Give and Take
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I don't remember where I heard the phrase, but recollecting it, I find it foolish, a stupid human concept that is far beyond their realm of short understanding. For how could any of them truly know the truth of the matter? Fools.
They speak of hearts being stolen, a fanciful idea of romanticism when one falls in love another fanciful notion) with someone unexpected. 'Oh, you've stolen my heart, won't you give it back?'
They don't know the truth of a stolen heart: the agony of being beholden to a master who will use you until you're useless. The sickening hate so much stronger than the most experienced lover could ever hope to understand. The desperately constant grasp for freedom always and forever out of reach.
Humans also speak of giving one's heart away, but who would be foolish enough to do that?
To have one's heart stolen from you is one thing, something outside of your control even when you've made every measure to keep what is yours. But to hand it over just so—reckless and rash, and stupid besides! Only an idiot would willingly offer such a gift up into the hands of one who could easily use it against them.
Perhaps their ignorance comes from dealing with the metaphorical, while I have fought with the literal since my birth. Pity on the fool who ever learns the difference.
I suppose it would be nice to have a heart of your own, to give away so freely. Ignorant, but nice. I wonder, if mine were my own, if Naraku had never existed and I had, what would I have done with my heart? Would I have ignorantly given it away? To whom?
He, of all people, comes to mind.
Sesshoumaru is beautiful. I knew that the minute I saw him. A lord of few words and an incomprehensible nature.
He is also a coldhearted bastard, unhelpful and disinclined to care.
If he is my ally, I cannot tell. But he tolerates me, at least.
I imagine that if I had a heart to give, and if I were to offer it to Sesshoumaru, he would have none of it. 'Keep it,' he would say, 'I have no use for such trifles. That is for scum like Naraku.'
Then, maybe that's why, if I had the choice, he would be it.
My heart is my own—why should anyone else hold claim to it? It is mine. Even now, it belongs to me, and one day soon it will find its way into my breast. And when it does, it will stay there until the day I die.
But, maybe, at the very least, it will beat for him.
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Written for Lucinda the Maid
Original post: August 2007