Finding Hearts


I look in the mirror, gaze at my features that scream of beauty, caring, and loving, and I simply wonder. Many men have asked for my hand; whether to ask me out for a date or to blindly profess their so called "love" for me to the universe without ever actually getting to know me. What has anyone ever seen in me that causes them to take my heart, my mind, and my soul; to till the earth in which the three lay with tenderness and love, making it prosper and grow into something beautiful until it becomes too much (in your opinion) to handle so you cast it aside like trash. I know I do not deserve to feel this way, but he has made me do so, made me feel broken and worthless. I hold scars for that man, scars I bravely won in battle after battle; most of which I was at one point or another defending him. I have had my soul ripped out of me, literally, in order to save her. Even had a demon possess my heart, mind, and body, and yet I still received no thank you.

He loved her though, even though she never reciprocated his feelings, and I loved him though he never dared to bat an eye at me. She berated me for this. "You'll never be me," She spoke to me one night, "He will always stand by me because I was his first and only love after his mother died. You, stupid girl, are just a cheap copy."

These people, they are the ones who let me know of my radiance; a shimmer that glows brightly on the exterior but dims the closer you travel to my heart and mind. Over time it has grown darker due to the loss and hurt, but, I've become so used to such actions that it's become easy to hide. I've become tired of hiding though. Why should I keep hoping and hurting myself?

I watched him go with her and knew he would never be mine. Part of me was compelled, why didn't he choose me? I am the kinder between the two of us. Just because we looked the same doesn't mean we actually are. I am angry, confused, hurt. Yet, I see a side of him that he doesn't show anyone else while he's with her, and that is one of pure joy. All I've ever wanted since we'd met was for him to be happy since he'd had such a tough life and it was when I saw him kneel before her, a black box in hand, that I finally knew what lost hope was.

It was pure torture watching the ceremony. I should have said no to being the Maid of Honor! Perhaps even faked an illness last minute. That would have been the coward's way out though and it would have weighed on my mind. I knew it was cliché to say I would never love another as I do him but it was true. Every man that will cross my path will be compared to him but I can't help it. The old saying goes "You should marry your best friend, because after beauty fades and the spark leaves you'll be left with your best friend." Well, my best friend has just kissed his bride.

Hence why I stand in front of this mirror, three mirrors actually, checking to see if my dress is alright. She'd left him; tired of their games, tired of what she'd deemed "a loveless marriage" (seven children and five hundred years later mind you) so he'd called me up after their divorce was finalized and I was grateful but there was something I couldn't help but notice.

I gaze into the mirror and see three different reflections, that of the girl I left behind, the second simply of me, and the final mirror held a picture of her. Slowly, both real and reflection went to tug on white and black hair respectively, and I took notice of all the wrinkles left in my own reflection. Would he be able to recognize me? He'd not seen me once over the past four decades. Did he look any different? Or did he still have his teenage face? Could he even look past my face…her face…and see the heart kept tightly behind lock and key? Perhaps even release it so that it may sing of its everlasting love for him? Beneath these wrinkles lies and old woman, one that laid head upon pillow and wondered, "what if?" What if she was just the rebound? What if she was only a replacement for she who left him; or even a simple one night stand?

She heard rapping at the door.

"I know better than that." I fiddled with my dress, coming to the same conclusion I had years ago. "I would always be her replacement…always the bridesmaid, never the bride…the second fiddle…forever alone."


A/N – total words – 835

THIS IS NOT MEANT AS A KAGOME BASH STORY - more like a "what-if" scenario... if Kikyo and Inuyasha had married, stayed together for centuries, then realized they were wrong about it all. That they didn't belong together in the first place. Inuyasha turns to the only other person who has ever made him happy... but... can he look past age to see the woman he left behind?

A piece I wrote for my creative writing class for college. What do you think of it? Thoughts? Should I expand into something to get Inuyasha's view of things?

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