Sesshomaru Unbound
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InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male › Sesshōmaru/Naraku
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
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Category:
InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male › Sesshōmaru/Naraku
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
7,196
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter 10
Sesshomaru Unbound
Author’s Note: This is a lightly revised version of the final chapter. It is now called Chapter 10 because I added another chapter after 8 to flesh out events between the return of Sesshomaru’s weapons and his battle with Naraku. I feel much better about the story now. Hope it pleases.
Chapter 10
It would only take one more strike from Tokijin. The sword vibrated with the power of the fangs from which it was forged. What could be more appropriate than destroying Naraku with a sword made from Goshinki, his own “offspring”? He could feel the sword’s desire to reunite with Naraku’s bubbling mass of flesh. And so it would, by slicing through and destroying it. At last. Naraku was already in pieces, chunks of black ooze and spider legs spread around the emptied compound of his castle. One final blow, bisecting the remains of the mockery of a human body he wore, and Naraku would be finished.
Getting to this moment had been, as most things were, primarily a matter of patience. Sesshomaru was skilled at being patient, extraordinarily skilled. Those who sought power as he did and faced adversaries as dangerous as he did had to learn self-control as well as the control of others. It had been more than a full cycle of the moon since he had been imprisoned by Naraku, since his encounter with the golem that mimicked Kagura’s body. And there had, between that night and this, been no sign of either. Naraku had withdrawn, yet again, to marshal his feeble and perverse hanyo powers, or perhaps just to torment Sesshomaru further. The possibility of such irrational pettiness did not escape the inuyokai lord.
He had not forgotten—would never forget—the acts his body and mind had been subjected to. But he did not flinch when he remembered struggling against paralysis as Naraku held him by the hips and penetrated him. He did not try to escape the memory of the hanyo’s foul attempts at seduction, to convince him that he craved what was being done to him. He did not live a life so small that emotions could control it. His mind was strong, had always been so. Though he regretted the unexpected weakness that had allowed the poisonous plant yokai to invade him and that encouraged him to take the body that turned out to be but a puppet doll, his commitment to destroying Naraku long predated those experiences. The past must be the past. All that mattered was the fact of his survival—and a future that would bring him vengeance.
He raised his sword as Naraku laughed. Always, the pompous half-demon betrayed his insecurity with his absurd chuckling. Though Sesshomaru occasionally scoffed at an enemy, it came from deep knowledge of that opponent’s weakness and his own pleasure in using the power that his daiyokai parents had given him as their truest legacy. It was not this childish guffaw that showed only how desperate and pathetic he truly was.
Laughter was always the way Naraku began his battles as well. Two days ago, that laughter had beckoned Sesshomaru, followed him as he brought Rin and Jaken to the Western Lands, so Rin might not again be taken hostage. He knew Kagura sought her freedom, but, should Naraku command it, she would not hesitate to take or destroy what was his. Of course, she would not flee Naraku if she could not be sure she would live; he should have known that. But again, he moved forward. He would not risk her treacherous manipulation. He knew Naraku would be displeased that he delayed facing him. Let it be so. His laughter was followed by his stench—thick, cloying, excessive, like everything about him. Well, let him befoul the whole world with his odor: Naraku could no longer reach into the inuyokai’s mind or control it, and it was infuriating to him. Hence, he had sent his puppet. But Sesshomaru would not be fooled again. And the son of the Great Dog Demon was not one to be summoned like a child, a slave, or a lover. He would come and defeat Naraku in his own time.
Having claimed that time and fought a battle that had been surprising in its fierceness and brevity, Sesshomaru was ready to end it. Naraku had met him before his castle, unfurled his grotesque body in his usual undulating, oozing fashion, and been hacked and sliced into more parts than Sesshomaru cared to count. His mention of their last “intimate contact” would not cause him to act in haste. No, he fought with total concentration. And he was careful not to be trapped within a circle of these bits as he once had before. He kept to the air, making diving slashes and stabs, that Naraku deflected or fell prey to, in seemingly random fashion. Perhaps he was simply idiotic enough to think Sesshomaru would be kept offguard by remembrance of the torture Naraku had committed upon him. If so, more fool he.
As Sesshomaru poised himself for the final strike, Naraku ceased his laughter and spoke. “Sesshomaru,” the languid mouth of Lord Hitomi pronounced, “I am gratified to have produced such passion in you. Yet, before you commit yourself to my destruction, allow me to pose a question.”
Sesshomaru paused, his face its usual inscrutable mask. Naraku’s body was too far gone now to pose any threat, and he sensed nothing else of concern in the area. He waited.
“When you destroy me, will you be slaying an enemy for his evils, or will you be silencing that part of yourself that so deeply craved every moment of what I gave you?”
Sesshomaru snarled and then plunged.
“Yes, kill me, my sweet inuyokai,” Naraku murmured as the sword bisected the facsimile of Hitomi’s upper body, from the crown of the head through his torn torso, and reduced Naraku to a pile of foaming blackness at Sesshomaru’s feet. It hissed and sizzled for long moments, exuding poisonous vapors that encouraged the inuyokai to rise into the air above it. Yet, he did not leave until the mass had become passive, liquid, inert.
As he beheld from above the dissolving remains of the carnage he had so eagerly wrought, Sesshomaru considered Naraku’s obscene, self-deluded question. Could the hanyo truly have convinced himself that he knew even the most superficial level of Sesshomaru’s motives or desires? Was there anything in word or deed that he had done to encourage such conviction? Sheathing Tokijin and heading westward, Sesshomaru knew he would have to contemplate such possibilities. And more: he would have to ponder whether posing his question was Naraku’s true motive for this battle and his own defeat—however temporary it might be.
-end-
Author’s Note: This is a lightly revised version of the final chapter. It is now called Chapter 10 because I added another chapter after 8 to flesh out events between the return of Sesshomaru’s weapons and his battle with Naraku. I feel much better about the story now. Hope it pleases.
Chapter 10
It would only take one more strike from Tokijin. The sword vibrated with the power of the fangs from which it was forged. What could be more appropriate than destroying Naraku with a sword made from Goshinki, his own “offspring”? He could feel the sword’s desire to reunite with Naraku’s bubbling mass of flesh. And so it would, by slicing through and destroying it. At last. Naraku was already in pieces, chunks of black ooze and spider legs spread around the emptied compound of his castle. One final blow, bisecting the remains of the mockery of a human body he wore, and Naraku would be finished.
Getting to this moment had been, as most things were, primarily a matter of patience. Sesshomaru was skilled at being patient, extraordinarily skilled. Those who sought power as he did and faced adversaries as dangerous as he did had to learn self-control as well as the control of others. It had been more than a full cycle of the moon since he had been imprisoned by Naraku, since his encounter with the golem that mimicked Kagura’s body. And there had, between that night and this, been no sign of either. Naraku had withdrawn, yet again, to marshal his feeble and perverse hanyo powers, or perhaps just to torment Sesshomaru further. The possibility of such irrational pettiness did not escape the inuyokai lord.
He had not forgotten—would never forget—the acts his body and mind had been subjected to. But he did not flinch when he remembered struggling against paralysis as Naraku held him by the hips and penetrated him. He did not try to escape the memory of the hanyo’s foul attempts at seduction, to convince him that he craved what was being done to him. He did not live a life so small that emotions could control it. His mind was strong, had always been so. Though he regretted the unexpected weakness that had allowed the poisonous plant yokai to invade him and that encouraged him to take the body that turned out to be but a puppet doll, his commitment to destroying Naraku long predated those experiences. The past must be the past. All that mattered was the fact of his survival—and a future that would bring him vengeance.
He raised his sword as Naraku laughed. Always, the pompous half-demon betrayed his insecurity with his absurd chuckling. Though Sesshomaru occasionally scoffed at an enemy, it came from deep knowledge of that opponent’s weakness and his own pleasure in using the power that his daiyokai parents had given him as their truest legacy. It was not this childish guffaw that showed only how desperate and pathetic he truly was.
Laughter was always the way Naraku began his battles as well. Two days ago, that laughter had beckoned Sesshomaru, followed him as he brought Rin and Jaken to the Western Lands, so Rin might not again be taken hostage. He knew Kagura sought her freedom, but, should Naraku command it, she would not hesitate to take or destroy what was his. Of course, she would not flee Naraku if she could not be sure she would live; he should have known that. But again, he moved forward. He would not risk her treacherous manipulation. He knew Naraku would be displeased that he delayed facing him. Let it be so. His laughter was followed by his stench—thick, cloying, excessive, like everything about him. Well, let him befoul the whole world with his odor: Naraku could no longer reach into the inuyokai’s mind or control it, and it was infuriating to him. Hence, he had sent his puppet. But Sesshomaru would not be fooled again. And the son of the Great Dog Demon was not one to be summoned like a child, a slave, or a lover. He would come and defeat Naraku in his own time.
Having claimed that time and fought a battle that had been surprising in its fierceness and brevity, Sesshomaru was ready to end it. Naraku had met him before his castle, unfurled his grotesque body in his usual undulating, oozing fashion, and been hacked and sliced into more parts than Sesshomaru cared to count. His mention of their last “intimate contact” would not cause him to act in haste. No, he fought with total concentration. And he was careful not to be trapped within a circle of these bits as he once had before. He kept to the air, making diving slashes and stabs, that Naraku deflected or fell prey to, in seemingly random fashion. Perhaps he was simply idiotic enough to think Sesshomaru would be kept offguard by remembrance of the torture Naraku had committed upon him. If so, more fool he.
As Sesshomaru poised himself for the final strike, Naraku ceased his laughter and spoke. “Sesshomaru,” the languid mouth of Lord Hitomi pronounced, “I am gratified to have produced such passion in you. Yet, before you commit yourself to my destruction, allow me to pose a question.”
Sesshomaru paused, his face its usual inscrutable mask. Naraku’s body was too far gone now to pose any threat, and he sensed nothing else of concern in the area. He waited.
“When you destroy me, will you be slaying an enemy for his evils, or will you be silencing that part of yourself that so deeply craved every moment of what I gave you?”
Sesshomaru snarled and then plunged.
“Yes, kill me, my sweet inuyokai,” Naraku murmured as the sword bisected the facsimile of Hitomi’s upper body, from the crown of the head through his torn torso, and reduced Naraku to a pile of foaming blackness at Sesshomaru’s feet. It hissed and sizzled for long moments, exuding poisonous vapors that encouraged the inuyokai to rise into the air above it. Yet, he did not leave until the mass had become passive, liquid, inert.
As he beheld from above the dissolving remains of the carnage he had so eagerly wrought, Sesshomaru considered Naraku’s obscene, self-deluded question. Could the hanyo truly have convinced himself that he knew even the most superficial level of Sesshomaru’s motives or desires? Was there anything in word or deed that he had done to encourage such conviction? Sheathing Tokijin and heading westward, Sesshomaru knew he would have to contemplate such possibilities. And more: he would have to ponder whether posing his question was Naraku’s true motive for this battle and his own defeat—however temporary it might be.
-end-