Eclipse
There was pain. Then again, there was always pain at This Time. It burned through him, molten lava in the veins, searing him from the inside out. His teeth lengthened and clawed fingers twitched as he fought against the Beast. This part of him roared for release, demanded for an outlet to scream its triumph. Its icy foreboding thrilled at the power over the heat.
These Times were impossible for any normal person to predict. Yet, he always knew. His blood sang for it. During This Time he barricaded himself within his father's ruined domain, in an ancient alcove hidden by a fallen timber that placed a certain way can only be moved from the outside.
The world was safe from him during This Time…
This Time, when the sun vanished from the sky. A phenomenon that sent humans cowering in their homes, shivering in superstitious fear.
Is it superstition?
Is it superstition when the moon declares its dominance, overtaking the brilliant sphere of the sun, hiding it from view?
During This Time, his strength surged up, his control weakened, and the Beast clamored for freedom.
It wanted to taste the open air. The musty, moldy remains reeked havoc on his senses. Its clawed at his brain, the knowledge of fresh air, open sky, only a few feet away, all unattainable.
During This Time, he lay on the hard earth, his skin bare against the cool dirt, clothing felt too restrictive. His breath came short and uneven, and his usually immaculate hair fanned out around him, like some halo of destruction.
The duration was inconsistent, sometimes only lasting a few minutes, others a few days. It all depended on the Cycle.
And he always knew.
It was built into him. Like his poison, something that burned in his veins, yet never killed him. A constant clamor for release.
His expression, conversely to how he felt, was calm. While his hand twitched, trying to reach out to grab, tear, touch, his face remained impassive. Composed.
But feelings were not for the world to know. Feelings were to be experienced by oneself, then discarded away once finished with. Occasionally, his eyes would glow red, but it was more like a flicker in the darkness. A red flash that would briefly illuminate the enclosed cage, sanctuary, an image that could never fully agree.
It was hatred that festered in his mind during This Time. The anger of centuries came to a head, before crashing down, a tsunami, and leaving behind the languid, depressing state of loneliness.
His mother died during This Time.
It was this that kept him returning here, Time after Time, no matter the danger to his lands or his life.
It was how he was conceived.
It was this which kept him holed away like some hanyou during a new moon. It was too easy to allow oneself to be overwhelmed.
It was fear. It was mourning. Hatred, and tears.
All unseen, even by the dark.
His conception was borderline rape. Is it rape when the body is willing? Is it rape when the mind screams for blood, tearing at the other body, as it itself is being torn? A duel rape. A desire neither parties wanted.
Responsibility.
He could feel the fever take hold. This one hurt. Not like the others. The others were only brief things, lasting a few minutes, an hour at the most. Not enough for it to really set in. Not enough to go this far.
Scattered thoughts, half-formed images formed in his mind, only to be shattered by another.
It was something that hanyou did not understand. Responsibility to the clan, to the race. Honor.
His mother was with-child.
His father brought her into his home. Not a pact of convenience, never for convenience. Neither of them spoke to each other. Each eyes placing blame, accusation. An ice-cold home.
It is your fault.
You should have been stronger.
This is our child.
A birth. The first time his parents were in the same room together since the second trimester. To them, the other didn't exist. Only the tiny pup, with overlarge golden eyes, and a long, fluffy tail. At this moment, the horror of the union seemed such a minuscule thing, a unimportant complication when it produced such a wonder.
A son.
A heir.
Decades pass, each one much the same as the other. The only mark of the passage of time was the growth of the young inu-youkai. At first, there seemed no connection to his mother's side. His appearance and stature was that of his father. She felt as though she should hate him for that.
His son.
Her heir.
A sliver of violet slowly appeared after his tenth decade. His claws dripped in poison, and his soul of ice. He saw his mother in his eyes, the coldness of the ice-caps of her birth. His mind and attitude was that of his mother. He knew he should be disappointed in that.
Her son.
His heir.
There was an awkwardness in the home. He felt it at an early age. A giant blanket of silence slowly suffocated everyone on the inside. It filled the air, stuffing his nose and closing his ears. An unknown giant asleep in the center.
And a sleeping giant will always awaken.
That Time, the father wasn't there. He was away, cavorting with some female. Because even though there was a responsibility, that's all that it was. It was not respect.
That Time, she was alone. The son was asleep. His blood not yet awakened to the Call. There was no one to stop the fear, hatred, loathing, from taking hold. Her blood remained painted on the walls, a century old stain because no one returned to clean it.
There was no one there to hate.
So it turned inward.
The father left, taking the heir with him. It wasn't his heir, no, not anymore. It was hers. Her mark was cast forever upon his brow. Her curse. He remained worlds away from the father. In a place of his mind, sheltered away. The child was not his.
The responsibility remained.
How long had it been?
An eternity.
How much longer will it last?
Soul-rending pain, white-hot. Decades.
He'd left her to die.
Unworthy.
Never visited her.
Disrespectful.
Hated him.
Unimportant.
Forgotten his gift.
But they were dead. There was no one there to hate. There was no one to calm their souls. He couldn't. He was
Cold.
How had it gotten so cold? So it turned inward. His body felt heavy. Why was it so heavy?
There was
Blood. He was covered in it. Where had it come from? It was dark. He could hear the sound of chirping birds, smell the sticky crimson.
His eyes. He had torn at his eyes.
Who was he?
He knew this. The son. The heir.
No, no. Not that. He had a name.
Who was this? This stinking, blood-covered creature, what was this called?
This…
This Sesshoumaru.
He surfaced.
Air filled his lungs, the sudden onslaught of oxygen making him dizzy. A strange lethargic feeling weighted down his bones, leaving him unable to move, despite the gnawing hunger in his stomach.
It was over.
He expelled the breath in a stream that clouded the air above him. He should have thought that strange. It was midsummer, yet the temperature was below freezing in the tiny den. Should have thought it strange, yet his brain was still recovering and he missed the tell-tale sign.
"Ah, you're awake."
A vague rush of panic spiked and faded just as quickly, numbed by the after effects of The Time. Slowly, he turned his head. He could smell Naraku a few feet away, a vile odor that he should have noticed much sooner.
He could hear the smirk in his voice. "It is a strange thing, did you know, to see the Lord of the Western Lands come to this dismal ruin and lock himself away?"
Sesshoumaru said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"Even stranger, I believe, is that it could easily be opened from the outside, but not the in."
A vague suspicion slipped a quiet note into his hindbrain. "You shut it behind you," he stated.
"It appears so."
His brain was starting to wake up. "…Why?"
"Hm?" Naraku sounded amused. Sesshoumaru couldn't think why. They were both silent. The question didn't seem important anymore.
"Does it happen often?"
The question startled Sesshoumaru. His brain picking up faster, he realized that Naraku must have seen him. "How long?" he asked instead.
"Nearly a day."
A small glow of pride blossomed in his chest. He had lasted a day without mutilating himself. His scratched eyes should heal within the hour, but the fact that it was the only damage was remarkable.
Then why was he covered in blood?
He hesitated. Then said, "I am not dead."
"Remarkable observation."
"Why?"
"You know, anger is a fascinating thing. It can drive even the more placid of men to insanity in a matter of moments. In the heat of fury, a man can kill his own flesh and blood without remorse. Best friends murder each other. One man can kill dozens, or if it's a youkai, thousands, simply from the blinding hatred."
Sesshoumaru said nothing. He knew all of this. What point was Naraku trying to make? Then, he noticed that other thing. He had smelled it from the beginning, but it was not until just now when he realized what it was.
"You're injured."
Naraku sighed. "Being trapped in a hole with a rabid dog can do that. "
The Youkai Lord stared vacantly up at the cracked and decaying ceiling. "I attacked you."
"Most ferociously," Naraku agreed.
"And you are not dead."
"No."
"Nor am I."
"Not that either."
"Why is this?"
Naraku sighed and Sesshoumaru heard movement to suggest him sitting back. "You are not dead because it would be pointless to kill you now, when we are trapped here, and you, I believe, are the only one who knows a way out."
"And you are not dead…?"
"You tell me."
Sesshoumaru couldn't. In any other circumstances, he would have killed Naraku without stopping to think about it. Now that he had…tried to kill Naraku without thinking about it, he hadn't. Why?
"It was the eclipse, wasn't it?"
Sesshoumaru froze.
"I remember hearing a legend when I was a boy," Naraku continued, oblivious. "About an ancient race of inu youkai descended from Tsukiyomi. Their powers were said to strengthen and wane with the cycles of the moon. However, on the days of the eclipse…when Tsukiyomi finally catches up with Amaterasu, those youkai go insane. The hatred directed at Tsukiyomi by his sister overflows and channels down to his descendants. Those youkai drive themselves insane from the anger of the goddess and must kill or kill themselves."
"Do you believe it?"
"Not until today."
"Than you are even more gullible than Inuyasha." Sesshoumaru turned his head fully to look at Naraku. The half-demon sat sprawled against the far end of the small enclosure. Blood matted his hair and clung to his clothes. "Your legs are broken," he noted.
"They'll heal soon enough."
"Pity."
Naraku gave a lop-sided grin, more of a smirk with teeth than anything else. He watched Sesshoumaru's limp figure from across the room, noting how slowly he moved, as if he were drugged. His eyes watched him, their pupils strangely dilated to the point they were impossibly round. Naraku had watched the youkai lord trap himself into this musty cave. Half a day passed before his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had slunk inside. He had moved the timber just in time to see Sesshoumaru writhe on the ground, his clawed hand reaching up to rend at his eyes. Without thinking, Naraku had dropped the timber behind him and grabbed Sesshoumaru's wrist. Just as his hand closed around the suddenly fragile seeming wrist did Sesshoumaru's eyes locked on his. Or at least, he supposed they did. They glowed a deep, blood red, hiding his iris from view, sending shadows dancing along the walls. He felt himself recoil slightly, fear suddenly seizing around his heart. This wasn't the Sesshoumaru he had taunted regularly. The Sesshoumaru he had battled was one of ice. With every attack, the youkai had dodged with a fluid grace that suggested that Sesshoumaru was merely playing along. His attacks almost lazy, no matter how quickly they occurred.
But this… This creature in front of him was not the frozen warrior lord he had known. This was …passion. Heat poured off of him, stealing the air and leaving him breathless. The strength of generations of demons come down into this single being. Isolation left it upon a pedestal beyond everyone's reach. A beauty that no one dared to try for, something deep inside of them telling them they were not worthy of such a creature.
It did not seem natural to see such an expression of the demon lord's face. His beauty was marred by the snarl, and the crescent moon stood out brilliantly on his forehead.
Something was wrong.
All this occurred to him in a hair's breath of time, before the creature lunged forward, hand tearing out of his grasp to slash at his face. Only his quick reflexes saved him from the first blow. The sizzle of poison echoed in the eerily silent room. The only sounds beyond was the sound of their breaths and the shifting of bodies as Naraku ducked away from the relentlessly attacking youkai.
A spell, Naraku's mind threw up a card, only to be discarded. Sesshoumaru wouldn't allow himself to be enspelled by any mere witch. The blue of the sliver of moon mixed with the crimson of Sesshoumaru's eyes, violet shadows mixing together with the dark.
Naraku gasped as Sesshoumaru crouched suddenly, springing forward to ram his shoulder into his gut. A fissure of heat traveled up his spine as their skin brushed briefly. The smell of blood filled his nostrils. Some vague part of him recognized it as his, but something far deeper was in control now. A fire filled his veins, jerking him into action. His body slammed up against the other, his hand closing around the pale expanse of throat. A growl reverberated off the walls as he pressed the other back, onto the ground.
The White-haired one thrashed under his grasp. This drove Naraku further, a part of him screaming the need to possess this strength. Naraku could feel his lip curl to bare his teeth. Without knowing exactly why, his head darted down and closed his teeth over the other's throat. The body beneath him stilled briefly, before throwing itself to the side, its hand coming up to tear at his hair. Naraku felt the growl escape from his throat as his hand shot down to pin Sesshoumaru's wrist to the floor, his other hand gripping the other shoulder. His teeth again closed around his wind-pipe, digging in warningly. He could feel the growl bubbling up beneath his teeth. Involuntarily, his jaw closed more firmly. Abruptly, the body beneath him went limp. Some part of him thrilled, allowing him to run his tongue briefly across the expanse of neck he had just enclosed.
The part of him that was Naraku watched on in mixed horror and delight. Horrified that he was behaving like an animal, giving in to the most base of his instincts, yet a much bigger part of him reveled in the submissive gesture. To have the powerful lord pinned beneath him, prey to his every move, sent his blood singing.
To release him now meant death, he knew it somewhere deep within. He lifted his head to meet the red, inhuman, no, un-youkai gaze. Few youkai would allow themselves to loose themselves this completely. No where in the crimson could he see a hint of Sesshoumaru.
It growled. A barest hint of fang showed, little else changed in expression, but the growl remained. It seemed to come from all around, reverberating off the stone walls, brushing tantalizingly against his skin. It was a growl that ancient man had cowered from, that beasts from the dawn of time cringed away from, something deeper than time and infinitely more dangerous. Naraku felt his lip curl as he growled right back. It wasn't nearly as menacing as the other's, but held a warning tone that he could not put into words.
Feral.
It was the only way he could describe the situation. Him, spread over Sesshoumaru like the night sky, eclipsing the other's bright light from the outside world. Each of them baring their teeth, like common dogs.
Naraku knew with sudden bone-deep understanding, that this couldn't end until one of them was dead or maimed.
He only hoped it wasn't him.
Is it truly rape? Is it rape when both bodies flame with desire, moving together, sliding, twisting, pushing, holding, seizing, when the body controls while the mind screams in denial. Both mouth urge while both minds defy. Hatred.
His conception.
Sesshoumaru watched Naraku vaguely. He was aware that he was not quite up to speed, as yet. It was not surprising. Each Time left him lethargic and each Time seemed to take longer than the last. He recalled before his blood answered the moon, when he could feel true anger or that spark of happiness. Decades passed and slowly those times faded into naught but memory. Occasionally, now, he felt a stirring of emotion, but that is all it was. A faint niggling in the corner of his mind. He reacted, trying his best to draw it out. Anger was the easiest.
The cold seemed to have settled over his mind. It was as if it was being saved, hoarded away from his use until the eclipse. Only then was he allowed to experience the emotions he had missed. All within the span of Time was he allowed to feel. As if he were normal.
Normal. Was this normal? Having to hide yourself away, forever at the mercy of each Cycle of the moon. While the legend that Naraku spoke of was simply that, a mere legend, an old saying rose to Sesshoumaru's mind. 'All legends are based on fact'. So no matter how fabricated it becomes, there remains a simple grain of truth.
Where is the truth amongst the lies? Where does the influence of the moon end, and his own emotions begin?
False. They were all false.
He was not sad when his father died. That would have implied that he had some emotional attachment to his father remaining alive. No, his father was dead, and Sesshoumaru's frozen heart gave not a tremble.
Yet, the way he died.
He died giving his life away for the safety of that human slut and his bastard of a son. When Sesshoumaru's own mother had been in danger, had his father come to her aide?
No.
It was his responsibility to protect her from the moon's Cycle. It didn't matter that they did not care for each other, nor that their union was one neither of them wanted. It mattered that he was there, and that was all.
"So…you like what you see?"
Sesshoumaru blinked slowly, realizing that he hadn't shifted his gaze away from Naraku's form. Because Naraku had been there, had followed him with a curiosity that killed the neko-youkai, Sesshoumaru was alive. He wasn't certain why it was that his mother's people were affected by the eclipse so harshly. It was a weakness of his that no one knew about.
Until now.
The question was, what was he going to do about it?
He could kill Naraku. If it were that simple, he'd have done so ages ago. However, the right to kill Naraku was not his. The duty was not his. Therefore, Naraku remained alive and would continue to be so until the one he had harmed gained the strength to kill him. And Sesshoumaru would continue to put himself as a barrier in front of this one, to make sure that he didn't die before he could complete his task. Because even though his father had died for this creature while he remained on the sidelines. He still had a responsibility. They were kin. That was what mattered.
"Can you move?" he asked Naraku suddenly. His own voice startling him back to the situation at hand. The dark-haired creature blinked at him before smiling that pointless smile, "Enough."
"Enough to get out of this place?"
Naraku actually looked a little startled at that. Surely, Naraku was expecting him to attack him at his weakest. It was fortunate for him that he, Sesshoumaru, was too tired.
He was very tired. His eyes felt heavy and body sluggish, as if he had been dipped in molasses. Hungry, too. His body had used up its reserves, hidden away like this. He needed to get out.
Slowly, as if from far away, he moved. He could feel Naraku's eyes on him as tucked his feet beneath him and stood, his long hair caressing his bare skin. The sound of birds had faded, the coldness of the room increasing.
"The sun has set," he said to himself, uncaring of his audience.
"How can you tell? We get no light in here, only darkness," Naraku pointed out. Sesshoumaru said nothing. He simply knew, he could smell it in the air as easily as he could smell Naraku's odor a few feet away. He had to get out.
Naraku watched curiously as Sesshoumaru stood, all regal glory offset slightly by the far away look in his eyes. He cursed his lack of mobility, for he could tell it was an opportunity that would not happen again. And yet, to see the famed youkai lord so relaxed in his presence, even if it didn't seem to be voluntary, was something he wanted to savor. It was like watching a mouse falling asleep while the caged cat watched. Something taunting, yet trusting that riddled and soothed his nerves. The contradicting reactions kept him from action more than his shattered legs. The lord spoke, and he responded with a question that he'd never receive a verbal answer to. Yet, he was not bothered by it. The silence seemed fitting. As if all of nature was focused on this one moment, the entire world watching. Somehow, a miracle, a curse had taken place and the world was silent in the aftermath. And so, he watched as Sesshoumaru turned to a wall, filled with cracks yet still miraculously standing. Watched, as he knocked once on the cold, stone wall, and spoke, his voice as cold as the ice-caps he'd heard stories about. Lands of miles of snow and ice across the ocean.
"Jaken."
Silence passed and Naraku began to wonder if Sesshoumaru realized that his servant was not present. Only then did he hear a faint shuffle of movement behind the stone, as if something had just landed hard. "My lord!" came the faint, wheedling cry.
"Open it," came the distracted order. A few minutes passed with the only sound being the faint movement on the other side. Finally, the timber moved, flecks of bark and dirt falling to the ground. With a groan, the whole of the wood collapsed backwards, a rush of fresh air brushing their skin. The small, green kappa appeared through the dust, coughing and welcoming his lord. Sesshoumaru, uncaring in only the pristine white of his hakama, strode out without a backwards glance at Naraku, who didn't expect anything less of him. He didn't mind. He had a lot to think about.
(Tsukiyomi, as the god of the moon, lived in the heavens, with his sister Amaterasu, the sun goddess. Tsukiyomi angered Amaterasu when he killed Uke Mochi. She was so angry that she refused to ever look at him again, forever moving to another part of the sky.)
end