Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Destroyer
By : NihilEtNemo
Category: InuYasha > General > DarkFic
Views: 2862 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own or make money from Inuyasha.
Chapter List
- 1-Destroyer
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
TITLE: Destroyer

AUTHOR: setosgirl
DATE:
8-14-10 - 8-21-10
FANDOM:
Inuyasha
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own
Inuyasha.
PAIRINGS: technically none,
possible Naraku/Sesshoumaru connotations
TYPE:
gore... does that count as Drama?
OCs:
none

CHAPTER: Oneshot, or maybe 1/3
RATING:
T+/MA
WORDS: 4768
WARNINGS:
torture. Almost five thousand words of torture. You could also
consider it a take on MPREG.

SUMMARY: Sesshoumaru has been captured
by Naraku, who once again wants his power. It seems that this time,
though, he wants something more... He wants to destroy him first.

NOTES: When I say gore, I
mean it. This story is written as an excuse to very literally destroy
Sesshoumaru (because I like him, not because I hate him). It features
explicit descriptions of gore and torture, and is an example of the
guro fetish
or style, involving gore and amputation. I'm considering, if this has
an audience and/or I feel like it, writing two more chapters –
the second having different kinds of torture, possible but pretty
unlikely N/C included, and the third involving humiliation and
pity/sympathy (since that is a large appeal of it to me; why ruin a
boy unless there is someone to acknowledge how bad it is?). That is
only a possibility, however. I would like to hear your thoughts. If,
however, you find it a bit much, I have to say I warned you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Destroyer

PART 1

~

Golden
eyes opened to darkness.

The
prisoner lifted his head from the floor. His heightened sight made
sense of faint shades undetectable to humans, resolving the darkness
into irregular patterns of rises and depressions that resembled
nothing he was aware of. His sharp ears heard a faint pulsating, a
heartbeat originating from nowhere, and as he moved a creak, as of
wood. More importantly still, his nose was filled with only one
scent, a pungent, rotting stench.

"Naraku,"
he breathed.

Around
his throat, something tightened with his word like a living collar,
pressing on his windpipe without cutting off breath, telling him for
the moment only that it was there... but that it could, if it chose,
decide to strangle him. Not that he would allow it to be there that
long. He jerked his head with moderated strength to break it, only to
have his neck snapped to a stop at the end of its length, a length
that he discovered no amount of strength or straining could pull it
past.

That
wasn't all that he discovered. Moving awakened his limbs in a rush of
needle-pains all up his arm and his legs; they had been so far asleep
he had not even realized he could not feel them. He twisted his head
in its bond to look, finding his arm bound at the wrist above his
head in what seemed like a protrusion of the wall. It was pulled back
to put his shoulder at an awkward angle that would make sitting up
any further painful even if he could. His legs were spread, wide,
with his knees under him, forcing him to kneel with his chest
parallel to the rough floor. They were bound not only at the ankle
but up to the knee where the floor grew partially over them, and he
could not yet move them enough to test the strength of those bonds.
Even what was left of his left arm was bound beneath and around the
shoulder to the floor; that limb he could move easily, but there was
no strength in it. How long he had been in this position to lose his
circulation so badly, or to what end, he could not guess.

Even
so, he knew by whom.

"Naraku,"
he called again coldly, barely raising his voice. As he spoke he
twisted his dead hand, forcing it to wake, and sank the claws into
the hard material that pulled it toward the ceiling. The smell as he
released his venom into it was bitter and acrid - not the smell of
his toxin, but the smell of it mixing with another volatile poison.

"I
wouldn't do that."

He
hadn't heard a step. The collar dug into his neck as he jerked his
head around, teeth already slightly bared. Naraku stood at the edge
of his vision behind him. He didn't have to see him clearly;
smirking, red eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, spikes rising
from his back, he would not have looked more at home stepping
directly out of Hell.

"That,"
Naraku repeated, stepping calmly up between his spread legs and
grabbing his fingers. He pried them from the manacle without seeming
to struggle. A drop of venom fell from a claw and sizzling on the
floor without doing any harm. "Don't think I had forgotten that
talent. I've modified my poison to react... poorly, with yours. If
you'd rather keep trying until the gas eats away your lungs, though,
I'll wait."

He
would have liked to believe Naraku was lying, but he wasn't; the
smell was already burning his nose painfully - most poisons were
simply ineffectual against him, and he could not be bluffing. Still,
he refused to answer, seeing instead the ramifications of that
poison. He realized that whatever bound him was less like wood or
stone and more like the bony protrusions that made Naraku's spikes;
with the poison, then, they were within Naraku, or within something
he had created of himself or his cast-off pieces. Naraku meant, yet
again, to absorb him and his power.

This
time he did not have Tenseiga to keep him at bay. His hand clenched,
claws swiping for Naraku's hand - missing - but that did not change
the fact that his sword was gone, with his clothes and armor, and the
fur that draped around him would offer little protection and little
chance of freeing him.

"Don't
you have anything to say?" Naraku's fingers, blunt and
disgustingly human fingers, ran gently down the back of his hand,
openly unafraid of his claws.

"You
are going to die." He twisted his head to give a cold glare over
his shoulder.

A
silky chuckle came from his captor. "I've heard that before,
Sesshoumaru..."

He
stared unblinking at the dark form behind him. This was far from the
weak human puppeteer wearing a stinking pelt and deferentially
calling him by his proper title, as he offered a dead human arm so
that he could use his brother's sword. If he had seen the threat that
was within him then... But he had not until Naraku had gained the
confidence to openly antagonize him. Folly, it had been and still
was, for Naraku to think he would win this, ever... Yet he should
have killed him long ago.

Naraku's
red eyes themselves seemed to smirk at him, before they shifted over
to his hand, where his fingers still avoided his claws and ran over
the backs of his knuckles. "You've been hard to catch," he
mused. "I don't even need you any more, of course... compared to
mine, your power is negligible. All you have is brute strength and
sheer obstinacy - you're too dumb to know when you're outmatched."

He
couldn't help himself against a surge of contempt and rage - no one
described him like Inuyasha!
The urge to destroy was overwhelming and he gave in to it, twisting
his arm to sink his claws into Naraku's, yanking him forward at the
same time that he lunged with teeth halfway through transforming into
a muzzle. The collar yanked him up short, digging into his throat and
squeezing, but still he snarled and strained against it, and all of
the bonds. He was
going to break them and rip Naraku's throat out...

A
hand wound into his hair and jerked his head back, and he was forced
to looked straight up into Naraku's face - so tantalizingly near, so
close to being able to tear it off. He lunged upward to reach it
despite the pain, but he had only to pull back a little to escape his
teeth.

"Go
on," Naraku invited, his voice calm and amused. "Transform,
tap your whole power. If you think these walls will give, you're
mistaken. You'll be turning yourself into a pile of pathetic,
steaming dog guts. Not even your youki will regenerate you from
that."

He
growled and ceased the transformation, unwilling to admit Naraku was
right, just as unwilling to kill himself. Even dimmed intellect could
see Naraku was telling the truth, even if it wouldn't admit it. He
had begun to grow, but the bonds that grew out of the walls had not
shattered or cracked and only pressed painfully into his arms and
legs and neck. If he continued and it would not break he would
destroy his body.

The
hand released his hair, and then stroked it in a disgusting mockery
of fondness. "You are such an animal."

He
struggled with the rage, and snapped at Naraku's hand but managed to
resume his human form. "You are a thing."

Naraku
only chuckled. "A thing who has you right where I want you."
He pried Sesshoumaru's claws from his arm and kept hold of them
firmly. "You do have some useful powers."

He
declined to respond. He didn't trust himself to do so without giving
in to the simmering rage again.

"That
little sword, for instance. It's a useless stick to me, but to you...
It fought to stay with you, you know." He twisted Sesshoumaru's
hand around, inspecting it and pretending not to notice how he made
him grit his teeth. "I can see the use in a sword like that, if
it would obey me. A sword that won't let you get killed, and a sword
that will let you escape from Hell if you are."

"Tenseiga
will not suffer your touch," he snapped. He may not have wanted
it, but Tenseiga was his
and had chosen him,
and Naraku would not even dare to covet it, much less speak as though
he already owned it, not if it was in his power to prevent. His claws
scratched vainly at the air, straining for him again.

His
fingers were snatched in he air and held tightly together, pulled
straight. "Oh no... not mine..." Naraku ran a finger down
his palm, and he growled almost inaudibly. At least, Naraku didn't
seem to hear it. "But yours..."

There
were vicious hooked bone spikes that ran the length of Naraku's
forearm on a false bracer; he set the tip of the last one against his
wrist, and Sesshoumaru only had time to realize what he was going to
do before he swept his arm back.

It
was over in that one motion. Blood spurted from the hole where his
hand had been, the smell and sight of it stronger at first than the
pain, staining Naraku's hands slightly but mostly flowing back down
his arm and soaking into his fur. He saw the claws of his severed
hand clench convulsively, once, twice, and then go still. Horror and
rage mingled as he watched Naraku admire his prize, smelling his
blood heavy in the air. He could reattach it - if he could get it
back, he could reattach it. If Naraku absorbed it, though...

Naraku's
right hand simply fell off, as though it had been shed, bloodlessly,
and he held his hand to the end of his arm. There was that choking
smell of mixing toxins again, but Naraku's obviously won and it faded
before it grew dangerous. The bony plates grew up around the wrist
and secured the hand. It was already moving of its own volition as
Naraku tested it out, admiring the claws. It looked ludicrously
delicate compared to the rest of him; fine long fingers and claws
suited Naraku as well as the wings of a butterfly would have. He
didn't seem to mind it.

"I
think this will do," he mused, and flexed the claws again. "I'll
have to test it with the sword. I thought you would have screamed,
though."

The
claws ran from the end of his arm down to his elbow, lightly
caressing his skin. A low growl bubbled in his throat; he swallowed
it, barely. "I have lost worse," he said instead, twisting
his arm away from Naraku. The bleeding had already stopped, the end
of his arm probably healed over; the pain wasn't yet gone, but he
had, as he said, had far worse than that deep ache. It was his pride
that hurt most of all right now.

A
low chuckle came again, and then Naraku's heavy blunt hand fell on
the end of his other arm, what was left of it. "Of course,"
he agreed, lifting that stump so that he could inspect it. "Not
even at my hands."

The
digging at his wounded pride was too much; he twisted and snapped his
teeth at Naraku, forgetting for the moment that he couldn't reach.
His own hand can from behind him and smashed his head into the floor.

"Fast,"
Naraku said in approval, as he pulled his head up and spat blood on
the floor from his broken lip.

He
chose not to answer. Instead he stared at the floor, fighting with
rage. Naraku dared...

"I
should let you go now." Claws trailed down his arm, but he
didn't move. "It would be amusing to just set you free, with no
hands to hold a sword even if you had one, no claws to shred anyone.
What's more pathetic than a three-legged dog? The great
Sesshoumaru... the amazing two-legged dog."

With
his silence, he willed him to do just that. With enough time and
seclusion he would regenerate the lost hand, since the wound was not
made by Tetsusaiga... then he would come rip Naraku's head from his
shoulders.

"You
know I'm not going to."

Claws
sank suddenly deep into his upper arm, pressing through flesh with no
resistance. He hissed but couldn't move his arm away, and refused to
give Naraku the satisfaction of watching.

The
smell of blood quickly heightened; there was a horrible ripping sound
and a bright shard of pain driven up to his shoulder. His jaws locked
together against a cry, and he breathed deeply of the blood-tainted
air. It was impossible not to look this time.

Flesh
had been ripped away with a thick layer of muscle. Exposed muscle
quivered and twitched in the warm air, leaking blood that ran down
his arm; he saw the hard curve of blood-streaked bone showing
through.

"Sharp,"
Naraku said unnecessarily. He admired his bloody claws, dropping the
chunk of meat casually away from him. It hit the floor with a wet
sucking noise and stuck there.

Sesshoumaru
breathed deeply, controlling the pain, and glared silently at Naraku
over his shoulder. The smell of his blood was beginning to make him
nauseous. Both pain and pointless cruelty, though, he could handle.
It was just more ammunition for his eventual revenge.

Naraku
smirked a little at his glare, the only direct response he gave, and
dug his claws into the hole in his arm. Sesshoumaru gritted his teeth
and prepared himself as well as he could against the expected agony.
Slowly the claws peeled the flesh and muscle back, with more slow wet
ripping sounds and the excruciatingly slow tearing pain. It rolled up
his arm and down to his wrist, mingling with and overwhelming the
pain of his severed hand. Strips of flesh were ripped slowly upward
until they hung limp from his elbow, streaming weak blood, and the
bone of his arm sat naked and exposed halfway around, for half its
length, staring at him.

He
tasted blood; he had bitten through his lip. Still, he had not
displayed any pain, let alone screamed, and that had deprived Naraku
of what he wanted, and that was a victory.

"Still
nothing?" Naraku wiped bloody claws through his fur, smearing
the whiteness with even more red and cleaning his fingers. "Don't
tell me you really are made of ice."

"Torture
will accomplish you nothing."

"Maybe
not... but you don't know what I want."

He
looked back at him over the bloody fur. A small rivulet of blood from
his arm was winding its way down his chest, dripping to the floor
beneath him, clearly audible to his hearing and subtly disturbing.
Naraku could want nothing but his death and his power... perhaps to
cause him pain in the meantime... Why was he acting as though there
were some deeper motivation?

"I
said you had some useful powers," Naraku repeated. His smirk
looked pleased with himself, pleased at knowing something his victim
did not. He patted the shredded arm, sending spikes of pain up to
steal his breath, then let his claws train down his back. "Like
your speed. Your speed is damned annoying; you would have been dead
long ago if you weren't so fast at running."

His
chest rumbled with a growl, but he was still battling down the latest
wave of pain with too much concentration to answer with words. Claws
were running down the outside of his thigh now; his skin twitched but
his legs were still immobilized.

"Do
you think I could take that speed if I took your legs?" he mused
with mock interest.

The
bindings holding his leg to the floor slithered away. Sesshoumaru did
not pause to think about it, only took advantage of his chance. He
twisted and whipped his leg up and back, the claws of his foot ready
to shred Naraku's throat.

He
was caught by his knee in midair and pulled back. The force pulled
his face to the floor and painfully wrenched his shoulder from its
socket. Blood gushed down his arm again, and he tasted it in his
mouth. For a long moment, as Naraku pulled, there was the
uncomfortable feeling of being stretched, his skin seemed about to
rip from the pressure. Then the other hand pressed on his back,
pushing him into the floor, and the pulling just above his knee
redoubled.

He
screamed as the weakest point finally gave way. Blood sprayed over
the room as skin tore and muscles shredded from their base. His hip
twisted and separated, cartilage ripped, and his leg was torn
completely from his body.

He
lay panting as blood pooled underneath him, barely noticing as it
reached his lips and stained them, struggling with shock and sudden
blood loss. He felt agony shooting up and down his leg, a phantom but
very real feeling he knew from after losing his arm. It drew a high
pitched whine between his pants for air.

Something
heavy thumped to the floor beside him; muscles flinched in surprise
and then screamed in agony, and he bit back another whine, fighting
for control of himself. He rolled his head on his chin and looked
over. A gory knob of bone stuck from shredded rags of muscle and
red-painted skin, staring him in the face. He could still make out a
stripe curving over the edge of the hip that was no longer attached
to him.

Naraku's
face intruded on the view; the dismembered leg was preferable. "You
know, I don't think that will give me your speed," he said with
a thin smile, and lifted his head by the hair. "Not dying
already, I hope?"

He
smelled blood... he tasted blood... his sight seemed covered in a
thin sheen of it. Without a thought he lunged forward, ripping out
the hair that held him back. He could move better with his shoulder
dislocated - Naraku tried to pull back, but not fast enough. His
teeth sank into the vulnerable soft flesh of Naraku's throat, and he
ripped it out, spitting the chunks of flesh even as he went back for
another bite. Now the blood pouring over him was not all his own, and
it was a much, much sweeter scent, to smell the blood of his enemy.

The
collar still held him; it jerked him up short and Naraku managed to
back away, bleeding, but laughing, with a horrible gurgling noise
that bubbled blood from his neck wound. He didn't even raise a hand
to the gash. Blood flowed down his front, painting him red in the
darkness; on the floor their blood mixed together and let off the
poisonous gas that drifted around them.

"Good,"
Naraku said - it came out harsh and bubbling and sent more blood
rolling down his chest, but Sesshoumaru saw that the edges of his
ravaged throat were already knitting together again. The was not even
close to killing him. "You're not dying yet after all."

He
growled and spat Naraku's blood from his mouth, daring him to come
closer again. The surge of youki with his bloodlust had already
stopped the bleeding of his leg and his arm, though neither had
really healed and he was no closer to regenerating his hand. Even
despite that, he felt better now with rage working on blotting out
the pain, and he was in no danger. No, he was not even close to dying
either.

"I
have plans for you. Don't even think of giving up before I get to put
them in place."

Naraku
did step closer, but behind him and far out of his reach; he didn't
get the satisfaction of taking any more chunks out of him. The claws
ran down the center of his back, parting his skin more smoothly than
any blade, and fresh rivulets of blood rolled down his sides to join
the pool on the floor.

Abruptly
the claws dug through the muscles and wrapped around his spine; his
second scream drowned out the sound of tearing muscles as he ripped
it upward. Any other sensation was lost in waves of concentrated
agony, seeming to come from everywhere at once. For he knew not how
long he could neither see nor hear nor smell, and experienced nothing
but the pain.

The
first external sensation that he recognized again was the smell of
blood, far beneath the pain, and then a dark chuckle that underscored
it. He couldn't spare any mental energy from the pain for anger.

Slowly
his vision returned, deciphering the darkness again into shapes. His
head had been yanked around, and eventually he could see Naraku's
free hand wound in his hair, pulling him around so that he could see
clear over his shoulder; he was sure that was causing pain,
somewhere, far down below the agony that was everything else, and the
angle and force of it was very dangerously close to breaking his
neck, but right now he didn't care.

His
eyes fastened on the sight of his spine in Naraku's other hand -
still whole, but bent at an unnatural curve, suspended in the air
until it disappeared back into the bloody mess of his lower back.
Strings of gore stretched from the ragged, torn muscles and flesh to
the streaked bone, and a web of twined nerves stretched taut from his
body over the top, screaming their unbearable agony. Nerves that had
already snapped from the pressure hung limp in the air beneath,
alongside broken blood vessels that still streamed blood back into
the cavity where his spine was removed.

"I
need to do that more often," Naraku said with another chuckle,
meeting his eyes to make sure he was listening. There was no sign of
the mauling left on his throat, save the streaks of blood. "I
think I almost killed you on accident with that."

He
was barely paying him any attention. His breath was harsh and whining
in his ears; the whines were too high pitched for Naraku's human
ears, and he made no effort to stop them - he doubted he could. His
eyes drifted back to the blood falling through the air in thin
trickles. He had lost so much already... He was about to bleed to
death if he didn't stop that. He was going to die here with his spine
in Naraku's hands.

No,
he was not.

The
pain couldn't be put out of mind or ignored, but he gathered what he
could of his strength and focused it in a single, brief burst of
youki. It wasn't enough to heal him - not with his body disassembled
and held partially in his own stolen hand - but the severed lines
were healed over enough that he was no longer losing blood into his
own hollowed body and the spreading pool painting the floor.

"Hn."
He glanced back at Naraku, and saw the false youkai watching the flow
of blood slow and stop. "Looks like I still need to entertain
you, don't I? I don't want that power turned anywhere else just yet."
With a smirk, he glanced up to his face, tugging back on his hair.
For a moment he felt sure he meant to pull his head off... In his
condition, that would be almost certainly fatal.

Instead,
he viciously twisted his spine in the hand that held it, using his
own former strength against him.

Instead
of more pain, everything below his rib cage disappeared; everything
above still burned in agony, but comparatively it was a relief. His
surprised breath caught in his throat, and he sagged forward, held up
only by the bindings and Naraku's hand in his head. It still yanked
his head back at such an extreme angle he could see the severed end
of his spine fall back into his body, with a sick splash of pooled
blood. Naraku still held up the other end for a moment, watching the
blood pouring from severed vein and artery, until he dropped it too
with a dark grin.

"That
should keep you busy," he said conversationally, wiping his
bloody claws in his already sodden fur.

He
had no response; he could do nothing but stare as the floor freed his
remaining leg and Naraku pulled it out straight behind him. He should
have lashed out with it; he should have used it to destroy him.
Instead it only lay there. Never before had he had to experience the
horror of being trapped in a body that would not obey him.

Naraku
gave him one more dark smirk and set his claws to the back of his
thigh. He did not have to feel it this time, but he did have to watch
as the claws sliced neatly through his skin, trailing blood, and tore
through the muscle beneath. The leg he saw being amputated did not
seem to belong to him. The grisly strips of flesh being flayed back
belonged to just so much meat; he watched from a mental distance as
the poison in the claws dissolved through the bone with a steam of
burning blood, and the final connections of muscle and tissue were
twisted apart.

He
had no limbs. It was a huge fact, not hard to recognize, but Naraku
held up the severed leg to drive it home. "And now we have
Sesshoumaru, the no-legged dog," he said, tossing it casually
aside with the other. The sound was oddly sick; it made him think of
carcasses tossed in a pile, of slaughter and disease - things that
normally had no effect on him, yet now seemed very morbid. "You're
not going to be running anywhere now."

Very
true - and yet. It seemed unlikely Naraku would let him live, after
making him this helpless, yet, if he did... He could heal from all of
this. Missing limbs could be regenerated, the broken back could be
repaired, lost blood could be replenished. But only if Naraku let him
live.

That,
he realized, was no longer his choice. Whether he lived or died was
out of his hands entirely; never had be been so powerless. He
despised it just as much as he had ever imagined he would.

"Nothing
to say?" Naraku wondered, running the bloody claws through his
hair... Like petting.

Had
he? Not much. "Finish this," he said coolly. After a
certain point acceptance came easily, when he could not longer fight
it, but that still didn't mean he would sacrifice his pride. At least
he would die with whatever dignity a taiyoukai turned into a
quadruple amputee could possess.

Naraku
chuckled and picked up one of the severed ends of his spine,
inspecting it showily, and then finally released his hair so his head
could fall back into a natural position. He let it hang, breathing
better immediately, watching Naraku only out of the corner of one
eye. The pain was turning into cold numbness as he lost blood; the
mental distance was possible a gift of the same. Neither one he
minded.

Instead
of killing him, Naraku seemed to prefer to ignore him, no doubt to
draw it out. He stooped to the side, walking through the space where
his right leg should have been, and picked up his discarded hand from
the floor. "I don't think so," he said.

He
narrowed his eyes.

The
false hanyou caught his look and smirked. Malice and sadism emanated
from him in waves of dark youki. How strong had he gotten? "I
said I have a use for your power."

"Then
take it." He couldn't stop him.

"Oh,
I will... but not for me." He stepped up to his side and pulled
apart the gaping wound down his back; pain flared again and he
gritted his teeth. With helpless revulsion he watched Naraku drop the
severed hand into his back and then pull the wound closed over the
top of it, trapping it within.

"What
are you doing...?"

"I've
found a new container for my offspring." He chuckled and patted
the shredded back. "Let's see how they come out after feeding on
your youki while they develop."

He
couldn't help a dangerous growl - acceptance had a limit. "Naraku!
Remove your filth!"

He
only laughed and turned away from him, walking back into the
darkness.

"Naraku...!"
- 1
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Destroyer	By : NihilEtNemo Category: InuYasha > General > DarkFic Views: 2862 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own or make money from Inuyasha.

Destroyer

Destroyer