He didn’t understand it. He was always in control.

He’d trained for centuries so that every move he made was effective. Nothing was wasted. He was trained to recognize his enemy’s tactics and weaknesses and use both against them. He knew and could implement every technique. His body and his mind were both precision instruments and he more than knew how to use them. He fought with absolute confidence, always knowing how the battle would end.

He never lost his temper. Nothing could distract him. He never jumped into battle without thinking it through first or without a plan of action. No, that was Inuyasha, and he was definitely not Inuyasha.

He was the Lord of the Western Lands. He was the Aristocratic Assassin. He was the Killing Perfection. And he had no one to protect.

So why then had he gone rushing into battle? Why had he fought with such hatred and rage? Why did he miss the necessary signs to predict his enemy’s attack and allow himself to be injured? Why had he been unsure of the outcome while he fought? Why had he fought harder than he’d ever fought in his entire life? Those were all things Inuyasha did, and he was definitely not Inuyasha.

He was the Lord of the Western Lands. He was the Aristocratic Assassin. He was the Killing Perfection. And he had no one to protect.

Inuyasha fought with everything he had every single time. He got angry. He got messy. He got distracted. He got hurt. But he was strong, Sesshoumaru had to admit. The hanyou could hold his own against him even though he should have been half as fast, half as strong, and half as powerful. Even without the sword he could keep up.  He had no training and had centuries less experience, so how could Inuyasha fight against him so effectively?

He was a hanyou! He had no real home. He had no proof of his heritage besides their father’s fang. He fought alongside humans. He defended them, guarded them. He fought to protect them. Inuyasha had something to protect, something he was willing to die to save. But he was not Inuyasha!

He was the Lord of the Western Lands! He was the Aristocratic Assassin! He was the Killing Perfection! And he had no one to protect!

Sesshoumaru glanced around his small campsite and he knew that he was lying to himself. She’d been kidnapped, but she didn’t cry. She knew he would come for her. She’d been in danger, but she held no fear. She knew he would fight for her. Her life was at stake because of who she was to him, but she held no resentment. She knew he would save her.

 He’d allowed himself to get angry. He allowed himself to rush into battle carelessly. He allowed himself to be distracted. He allowed himself to be injured. He fought harder that day than he had ever before.

He had allowed himself to feel fear for the first time, but it was alright. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that she was safely back where she belonged… with him.

He was the Lord of the Western Lands…lands that would be empty without her.

He was the Aristocratic Assassin… who would be more than happy to skillfully assassinate anyone who threatened her.

He was the Killing Perfection… but when she was in danger he was suddenly not so perfect.

 And he had no one to protect… except for the little human girl that had shown him over and over again that she trusted him, that she depended on him, that she had faith in him, and that she loved him.

He was the Lord of the Western Lands. He was the Aristocratic Assassin. He was the Killing Perfection. And he played father to a human child… a child he would happily die to protect.

Perhaps he and his brother weren’t so different after all.