Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru either. They belong to the brilliant Rumiko Takahashi.
He is there again. As I fly over the forest that bears my brother's name, I see him sprawled ungracefully by the ancient well, a splotch of pugnacious red and flowing white. In the year since the well closed, I have seen him many times in the same place and with the same careless posture when I have come to his smelly human village to visit Rin.
Instead of continuing to the village, I find myself landing beside the well, beside him. He is not entirely oblivious, though; those ridiculous hanyou ears of his twitch and swivel upwards, and he rises to his feet as I silently approach. Good for him. His face is as expressionless as one such as he can manage, which is a creditable attempt.
Does he realize how expressive his ears are? The sorrowful droop belies his seeming calm and clearly reveals the despair he tries to hide. His silence speaks as well. No vulgar insults, no belligerent demands as to my business there. He merely stands there, unnaturally still, his golden eyes fixed on me.
Seeming to ignore him, I lean over the well to peer inside. Oh, I know what has been going on; long before this day, I have overheard idle talk between my brother and his staunch companions concerning the young miko and her origins in the future, though I did not believe her fantastic claims at the time. In hindsight, it makes more sense.
"You still expect her to return after so long?" I ask calmly, as my youki rises within me, swirling, seeking in the depths of the empty well.
"She'll be back," my little brother responds listlessly, with a noticeable lack of his usual spirit. He flushes immediately, ashamed of the weakness he's revealed to me. "The power will return," he insists with more faith, desperate faith.
I do not look at him, instead concentrating on what may be found in the old well. When I have finished with that, I straighten up and turn away from him. Pausing briefly, my back to him, I say, "The power is still there. It is deep, quiescent, but it is still there," and then rise gracefully into the air and leave him there.
This was not kindness; it was merely an observation that he, being a mere hanyou, could not make for himself.