InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ In a Blue Moon (Mpreg version) ❯ Half Moon ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter 2

I sense my brother coming nearer. It is mostly his smell that I detect; the wind carries his scent straight to me. He is still miles away.

I also smell his humans and lesser youkai with him. In that way, he is more like father than I. I have not always despised humans, but I have never had any patience with them. Before my father's death, I merely regarded them with a vague contempt... now it is nearer hatred, though there is nothing I feel which is that strong. I realize that the wounds which killed my father were inflicted by demon hands, for certainly no human or human army could ever have even wounded such a powerful being... but it was for Inuyasha and his human mother that he died.

I am certain that he is unaware of my presence, for he is far upwind of me, and my senses are far more powerful than his at any rate. I need not fight him, then. Perhaps he will never become aware of me and I need not even move to avoid him. Perhaps, but I choose to confront him. Killing my brother is not the sole driving purpose in my life, but it is a goal of mine, the ultimate reason behind nearly all that I do. And I have been thinking of my father all night again, and I am in the mood to kill him.

I drop lightly to the ground, silent even to my own ears. Rin and Jaken continue sleeping. That is just as well, for I have no desire for them to follow me this morning. AhUn looks at me with one head, but I ignore it and walk away, my hand already on my sword, in anticipation. Perhaps today, I will finally rid myself of him... Perhaps today I will get my vengeance.

The forest around me is silent, insects and animals choosing to run or hide from my demonic presence, perhaps more than they would from most. That suits me. It assures that none of the sounds I hear are natural; they can only be caused by another person, or people. A certain person, or the companions thereof.

He is miles away, and I am in no hurry; my pace is slow. Human slow. I think while I stalk my prey, remaining ever downwind, though it honestly makes no difference. No smile dares try to invade my cold expression, but it pleases me, to think of what it will be like to finally kill him... I wonder idly how my life will be different when I finally do. Maybe it will not be much different at all, one thing simply crossed off of my list of things to do. Perhaps, on the other hand, I cannot possibly be the same after doing so.

They have stopped moving. Has he sensed me? Smelled me? No. It is midday by now; they have stopped to eat. I am near; before they begin to move again, I will be able to fight him. I could be there within seconds, but I choose to continue at this pace. I am in no hurry.

There - I see him. A flash of his white hair between the trees. Those ludicrous ears; he looks like a cat, not a dog. It is only fitting, that he resemble that particular animal. What is the expression? To fight like cats and dogs?

He is suddenly on his feet, looking in my general direction, ears focused, trying to pinpoint my location. I see that he is still swallowing a mouthful of that human food he enjoys, and am a little irritated. Am I no more important than that - he would continue eating when he smells my presence?

"Sessho-maru," he says. Either a warning to the others, or a call to me. His searching eyes and seeking ears still cannot find me exactly, however. He could have been dead four times over by now, were I someone less scrupulous.

Instead of killing him where he stands, I step calmly from the trees, Tokijin in hand. "Draw your sword, Inuyasha."

"What, you want another thrashing, Sessho-maru?" The young, uncultured sound of his voice grates on my every nerve. The second son of the great Inu no Taisho should be better than this.

However, he does draw his sword, to my gratification. I will not kill him unarmed, despise him though I may. His Tetsusaiga grows in his hands as expected, becoming a magnificent fang, such as should be in my hands. He does not deserve anything such as that, nothing made from my god's revered body... The sight of it angers me. His death must come soon, or else I fear I shall go mad from the rage I feel every time I see him with that sword.

But my face, of course, reflects none of this as I face him. He cannot know my anger... for to show one's opponent your emotions is to show your greatest weakness. He has no compunctions about showing his emotions, however, and never has. I see that he regards me with anger, and contempt. It does not matter to me. I care no more for his low opinion of me than I would that of a filthy village cur starving in the street.

I realize that I have not answered him. I assume he thinks I am intentionally ignoring his rhetorical question; I probably would have even if I had thought of it. He distracts me, however. The emotions I feel every time I see him distract me. I would that they leave me in peace, but I understand that that cannot be while he still lives. Thusly he must die.

I have made no further move toward him, and he lunges in my direction. Weak. His speed is pitiful, his power mostly uncontrolled. I avoid him easily, a quick jump backward, then strike him with my sword. He turns and barely avoids it.

"Inuyasha!"

My eyes flick toward the girl at her scream. She is frightened for him; she should be. He will die by my hand, if not now then in some future encounter. She sees this, when he, foolishly, does not. I should kill her. She irritates me greatly, and I see that he cares for her, in some way, though she is only a human. I do not know quite what their relationship may be, but her death would hurt him, if only somewhat. Perhaps he may know some of what I feel...

He sees my gaze turn to her, and he is frightened - nay, angry, he has not the sense to be frightened - for her sake. He knows my thoughts, more than likely. Were he in my place, he might be thinking the same, if he had enough intelligence and foresight for such action to even occur to him, rather than operating on instinct and relying on brute strength.

"Kagome, you guys get out of here!" Again, that voice. My hand clenches around the hilt of my sword, but he is nowhere near to see it, and my face shows no reflection. If for no other reason, he must die because of that voice.

"I'll come get you guys after I take care of _him_." I imagine I hear a sneer in that voice. Imagine, surely. He would not dare actually sneer at me. He cannot be that brazen.

The miko hesitates for a moment, looking at me, then nods once and runs warily back, away from us, with an admonition for him to be careful. That amuses me. The others follow her after a second, then Inuyasha and I are alone.

"I would not be so sure of going back for them, if I were you." My voice is cold and expressionless, as usual, giving no sign of what the very sound of his voice does to my emotions. No sign of how very much I desire his death.

"Hn." That superior look on his face is doing nothing for my anger. "We've fought tons of times, Sessho-maru, and you haven't managed to kill me yet. What makes you think it'll be any different this time, huh?"

"It will. Eventually, I will kill you."

"Not today!"

"I am patient."

He growls at my words and lunges toward me again, sword growing in my field of vision. I wait until he is sure that he has me and nonchalantly step out of the way, to teach him a lesson. That lesson being that I am and will always be stronger, enough so that I am confident enough to seemingly put myself in danger to teach him that. I know I am in fact in no danger whatsoever. He cannot harm me. I devoutly believe that, though my single arm is a constant reminder otherwise.

His sword cuts an impressive trench in the ground to my right. Now, while he is off-balance from his miss, I charge him with my own sword. Perhaps I lied; my patience with him is growing decidedly thin. I want him dead now.

He manages to block my sword. Irritating… but not fatal. He growls and tries to push me away. Perhaps I should show him what a growl is supposed to sound like. No. I will not sink to his level. My emotions are my own, and little of his business.

I push him back instead. He strikes again; this time it is me that is forced to block the blow, but I do not fall back. He will fall back before me, not I for him. He will not win even so small a victory from me.

And he does fall back, as I push him away again. He attacks again, not with his sword this time but with but with his empty hand, seeking to surprise me, I think. It works somewhat, and I only barely draw back from his fist. His knuckles still barely brush my skin, because of the angle at which I drew back brushing lightly across my forehead, and the marking there. I clench my teeth and jerk away with a quiet hiss I cannot quite suppress, as sharp, searing spikes of pleasure race through me. No. I do not want any sort of pleasure from his hands… not now, not ever, intentionally or accidentally. I desire nothing more from him than his death.

His eyes are narrowed, his ears sharply focused on me. He noticed that he affected me, though I doubt he knows how. I do not want him to ever know how. I can never fight him again, I realize. He sees that I have a weakness, and every time we fight he will seek to exploit it… and I will not have him know what that weakness actually is, as I know he will eventually figure out. I refuse to put myself in such a position.

This is it, then. I cannot fight him; I cannot kill him. I will never have my revenge. My father would never have wanted him to die by my hands, I know this, but it has been the one thing I have wanted for so very long…

He is staring at me, making no move to attack. I realize that I have stood motionless, staring back at him, for several moments. I close my eyes and sheathe my sword, turning away from him.

“I will never bother you again, Inuyasha.” No, I will not. And I hope to never be bothered by him, either. My only wish at this moment is to retreat in my shame and never allow him to see it. At least I can deny him that victory.

I have often thought about how it would feel to finally succeed in my quest… but I have never thought about what it would be like to fail utterly. I suppose I always assumed that, should I finally fail in killing Inuyasha, he would kill me instead, and it would make little difference. To have failed and still live… the thought has never occurred to me. I fell somewhat lost. If I cannot kill Inuyasha… I do not know what to do with myself.

“Hold on, Sessho-maru. I want an explanation.”

I ignore him and keep walking. An explanation… Should I explain to him that I have always wished to kill him because he stole my father, my love, from me? Should I explain to him that I can now never fight him again, because I am afraid he will exploit my body’s traitorous desire for pleasure, even when I do not want or need it? Should I explain that his light touch upon my forehead has made me more aroused than I have been in two hundred years, and that I hate him even more strongly for it?

Perhaps I should, but I will not. As far as I am concerned, he neither needs nor deserves an explanation for my sudden clemency. He should simply be grateful, for now he is in precious little danger of my ever killing him. He is far safer now than he has ever been in his life, though he may know it not.

He grabs my wrist, keeping me from moving into the forest. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I did not even hear him move…

“I said I want an explanation, Sessho-maru. You just come in here, say you’re going to kill me – then you walk away from it all and say you’ll never bother me again? What’s going on?”

I hardly care about his demands. By grabbing my wrist, he has put his hand on the stripes on my skin… I am doing my best not to respond to that touch. I am still forced to close my eyes against the sensation.

“Release me, Inuyasha,” I say coldly, once more able to open my eyes. I turn my gaze to meet his eyes. As far as I can tell, I am showing no signs of what I am feeling… I hope that such is the case. “You cannot know what you are doing to me by touching me.”

He is confused. I can smell his confusion very clearly, as he will soon begin to smell my arousal, if I do not get away from him. If he does not let me go soon, I may yet kill him.

His eyebrows are furrowed slightly, his cat-like ears still firmly focused in my direction. He is trying to discover what has come over me. I must get away, before he succeeds.

“What – this causes you pain?” His hand shifts slightly on my wrist, his claws accidentally drawing over the sensitive skin. He still has no idea what he is doing to me… He is so very wrong in what he thinks, yet he is disconcertingly close, on another level of meaning. It pains me to feel this way, to have these feelings caused by the one person in the world that I believe I can honestly say that I hate.

“No. Regardless, let me go.” My voice sounds surprisingly normal to my ears. I do not know how I can sound so unaffected, when I am feeling what I am, but somehow my voice shows nearly no sign of what Inuyasha is doing to me. I cannot look at him, however, and my gaze returns to the trees, as I force my eyes to remain open this time. I will not show him any sign of what I am feeling because of his touch.

One of his ears twitches slightly – he heard something in my voice. He leans a little closer and sniffs the air. It is too late… his eyes widen slightly, and flick back toward my forehead. He realizes what he did earlier, to affect me. He knows what he has done to me. I wonder if he also realizes that I am so truly ashamed for him to know, and if he does, if he cares. Unlikely, on both counts.

Before I can pull away from him or do anything to stop him, he raises his other hand and rubs the moon on my forehead with two warm fingers, quickly, as though he is afraid that I will bite him. I gasp and close my eyes suddenly, my knees weakening. These sensations… I hear a noise, a high-pitched whine… No… I did not just make that noise…

I find myself on my knees when I am able to open my eyes, still breathing heavier than normal. Does he notice? I hardly think it matters now. For once, when I lift my eyes to his face from my position still on the ground, his expression is unreadable. I do not know what he is thinking or feeling. For some reason, that makes me wary. I do not like not understanding completely everything in his mind. Do others feel that way when they look at me?

“Sessho-maru…”

“Inuyasha, let me go.” It is not a demand. I have no right to demand anything of him in my current state. All I can do is ask it of him, and hope that he sees fit to oblige.

He slowly lets go of my wrist. I am immediately relieved at the loss of his touch, but it does very little good. The feeling does not vanish immediately, of course. I clench my teeth and breathe deeply through my nose to calm my body as I push myself to my feet. I do not look at him again. My only wish is to never see him again, to not see how he must look now in the face of my shame…

“Wait,” he calls out as I approach the trees for a second time, and I do. Why not? I have little dignity left to preserve. I will let him say whatever asinine thing he feels he must say to me, and then I will leave him forever.

I glance at his uncertain face, and for a moment I am sickly sure he is going to apologize to me. If he does, I fear I must throw myself upon my sword. Does he understand how humiliating that would be? Again, does he care?

Then I feel his touch on my forehead again, before I realize he has moved. I can’t completely stifle another whine – I’m about to collapse again, but he catches me on one arm, presses his lips against mine… Why? Why is he doing this…?

My body doesn’t care. I eagerly accept the kiss. Why? Why am I doing this? No. No! I do not want this!

No… Why am I giving in to him…?

He wants me. I can smell his arousal as clearly as I am sure he can smell mine. But why? Is it only because he can smell it on me? Can I be affecting him that much? Has he always harbored these feelings? Maybe… But I think that what honestly arouses him is the fact that he has power over me. I am at his mercy…

I cannot fight him. The very fact that he has so much power over me makes me want to kill him, but I can do nothing… Even his tongue in my mouth can do nothing to incite me to fight him. He truly has me at his mercy. I am helpless… I want to fight him but I cannot. No…

My hand is on his chest. To push him away? I think so… It’s no use. He moves my hand, grabbing my wrist, his claws brushing the stripes again. No. I will not make another sound…

My body disobeys me. I cannot stop the quiet moan into his mouth… I need air. I need to breathe… He continues kissing me, and I am powerless to stop him. No… Why do I not fight him, kill him? Why do I let him touch me like this… humiliate me like this…?

His mouth moves to my neck, and I can breathe, but it is fast and shallow. His body is pressed against mine, and mine against his. My mind rebels, but my body continues. No… Not Inuyasha… I would prefer that bastard hanyou Naraku to Inuyasha… Why must I respond like this to him?

I feel his tongue at my pulse… his sharp teeth… My heart races. He could kill me now and I would be powerless to stop him. He could easily rip out my throat… Finally kill me… I think I would almost prefer he did.

But he does not. He refuses to kill me, even when given the opportunity, when I am helpless. He nips at my throat, but only gently, not even drawing blood. Why… Why is he doing this to me…? He does not want to physically hurt me, only humiliate me… So cruel, brother…

He pushes me backward, pins me to a tree. At least now I will not collapse as he touches me. I feel his teeth at my ear, and I shudder. I cannot help it. I wish it were in disgust.

His other hand, the one not pinning my wrist and torturing me, runs down my chest. He impatiently unlaces my armor and throws it to the ground, and there’s nothing save our clothes between us. Soon, there won’t even be that – his hand continues to undress me. He actually tears my obi in frustration when he cannot untie the intricate knot. Perhaps it would work better if he looked, instead of continually biting at my ear and neck as he is. I would greatly appreciate it, as well. The symbolism is obvious. He is proving to both of us that he is stronger… dominant… as though that were not obvious enough.

“No…” He ignores me, my nearly whispered denial. I am surprised I found the strength to even utter that one word. In fact, he bites down, hard, on my shoulder, drawing blood and causing a spike of pain. Only with that do I realize that he has already half stripped me. My bare back is pressed against the rough tree behind me, his rough clothes pressed against my chest. I am trapped… completely trapped and at his mercy… all of my instincts rebel against it. He has managed to trap me and I hate it. I hate him. I hate everything I am feeling and every reason I am feeling it, and I am utterly powerless to stop it from happening.

Then his hand runs down my side and settles on the stripes on my waist, and I whine softly again. He is torturing me… My body strains toward his, pressing desperately against him. I am begging him to take me.

I will not have him take me!

His hand imbeds itself in my hair, pulls my head back. He nips at my throat again, and I moan quietly. Stop this, Inuyasha… I yearn to say those words, to command him to unhand me and quite possibly kill him for this transgression, that he dare even think of doing this to me, but once again, I am reminded harshly that I am completely helpless.

His hand pulls at my pants. Does he realize that he is still completely clothed? Does he intend to do this without undressing himself, heighten my shame in that way? If he does, I will kill him. I will kill him anyway. He cannot do this to me.

He removes his hand from my pants to struggle, one arm at a time, from his haori. So he does plan to be civilized about this. A small comfort, if any. I still cannot stand this… This being helpless and trapped. This being aroused and tortured by the one person in the world whom I would rather kill myself than be touched by. The person I hold responsible for the loss of the one person by whom I would want to be touched.

The touch of his warm skin against my chest makes my heart stop for a moment. He feels so good… I have not felt anything comparable to this for so long… I want him, badly.

No!

Claws trace down my skin. I am going insane. I want him to take me – I want him to drop dead at this very moment. Both. Neither. I do not know… I cannot stand it… Stop doing this to me…

I whine again against my will, pushing myself against him. He bites my shoulder again, and I moan. The pain feels good… even from him, this all feels so good. I hate it, but I want it. His soft tongue licks gently at the bite, and I gasp for air. He sees that it got a reaction and does it again, licks at my neck as well. My jaw. The stripes on my cheek. A high whine once more bursts from my throat. If not for the tree behind me, I would collapse.

He pulls me slightly away from the tree. Only when I realize that I am unable to stand on my own to I realize what all he has done to me. He holds me up for a moment, but I find myself on the ground, his body on top of mine... Memories flash through my head. No. No, I will not compare him to my father.

Inuyasha is not as heavy as my father... I always found that weight comforting, but I do not find Inuyasha's weight any less so. I do not want to like this... I do not want this at all. I cannot help but pull him closer, pull him down and press his body to mine. I do not want him to touch me, but I need this contact. Right now, I need it - I need him.

"Inuyasha..." I am not sure what I planned on saying. It does not matter any, as he silences me effectively with a forceful kiss. His hands - both of them now, as my wrist has been freed, though I still find myself unable to fight him off - pull at the remainder of my clothes. Very well. Let him do as he wishes - I am completely powerless. Let him lord over me. It does not matter.

Because I want it too. I hate it. I hate myself for wanting it. But I want it too.

He pulls my clothes off, and I am exposed, helpless... He kisses my stomach, drawing his tongue along the stripes on my waist. My back arches toward him, drawing a moan from me... None of this is happening with my consent, but I cannot stop myself from responding to him. He draws his claws over stripes on my thighs, scratching me. I smell my own blood, again, from the bite, from those scratches. I do not like the smell of my own blood. I would much rather smell his.

He kisses and bites at my neck, lying upon me. This time I am able to stifle the moan I want to make. Perhaps I am regaining some control over myself...

No, I am not. I feel him at my entrance and suddenly I want to fight him again, I want to throw him off of me and kill him, to kill him and bring him back to life and kill him again... But still I cannot. I cannot allow this. I cannot stop it. I can do nothing, nothing but whine for him and beg for more of what I hate.

No preparation. My father was kinder than that. Sudden pain, making me gasp and arch toward him. He is inside of me. No, this cannot happen. No. No! NO! NONONONONOOOOO!

"...yes..." I moan. He bites my shoulder again, making me whine again. No! I hate you! Do not do this to me!

"...more..."

How? How am I able to do this, to have so very different mental and physical reactions? It is as though my mind is no longer connected to my body at all. I have no say over anything that I do, anything that happens to me. I hate this - my body and voice do not seem to realize that.

He obliges my words, unaware of my thoughts. How could he possibly think that I am enjoying this? How can he possibly be so right? How can I actually be enjoying this?

He pushes deep into me. It hurts… I love it. No… I do. I can’t, but I do. I whine for him again, high-pitched and submissive. Begging. Pleading. My head is thrown back, my claws digging lightly into his back. Finally, the smell of his blood. The smell of my own almost overpowers it… but not completely.

And to punish me for that indiscretion, he slams into me particularly hard, biting my throat. My heart stops for a moment as his jaws close around my windpipe. He will kill me now… for drawing his blood, though it is of course my instinct to do so, he will kill me…

But no. He bites only hard enough for it to hurt seriously, drawing a respectable amount of blood, but does not kill me. Only a warning. I understand perfectly.

Another hard thrust, another whine. I do not think I will be able to hold out much longer… I do not want to debase myself and come for him, but I will. I know I will. How can I possibly fail to, after every other way in which I have already humiliated myself so? It is what he wants, and he will get it. I know he will…

Just get it over with… Please. You have already won.

He pulls my hair and drags my head forward, leaning up toward my. He draws his tongue across the moon on my forehead, lightly, just as he thrusts into me once again. I cannot help it; my body explodes. I hear a loud cry – almost a scream – but from a distance. Was that my voice? I do not know… it does not matter, as my world is turning completely white. I can feel nothing but the fire racing through my veins… there is no pain, no weight on top of me, no world below me. There is only the intense, screaming pleasure…

Did I…? I think I passed out. There is another deep bite in the side of my neck that I never felt him make… And he is no longer moving, just lying on me and panting. We have both finished. Was I unconscious, or just too high on pleasure…?

He pulls away slightly and looks down at me. I refuse to look into his eyes, focusing instead on the sky and breathing deeply to calm myself. Let him see what he wants.

I do not know what it is he thinks he sees, but he pulls away from me completely. I do not make a sound. Never again. Never again will I make a sound for him… I will die before he hears another noise from my throat in anything but hatred.

He crouches a few feet away from me, looking at me. His ears lie almost flat; he is uncertain. I think he is confused again. I do not know why. His eyes, however, are still unreadable to me. I do not know what he is thinking, or feeling. I do not honestly care.

“Sessho-maru…”

I slowly sit up still without looking at him. I inspect my claws; there is blood on them. His blood. I appreciate that fact. “I would rather you had killed me, Inuyasha.” My voice is quiet, flat. Perfectly trained, it does not tell him anything of my emotions. “Go back to your humans and let me be.”

He hesitates for a moment, but obeys, grabbing his clothes and quickly dressing without looking at me again, as far as I can tell. He runs off, and I still do not look after him.

I have never been more ashamed. I was not only at his mercy, but at my own body’s. I should have been able to control myself… He would be disappointed in me. Once again I have failed Him, at least in my own eyes. I have given in to my enemy and my own weakness. And my enemy has spared my after I was at his mercy, shaming me beyond anything I can hope to live with. I cannot live with it.

I dress quickly for me, painstakingly slowly with one arm, and pick up my swords. No. I cannot live with what he has done to me… what I have done. There is only one way out… One way to escape from my shame…

Tokijin shines in the sun as I pull it from the sheath. It is a beautiful blade, I suppose. I have never actually noticed. It has ever been nothing but an instrument to me, as it is once again. Now it is the instrument of my release. Of my death. I will not live with Inuyasha having beaten me so. I refuse.

Still, somehow, I am reluctant. I am not sure why… I have decided to do this, yet I hesitate. Why? I had thought that I was ready for this… The sword stays, inches from my skin – am I not yet ready?

The wind has shifted, almost directly around from where it was. Now I smell, not Inuyasha and his entourage, but Rin and Jaken, very faintly. They are very far away; they will probably never know what has become of me. That is probably best. I only hope they do not waste too much time looking for me; without me around, they will not survive long on their own. They need to find someone to protect them, before they are a meal for the next passing large demon. Jaken, without my very presence to protect him, will soon fall victim to some demon or human eager to make a kill; Rin is human, and only a child. She, without protection and in the wilderness, will surely meet the same fate, should they not find someone, soon, to be their new guardian.

Perhaps… this is why I am reluctant to die? I feel guilty for leaving them alone? No, that cannot be it. They will find someone. I am nearly certain. Even if they do not, they will not necessarily be killed. There is a small chance they will survive…

But Rin follows me so loyally… She sees me as a replacement for her lost father, I believe. Would I leave her alone, abandon her? Yes. Of course. Why should I not? I have no inhibitions about doing so. If she were a demon, she would already be able to care for herself. Perhaps it is time she learn.

And yet I sheathe the sword, and walk back though the forest toward them. I cannot do that; to die now would be a selfish decision.

They have saved my life, whether I like it or not. Perhaps I can make arrangements for them, find them somewhere safe, and satisfy my honor then. But I know I will not. They are my obligation, and I suppose I feel I must take care of them. So I will not die. I will avoid my brother at all costs… but I cannot die. I will live with it… I must.