Four Souls

By: azuyama-chan

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Linda Newberry's Set in Stone.

Hello! This story, it is set in the late nineteenth century England. But even though they are in England, I will still use Japanese honorific and such (like –san, -sama, etc…). This story is mostly based on Linda Newberry's novel, Set in Stone.

Thanks to my beta: Leenstarz!

On with the story:

Inuyasha Takahashi

Watercolours & Oil Paintings

Private view

On my hand is a wine glass with the red wine, my manager had replaced the beer that once was sitting on my right hand. I scoff at my manager as he said that the wine was good for my health. I much more prefer beer or strong alcohol to drink, but I follow my manager's advice. After all, he has been one who has given me good advices. I search in the crowd for him, and someone else that I wished were there. All I found were investors and buyers among the crowd. No sign of the people I was looking for.

I turn away from the crowd, for I know that soon enough, the investors would be pestering me. Such stubborn wraiths they were. No matter how I say "no" they would continue to ask; to beg; and plead that they could buy the listed paintings I refused to sell. Can't they see that these are important to me, and they are worth more than the money they would offer? But as I see a woman approaching, I knew that I was too late. Quickly approaching the leaving waiter, I managed to evade her, only for a moment's time.

I finally found Miroku, my manager, talking to some investors. It's probably something about getting more money. My sensitive ears catch some of their discussions over the large loud crowd. Keh, trust Miroku to be drawn into any conversation where he gets more money. I quickly made a motion with my hand to make him come to me. I gave him a look to hurry up; maybe he can save me from any more art collectors that are so thick-headed. He said to wait a while, earning him a look of complete condemnation.

The woman, who was wearing the ugliest combination of green and black, approached me once more. Her make-up was thick and heavy, making her looks utterly repulsive. It didn't help that she obviously had no taste in perfumes. Visibly, by the way she held her purse; she was another one of those pesky buyers.

"Takahashi-san." She said, I couldn't help but utter a sound of absolute distaste. "Please tell me, about her Takahashi-san." I look at her questioningly. I don't know what she is talking about.

Her? Who is this her, the ugly woman speaks of? Could she be pertaining to - "I am talking about The Energetic Child, Takahashi-san." She cut me off. So my hunch was right. "Who is she? Do tell me, Takahashi-san." The woman continued ranting, not to notice that I was no longer listening. Keh, it's not like I care about if she thinks whether I am listening or not.

I look at the said painting, tearing my eyes away from the woman who spoke. And my nose diverted its attention from the horrible smell coming from the buyer in front of me. The Energetic Child, with her long black hair, defined by the oil paint that I had used. Her hair is dishevelled with dried leaves entangled in it, suggesting that she was playing in the pile of leaves during autumn. A sight for sore eyes, as my brush characterised her girlish features. Her smile was hypnotizing and alluring that anyone who just happens to pass by, they would instantly be drawn into the painting.

I still remember her expression on the painting, for it was etched into my memory forever to stay. But what strikes us the most is her eyes. Her grey-blue eyes, that seems to stare to the inner cores of your soul. Her eyes that held such innocence and abundant cheeriness; that if you were down on the dumps that day, this painting would certainly paint a smile on your face.

The woman on the painting had certainly grown much from the time I painted this. I wonder until how long I should wait to meet her again. It should be really soon, my manager told me. Memories flood into my mind, especially the event when I first met her. It was such a stirring sight. I would tell everyone, she was interesting from the moment I saw her.

"How much is it worth for?" I turn my attention to the woman in front of me. I hadn't notice I was daydreaming, and the buyer brought me back to the real world with another attempt to buy another precious painting of mine.

"Not for sale." I said with the most clearness and mightiness of voice. Surely the woman might get the idea that no way in the world would I be moved in my decision. NO ONE will buy The Energetic Child. And I mean no one! I stood firm on my ground, ready to enforce my decision. I expect this one would at least try, yet foolishly fail, to convince me to rethink my choice.

"I offer you a thousand pounds for it." She stubbornly offered. Unlike Miroku, this large amount hardly swayed me from my spot. I am not selling The Energetic Child. Didn't they get the stupid point?

"Keh!" I replied, total indifference coating my words-I mean, word. I cross my arms, trying to imply that I am as stubborn as her. In my mind, ideas of how to shake her off my tail started to form. And the majority of them are not pleasant. To her, at least; I actually find those ideas quite entertaining.

"But-" she tried again, unfortunately, Miroku's arrival cut her off. "Kobayashi-sama," he started, "I'm afraid Inuyasha is as stubborn as a dog." I didn't know whether to laugh or be angered at the comment. I shot him a glare, which he calmly reacted to. The woman, or Kobayashi-san, started to make offers when Miroku continued. "He would not be selling it. It would waste your time if you continue to try to convince him. Believe me." Persuaded and disappointed, the woman left.

But not before a few steps away, she turned towards me and asked, "Who is she? Tell me and I will ask you no more." I look at her straight in the eye and say,

"She is herself."

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Ja ne! azuyama-chan