Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Ducking her head to bury her cold nose in the scarf Sesshoumaru had knotted around her shoulders, Kagome’s blue eyes sparkled as she gazed out at the snowflake bejewelled garden. Arms wrapped firmly around Sesshoumaru’s shoulders, she laughed giddily when the demon twirled with her cradled in his arms.
Their breath creating crystals in the frigid air, Sesshoumaru carefully carried her to her persimmon tree.
“Ah!” she murmured, stretching perilously towards a low hanging branch so that she could brush the snow away with mitten covered hands.
Frowning at her overexertion, Sesshoumaru moved closer to the tree. “If we aren’t careful your branches will break,” she cooed.
“We should go back inside,” Sesshoumaru coaxed as a shiver shook her slim frame. Though she snuggled back into his warmth, she made no inclination of hearing him as she continued to dote on her tree.
“He’s nearly old enough to bear fruit,” she whispered tenderly, “next spring I think...”
Sesshoumaru closed his eyes at her melancholy whisper and sighed when she pulled the mitten off her right hand and gently cupped his cheek.
“I’ll make it,” she whispered, nose ghosting along his angular jaw before she pressed a kiss to the tip of his pointed ear, “I promise.”
He wanted to shout at her. To rage and scream that she couldn’t make promises that she wouldn’t be able to keep. He wanted to shake her and tell her that this optimism was killing him. That in the end it wouldn’t matter; she’d break her promise and leave him.
Yet he knew, it was there in the tremor of her lips, the hitch in her voice, the frail shaking in her bony hands, she wasn’t oblivious. She was painting a picture of what she needed to strive for. What she wanted for them. What they would never have.
Breathing deep the frigid, frozen air, Sesshoumaru embraced the numbing pain of the cold like it was an old friend.
But he could pretend, he could play along, he could keep the sad smile on his face. For her. If it would lessen her pain then he would accept all the heartache in the world.
“We should go back inside,” he repeated, voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. And, as she reached up and pressed a kiss to his forehead he wondered...
Whose tear fell down his cheek?
His or hers?
A/N: This was originally posted on dokuga_contest and placed first for the drabble prompt Angle. I hope you enjoyed enough to review!