In Another Life by Oneirism

In Another Life

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha nor do I make any money out of this. I am absolutely nowhere near as great as Rumiko Takahashi.

Author’s Note: Inspired by the amazing piano piece of Yiruma, The Moment, and also the barrage of emotion-filled musings in the wee hours of the morning. By the way, Sesshoumaru and Kagome are in their twenties.

Under the clear starlit sky, a pair is found, sitting in comfortable silence in the old playground of the neighborhood park. To the world, they are opposites, lines that will never find an intersecting point… but somehow, despite their stark differences, have managed to build a friendship that neither of them can explain out loud, but deep down understood.

Time trickled by, then the woman turns to him and asks, “Have you ever yearned for something you can never really have?”

The man, silent for a couple of minutes, hums contemplatively, and stares at her.

“If you had one night to spend with anyone of your choosing, would you?” he asks vaguely.

She is left puzzled by the turn of the conversation, but decides to humor him. In a light tone she smiles and says, “With anyone? Anyone in the world? Even like Johnny Depp?”

He nods his head, clearly amused with her. And as if sensing his nod even as she was turned away from him, said, “I would. Wouldn’t you?”

Lost in their own thoughts once more, all you can hear is the light whistling sound of the breeze, the every now and then creak of the metal swing, along with shuffling of their feet on the soil-covered ground as they propelled themselves in conjunction with the swing’s movement.

“What would you do then? In that one night, with that person?” he asks her without answering her previous query.

“I would love him,” she whispers.

Silence ensues.

Wistfully, she begins tracing patters among the stars, identifying constellations she once knew by heart as a child. “Yes,” she says, “I would love him. Love him like how I’ve always wanted to.”

“What makes him so special? Are you talking about Johnny Depp again?” he jokingly asks. Curiosity lights his eyes.

Sudden burst of laughter erupts from her as she throws her head side to side and swings higher.

She starts twiddling her fingers. “He always seems to keep his head on his shoulders. Always so calm and collected, sometimes seemingly untouchable, silent but always watching, indifferent… and yet not. Does that make sense? Well, you know how people keep telling you to find someone who makes you look forward to tomorrow? Yeah. He’s that for me. He has so many sides to him, I almost feel like he’s an onion, just begging to be peeled slowly, a layer at a time.”

“Have you?” he interrupts her.

She scrunches her face as she mulls it over and says, “No. Not completely anyway. I don’t think anyone will ever get the chance to. He’s an enigma of sorts. I don’t know, maybe he simply isn’t meant to be understood completely. Maybe if I had more time.”

“How much time?”

“An eternity perhaps.”

She looks to the side, childishly sticks out her tongue, and says, “Okay now you’ve managed to deviate the conversation from your own question. I only have one day, remember?”

He smiles. A smile not quite reaching his eyes and beseechingly asks her to tell him more about this mystery person she’s clearly enamored with.

“He fills me with a certain kind of warmth. You know that feeling you get when you come home after a long day at work? That sense of peace washes over you, and suddenly, you’re alright again, exhausted still maybe, but alright…”

Minutes go by, time always pushing forward, neither of them saying a word.

“He’s a man of few words. Wise. Engages me with witty conversations that leave me always wracking my brain for a good comeback. His presence in my life has changed me in ways I cannot even begin to fathom. He makes me want to be a better person.”

He raises his eyebrow in question. “Do I know him? How did you meet? And if he means that much to you, then why are you not with him?”

“He was never mine to have.”

Bothered by the lack of further explanation, he looks at her after smelling her sadness, and quickly rushes in front of her as tears start to pool in her cerulean-hued eyes.

Mindful of his claws, he gently takes her hands from her lap, and asks that she look at him.

She refuses to, but eventually does, after several moments of trying to get herself together.

He cups her face and in placating tones says, “Anyone would be a fool not to see your worth. Regardless of what you may think, if he does not love you the way you should be loved, then he does not deserve you. Inuyasha is a prime example.”

“You really think so?” she tearfully smiles. “I’ve never heard you say something like that before.”

“Well if the occasion calls for it, then I suppose some words need to be said. Now go wipe your tears away, you know I never like the sight of them,” then hands over his blue handkerchief.

Belatedly, she realizes that it smells so much of him; of his cologne. A scent she has always loved. Alluring, not overpowering, sexy, and completely masculine.

She takes several inconspicuous sniffs before she shifts her entire body to look at him. Smiling, albeit a smile painted with heartache, almost defeated in manner, she starts edging closer to him. Close enough the swings would allow, that is.

“If I had just one night with him, I would hold him in my arms. Slowly run my fingers through his hair. Tell him how I really feel. Utter the words that have been unsaid for so long, the ones I could never muster the courage for. I would trace his lips and kiss him. Kiss him like a man deprived of oxygen, and him being the air. I would entwine our fingers together, and watch how his hand fully engulfs mine. I would watch over him as he slept peacefully… in those hours finding the strength I need to be able to part from him when dawn came.”

As she was saying those words, she found herself caressing the magenta markings on his face.

When she finished, she leaned over to him, slowly traced his lips like she said she would, and kissed him softly, almost reverently. Pulling back, she hastily wipes a lone tear sliding down on her cheek, and looks down at her lap and starts fiddling with the hem of her skirt, not being able to look him in the eye.

“If tonight is all I’ll ever have, know that I love you. I love you so much that it consumes me.”

He opens his mouth to say something but is stopped with her index finger on his lips.

“Please. Please don’t say anything. I am not expecting anything. I just wanted you to know. Before I leave.”

“Leave?” he weakly asks.

“Yes. I leave tomorrow. I took that job. You told me to take it, did you not?”

She stands up and leans toward him again, this time kissing where his crescent moon lies with all the tenderness she possessed.

And that is how it ends. Without a word, she turns and walks away, reluctantly at first. She says nothing because there were no words left to say. When she knew that he could no longer see her, she looks back, her longing so palpable in the air around her, wiping the rivulets of tears streaming down from her eyes. She gazes at the stars and after a while, the small upturn of her lips is seen. “Perhaps in another life,” she says. Perhaps, indeed.

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