Chapter Text
Sesshomaru didn’t like to be touched.
A shame, since almost everywhere he went, he somehow inevitably became a target of unwanted affection. Children grasped for his hair with sticky hands. Women pressed up against him, all soft breasts and sweet breath. Men mostly wanted to fight him.
When Sesshomaru was very small, he remembered being an object of entertainment to an endless parade of aunties and old grandmotherly youkai with whom he had some distant relation, petting his hair and pinching his cheeks while he struggled valiantly against the white-knuckled grip of his mother. Meanwhile, his father had a habit of slapping him heartily on the back, sometimes a tad too aggressively when his katas fell short of expectations or his arrows failed to reach their targets.
As Sesshomaru grew older, the touches grew even bolder and, in turn, became increasingly unwelcome.
”You look just like your mother,” alcohol-infused breath flooded his nose as Sesshomaru found himself cornered against the rocky outcropping. His father’s ally, a middle-aged youkai (Masato, was it? Mazuko? Or Mazutu?) loomed over him, clearly inebriated and words slurring. His strategy of hiding away at the edge of the camp to avoid the worst of the victory party had backfired.
“Truly amazing resemblance; you have almost nothing of your sire in you,” the youkai continued. Strands of gray hair escaped the bun atop his head as a wide, pink-tinged face with a flat, crooked nose studied Sesshomaru.
The celebrations thundered on in the background, firecrackers and drunken cheers drowning out their conversation. In the distance, the sky flashed with blinding white light, doubtless the work of some enthusiastic thunder demons.
Sesshomaru said nothing and narrowed his gaze at the youkai, quietly analyzing his options to escape unscathed. He slowly inched his way to the side with every intention to slip away into the night, almost certainly to a place a comfortable distance away from the chaos and ideally with a nice, cozy bed. Tentatively, he took a step.
His plans were dashed when a clawed hand whipped out and grabbed him by the shoulder. Sesshomaru’s eyes widened at the forwardness of his unwanted suitor.
“Release me, drunken wretch” he declared, staring steadily back into black, bloodshot eyes. He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice, stomach fluttering. “Or has your mind been so crippled by drink that you cannot see that I am male?”
”Don’t be rude, Sesshomaru,” the youkai giggled. He was a head taller than Sesshomaru, and almost as tall as the Inu no Taishou. “Of course I know what you are, son of Toga. Consider replying to compliments with a little more grace.”
The hand left his shoulder and slid into his kimono, shoving him fully against the boulder. Sesshomaru’s own hands came up to push back against the older youkai’s chest, hands twisting futilely in the fabric. It felt like he was trying to move a mountain.
”Let me go,” he hissed, more urgently. “If Toga finds out—“
”But Toga won’t find out, will he?” The demon smiled. “That his son is a weak, girlish youkai who enjoys the company of men?”
The gall of this dirty old pervert. Sesshomaru’s eyes flashed red with anger. “I am no such thing!” He snarled, yoki gathering around them.
A fist crashed into his solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him and abruptly halting his transformation. Sesshomaru coughed and instinctively curled around his abdomen. “None of that here,” the voice murmured next to his ear, traces of rotten meat tinting the alcohol-infused air.
Sesshomaru kicked his leg out and missed.
“Mmm, she did always try that,” the youkai stated contemplatively and then pinned his hips with his larger body. Who was she, Sesshomaru wondered distantly as his kimono was pushed down past his shoulders. His mother? Did she have to fend off his father’s lecherous allies as well?
A rough tongue slid over his neck, and he gave an involuntary exclamation of disgust. This only seemed to arouse the middle-aged youkai (Mizuchi? Maybe that was the one), and he ground into Sesshomaru’s hip, an obvious erection tenting his hakama.
“You are revolting,” Sesshomaru spat. Inside in his belly, a hurricane was building, swirling around and around.
“Mmm, methinks that haughty tongue protests a tad too much,” Mizuchi returned, moving his hand lower to untie Sesshomaru’s obi. A thumb flicked over his stiffening nipple.
Sesshomaru scratched and punched and kicked and squirmed, snarling and even trying to bite with his teeth, the last of which was rewarded with a smack so hard he saw stars. Thick, calloused fingers wrapped around his penis, stroking with surprising gentleness. He jerked in shock, unwittingly giving up more ground as the other youkai pressed him harder against the stone behind him. His feet stamped into the ground and he leaned back, to the side, anywhere to get away as the familiar heaviness settled in his groin followed too quickly by telltale tightness.
”Wait, stop,” Sesshomaru gasped, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Never before had he felt so violated, his body’s own reflexes manipulated and turned against him. “Stop before—“
”Before what?” Mizuchi asked from against his shoulder. “Pray, tell me why I should stop.”
Sesshomaru didn’t reply, closing his eyes while shaking his head back and forth as his traitorous body responded to the youkai’s ministrations. He twitched his leg and Mizuchi pressed down on him harder, weighing so heavily that he could hardly breathe. His claws scratched at the larger youkai’s chest, pushing ineffectually. The pressure caused his dick to swell even further, peeking head turning purple and shiny with need. The soft touches suddenly transformed into something so sweet, so delicious, and Sesshomaru let out a soft moan while his muscles stiffened in preparation.
Hot blood sprayed over him, soaking his hair and clothes. Mizuchi’s body went limp, and the head that had been busy licking the hollow in his neck toppled over and rolled onto newly stained grass.
Sesshomaru opened his eyes. The Inu no Taishou stood before him, flicking the blood from Tessaiga before resheathing the sword, a stony expression on his face. Around them, the noisy ruckus of the celebrations died down as the victory party turned to watch the commotion. Sesshomaru shoved away the headless corpse which had collapsed on top of him.
”Father!” He cried, relief flooding into him. Saved.
But instead of a word of consolation, a hug, even a nod, his father simply turned and began walking away.
“Father?” Hurt and confused, Sesshomaru hurriedly rearranged his clothes, covering his flagging erection, and stood up to follow. “Father, wait! Please,” he felt tears prick his eyes again.
“He forced himself upon me, father,” he explained, voice wavering. “It was not done with my consent.”
The Inu no Taishou suddenly stopped and angled his head back, revealing a thunderous look that darkened his features. Sesshomaru’s heart stopped, and it took everything in him to not cower.
“Then you are weak,” Toga replied with barely repressed rage. He swiveled his large frame around and approached his son.
”The western lands demand strength from their guardian, not the quiet whimpering of the vanquished. The inuyoukai clan has been in power for thousands of years, and will continue to be, as long as I live.” The unspoken implication sat heavily in the air. Sesshomaru fell to his knees.
Looking down his nose at the young demon, his father repeated,
“You are weak.”
You are weak.
~~~~~~~~~~
“You are weak.”
Sesshomaru bled.
Black blood pulsed down his front, soaking his hakama and splattering the ground. His limbs tightened, and the tiny hairs on his body stood on end. He reflexively bit his tongue, his mouth flooding with the coppery bitter taste of blood, as his heart hammered in his chest. The air froze in his throat while he hunched over, instinctively trying to protect his vital organs.
Magatsuhi slowly worked his tentacle deeper into Sesshomaru’s belly, tunneling and turning, inexorably closer and closer to the thickest part of its root. Sesshomaru felt another limb grab his right arm, leaving trails of mucus as it wound up and up, grasping and slithering.
Oddly enough, there was no pain. No worse than having his arm cut off, Sesshomaru thought dimly.
The tentacles continued to pile on him, like sharks to a kill. On closer observation, he saw on their undersides were innumerable tiny voracious mouths with razor sharp teeth and red eyes. At first, they plucked at his armor and his clothes, dissatisfied, and then wiggled their way underneath, suckling and biting, devouring little mouthfuls of his flesh at an alarming rate.
Further away, he heard Rin give a shrill cry, while Jaken sobbed and cursed. Kohaku lay limply on Ah-Un. Run, he wanted to yell. Run you fools!!
From the side, Inuyasha leapt towards him, Tessaiga raised high and severed tentacles flying through the air. His idiot half-brother was trying to rescue him. If his body hadn’t been frozen in shock, Sesshomaru would have laughed at the irony. The fool was still unable to tell friend from foe, because Sesshomaru certainly would not have returned the favor.
Then the pain finally hit, and Sesshomaru really screamed, half-transforming with spittle flying while his red eyes widened impossibly.
”You’re weak,” Magatsuhi repeated as Sesshomaru was engulfed. He felt his body pulled away, Tessaiga’s gleaming blade becoming smaller and smaller. His line of sight quickly grew limited as tentacles wrapped his head, leaking mucous that dripped down his temples. Through a small gap, he saw the thin, purple lips curve into a smile.
Agony ripped along every fiber in his body. Magatsuhi’s limbs crushed, cracking his thorax, and his lungs filled with blood. Sesshomaru choked and felt himself drowning, black fluid coming up and dribbling from the corner of his mouth. The air that came with each rattling breath was gravely insufficient, and the tentacles continued to squeeze relentlessly until there was eventually no room in his chest left to inhale.
Was this the end, he wondered. Centuries of existence brought to a halt by a hanyou of all things.
Without a ruler, the western lands would fall into chaos. His power had kept the more aggressive youkai in check and forced them to abide by a certain set of rules that kept them from indiscriminate carnage. They spoke no language but that of brute strength and bloody violence.
Blackness crawled at the edges of his vision.
Death, Sesshomaru realized.
Death was—
~~~~~~~~~~~
He awoke in the forest at twilight.
Alone, naked, stripped of his armor and weapons. A thick slime coated him from head to toe, covering his eyes and invading his airways.
Sesshomaru sat up and vomited. Clotted blood and more of the thick mucus emerged from his mouth and nose in seemingly endless waterfalls with each violent contraction. When his stomach had finished emptying itself, leaving a grotesque pile before him, he swiped at his face, trying to clear off as much of the slime as he could. His eyelashes stuck together in clumps and wet hair clung against his body.
Was he in hell? Odd, Sesshomaru had expected more oni and hellfire and less the twittering of songbirds and morning dew. He sniffed the air and detected only the earthy tones of a recent drizzle.
In the distance was the energy signature of Inuyasha and the firecat, along with Jaken and Ah-Un (he refused to acknowledge the tiny bloom of relief in his chest). The weaker life forces of the humans were far fainter, flickering in and out like a candle in the wind.
He wasn’t dead after all, Sesshomaru surmised. Only naked and woefully unarmed.
There were too many unknowns for his liking. How he had escaped Magatsuhi and what became of the Shikon jewel’s evil spirit remained to be discovered. The state of western lands in his absence, for which he had no semblance of the duration, bothered him, an ever-present source of irritation.
More importantly, he needed to find Tenseiga and something to wear.
Sesshomaru crouched and then sprang towards the brightening sky, the route to a well-used youkai tailor and armorer on his mind. However, instead of gracefully ascending into flight, a sharp pain stabbed him from deep within when he tried to draw upon the enormous pool of yoki that supplied his powers; and he fell. Tree branches initially yielded and then cracked under his body, and birds fluttered away as Sesshomaru hit the ground hard.
Dirt and pebbles caked his side and tangled in his hair. He curled into a fetal position, trying not to breathe too deeply to avoid aggravating the knifelike pangs spreading through his viscera. Gradually they died down, but something was remaining, something he hadn’t paid notice to when he had first awoken.
Sesshomaru had his fair share of wounds and even disembowelment by Magatsuhi had felt different. Somewhere, deep inside, he could sense something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Another heartbeat pulsed inside of him, beating out of time with his own heart.
Oh, looks like I’ve been found out.
Sesshomaru whipped his head up and sprang into a crouch. “Who goes there?” He demanded.
No one, foolish dog. I live within you.
“Live within me,” Sesshomaru repeated, ice running through his veins. If he concentrated on the energy signature within himself, tiny and nearly invisible, he could identify—
“Magatsuhi,” a growl formed in his throat before maturing into a full-out roar, spittle flying and teeth lengthening. Almost immediately, pain stabbed through him yet again as he tried to call upon his yoki, quickly reverting his transformation.
I’m afraid that’s no longer yours, the voice informed him gleefully. Your brother wounded me quite grievously, so I’ve had to make do healing my body with your powers.
Half-brother, Sesshomaru corrected in his mind. So, Inuyasha had saved them in the end. The worthless hanyou bastard of his father had vanquished Magatsuhi, while Sesshomaru, instead of dying, harbored the last vestiges of their enemy and nourished him.
A bottomless pit seemed to open up beneath Sesshomaru, filling with anger and hate that rolled off him in great waves. And somewhere beneath that, hidden below multiple layers of fury, pride, and loathing was an emotion he had not experienced in hundreds of years.
Shame.
You were weak after all. The voice clucked at him. What were you doing, hacking at Naraku’s body with a sword that could not cut mortal flesh?
Sesshomaru did not reply. Slowly, he stood up on legs that felt foreign to him. He leaned his head against a tree, gathering his thoughts.
Tenseiga. He needed to find Tenseiga. Ironic that the weapon he had despised for so long was now his only salvation.
An exercise in futility, Magatsuhi jeered at him. It is gone, incinerated and shattered into a thousand pieces. Your only hope is death itself.
He ignored the other youkai and leaned his head back and sniffed the air. He could trace Magatsuhi’s path back by that rank, caustic smell detectable even from a separate plane of existence. At some point, it should at least lead him to the vicinity of Tenseiga’s whereabouts. The scent trail oriented him towards Inuyasha, and Sesshomaru began walking.
Going to run back to Inuyasha’s arms? Oh, how far the great daiyoukai has fallen.
Sesshomaru ignored him. The sky morphed from a shade of indigo into a light blue as Sesshomaru made his way through countless miles of thick brush, stepping over fallen rocks and dead branches.
Hours passed with Magatsuhi taunting him at every turn. The forest extended in front of him, seemingly endlessly. Regions of foliage were so dense to completely obstruct all sunlight, cloaking his path in dark shadow. Occasionally, he encountered patches of mucus containing pieces of sloughed off flesh, coagulated blood coloring the slime black. Inuyasha’s familiar yoki grew stronger, and Sesshomaru pressed on.
He soon smelled fresh earth and heard the trickles of a running water. Eventually, the trees cleared before him, revealing a small stream. Sesshomaru knelt down and took the opportunity to scrub the remaining mucus and caked-on dirt from his body. Carefully, he used his claws to rake the tangles from his hair and rinse out the grime. Magatsuhi said nothing, quietly observing.
After completing his ablutions, Sesshomaru leaned over and took a long, too-satisfying swallow from the cool water. Goosebumps raised on his wet skin as every small breeze sent a small shiver through him. Weariness soon weighed upon him, and various aches in his ribs and legs made themselves known.
Nearby was a great, ancient tree whose trunk was the girth of ten men. Sesshomaru stood and made his way to the base, positioning himself within a hollow before sitting and leaning back. Around him rose the giant roots, high and mighty and providing some illusory reassurance.
He felt himself begin to doze off against his will. The absence of his yoki had sapped him of his energy, binding him to mortal requirements for survival. He would have to temporarily learn to live like a lesser youkai, not quite as weak as a human, but weak enough to be subject to the elements and require regular sustenance.
Unable to hold off any longer, Sesshomaru closed his eyes, succumbing to a dark sleep despite all his training screaming to do otherwise.
Sweet dreams, Magatsuhi murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somebody kicked his shoulder.
”Get up asshole,” Inuyasha’s voice came from above.
Sesshomaru leapt up quickly, snarling and claws ready. Inuyasha stood before him, cocky and unafraid.
“Have you a desire to be gutted?” He ground out.
“As if you could,” Inuyasha retorted. He sniffed at Sesshomaru, who bristled. “Your yoki is barely detectable. I had to smell you out to find you. What happened to your body?”
I had my insides ripped out of me, you cretin, Sesshomaru thought. Out loud he demanded, “It’s nothing of your concern, hanyou. Lead me to Tenseiga instead, for Magatsuhi lives still.”
Inuyasha snorted. “Pfft, it’s not like you were doing much anyways besides getting yourself eaten and putting everyone else in danger. Make it easier on all of us and sit this one out.”
Sesshomaru tamped down the rage building in his chest and rearranged his face into an expressionless countenance. “Interesting. Despite the power and countless abilities of the Tessaiga, you still failed to finish off your opponent even after I gifted you the Meidou Zangetsuha,” Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes.
“Magatsuhi is mine to slay. Know your place.”
There was only silence as Inuyasha looked at him contemplatively, working something over behind the large golden eyes. Sesshomaru would never admit it, but his half-brother had inherited more of their father’s looks and mannerisms, particularly the hyperaggression and overconfidence which came so naturally to the hanyou but had to be drilled into himself.
The silence grew louder as Inuyasha drew Tessaiga from its sheath.
“Finish off my opponent, eh?” Inuyasha remarked. “Well, as it happens, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do now.” A cloud briefly passed over the sun, enshrouding his face in shadows.
A low growl formed deep in Sesshomaru’s throat. He flexed his arm and crouched.
”The thing is, I think I know where Magatsuhi is,” Inuyasha said softly. The Tessaiga flashed white and then transformed into a huge fang, its characteristic shine cloaked by the darkness.
He stalked toward Sesshomaru, who growled louder in warning.
”Magatsuhi,” Inuyasha said as he approached, shadows further elongating around him. “He’s inside you, isn’t he? I can feel him, hiding and feeding off of your body.”
There was a pause, and then Sesshomaru ran.
The wind whipped through his hair as he leapt through the forest, pumping his legs furiously. He jumped onto low boughs, springing off and watching the ground race under him in a blur. Sesshomaru turned his head and saw the blur of Inuyasha’s red fire rat hakama, hot in pursuit.
He was being hunted like a prey animal. The indignity of the situation burned through him like wildfire, but he could not realistically withstand the power of the Tessaiga in his current state. This time, there was no Tenseiga to save him from the destruction of the Kaze no Kizu. He forced his burning muscles on, increasing his speed.
The forest line broke, and Sesshomaru found himself at the edge of a foul-smelling ravine, sulfur deposits dotting the cliff. He slipped into the deep valley, hopping down into the darkened depths below. Small rocks tumbled from beneath his feet, suspended in free fall for long seconds before impacting the valley floor.
Countless naturally formed caves were cut into the side of the massive cliff like the open mouths of a honeycomb. Sesshomaru honed in on one further down and with its entrance angled slightly to the side, not intuitively discovered by the average eye. He darted inside, pasting himself to the side of a wall and slowing his breathing until it was imperceptible. His heart continued to thunder in his ears as he waited.
“Sesshomaru!” The hanyou called. “Get your ass out here and fight me!”
Sesshomaru suppressed whatever little yoki he had remaining, muting it until he could no longer even recognize himself. In the dank darkness, he stayed motionless.
”Come out coward!” Inuyasha taunted. “I never knew our father, but I bet he would be rolling in his grave right now if he knew you were hiding out in some stinky cave.”
Inuyasha’s voice and energy signature were moving further away, growing dimmer with each passing second.
“I know you can hear me, brother…. Face me like a real warrior!…” Inuyasha’s calls echoed.
Sesshomaru’s muscles remained tensed, and he continued to wait, listening to the insults fade until all became quiet. And then, in the pitch blackness, he waited yet longer, slowly inhaling and exhaling the cool, fetid air.
Finally, when all signs of life had died down, and he could no longer sense Inuyasha, Sesshomaru stepped towards the cave entrance. Where he had stood, five deep grooves were carved into the rock by his claws. He sprang out from the opening, skipping and hopping up the ravine until he reached the top.
The sun was setting, burnished copper against the purple sky. Sesshomaru sniffed the air cautiously, unable to scent anything against the backdrop of the malodorous sulfur.
The end of a blade slid itself into his back, as gently as though it were slipping through water, emerging from his front and peeking shyly through pale skin.
Sesshomaru clutched the tip with his hand, sharp edges slicing easily into his palm, and tried to push it back, choking on the blood rising in his throat.
“Found you,” Inuyasha said and then proceeded to rip Tessaiga from Sesshomaru’s body.
Sesshomaru screamed.
Steaming entrails trailed through the hole in his front, and desperately, agonizingly, Sesshomaru held his hand to his belly, using his fingers to squeeze them back into his abdominal cavity. He refused to die, not here, not now, never to a hanyou and certainly not to Inuyasha, he thought in anguish as blood poured down his arm. He just needed, just one more—
~~~~~~~~~~~
Sesshomaru scrabbled at his stomach, catching internal organs and rivers of blood that never came. His golden eyes opened and he examined his stomach to find only clean, unblemished flesh.
Deep from within his body came a vibration, escalating in volume louder and louder until it reverberated in nauseating echoes between his temples.
Magatsuhi laughed.
~~~~~end chapter 1~~~~~~~~