the time to even attempt a purification on either of the demonic weapons, Sesshoumaru continued searching the area for Saraku's scythes.

He couldn't deny a wave of relief when he found the first scythe, chain still attached to the hilt. He followed the chain to its partner and carefully removed the last blade from the debris.

He had wanted answers to the questions surrounding his children. And there, at the jagged metal end of Saraku's scythe, stood an answer Sesshoumaru never considered. He had to return to his daughter, before it was too late.

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Her fingers were numb, having long since succumbed to the burning beneath her skin. Bloody flames coursed through her body in strengthening attempts to drive her mad with pain. The melted snow beneath her boiled as blood pooled into it, and the stench of burning flesh permeated the forest till no creature remained to witness the screaming girl's agony.

Somewhere beyond the pain, beyond the crimson tears that flung from her thrashing face, the barest wisp of coherency knew of those with her. Her mother's tender hands that wiped the blood before its acidic nature burned her skin and created more wounds. Her little brother, in whose lap her head beat against, stared down into her senseless eyes with a terror he had never felt before. Restraining her rage was assigned to her cousins, who sat a constant vigil at her arms and legs, for if even one limb were free the damage she caused only increased her pain.

But these were shadows, illusions of the heat in her mind. A mere mirage that she was refused indulgence in. The burning was her existence. The pain was her life. She did not die, but only suffered. Atoning for a sin she could not relieve herself of. A sin she spent her life embracing.

There in a patch of snow laden woods, Sesshoumaru's only daughter cried in blood for being born a half-breed.

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Rin knelt over her daughter and continually cleaned off her once fair skin. Rin's own body was stiff with cold and the only thing keeping her awake was the stinging in her blistered hands. Saraku's blood burned everything it touched, which meant the pain Rin felt cleaning it was nothing compared to what Saraku herself must have felt.

Kagome and the others helped her as much as they could, but no matter how long they remained in the snow Rin refused to leave her daughter's side. Sometimes she thought a flicker of consciousness returned to Saraku's eyes, but it was fleeting and quickly becoming a rarity.

But despite the pain she was in, or the suffering her child bore, not once did Rin shed a tear. The pain was too near old scars that she refused to cry for anymore. How many years ago had she sworn to never hear this kind of screaming in her children? Wasn't her pain enough to satiate the fates? Why did her children have to suffer, as well?

"Okaasan," Seto's voice broke through his sister's screams to reach her. "Okaasan, please go inside. You are freezing. I'll go in too, just please...please."

"Not once have I left one of you when you are in pain, and I will not start now," Rin answered firmly.

"But Okaasan, you've been out here too long. You need to warm up."

Rin could hear the pleading in her son's tone, but refused to yield. Saraku was her daughter, and when her children suffered, Rin helped or suffered with them. "I will not leave her."

Seto placed a hand on Saraku's forehead to hold her down after a particularly violent attack. "Please. Okaasan, please."

"He will be here soon. I will go in once he is here." There was no need to explain whom she referred to. There was only one person she could talk about with such certainty, and once she mentioned him Seto quieted.

Her emotions had become unstable some hours prior, which acted as her first warning something had been found, though it was hardly what was expected. Confusion, worry, and an underlying anger had steadily been increasing as the day wore on. What had Sesshoumaru found that could cause such extreme emotions in him? She had remained silent for a while, in fear she would snap at others from the anger her mate felt. And by the intensity the emotions reached now, Rin knew he was close by.

Shiori arrived with fresh water and rags, as too much exposure to her blood destroyed the cloth. Rin did not pity the girl. Her's were the choices of desperation, and Rin understood better than most what the fear of being alone could make a person do. So instead of pity, Rin felt sympathy. Shiori had owned up to her past and the mistakes that lay there. That is the most anyone can ask for.

Shiori quickly collected the tattered cloth Rin had previously been using along with the soiled water basin. In her eyes Rin saw the guilt Shiori felt and the true years the woman had lived.

"It isn't your fault," Rin said.

Shiori refused to look Rin in the face and merely paused in her work to reply. "If I had done more for her... If I had been stronger..."

"Ifs are meaningless things," Rin answered back. There was a regality in her tone that could only be attributed to the years of faith Sesshoumaru had given her. "The only thing ifs breed is self-contempt. You decided what was best and did it, as did my daughter. Now, like her, you must face the consequences and move on."

"But, she is suffering because of what I chose, Rin-sama. She may die because of it."

Rin felt a surge of fear as Shiori spoke. Sesshoumaru must have caught the scent of Saraku's blood in the wind. Rin lifted Shiori's chin with a blistered finger and looked in her falsely human eyes. "My daughter will not die. He has returned."

No more had the words had left her mouth than did Sesshoumaru appear in the distance, sword in hand. With their daughter's cries fueling him it took only seconds for him to be at his mate's side. Rin had long since learned not to look at Sesshoumaru when his emotions overwhelmed her or she would break down from them. Even after all these years she still couldn't understand how he managed to remain calm through all the conflicting feelings.

Rin watched as Sesshoumaru swept Tenseiga through Saraku's body. The wounds they cleaned for over a day finally closed, sealing in her burning blood. Saraku's screams silenced immediately, though her body still trembled in their hold.

"Release her," Sesshoumaru commanded and, after a hesitant moment, was obeyed.

Beneath a haze of lingering pain, Rin saw a glimmer of conscious understanding break through. The expression on Saraku's face begged Sesshoumaru to release her from the pain permanently. It begged for death.

Everyone was silent and father and daughter stared at each other. Finally, Sesshoumaru answered her plea.

"Run."

Whether by understanding or instinct, Saraku obeyed her father's command. Her hands and feet scrambled across the bloody ground for some purchase to run off of. Rin grabbed her son's hand to keep him from following. Sesshoumaru knew something, and everything in him told her this had to be done. Still, to watch the crimson trail left in the melting snow as Saraku fled broke Rin. There was still suffering for her daughter to go through, and for this Rin couldn't be there.

Seto was the first to end the silence. "Chichiue! What are you doing? We need to stop her! She won't last out there!"

"Silence!" Sesshoumaru demanded as he returned Tenseiga to its sheath. The near yell was the only outward evidence of the emotional battle going on inside him. "Do not question me."

Seto tore from his mother's grip and stood, his full height reaching only to Sesshoumaru's shoulder. All his life Seto had resembled his father in appearance, but for the first time Rin saw a strength and conviction in her son that could only be considered Sesshoumaru.

"Chichiue! She's dying. What good can having her run wild do?"

Within seconds Seto was pinned against a tree, his own sword pressed against his chin to make sure he looked up at Sesshoumaru. "I will not be questioned or disobeyed by you."

It wasn't until Rin felt Shiori's hand gently grab hold of her shoulders that Rin realized how labored her breathing had become. Knowing what her mate felt and what he thought were two different things, and Rin's own confusion was compounding all the other emotions inside her. She did not want to see her mate threatening their son, but neither would she look away.

"Sesshoumaru! What the hell is going on here? Where's Saraku?" InuYasha's voice seemed to echo through the trees as he approached.

Eyes still fixed on Seto, Sesshoumaru lowered the blade and shoved it into the ground next to him. Without a word of explanation Sesshoumaru reached into his haori and pulled out one of Saraku's scythes.

InuYasha stood transfixed for a moment as the scythe passed mere inches from his head to embed itself into a tree beyond. But only for a moment. "Sesshoumaru! You bastard! What the hell was that?"

Rin had not even managed to turn her head completely before Sesshoumaru was in front of his brother, the demon's hand gripping Tessaiga's hilt. Only once before did Rin see Sesshoumaru grasp his brother's blade, but the reaction was the same. Tessaiga sparked and crackled in rejection of its wielder, but Sesshoumaru ignored everything. Unsheathing the sword, he ripped the blade through the air to release its demonic power into a single blast. Still more shocking, he followed the attack and, as it struck the tree Saraku's scythe was in, Sesshoumaru forced Tessaiga's tip against his daughter's weapon as if to pierce its heart.

The light was too bright to look directly at, and Rin instinctually grabbed onto Shiori's hand until they could look again. Tessaiga rested on the ground next to Sesshoumaru's kneeling body, his hand twitching from the burns now marring his palm. Not too far away lay Saraku's scythe, now in two pieces on the ground.

No one spoke. No one knew what to say even if they had the ability. InuYasha was the first to move, walking up to Sesshoumaru and picking up his sword. Before he could re-sheath it InuYasha raised the tip to Sesshoumaru's face. "Why did you do a damn stupid thing like that? You know what that will do to her." Never before had Rin seen InuYasha so calm in his anger.

Sesshoumaru's only response was to stand and once again reach into his haori. Rin stared in shock as the two pieces that made up Saraku's other scythe fell to the ground. "Until the transformation is complete she cannot return to normal. Both have to be broken."

Without another word Sesshoumaru turned and left the small crowd. His trail mirrored their daughter's and as he left a new feeling overwhelmed her. Once she could no longer see her mate, Rin finally cried. "He's going to kill her."

Rin didn't feel the stares of those around her. She didn't even consciously see her son kneel down and grab her trembling hands. All she knew was the feeling from her mate. The will to kill.

"He won't kill her." InuYasha's voice broke through Rin's fear. "He just has to intend to."

"Ojisan?" Seto looked up confused.

"If what he said is what I think it is, then Saraku has to let her demon blood take over. I can't be sure, but if one was broken, but the other wasn't, then she might be stuck. Not hanyou, but not demon or human either." He shook his head in frustration. "I don't really know what's going on."

"Okaasan, I'm going after them. Something's not right with Chichiue."

Rin grasped Seto's wrist as tightly as she could. "No. Obey your father. Stay here and trust him."

"But—"

"I said to obey him."

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Run. Run. Run. Saraku repeated the word over and over in her head, without understanding the meaning. Her body ached with every staggering step and the world seemed to spin around her. There was no up or down, right or left for her; all Saraku knew was forward. She had to keep running.

Faster! Run Faster!

There was no light to show her path. The trees blocked out what little light the setting moon still gave. Her feet stung with newly made cuts, which bleed her toxic blood and burned her skin as she moved.

Already her mind was weakening to the pain. Her body begged to stop running, to tear away her skin and cleanse herself of the fire. But she ran on. He commanded she run, and she had to obey her father.

In her stumbling flight Saraku rammed the trees, tearing her arms and chest with each new impact. The robe she had once worn was mostly gone, only a tattered reminisce of a belt managed to hold on the shaggy lower half. How much longer could she go on like this? Her skin blistered and split as the blood trailed down her body in growing crimson streams.

Stop! Just stop!

Saraku collapsed to the ground. Her arm caught the trunk of a tree as she fell and the force of the collision yanked her arm from the shoulder socket. Her screams were the only noise in the forest, and at that moment Saraku simply wanted to die. At least then she would finally be free of the pain.

She didn't hear the footsteps approaching her. She didn't see to person stop. But she felt the boot slam into her abdomen with enough force to throw her into the neighboring tree. Saraku wrenched on the ground and vomited the blood filling her stomach.

"Get up."

Her confused gaze locked on Sesshoumaru. There was disgust in his eyes and even in her half-coherency she knew it was because of her.

"Stand," he commanded again. From his waist he pulled Tokijin and pointed the demonic blade at her. "No child of mine would be so weak. Stand."

She could die, but not as a disgrace to him. Never as a disgrace. Her working hand shook as she tried to push herself into a kneeling position. There was no strength left in her body, though, and the pain overwhelmed her. Once again the snow cradled her face as if welcoming her.

Not like this. I can't die like this.

Tokijin forced Saraku onto her back, and in the process sliced her dislocated arm. Sesshoumaru looked down at her, and through the agony that consumed her mind she could see a coldness he had never shown her before. There was no compassion, no love left in his eyes. She was nothing to him at that moment and that meant she was expendable.

Chichiue...

He lifted the sword above her and prepared to strike.

Not like this. Chichiue!

The wind whistled as the blade swept down...

Chichiue!

...and Saraku snapped.

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Feral eyes, likened only to the untamed mindless beasts, shined with sickening glee, and a predatory snarl revealed fangs growing between her human teeth. The poison that had for so long been torturing its master shifted to the sword clenched in her clawed hand. Her human ears disappeared and among quickly growing wisps of black and white hair formed the canine ears true to Saraku. With unnatural force given to her weakened body Saraku thrust Tokijin back at her father.

Sesshoumaru had for some time now come to understand much of his father's actions concerning InuYasha, even as far as the decision to give Tessaiga to him. But as Saraku stood, poison surrounding her bare body like some form of ethereal clothing and the desire to kill filling her crimson eyes, Sesshoumaru truly understood his father. This bloodlust was something he had desired to keep from ever tainting his children.

Saraku was the first to attack, leaping forward to rip at her father's chest. Sesshoumaru easily blocked her wild attacks with Tokijin before ramming the hilt against her jaw and sending her falling back to the snow. She scrambled up again, but her legs gave out on her before she could attack again. Over and over Saraku forced her destroyed body to move closer, so determined to fight not even the pain mattered anymore.

Watching InuYasha fight like this Sesshoumaru had only felt disgust, and perhaps pity at the creature he had become. But this was his daughter, and to see her crawl through the bloody snow without any sense of what she was doing infuriated him. Someone would pay for this one day. He would have his revenge.

Kneeling down, Sesshoumaru placed his hand over her nose and mouth. Saraku's new fangs bit at his palm but he ignored it and only pushed down harder. Slowly her hand stopped clawing on his arm, and her legs stopped trying to stand. From that disgusting red her eyes faded back, one gold and one brown, until she lay still.

Sesshoumaru removed his hand from his daughter's face and watched her lungs greedily take in the freezing air again. She was alive, but barely thanks to him. It was necessary though, and Sesshoumaru would do anything to stop her suffering, even put her to the brink of death.

No longer needing to attack, Tokijin was replaced by Tenseiga. For the second time that day Sesshoumaru healed the wounds on his daughter's body. As he had once done for Rin so many years ago, Sesshoumaru removed his haori and covered Saraku's shivering body. With a tender hand he lifted his daughter from the ground and held her against his chest. For now she was safe and finally without pain. And hell would pity the creature that dared harm her again.