The proud Inuyoukai lord of the West had grown used to the dullness of everyday life. Used to the monotony, used to the steady hum that was humanity about him, and though it rattled the instinct inside of him, he ignored it. He’d had centuries to learn to do so, after all.
Now, in this modern world, this 23rd century, he found himself living on the brink of…well: Living.
He spent his days in his great, dark mansion, lost in his books and timeless scrolls, fingers playing on well-worn instruments…It was all monotonous. He’d been doing the same for so very long…Ever since he’d lost his mate. His Kagome.
She was the Shikon Miko, the modern girl stuck in the past, the victor over Naraku and in time even over death. At least, for two hundred years, give or take a decade or two.
When he did eventually lose her, it was to her own kind. They’d been out surveying the lands as was their habit and he’d left her for a short time to do something -he couldn’t even remember just what it was anymore, it was decidedly less important than what happened that day- but that short while had been plenty of time. Time to lose her, time enough that even Tenseiga could not revive her. Though he’d certainly made good use of it on her murderers, reviving them again and again and again…
She’d been cornered while napping in the meadow, by a group of houshi and miko that had been trying to rise against him for years. That day they had their victory on him, and their defeat simultaneously.
They killed her.
He didn’t even truly know how they’d accomplished it as he hadn’t been there to witness it, but all the same, she was gone. In one quick flash her flame was snuffed out, and he’d felt it -like a thick cord tied to his heart had been cut. It made him gag with the pain it had inflicted on him, made his heart beat so irregularly that he wondered if it would ever mend. And still it had not.
To this day he mourned that he hadn’t been there. He could have stopped them, could have protected her, and even had he failed in that still he would have been there for her last moments, so that she wouldn’t have to be alone. Wouldn’t be afraid.
This thought alone circled in his mind for far too long.
It killed something in him. His heart was dead.
And so he lived through the centuries as if half-asleep.
The old times were gone, modern times were here.
She’d told him about her own time so often that he’d known what to expect and he went with it all as a fish caught in a stream. Time flowed by and carried him with it. Alone. Helpless to stop the pull.
Now, he found that he preferred the nighttime.
The day was too bright, too much a reminder of the bright light that had been his mate. Too sunny, like her disposition. He hated it now.
Instead he became the silent observer, lurking along sidewalks and streets in the dead of night, doing nothing but watching those around him.
Though he was dead inside, their interactions intrigued him to a degree. He never bothered to interfere or intercede for any of them, and neither did he do any harm.
He was simply there.
He did, however, appreciate some of the arts and literature of the times. They did much to distract his dark thoughts, though some did indeed add fuel to the fire that was his own self-hatred.
He chose not to linger on those particular pieces overlong, due to this fact.
Strangely enough, the art of fashion drew his appreciation as well at times.
The modern style had gone distinctly vintage in the past few years and he found that he appreciated the clothing; long dark trench coats with high collars, double breasted vests and sleek black slacks…It complimented his moods very well.
He was in one such mood as he perused the streets of Yokohama near twilight, heading for the Sankeien Garden that he was fond of.
She would have liked it too. She’d always loved gardens…
He arrived without really noticing, the last of the sun nearly gone, and he headed for the bridge, its red wood drawing his attention subconsciously.
His shoes made a ‘clacking’ sound as he sedately and morosely walked along the planks before turning away from the sunset to look over the pond. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the railing and clasped his hands together, looking into the waters below though his thoughts were centuries away.
But then, he heard her laugh.
Thinking it was his own memories playing tricks on him, he ignored it.
Until it rang out again.
Leaning back from the rail, his nose twitched, and then twitched again when he picked up what could only be her scent, drifting to him on the breeze.
He could hear her voice, her words soft and lyrical.
Perhaps he was truly going mad, now? Had he truly lost control of his faculties enough to imagine that he was hearing her? Scenting her?
Hearing it again, he turned this time away from the railing, brows furrowing darkly as his gilded eyes were drawn inexplicably to a petite figure crossing the bridge.
“Bye, Fuyumi!” the girl waved to another female on a bicycle as she left, before turning fully in his direction.
She was smiling to herself as she walked along the bridge, coming closer and closer, and he was frozen there, eyes dark as he watched her.
She was exactly the same as he remembered her…Beautiful, soulful blue eyes, high cheekbones and sweet, charming lips, capable of enchanting him with a smile.
The last rays of the sun highlighted her being and he thought she looked as a kami descending from the heavens…It frightened him; the sudden intensity of his feelings.
She hummed as she walked, her heels clacking rhythmically on the wood, eyes focused inward as she was lost in her own world.
He had to do something -he couldn’t not- his reaction was instinctual; he flared his aura just as he could feel his heart hammering in his chest.
There was satisfaction in him with how she gasped and stopped, head snapping back as her wide eyes bore into him.
For a moment, a split second, he thought that maybe she recognized him, maybe she knew him. But then her brows furrowed cutely in what he knew to be bafflement, her lips pursing.
They stood perhaps ten feet away, eyes focused completely on one another, and her brows furrowed even deeper.
Biting her lip, hands twisting in the fabric of her shirt, she stepped closer slowly, hesitantly.
He said nothing, merely watching, unknowingly holding whatever breath was left in him.
And still she came closer.
He could see a blush now on her cheeks, something that had always been so delightfully innocent on her…even well after they’d mated.
But this wasn’t the same Kagome. This wasn’t his mate.
Though, perhaps…It had been a little over five hundred years since her death. Perhaps she’d been reborn?
It was the only explanation, and it gave him hope like nothing else could.
“I-” she began, voice cutting off in her nervousness. She cleared her throat, obviously acutely embarrassed, but she went on. “Have we met before?” she questioned softly, eyes shyly searching his face, his features. “I feel like…like I know you.”
She stopped, shaking her head as if to scold herself. “Of course we haven’t. I’d remember you.” As if realizing what she’d said, her blush deepened and she made to walk by him. “I’m sorry-”
He reached out and grabbed her arm gently, stopping her.
“Wait,” he began, “Don’t go.”
They both stood there silently, both focused on the contact.
Eventually, he released her.
“I am sorry. I should not have been so presumptuous as to grab your arm,” he apologized softly, having finally accepted that it was really a real person before him and not a figment of his imagination.
“It’s alright,” she murmured.
“What is your name?” he asked, intent on knowing who she was now, in this time.
“Tori,” she offered with a small smile.
Bird, he thought. How fitting, as she is no longer the caged bird…she is free.
“I am Sesshomaru.”
He gave her his real name, as he could not lie to her. Never could.
She laughed a little, one petite hand covering her wide smile.
“It is a very…dignified name.”
He huffed softly, as close to a laugh as he’d had in many years.
“Yes. My mother’s sense of humor no doubt.”
She gave him a pitying smile.
“Yes, I know all about those. My mother almost named me ‘Kagome’ after an ancient ancestor; a miko who was cursed with a horrible task and whisked away by demons. Between you and me, I always thought it sounded very…melancholy.”
He hummed in thought and smiled at the irony, for here stood one from Kagome’s family, no doubt her brother’s line…
He had no doubts now.
She’d returned to him.
“Hn. Perhaps you would join me for tea? We may talk of the difficulties of names, if you wish, and perhaps discuss this ancestor whisked away by demons.”
He smiled charmingly, drawing her stunned gaze immediately.
But then she smiled winningly in return, looping her arm through his.
“I’d like that.”
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O
A/N: That's it guys, hope you liked it, even just a little. I'm not entirely sure I like how it turned out, I originally wanted to portray more longing, but this was how it came out! lol Well, tell me what you guys think!