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#10 Weapon

Title: The pen is mightier (#10 Weapon shard)
Rating: G
Character/Pairing: Inutaisho + Sesshoumaru
Summary: Not all weapons are made out of steel and fang.


“Which shall you practice with today?” Sesshoumaru glanced at the sword at his father’s side, but knew it was pointless to ask. He and his father had been over the subject time and again, each time the answer had been “not yet.” He picked a sword from the weapon rack instead, its weight comfortable in his hand.

“What of you?”

His father smiled mysteriously. “I have mine.” He nodded and gestured for his son to attack.

Sesshoumaru began with a graceful arc, his body in alignment, his moves perfectly executed.

His father dodged the attack easily. “Is that all?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight tone of annoyance. Sesshoumaru attacked again, this time with a move that was sure to hit his father’s armor. “Feh,” his father said dismissively. “And here I thought I had trained you to use a blade. Obviously I was wrong.”

He watched as his son’s eyes narrowed in response to his words as the fight went on. At each insult, Sesshoumaru’s attacks became sloppier and less disciplined.

“You are weak,” Inutaisho finally said with disdain, turning his back on him. “At this rate, you will never best me.”

Sesshoumaru growled, his eyes bleeding red. He charged his father without any clear attack tactic. Inutaisho neatly sidestepped him, using his foot to trip his son up. Sword clattering to the ground several feet away from him, Sesshoumaru turned over and bared his claws, the tips glowing green.

Inutaisho promptly sat on his son, pinning his arms with his feet.

“An important lesson, my boy,” he said, looking as if sitting atop an enraged demon younger than he was an everyday occurrence. “One I will impart on you once you calm down.”

Sesshoumaru froze and then looked as if he was trying to get his temper carefully in check. “I am calm,” he said, his words clipped.

“Not as much as I’d like you to be, but it will do.” Inutaisho stood up and held out a hand to his son. “Not all weapons are made of metal,” he started. “Nor are they all made from bone, claw, fang or poison. Never forget that words can be powerful weapons; the correct combination slicing through your opponent as well as any physical blade can.

“Of course I do not think you weak. You may be inexperienced, but you are proving to be quite strong for your age. When you get older, I believe you will be a force to be reckoned with.” He clapped his son on the shoulder and watched as dawning realization made the last of the red bleed from his eyes and the markings across his cheeks smooth out.

“Just remember, when faced with an opponent, find the right words that will turn the fight in your favor.”

Hundreds of years later, Sesshoumaru used his father’s lesson to his advantage, beating back –yet not defeating – his younger half-brother amid a sea of bamboo. One day, he vowed, he would find the correct words that would not only anger the whelp enough for him to drop his guard, but end him once and for all.

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