Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

Epilog

Sunlight streamed past the sides of the mountain, lessening the shadows that still claimed the battlefield. Rubbing his tired, aching eyes, then running his fingers through his hair, Inuyasha finally stood and looked around. The aftermath of that fight was obvious in the growing lightThe youkai caught in the middle of his attacks had been disintegrated, and some dead, like Cheiriyo, had disincorporated. But, there were more than enough broken carcasses and separate bits littering the ground to reveal what had happened. Like all battlefields, it was ugly.

Youki moved. Inuyasha turned, hand reaching for Tessaiga. From a deeper shadow, an oddly-shaped, pale form walked. After a moment, the hanyo recognized the walker as Mist, carrying another cat on her back. Seeing that, Inuyasha did not draw his blade, but he remained tense.

She halted some lengths away, looking at him with ruby-red eyes. "It's—Inuyasha?"

He nodded. "Mist. Your sister survived."

"Yes, thanks to the healer. I … would thank him, if I could."

"He's dead."

"I know." Her voice was sad. "Why… did he do it? I—I'm the one who killed him. I don't understand."

Inuyasha grimaced. "I don't pretend to understand Cheiriyo, either. But, what he said: my old man saved his life, after all of his people were killed. He said … he wanted to pass that chance on."

The smaller cat lifted her head and opened her eyes. They were black, seeming to drink in the light. Inuyasha felt a twinge of discomfort at the sight of those eyes, but he met the gaze of both pairs of eyes unflinchingly. Fog opened her mouth, but, instead of speech, she gave a long, wailing, sad yowl.

"Fog says that she is also grateful to the healer, and sad that he is dead."

Inuyasha blinked. "Your sister doesn't speak?"

Mist looked away, her head lowering. "Our dam never spoke about our sire. But, most of the clan believes … that we aren't pureblooded youkai. Because we're small. Because we can't stand on two legs, and don't have hands. Because Fog cannot speak. Karan … Karan was the only one who really accepted us. She forced the clan to let us stay, when our mother left."

Inuyasha felt his feelings soften. He released his grip on Tessaiga. "Will you be able to go back to your clan?" he asked softly. "Some of them did survive."

She shook her head, still not looking at him. "No."

"What will you do?"

"I—don't know."

Silence lengthened as the sun continued to rise. Inuyasha studied the cats, and felt sorry for them. Which annoyed him, but he couldn't help it.

"Could we…stay with you a while?" she finally asked. "We'd like to know about our—savior."

Inuyasha twitched. "You want me to trust you?" he demanded, feeling incredulous. "You've only tried to kill me twice!"

Mist looked up. "And you killed my only friend, hanyo!"

"That was war," he snapped. "I was defending myself, defending my people."

"And, so was I!" she retorted. "I saw what you did with that sword; I knew that Fog and I, with our ability to mask ourselves, had a chance to sneak in and take you out. I did it to stop your killing my people!"

They glared at each other for a long moment. Inuyasha yanked his temper back in line, thrusting the memory of the feel of breaking vertebrae out of his mind. Crossing his arms, he sighed.

"How can I trust you, panther?"

Her ears perked. "I will give you my word, that we won't attack, unless you threaten us."

Inuyasha studied her, analyzing their scents, absently noticing that there were notes in them that were clearly non-panther in origin, though he could not define that difference. And she did not smell of lies.

He thought, then, of where he would go. He glanced up at the sky, hoping; but, the hawk youkai had long since left. Inuyasha sighed, regretting the lack of a way to get a message to Kikyo. But, much as he wanted, he couldn't go back to her. He had another errand to run, first.

"You can come along, for now," Inuyasha said, kicking himself internally for a fool. "Not long—I'll be heading into human territories. But, for Cheiriyo's sake … come on."

… … …

Sesshomaru awoke, and wondered why he was lying in an undignified heap in the middle of a forest. Feeling a slight riff of annoyance, he started to leap to his feet, only to collapse back to the ground as his left foot and his entire upper right torso flamed with pain.

He didn't cry out, but his eyes went wide as his breath caught. Waiting a couple of breaths until the first shock faded, the inu-youkai very carefully levered himself to a seated position with his left hand, and then looked down at himself.

The luxurious fur of his mokomoko was burnt and blackened where it crossed his shoulder and fell across his chest. His armor was burnt and cracked, barely holding together. The right sleeve was simply gone. As for his arm…

Sesshomaru stared at what was left of his arm in something that might have been described in shock. The arm ended halfway to the elbow, and what was left was deeply burned. He remembered what had happened: how he had just thrown the berserk, mindless Inuyasha towards the sword his father had chosen to use to protect the hanyo. He remembered how the cats' attack had hit at that exact same moment, at that moment he had been vulnerable.

He had been vulnerable, because he had been trying to rescue that fool from his madness in the quickest, most direct method possible.

He had been vulnerable because of his pride that would not allow anyone with his father's blood to run around like a crazed beast.

Forgetting about the battle in the middle of conflict was a mistake.

And he had paid for it.

Forcing himself to look away from his mutilation, Sesshomaru stared at the trees and bushes before him, his eyes stormy, his jaw clenched. After a few moments, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the protests of his body. Awkwardly, with his remaining hand, he pulled Tensaiga—sheathe and all—from his sash. It pulsed softly a few times, and Sesshomaru gave it a bitter look. He suspected that Tensaiga was the reason for his location in this unknown forest, but if the blade expected him to be grateful…

He threaded the sheath through his sash on his right side. If anyone thought that this injury was going to ruin his plans for power, they were wrong. Tessaiga, and its power, were clearly beyond his reach. Tensaiga was worthless.

He needed a sword, a real sword. Even before his father had placed the first training sword in his hand, Sesshomaru had known that a sword was his destiny. A sword would be the focus through which he would send the power that would force the youkai world to acknowledge his supremacy.

For some few years, he had thought Tessaiga would be that sword.

It wasn't to be.

So be it.

He would find another sword.

This quest would start with Totosai.

And when he had his sword …

He would teach that hanyo to grovel.

… … …

Sesshomaru-sama.

Sesshomaru-sama.

He had to find Sesshomaru-sama.

Jaken stopped and peered blearily around. He didn't know how long he had been searching. He didn't know how long it had been since he had eaten, or slept. Everything since that horrible blast had struck and engulfed his master was a blur.

Except for one need.

To find Sesshomaru.

He lifted the staff of two heads and barked a command. It hovered upright as he released it, rotating slowly. Finally, it stilled for a moment. The man's eyes flashed red, and then it started forward. Jaken hurried to follow it, hoping, hoping, hoping.

He just had to find Sesshomaru-sama!

… … …

Rikaru eyed the rivulet surrounding his tiny island, then carefully—mindful of his body's weakness—crouched and jumped over to the mossy bank.

"Rikaru-san, you are better! And with three tails! I am —glad, you are better." The kitsune looked up and saw Akeneka standing just beyond the broad opening in the green, leafy wall. That opening had been present when he woke: that, along with the marked absent of that river youkai, were a clear signal that certain beings had decided that he was no longer a threat to burn down the forest.

A flicker of anger came at that thought, reaching for the flames. Rikaru squashed that flicker, imagining it encased in ice, isolating it from the still-unstable youki at his core. He had finally begun to understand what the river youkai had been trying to tell him, though it almost certainly be a long time before he would truly be able to control the power he had called.

"Rikaru?"

Not yet certain enough to transform to his humanoid form, Rikaru gave her a cold look. There was a smile on her face, he saw, but he could hear and smell her wariness. And, not surprising, was it? She knew she had betrayed him, refusing to accept her just punishment, fleeing from him and trying to help that hanyo.

That hanyo. Another glittering surge of rage had to repressed. The hanyo was the cause of all his problems. If the hanyo had just stayed in his own territory, none of this would have happened. A student wouldn't be dead. Akeneka wouldn't have betrayed him. And he wouldn't have been forced to remember the humiliating events of over a century ago, when that same hanyo had caused his own people to exile him.

Inuyasha.

Someday, he was going to track down that wretched, stinking hanyo, and destroy him.

Someday.

… … …

Miyatsu sighed, leaning against the wall of the house, watching the sunset in golden brilliance against pink and purple clouds. He felt conflicted.

He and the miko had finished going through Tsubaki's effects. They had dismantled or purified her several traps for youkai or humans, destroyed spells and papers. Some items—especially raw supplies, such as herbs—had been packed up to take back to the village for proper use. And four scrolls had been added to his pack, destined for his teachers at his temple.

Tomorrow morning, Yukuuku would transport the three of them back to Kikyo's village. And then, he would take his leave. The tanuki had agreed to transport him back to his temple, bribed by the promise of coins, and the possibility of a gift for her clan.

But, he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. Wanted to watch over Kikyo and help her, at least until her leg was healed and she could walk on her own.

She was such a fascinating woman! Her power was easily the equal of his own, if not superior. She was beautiful as well, and strong-willed, as befit the last keeper of the Shikon no Tama.

No other woman he had met, could begin to match that particular combination of power, will and appearance. He had found himself almost completely uninterested in any of the other women in the village, and that was a rare thing with him.

He had even dreamed of her.

And she was in love with a hanyo.

Inuyasha was a good boy, at heart, Miyatsu knew, for all the shadows in his half-youkai soul. Overall, it was good, that he had found the weapon his father had bequeathed him that allowed the hanyo to keep his immensely powerful youkai blood under control. That brief glimpse of the transformed hanyo, and the red, raging aura that held little more than a mindless blood lust, was sufficient. With the sword, Inuyasha at least would have a choice in his life. He would be able to choose his path, to choose to lessen suffering … or increase it.

And yet, he felt uncomfortable at the thought of the two becoming a pair. Part of his discomfort, he knew, was the traditions he had been taught; the definition of right and wrong. Hanyo together with a human woman? By the teachings, it was wrong. Very wrong.

He was no longer certain of that. But, that was not the sole cause of his concern. There were hints, of issues, of expectations that might drive them apart or even destroy them. He truly cared about both, and felt the urge to stay, to be a source of advice and a listener, which he perceived they both might well need.

And yet, there was yet a third reason for his discomfort, and while he had acknowledged it to himself, meditation, so far, had not erased his feelings.

He was … jealous.

Jealous of Inuyasha.

Which was why he should make himself go.

If he could.

… … …

Kikyo sipped the healing tea Kaede brought her, leaning against one of the posts of the south-facing porch. She was glad to be done with sorting through Tsubaki's effects. Some of it had been horrible—especially the double-layered, white paper dog with bent, folded legs. The echo of malice and hate about that paper dog had been dismaying, but Miyatsu's recognition of its purpose, that it was a symbolic representation of Inuyasha, which had allowed Tsubaki to injure the hanyo simply by damaging the figure, had been sickening. With Tsubaki dead, Miyatsu had been fairly sure that the link to Inuyasha was gone. Nevertheless, they had spent considerable time working over it, praying, doing what they could to insure that the paper dog was harmless.

She sighed, looking out over the darkening meadow. It was good that completing the job of removing Tsubaki's evil was done. And yet, she would be a bit disappointed, when Miyatsu resumed his travels. The monk had power to match hers, but more important, had a knowledge and understanding of both the spiritual and physical world that exceeded hers, and a genuine willingness to share and discuss. They had had several fascinating conversations during their work, and in the evening. She couldn't help admiring him. And he wasn't really that bad to look at, once you got past the shaved head and the monk's robes…

Kaede sighed noisily. "I am so ready to go home," she stated. "I want to see whether White Nose has had her kittens yet. I want to sleep in our hut, again. And I want to say goodbye to Miyatsu—for good."

"Kaede!" Kikyo gave her sister a scolding look. "Miyatsu's been very helpful. There's items I don't think I could have neutralized, without his knowledge and skills."

"Oh, I know that," agreed the girl, idly kicking one foot up and down. "He's better than you, some ways. And some ways, he's not. But, I still don't like him."

Kikyo sighed. "And why don't you like him?" It wasn't the first time she had asked, so far, to no real answer.

Kaede looked at her with her one eye. "'Cause he likes you too much. And you like him."

Kikyo stared down at her sister, feeling the slightest bit of heat along her cheekbones. "Of course I like him," she replied. "He's clever, and powerful, and compassionate, and he's been very helpful. Why is that a problem?"

The stare was almost dark. "If Miyatsu leaves, nothing. But, what if he stays? What if he's still around when Inuyasha comes back? What is he going to think? Do you still like Inuyasha? More than Miyatsu?"

Author's Note: And here is the conclusion to "Blood Unbound." With the epilog, I've tried to update the status of the notable story threads which are still unresolved. I confess, I realized as I was writing this that I had completely forgotten about Jaken, since starting into the battle itself. Fortunately, I still had this section to write, so at least you know that he did survive!

I do hope to write a sequel … eventually. I want to finish the alternate-universe, Kikyo + InuPapa story, "White To Black", first. I'm also working on a novel which could actually be publishable, if I get it done. The sequel is fairly nebulous at this point, beyond one of the major themes, and a pretty good idea of who will be one of the main (if not the main) antagonists. I want to get it plotted out before I start to write, so that it will come more easily.

Anyway, thanks to all of you for sticking with this story. I know I'm not very good at answering reviews (I so wish thise site had a 'threaded' comment system, so everyone could see my responses when I do make them), but I do read them all, and appreciate them.

- britedark, on 01/26/2013