"I knew him." Sesshomaru's tone was low, flat, almost angry. "And he knew me. He was my father, but I was never really his son. Why do you think he left Tetsusaiga to you? You were his favorite!"
Inuyasha pulled back from the near-bark, surprised. "But I...I didn't..."
"No, you didn't." Sesshomaru turned to the last door in the small, square hallway--the one door which had not yet been opened. Gripping its fine wooden frame, he slid it open almost forcefully, stepping aside so that Inuyasha could look within. "You didn't have to do anything. He loved you anyway, from the very moment you were born. Look, Inuyasha--look well at the life he wanted for you."
Stepping carefully around his brother's rigid form, Inuyasha peered curiously into the chamber beyond, momentarily confused. It was smaller than his mother's room, and the wall screens were painted more vibrantly with active, playful scenes. Another ornate bed stood against one wall, while a polished wooden cabinet stood against the other. A small, fine silk kimono was hung on a rack in one corner, a pair of slippers sitting beneath it. Various toys were set at the foot of the bed--stuffed animals of silk and linen, little clay statuettes and wooden figures, even several brightly-colored tops and a little wheeled wagon.
It took him several perplexed moments realize that this was a child's room.
He required another full beat to realize that it was his.