Humans were nothing.
Little more than vermin whose pathetically, short lives were tainted with woefully, flawed aspirations.
Not worth considering and barely worth slaughtering. Occasionally, boredom bade him to do both.
A less learned being might have felt guilty. Had he not understood the fundamental truths of fate and nature.
Only the strong survive as the weak must perish, leaving the nothing to be ultimately forgotten. Humans are that nothing.
Immutable, unchangeable, their niche in the grand scheme is indisputable.
A thin, panicked scream of a little girl rips him from his musing. Without hesitation or consideration, he draws one of the swords at his hip and rushes to her defense.
Sesshoumaru protected nothing.