WILD BOAR COMIN' THROUGH!

The tone of her voice had him frozen to the bone, unable to even think of biting at the offending hand... but his stupidity curiosity wasn't quite quenched.

“The gods need humans, the prayers, the worship, the sacrifices, the wars, all in their name, makes them stronger, killing what is sworn to a god, is a problem, especially on sea of all things.”

They flowed like liquid ink through the ship's veins, slipping beneath the heavy oak of closed doors and climbing the vertical expanse of the hull by gripping the rough-hewn texture of the interior ribs. There was a delightful, rhythmic simplicity to their movement, a rhythmic scuttle-pause-scuttle, that allowed them to observe the men from the safety of the wall voids.

“You may have your fun, on land, where I can better control things.”

They maneuvered through the interstitial spaces, the dark, dusty crevices between the hull's ribs and the floorboards, where the scent of aged brine and spilled wine lingered heavily. She took the lead, her amethyst eyes glimmering with strategic intent, while Kiba trailed behind, filled with a twitching, restless energy, her whiskers sampling the air for the metallic hint of fear.

“Come.”

THE TEMPTATION FOR A MORE PRIMAL REVENGE WAS NOT LOST ON HER.

A mere shift in intention could have transformed the very essence of the depths; she could have morphed into a gigantic, ink-covered squid, her tentacles as thick as temple columns, while Kiba could have become a sleek, obsidian shark, a living blade of cartilage and hunger. Together, they could have emerged from the abyss like a nightmare made real, shattering the hull from below and dragging the screaming crew into a swirling vortex of salt and dread. It would have been a symphony of splintering cedar and drowning gasps, a banquet of hubris served on a platter of destruction.

YET, SHE RECOGNIZED THAT THE MOST CRUSHING STRIKE IS OFTEN THE ONE THAT CATCHES THE ENEMY OFF GUARD.

To sink the ship was to engage in a fierce battle; to slip through unnoticed was akin to executing a heist. The sight of a sea monster would draw the attention of Poseidon or another territorial god, creating a celestial disturbance that would inevitably trace back to her. Invisibility, on the other hand, was her refuge. She favored the cold, calculated stealth of a specter, gliding through the ship not as a hunter, but as a flaw in its very structure.

“Keep going.”

The ascent was a vertical journey through splinters and shadows. They maneuvered through the ship's skeletal ribs, their tiny claws clinging to the rough-hewn cedar with a frantic, rhythmic urgency. Above them, the muffled sounds of the crew’s merriment served as a sonic map; the booming laughter and clinking of clay cups indicated the heart of the ship, while the sharper, more focused shouts of the lookout directed attention toward the bow. Every few inches, they faced an obstacle, a heavy canvas tarp draped over a cargo hatch or a thick, salted rope coil, that demanded a synchronized effort of gnawing and pushing. To the men above, the sounds were merely the anticipated scurrying of pests, the background noise of a voyage beset by vermin.

Then the shift from the stifling, fragrant darkness of the hull to the open air felt like a sudden gasp of breath after a lifetime submerged. They burst through a knot-hole in the railing, two tiny, velvet-furred specks against a backdrop of bruising indigo. The air here was a tumultuous blend of ozone and salt, whipping through their whiskers with a force that nearly sent them tumbling backward.

“Time to get off this ship, follow me, and jump overboard.”

How pathetic. Did these people have no sense of self at all? Did they truly think it worth dedicating their entire lives, their entire breath and flesh, to an almighty being who had far more important matters to attend?

"HAAAH?! I can find all the food I want! I never needed anyone to catch it for me like you useless humans do! Did nobody tell you that meals just taste better when you eat them with someone else?!"

A freshly learnt trick of the trade that he would have happily demonstrated, if Giyuu hadn't been... Giyuu.

"Suit yourself! I'll eat my fish alone!" He proclaimed, brandishing the freshly caught fish he had brought to the table. He strode over a few steps away, crouched down with his back turned on Giyuu, and took a large bite of his meal before yelling again.

and laughter shakes his shoulders, a little forced — but still wishing to remain polite to the young one.

"hmm… you're not gonna use that as an excuse to bite people, are you?"

and then a tilt of his head, playfully adding, "that would be very rude."

"I'm not saying I'd bite their hands off or anything!" He pouted, arms crossed over fine fabrics. "Maybe just a finger or two..."

Little attention was paid to the insults.

There were more important things to focus on than some kid throwing around words that couldn't even constitute for cruelty by Inuyasha's standards. He hadn't even made a comment on superiority, nor would he. If Inosuke was anything like his younger self, and so far all of that had proven uncomfortably true in how similar he came off, that'd only fan the flames of a fire that didn't need to be stoked at present.

Didn't mean Inuyasha was going to coddle him, either. A person didn't learn unless they were put up to the situation themselves. Keeping an eye on someone wasn't the same, nor was protecting them if they were certain to die.

"Probably not. Those things're found pretty quickly if they're around. Makes even a pitiful yōkai turn into a threat." One audible groan later. "You're not eating any of 'em. I fucking told you--"

...

He's gone. The stupid brat just took off like this was some kind of game. Was he... really that dense? Somehow he felt all the more embarrassed that he'd been a teenager in an adult's body for decades. He never had the chance to grow up, or socialize, and no matter how many near death experiences he'd been in, he didn't really mature.

It wasn't until the first time his yōkai blood had taken full control of his body that Inuyasha had sobered up to the reality of what emotional growth really meant, and even then, that had only been the start. He didn't even have the time to reflect, or he'd possibly have a dead boar on his hands.

Breaking out into an immediate sprint, the man followed, weaving through the various obstacles as though he'd memorized the land for years. Trees, their roots, even low hanging branches. There was a fluidity to the movement, something that came from a lifetime of practiced understanding. The effort, became effortless when you did it enough times.

Hardly took Inuyasha even minutes to catch up, and catch sight. He didn't need his nose, nor someone of holy descent to tell him there was at least one or two Shikon Fragments at play here. No scaled reptilian yōkai grew that large on age alone. Not with a form like that. Something must have twisted it.

And given his experience, there was only one tainted artifact that could do the job, broken or whole.

Inuyasha was unfazed. He'd seen worse. With a sharp sound, and a brilliant flash of yōki, Tessaiga was drawn, and held against his shoulder as he stepped closer.

"Keh. This thing smells like shit." Golden eyes took note of Inosuke from his peripheral vision. "You know this isn't some fucking contest, right? There ain't no question on it now, and the Shikon no Tama is not somethin' ya mess around with."

Still, no movement.

"But... you're so hell bent on treatin' it like it is, so..." Now he took a step back. Sword at the ready, he'd jump in if he had to. "Knock 'em dead."

For once, Inuyasha was able to say that and mean it literally.

If he could grab the fragments fast enough, before the dog inevitably told him to store them away in a pouch, lest they corrupt him, or whatever... Maybe he could get just a glimpse of the future that awaited him for sure. A future where he could truly jump head-on into any battle, confident that triumph was the only possible outcome.

"Stop lecturing me, you old geezer! I got it the first time!" He heard Inuyasha's warnings loud and clear, yes. Then he chose to ignore them entirely.

He reached down into the depths of the fur that encased his belt, and extracted two little artifacts wrapped in old bandages. Once released from their makeshift scabbards, the bones extended into two jagged blades, shaped like a predator's sharp maws.

"I hope you like lizard meat." Inosuke grinned, flexing his legs. "I'll tear this thing to shreds!"

Inosuke kicked himself off the ground with enough force to leave a little plume of dust behind. He went for the opposite of a stealthy approach, instead making sure to roar as loud as he could, and let his enemy know exactly what sort of threat it was facing.

The sudden exclamation from Inosuke has her up in arms, body tensing from years of fight or flight instincts being honed to a sharp point. But she does relax when Inosuke's excitement reaches her... The way he buzzes at the chance of seeing his animal friends again.

Nezuko could remember hearing a story from her mother, long ago. She had been a baby, tied to her mother's back while Tanjiro toddled alongside her. Kie had encountered a raging boar who charged at her... And the Kamado matriarch headbutted the boar!

While Nezuko didn't inherit her mother's rock-hard head like Tanjiro had, she could definitely fight to protect Inosuke if need be.

Or maybe... Maybe Inosuke knew what he was doing. Yeah.

"Okay, I'll be quiet." Nezuko whispered back, smiling to herself at how easily her friend fell into old habits from his mountain life. "We just have to keep our distance. Right?"

A little sigh escaped his lips. This was where he truly belonged, wasn't it?

He was torn from his contemplations by Nezuko's reply, his answer kept to a little nod. To even speak out loud would feel odd in these woods, where he had spent most of his childhood speaking in grunts and groans, mimicking those of the beasts around him. The human tongue was only a last resort.

Soon enough, Nezuko would feel a little tug on her sleeve. Inosuke was urging her to look to her left, before he crouched down into the bushes, leaving only her eyes above the leaves for better viewing. The boar company was enjoying a little stay in a shallow puddle, taking turns to roll around and clean their hides.

"You have no idea how good this feels." Inosuke murmured, the envy blatant in his whisper-like voice. Not that humans would consider this a bath, of course - they'd make him wash the mud off his skin right away...

and laughter shakes his shoulders, a little forced — but still wishing to remain polite to the young one.

"hmm… you're not gonna use that as an excuse to bite people, are you?"

and then a tilt of his head, playfully adding, "that would be very rude."

"What else am I s'posed to do with big shiny fangs? I wouldn't bite them too deep! Just a nibble!"

Douma surely knows better than to trust the words of a wild little child.

“ hashibira-sensei!  oh,  right,  I  mean  –  boss! ”   comes  the  resounding  voice  of  one  still  full  of  youthful  vigor,  warm  and  bright  –  much  like  that  of  his  element.  much  like  his  color  too,  bright  yellow  with  the  traditional  triangular  pattern  that  he's  learned  the  thunder  breathing  users  from  inosuke's  present  (  future?  past?  )  seemed  to  wear.  it  doesn't  quite  gradient  like  his  father's.  but  he's  content  with  it  all  the  same.

his  arm  extends,  caught  up  in  a  over  exaggerated  wave.  nearby,  ginroumaru  sniffs  and  snorts  in  the  dirt.  they're  learning,  he  knows.  it's  a  special  mission,  one  that  the  boar-headed  teacher  had  been  so  gracious  to  teach. and who would taka be if he wasn't studious and ready to master all techniques taught by his superiors??

taka grins, proudly beaming at the older swordsman.   “ I  think  ginrou  found  the  bugs  you  were  talking  about! ”

The skin of his hands was his most trustworthy guide here, much like the rest of his epiderm. By sensing the smallest of vibrations around him, he could see the squirming, bountiful life that hid beneath the mountain soil. So many little bugs going about their day, scuttling around in their search for food and shelter. So many little snacks...

"Oh? Really?!" Inosuke's snout angled upwards, before he hurried over to his companions. A quick glance downwards, one hand placed on the ground near the dog, and he could confirm Taka's diagnosis.

The sharp crack of the gaoler’s neck breaking served as a jarring, yet satisfying, end to the stillness of the hold, but a brief flash of annoyance crossed her face. Death was inherently chaotic, and within the celestial hierarchy of the Mediterranean, the slaying of a mortal, no matter how justified, tended to emit a scent that wafted up to the nostrils of the Olympians. Some minor deity of the hearth or a trivial god of the roads would surely be offended by this abrupt disruption of the natural order, and she had already endured enough divine inspections to fill three lifetimes.

“Hm.”

How many years had it stayed dormant within their breast? How many times had it tried to claw its way out, burst after burst, seeking the one that would open the cage once and for all?

What if they tried to lock it up again? What if they tried to take it away, seal it somewhere so deep that it could never see the light of day again?

It was now or never. Use this strength while they could feel it bubbling underneath the skin fo their hands. Consequences would come later, for certain, but they would be dealt with in due time.

There was retribution to be distributed.