Honor's Loss

By Namiyo11

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is again dedicated in it's entirety to K Knight, who saved it from oblivion when I thought I lost it. Thank you.

Chapter 1- Need

"This creature, perhaps we should kill it, Grandfather," the young Lord looked nervous as he stared down at the prone youkai in a guest chamber, lying on a mat. One they knew from legend, rumor...one who bore signs of an ancient family shame.

"No. We shall not," the rather old man rebuked his heir softly and studied the beast, thin hands tucked into his sleeves. Silver hair, dog ears, in clothes red as blood...as the tales promised. The mark of the creature who sired it, a General of youkai forces unimaginable. As this human was a General of human armies of a more pedestrian nature, one Matsudaira no Ichiro. The aged man frowned.

This hanyou had saved a village from youkai at their border, single handed, with a great sword of power. All the while saying he was busy, and had to get back to his own. But he'd been badly injured, and a quick thinking detachment had brought him here, one led by Haruhisa, his Grandson and heir, who stood at his right hand now. Who knew the old tales as Ichiro himself did, and his Grandfather's orders. If found-this particular youkai was to be brought to the Keep.

He frowned at the renowned Monk he'd called in when the troubles began, who sat studying the hanyou and kneeling beside the mat with a pair of his disciples flanking him.

"This youkai-he travels with a group of young slayers. I have seen him before. If you do not wish him purified, why then have you summoned me? The young Lord Haruhisa spoke some, but I trust he may be mistaken." Master Ungai. Who didn't like this at all.

"He is injured, and our healers have been unable to rouse him. I believed a Monk as yourself might have a way to bring him to his senses, in a manner useful to us as he instructed you. We also wish discretion. Can you do this?"

"I do not know, nor would I desire to make the attempt. Any congress with them is of the darkness. You flirt with peril, Lord. No danger is so great as to dare trust this sort."
"As you have said, Master Ungai. So, you then-refuse my request?" Ichiro asked softly, and the old Lord looked merely curious, not angry.

"I warn, my Lord. This will bring great danger."

"You will do as bidden or refuse now, Master Ungai. That is my will-and it shall also be my will...that your disciples will become persons of note to me either way. Our Clan has many allies still, and more who listen to our word. Remember this as you answer."

Indeed. He'd do it. Denounce them, take a very personal interest in them...Ungai was livid. Either do as he asked, rouse the creature and make him biddable for their purposes-or face the ruin of his Order, their great work forever left undone. The Matsudaira would destroy them-or require that he destroy his own honor in doing their will.

The price was high indeed. For a long moment, Master Ungai considered-and chose.

"Very well. But I will make no promise of success. Humanity and youkai are bound together in this one. Nor will I aid you when this comes back to ruin you."

"To your work, Master Ungai," Lord Ichiro ordered. He was helped to rise by his grandson, who then left, sweeping out with a firerat kimono that was hidden away and buried. It would perhaps remind him of too much. The sword was left-he would need that.

Then, with deep misgivings...the Monk did indeed set to work, sending his disciples away. But when he went to place the spells requested-the beads interfered. A simple subjugation magic. He removed them and continued, leaving afterwards with no payment, handing Haruhisa the enchanted beads and telling him what they were...offering a prayer as old Lord Ichiro gave several orders.

For whom that prayer was offered for was in question. It was noted by his loyal novices...that he looked frightened as he almost never did...but he said nothing. Not to anyone. His Order, they had to be protected. He would do penance for what he'd done. Master Ungai...he announced he was taking a time of reflection, and locked himself away in his quarters to pray.

When golden eyes opened later, an old man and a young one, both in the rich clothes of nobles-sat waiting.

"Cousin? You are awake?" Lord Haruhisa asked carefully.

"Who...where am I?" Inuyasha sat up fast, and glared.

"You are home, cousin. Do you not remember? There was a battle, and we brought you home to heal. Grandfather and I have been here often to see you well," Haruhisa replied. This troubled him, but there was no choice. Plain necessity, for this one would never willingly do what had to be done. That was clear from rumor, and what Ungai had shared with them that he had learned...wiping away the hanyou's memory.

"Grandfather? Who-am I...?"

"Your name is Matsudaira no Yasha, distant cousin. You are a champion of this House, and one of my finest warriors. You do not remember, but we...shall teach you. Of all you must know-and who you must be, for all of our sakes," Lord Ichiro answered sadly.

And they did.

"Move in, damn it! The gap's formed!!" Yasha yelled, spurring his horse. His cavalry unit, the best, the bravest, the most insane, really-followed him without hesitation as they slammed into the enemy formation at the join between infantry units. The Takeda army, their enemies...the left wing was crumpling as he slashed with a sword that was becoming a byword of terror to the foes of his Clan. His troops screamed it's name as a battle cry now...

"Tetsusaiga!"

"DIE!" he laid about with it, and armor and flesh shredded. He chopped at a fool who went down with a scream, nearly cut in half. Troops flowed with him, rolling up the wing and forcing the retreat. One of a steady series now, as the last three months turned the tide of war to the Matsudaira and their allies.

Lord Aki-he'd thought to use youkai to win this war. Youkai...killed by the Clan champion a month ago. A hanyou himself, yes. Part youkai. But the human half was Matsudaira, and to them went his allegiance.

"The day is ours!! Hunt them, kill them, let none escape!!" he yelled, lifting his massive sword high. Their camp lay before them, they'd loot it, of course, take what they pleased. But they better damn well not let the bastards get away for fucking trinkets! When he yelled as much, troopers smiled. He was a superb leader, cared for them, didn't waste them, had risked himself personally for many of them and led by example.

Youkai or no-he was like a minor God to them.

Some did escape, of course. That was the way of things. But the strategic region was theirs now. Soon, the whole of Musashi would fall into their hands like ripe fruit. Not likely this Campaign season, no. Not now, when the soldiers would have to be released to bring in the harvests and the weather would be a factor. But next year. They would crush the Takeda for once and for all.

"Well fought, cousin!" Haruhisa looked delighted as the command party rode forward to meet him as he reigned in to watch the rout. In truth-they'd become...friends. Something that bothered him deeply. He liked this mad hanyou cousin, he truly did. But-could not tell him that their friendship-it was based on a lie. That Yasha was not a retired Clan Champion, summoned from his distant home. Come from where he lived quietly by choice until the Clan needed his services again, offering his sword when youkai came to kill them all, then was injured and lost his memory.

He was actually Inuyasha, wandering hanyou warrior...and outcast. Who was, bluntly-a tactical genius when it came to split second movements on the battlefield. Haruhisa created the master plans, Yasha was the field commander who carried them out. The hanyou was winning this war for them, when mere months ago, they were all but beaten, facing the Takeda who had allied with youkai and forcing the Matsudaira to the desperate measure of acquiring him. Haruhisa had their loyalty, but Yasha heartened the troops, made them believe they could win...slew the youkai they could not, and made all of these victories possible.

The hanyou smiled, his blue Clan armor smeared with blood, his horse blowing...he looked like-he fit with them, silver hair and inhuman eyes or no. Perhaps Grandfather was right, they hadn't taken anything from him. They'd given. Inuyasha had a home, a place, was feared and respected. The troops admired him, and the family regarded him with gratitude, willingly keeping up the story because it was working...and most of the Keep believed it anyway. It all happened centuries ago, easy enough to claim things were as they said. Inuyasha seemed truly happy here, but it wasn't him, he deserved the truth, to decide on his own...but.

A helmet was pushed back as he regarded the battlefield beside the hanyou, putting it off again. Another day, perhaps. But not today.

"We celebrate a win, and you look like we lost," Inuyasha groused.

"So we do. You couldn't have timed the last charge better. Grandfather will be most pleased."

"Good. Lord Ichiro needs it, he...doesn't look well."

"No. But he'll outlast us all, Yasha," Haruhisa told him.
"Most of us, cousin." A chuckle and a jibe the hanyou would never have uttered mere months ago. Several of the Heir's bodyguard grinned.

"Present company excepted," Haruhisa agreed with a nod.

"Come on, let's get the hell out of here," Yasha suggested, and Haruhisa had the recall sounded before the troops scattered too much before nightfall and would be hopelessly lost, easy meat for regrouping Takeda to ambush. Horns blared and drums thundered as they set back to work.

Back to the Keep, one that was so familiar to Yasha...for he'd grown up in it long ago, as they'd told him. But not why he left, or the circumstances.

A great feast, celebrations...and the hanyou sat in the place of honor with his kin only long enough to satisfy good manners and eat his meal. Yasha had watched the Keep's women as they danced, and yes, he was lonely again. The Clan Heir saw him go, and shook his head.

"Don't forget to grab a pretty girl or three on the way, Lord Yasha!" one wag chuckled. Yasha just frowned. He had no concubines or even a man as a lover. No, he was not one for men, and women, even professional ones...smelled terrified of him. It was hardly a pleasing scent in a lover. Yasha had confessed the reason he avoided these celebrations and the women only to Haruhisa, their scent of fear...and the Lord had been surprised, but sympathetic. As he was now.

Haruhisa made a decision as he sat. Hanyou or no, he deserved companionship. He was a Lord of the Matsudaira, yes. But also of the blood of his Father. It was to be expected that they would fear him. It saddened the Heir that this was truth, and it didn't make his friend and cousin's bed less cold or his rooms less empty. They would have to find him a pretty girl who would not be afraid of him, then. A woman was a fine way-to repay him for all he'd done for them. For what they'd done to him. If Yasha was happy, he would not leave or wish revenge should he learn the truth, be grateful...

A pretty serving wench smiled, and he filed away the problem for later.

Both gladly attended the war council held the next day.

"I want to follow with village raids, that seems wisest," Ichiro said finally at council. The consensus was that they had to keep weakening the Takeda. How was the question. Raids on villages, merchant trains, did they go for food or trade more? What was best? Which villages? Planning and arguing had been going on for two days now, with no end in sight.

"Too many and we risk stripping the garrisons to pull them off." One of his advisors, Muro, frowned from his place.

"But we need to keep the pressure up. Hit the food stockpiles, and they'll be starved out. Less risk, and we can bring some home," Haruhisa argued.

"Agreed, my Lord, but hungry men make hard fighters. They'll come at us all the more out of desperation."

"Feh. Let 'em. I say strike. My men can handle it, we move fast, hit hard, and come home easy," Yasha scowled from his place along the sides of the Audience Hall with the rest of the counselors. Ichiro smiled. If it was a choice between action and sitting-he would pick action, always. An admirable trait, many of his council were of the opposite mind.

"I agree. Yasha, your men will strike into villages. Take their food, burn them out, make the Takeda pay for any undefended village. Force them from their strongholds to defend their lands, make them spread out and strike their supply lines when they do. But should you face larger numbers, fade away. Return home. We will have need of you...you are not to get yourself killed," Lord Ichiro told him.

"Prisoners? Do we impress some as troops?" Muro asked.

"If the opportunity comes, but waste no time on it. You will be my fist striking them from the darkness. Let them fear us, and tremble," Ichiro said quietly.

Yasha bowed deeply from the waist.

"As you order, my Lord. It shall be done."

Author's notes-Ok! Long note here. As my regular readers know, I do not citrus much because I feel it should fit the story fully. This time there is some, but just a lime in the version. There was a lemon in the original version, which is posted elsewhere out of respect for the stated site rules regarding sexual content. I'll have a link to the original up in it's chapter. This is also a very violent story, so this is a warning, folks. If that sort of thing isn't to your taste, be aware of it.

This story really is a bit of a departure for me. I love to stretch my skills too, and this will. Now, a note on the battle scenes and warfare in this piece. My familiar ground is Medieval Europe, so I've adapted it some with what I've been able to dig up on Feudal Japan's style of Clan warfare.

There are a lot of similarities really, so I hope it's not too much of a stretch for my readers. The harvests were a big determining factor in that era, when you really did have to send your peasant levies (soldiers raised for a campaign season) home to their villages to make sure you got the food in for next year. Winter campaigns were also avoided if at all possible and standing armies were relatively small.

With luck, you'll enjoy as I post it here. Thanks for Reading!-Namiyo