InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ In a Blue Moon (Mpreg version) ❯ Full Moon ( Chapter 1 )

This is a fanfic that I had the idea for from a yaoi RPG I'm in, where I play Sesshomaru and someone else is playing Inu and Sess's father, and I just had to write it. Note: This is exactly the same as the other version, up through chapter four. From then on, it involves Sessho getting pregnant, so if you don't want to read that, don't read this. ^^ Oh, and the plot will remain pretty much the same even in the later chapters, like most of the same things will happen, but for different reasons. Just letting you know that this is not a totally enitrely different story... except that it is. ^^

MPREG... Means male pregnancy, if you don't know. ^^ Sessho, in this one, from Inu and Naraku.

Title:------> In a Blue Moon
Author:-----> setosgirl
Disclaimer:-> I don't own anything but the plot. *tear*
Warnings:---> yaoi, major major incest
Pairings:---> This chappie, just implied Touga (what we called their father in the RP)/Sess
Summary:----> Sessho reflects about how he misses his father, and who he blames for his death, in this short and angsty stream-of-consciousness chapter.

Chapter 1 - The Full Moon

Sometimes I miss my father. It's usually on nights when I am alone, such as I am now. I sit in this tree, looking at the night sky, while Rin and Jaken sleep below, and I miss him. I want him near me... I want his touch.

I will not admit it, of course, but I am lonely. I have been lonely for two hundred years. Two hundred years without my father. I remember his kiss, usually slow and controlled, but sometimes he could be quite passionate. It always seemed to make everything better for me. Even as a child, having him nearby comforted me, though I would never let anyone know that. And when I got older, though I was considerably younger than my brother is now when it began, his touch, his kiss, would take all of my troubles away, no matter what I perceived to be wrong. I never used to be alone at night. Even if we were not actually together on a given night, I knew that he was near, and I did not feel alone.

Now I am alone all the time. Rin and Jaken follow me, are with me... but they can never be what he was to me. I doubt sincerely that anyone can ever be. My father, my lover, my idol... From the day I
was born, I have wanted only to be like him, and by extension, his approval. The first time I saw him, I was a few minutes old, and I remember clearly what I felt. He seemed like a god to me, though I have only come to realize that in the last several hundred years. At the time, I did not know what it was I was feeling, but I reached out and touched his face, and his smile made me happy, even as a newborn child. Nothing much changed within our shared lifetimes.

I know not whether I actually meant something to him on any level, as anything more than an heir, or whether he only liked my body. I care not. It was enough that he deigned to be with me. The moon tonight is nearly full, as it was the first night. I miss him more on nights when the moon is nearing fullness, I think. The full moon reminds me of him. I long for his kiss on these nights, to make me feel good and complete, as I did for the first time that night. He showed me things I had never dreamed. I dream now, however. Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I dream of him. This is why I do not sleep so much anymore, I think, instead choosing to sit awake at night and dream that way. The first thing he told me after he had shown me worlds of pleasure that I never knew existed was that my mother need not know. I liked that. It was a game to me, though I understood that he meant he didn't want her to know. I enjoyed the secret, something I shared only with him...

I was full of mixed feelings when my mother died. I was saddened, for I had loved her, in my own cold way, but I was also secretly pleased, for I knew then that I no longer needed to share my father with her. Perhaps that is selfish; I know it is. I do not mind. It is my nature, perhaps, to think first of myself and of everyone else second, if at all. My father was not that way… I disappoint myself. Since the day I was born, I have wanted only to be as he was. I have failed. He was my one and only god, the one man I have respected in my life, the paragon against which I measure myself, and I have fallen far short of that mark. He was possessed of such power… At my age, I have little growth left to do, physically or in my powers, and I cannot possibly rival him in any way. I have come to accept that. I shall always be less than my father… less noble, less powerful, less beautiful.

He was very beautiful… My physical appearance is nothing to his, nor shall it ever be. He would occasionally tell me in whispers that I was beautiful, but I believe he never truly meant it. I am less than nothing when compared to him. It is somewhat nice to know he cared enough to lie to me, however, even if it was only to give me what I needed, what he perceived that I needed, before I slept with him. I never needed anything of the sort, but he would give it to me nonetheless… To boost my self-esteem? Perhaps, though I never needed it. I was always so grateful to him for returning that I needed no further incentive. I know not why he did it. I miss that as well. I miss everything about him.

The cool wind blows my bangs lightly across the blue moon marking on my forehead, and I shudder, closing my eyes and clenching my teeth against an undignified noise. There is a reason I keep it hidden behind my hair as I do; that particular marking is the most sensitive area on my skin, more sensitive than that part of any male's body you would take to be most sensitive, more sensitive even than the pale red stripes on my skin, which are still more sensitive. It is so acutely sensitive to the lightest of touches, in fact, that the first time my father kissed it, one night when I was perhaps the same age my brother is now, I climaxed so hard and so suddenly that I passed out in his arms. I have, of course, strengthened my self-control since then, but it still is so highly susceptible to any physical contact that I prefer it not be seen, let alone touched by another. I do not even touch it myself. That is far too close to self-gratification to me, which I also have never done. If one has any self-control at all, it should never be necessary. And, there is no one in this world that interests me. The one person I would ever want is gone, most likely awaiting my arrival in Hell. I am content to let
him wait. But I still miss him.

It may be strange that I was unaware our relationship was anything but normal until after his death. It may have started somewhat normally; I was at an age where I needed to learn, and there was no one else to teach me. It should probably never have continued past that, however, certainly not to the extent that it did. To the extent that I still miss him, still want no one but him, two hundred years after his death. I do not know why it did. Demons within the same family will mate to continue their species, if it becomes necessary, even two demons of the same sex, for a male can occasionally carry a child, just as animals will mate with their own family. Sometimes, we are closer to lower beasts than to humans, I perceive. I do not mind, for compared with us, humans are little better than beasts themselves. But our being together had nothing to do with having children, with continuing the species. I was never pregnant, after all. I do not know why my father would continue it so, toward what end he continually came back to me, but I do not question it. I may not understand his motives, but I do mine. I loved him. I was grateful for every time he returned, thankful that the last night had not been our last. I lived in constant fear that he would change his mind and never return to me, that our relationship would end suddenly and I would never be with him again. Every time he returned, I knew that my prayers had been answered for one more night, and I did not question it.

And now he is gone. My prayers are no longer answered; eventually, I may stop praying. I miss him. I long for him. I hate those who took him from me, and I hate those whom I blame for him being taken. But they will pay. I finger the hilt of the Tokijin with my one hand. I cannot bring him back, but I can avenge him, in my eyes. A hollow victory at best. It will not answer my prayers, but it may calm my heart somewhat. Or perhaps, deprived of that driving force, I will be reduced to an empty shell with no direction. I am curious to find out.

I hear an old tree branch grinding miles away as it slowly breaks under its own weight. The sound is like a rough, throaty purring. It brings me back in my memories; a dog can purr if he is made happy enough. Or perhaps dogs cannot, and it is only me. I know not. I have never heard another purr, but I have never been in a position to do so, for I would only ever purr in my father's arms as I fell asleep. It seemed to quietly please him, but I never heard him purr. I realize that I could never make him that happy, even if he was capable of making such a sound. I was little more than a child, and he was a great lord. I believe I may have amused him, however, and I am pleased to have been able to do even so much for him. Myself, I have never been happier than when I was in his arms. I never will be happier. My father made me happy enough to purr when I was with him, but I have not done so in more than two hundred years. I think I have forgotten how.

My father… I assume he had a name. Strangely enough, I never knew it. He did not need one, in my eyes. I would have never dared call him by it even if I had known it, in fact. One does not call a god by his name. He was my father, my love, my idol: my god. No name would be good enough. Obviously, I have no desire to learn it. There is but one thing I desire… the one thing in all the world I cannot have. Him. His arms around me. I wish to feel that way again, the way I have only ever felt with him. I wish… I wish to purr again.

But I cannot have him. I cannot have that. He is dead, and all that is left of him in this plane are these swords… the Tenseiga I hold… the Tetsusaiga held by Inuyasha.

The fingers of my hand clench painfully around the Tokijin. Inuyasha… It is Inuyasha I blame. It is Inuyasha that I hold responsible for the loss of the most important thing in my life. He died to protect him and his filthy human mother, leaving me alone. One day, Inuyasha will pay for that. He will pay for taking from me the only man I have ever respected, ever loved …

Respect, and love. Perhaps the two are inseparable. Perhaps it impossible to love someone without respecting them. Perhaps it is impossible to respect someone without also loving them a little. Another question to which I have no answers, for I have neither loved nor respected anyone else in my life. I have no desire to do so, to learn these answers which elude me. It is enough that I have done so once – too much, in fact. To lose one's love is a great pain, one which I have no masochistic urge to ever feel again. It is even a great disappointment to discover that one which you respect can die. I do not care for either of those feelings. Toward that end, I remain cold and alone.

I appear to be a rather great paradox. I am lonely, and I do not wish to be alone. Yet, at the same time, I wish to keep everyone as far from me as possible. If I do not wish to be alone, the logical course of action would be to find someone I could at least care marginally for. Yet, I cannot do that. I do not wish to care for anyone, then find myself alone again when they are taken from me, as they will invariably be. Rin was a mistake. She is a human, and will not survive long, and yet I have let myself get attached. It will not be as bad when she dies, however, for I do not love her. I refuse to love another as I did my father. I would rather be alone.

But my true desire is neither to be alone nor to love another as I did him… I want him. No matter how long I sit here, it continues to come back to that. I miss him. I want him, I need him. I love him. Still, I believe I love him. That should not be, but I cannot let go. This is also not normal, but our relationship was characterized by its very abnormality, so this neither bothers nor surprises me. It haunts me… but it does not surprise me. I can admit to myself that I am utterly unable to let go of him. This is why I still wish to kill Inuyasha. It is not what he would have wanted, but he is not here to condemn me for my pettiness, and I believe it may make me feel better to do so. Inuyasha will pay. It may grant me some relief from these emotions. If not… I know not what else I can do.

So I will continue to ignore how much of my father I see in him and I will kill him, and I will pray that it relieves a little of what I feel. Because I loved my father – because I love my father – my brother will die. The silent night is my witness, the westering moon above me the only thing I have to swear by, as it is every night when I find myself missing him. But it will happen.