AN: This one shot was written for the monthly prompt event on sesskag.tumblr. Sesshoumaru is often portrayed as a flawless being, who has everything under control. I will not do such a thing here. In this one shot, I tried to portray another side of the killing perfection. Enjoy!
!!!Warning: Graphic description of self-harm!!!
Prompt: Fall
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They say a youkai’s soul is dark, represented by the colour of grey. And a human’s soul is light, the colour of white. They say the kami have done it that way, to balance the world. How foolish. How can there be balance in the world, when creatures contain solely darkness or light in them?
No. A youkai’s soul carries also light, as a human ones carries darkness. The creatures are balanced themselves, thus the world is balanced.
But his soul had lost every light it ever contained. Yet, it was not grey. No. Grey was not a colour that could be found within him. His soul was pitch black.
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Ever since his father's death, Sesshoumaru’s life consisted of only one thing: survival. He had done a foolish mistake in the beginning of his reign. He had trusted. He had trusted his father’s advisors to guide him. To be loyal to him. He had trusted his father’s allies to respect the treaties they had signed.
And he had paid. They had tried to rip him apart. To survive, Sesshoumaru had to fight on many fronts simultaneously. The line between foe and friend began to get blurry, until it ceased to exist.
They didn't succeed. No. At least not in the way they had wanted to. Sesshoumaru survived. Yet, a part of him died those days. It was the light within him.
He learned early, that he was on his own. And he had accepted it. So, he began to work on his weaknesses. The easiest one to eliminate had been the weakness of the body. He had trained hard. And as a result became nearly invincible. There was no one who rivaled his strength. Or his ability with the sword. In a fair fight, he would always win. But there was no such thing as honour or a fair fight anymore. The world has rotten.
Honing his political sense had been more difficult. He was a male of action and not a male of words. He hated political affairs. They were able to use the sweetest of words to insult you. Everything was underhand. And he hated it. It had taken him a lot of time and a few failings to get a grasp of how politics worked, and even more time to gain at least a decent ability. But he had managed.
What he had not managed, was to eliminate the weakness of the mind. His family line had been ruling these lands since the beginning of time. Never had they failed. And Sesshoumaru wanted to surpass them all. He was the first one to rule in such a young age. He was the first one, who became the lord of the western lands without proper training.
But that was something out of his hands. He wanted to be remembered for his own abilities and actions.
So, his goal became to let the western lands prosper as they had never before. He patrolled his lands personally. He gave every village a few of his soldiers for protection. He paid his servants like no one else. And so much more.
Yet, no one noticed. No one cared.
They were ungrateful. But of course no one dared to disrespect him directly. Still, he could hear the whispered words. They called him cold, cruel, unfair, arrogant, and many other things.
It bothered him a lot. He was going out of his way to be a good ruler. But it never seemed to be enough. So, he was trying even harder. And Sesshoumaru became more and more the feeling, that he was losing himself. He was losing the reins of his life. He was losing his will to keep going. Sesshoumaru didn't feel alive anymore. He was a walking corpse. Only a shadow of his former self.
But he was not allowed to show his weakness of the mind. No. His stoic mask had to be perfectly on place. For every second of the day. Or they would rip him apart.
So, Sesshoumaru had found a way to gain at least a bit of control over his life back. To feel at least for a moment alive again. It was a drastic way. And he hated himself for what he was doing. It was disgusting. It was pathetic. Yet, he needed it.
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It was the time of the year again he hated the most. Fall. How he hated to see all these various colours. Everything seemed so lively. It made the contrast to his inner feelings even bigger. Why was the world aloud to turn into something so beautiful, so lively, while he himself was dead inside? It was not fair.
But what he hated the most was the time, when fall began to end. When all the leaves had fallen down. And the colours had vanished from the world. When everything seemed dead. Just like him. Then, he felt the most vulnerable. How dare the world mirror his inner self? How dare it expose his weakness for everyone to see?
Yes, he hated the fall. Sesshoumaru preferred the winter. When all the death was hidden under a thick blanket of snow. Then, he felt less exposed and more comfortable. After all he used the same tactic. Hiding his weakness under a stoic mask.
His ward seemed to enjoy his hated time of the year. She was piling fallen leaves to a small mound, only to jump in it. All the while giggling like mad. Yes, she was definitely enjoying herself. And he couldn't be mad at her.
Rin’s soul was one of the brightest he had ever encountered. Even, with all the hardship she had faced in her short life, it remained pure. And he would do his best, to keep it that way.
She was smiling again at him. How he cherished those moments. But Sesshoumaru was no fool. He knew that those smiles were not directed at him. They were directed at her caretaker. It was only a coincidence that he was her caretaker. As a child, Rin felt the need to find someone who could protect her. Someone, who could provide for her. He was only a means to an end. Nothing more. Nothing less.
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Holding the scroll tightly in his trembling hands, Sesshoumaru felt himself falling into this well-known tip of despair again. He had done his best. He had provided the villages with extra supplies for the upcoming season. Although, they had enough to survive. But Sesshoumaru didn’t want them to just survive. He wanted them to live a good life. And thus supported them, even, when they didn't need his help. Yet, how was it that they pleaded for more? How was it, that the villagers weren't satisfied?
No one noticed. No one cared.
He started to lose the feeling in his limbs. His tongue became numb. It felt like his soul and his body were separated. And the world seemed to slow down. He couldn’t stop it. Sesshoumaru felt helpless. And he hated this feeling. He needed to regain control of his life again. He needed to feel alive again.
And there was only one way to achieve these things.
Like in a trance, Sesshoumaru left his study and crossed the halls of the palace. Finding his way outside, he walked through the thick forest to a place, where he could let himself fall apart. A place, where no one would be looking for him.
Deep in the forest Sesshoumaru had found prison cells under the earth. His ancestors had built and used them. But with time torture, as a method to gain information, became less and less popular. So, the extra cells were abandoned, since they had no use for them anymore.
Though, for Sesshoumaru they served a purpose. Those cells had become the only link to his sanity. Climbing the stairs down, he went deeper and deeper to the heart of the structure.
The old, rusty torture devices where still stored in a room. He had used them a few times on himself. But they didn't satisfy him. No. The damage needed to be done by his own claws.
Disrobing, Sesshoumaru sat naked down on the filthy ground. Staring at his alabaster skin, he felt disgusted by what he saw. Countless scars were covering his otherwise flawless skin. Thin lines were carved in his arms, legs and torso.
Beginning with his work, he reopened first the scars on his arms. He had found out, that the sensitive skin on the scars pained much more than inflicting damage on the healthy spots. He traced line after line with his claws. With every reopening, thick blood was oozing of the wounds. Falling, drop after drop, to the ground.
In these moments, Sesshoumaru found his healing abilities to be a curse. The wounds closed much too soon. But he had found a solution for this. For the second round, Sesshoumaru reopened the wounds again. But this time, he made use of his poison. It delayed the healing process. That was much better, but still not enough. No. That was not enough.
Gathering the filthy mood on the ground that had mingled with his blood, he began to apply it on his reopened wounds. He could already smell the beginning of an infection.
Leaving his arms be for the moment, he began the same procedure on his chest and stomach. Then on his legs. Sesshoumaru had found out, that the inner side of his thighs was the most sensitive part of his body. Reopening the scars there hurt like hell. But that was okay. Physical pain he could handle well. He needed it, to feel alive again. The more it pained, the better it was.
He had made a miscalculation in the beginning. He had carved the wound too deep on his inner thighs and had broken the vein. He had bled so much, that he lost his consciousness. But that was not what he wanted. No. Falling unconscious was not an option. He wanted to be aware of every second the pain lasted.
When Sesshoumaru began to apply the filthy mood there too, he hissed. The stench of the upcoming infection was much stronger now.
He laid himself on the cold, filthy ground. Enjoying the pain. Because it meant two things: He was alive and he was in control of his life.
He would lie there alone for the whole night. Until the damage was healed. And no one would notice what happened. No one would know, because no one cared.
Changing his position on the ground, Sesshoumaru let a whimper escape his lips. His body began to heat up and tremor. Already his system was fighting the bad infection. Its stench filled the air. And a thick, foul smelling secretion seeped out of his wounds, mingling with the blood.
It would be a long night. A night of pain. A night of euphoria.
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Gathering his pack, Sesshoumaru went out to patrol his lands. As always, his euphoria had lasted only for a short moment. One night. But his self-loath increased every time. Afterwards, he often asked himself if it was worth it. But he couldn't help it. He needed it. And for that he hated himself.
Sniffing the air once more, he could smell the half-breed and his pack. Deciding, that Rin had gone for too long without the company of another child, he strolled to their direction.
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After pleasures were exchanged, mainly him rendering the half-breed unconscious, the kitsune kid and Rin began to play. Not wanting to be near his half-brother’s pack, Sesshoumaru decided to sit on the other side of camp. He wanted to be alone. Shame still on the front of his mind.
Yet, that didn’t stop the miko. She came over to him. Offering a cup of tea, that he declined. She didn't seem too disappointed. And after gifting him with a small smile, she began to start a one sided conversation.
“Sesshoumaru-sama, I wanted to tell you something. Every time we get the chance to travel through the western lands, I enjoy myself very much. Everything seems so much livelier there. It may sound stupid now, but somehow even the grass seems to be greener. And we have noticed that the living standards in the western villages are much higher than in any of the other lands. You take very good care of your lands and their inhabitants. I’m sure the west is proud to call you lord.”
“Oi, wench! The bastard is already full of himself! Don’t … “
Sesshoumaru was too concerned to remember how to breathe, to pay any attention to what the-half breed was saying. His heart, that had stopped for a moment, started to beat in an erratic way.
Someone noticed. Someone cared.
And a tiny spot of grey had appeared within the black of his soul. Maybe, just maybe not all was lost. Maybe there was still hope for him.
Thank you so much for reading! <3
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VS: Don’t hesitate to be kind. It is amazing how something simple like a smile can change someone's day, or even life.
Don't look away.