His brother was right when he told him he'd die alone. Sesshoumaru was amused at the time, but a good century or four later, it was eating him up inside. He always thought that being alone was just fine, then he wouldn't have anyone depending on him, no one to tell him what he could and couldn't do. But he couldn't fathom how empty it would leave him. He wasn't talking about love, or even companionship. He just wanted someone there to fall into when he needed an escape from himself. He didn't particularly care if that person cared about him, as long as they shut up and acted like they did. He'd take a liar over a whiner any day.
There was a time, a long while ago, when he cared about things. It was a blip in his long history, seeming like a millisecond in the eyes of someone who was practically immortal. But it still happened. And he couldn't shake her off.
Sighing through his nose, he shrugged off his navy blue jacket onto the nearest surface. Undoing the buttons on his wrist, he steps out of his shoes and heads for the kitchen. Crisp white shirt rolled to his elbows he plucks a bowl from the clean dishes stacked on the counter, rummaging through the pantry absently while the faint sounds of someone tapping the counter behind him makes his jaw tighten, his face twisting into the usual hard expression he wears these days.
"No spells protecting your house, eh Sessh? Your getting pretty fucking lazy in your old age. Or do you just want someone to come in and impale a sword through that fancy designer suit? I wouldn't mind getting my inheritance a little faster, if you know what I'm sayin'."
Sesshoumaru closes his eyes in an attempt to calm the tempest inside of him. He could feel the red bleeding into his eyes already.
"Do you get off on intruding into people's homes?," he reiterates, instant ramen in one hand and bowl in the other, "Must be something you got from your mother. She didn't have much of a sense of personal property."
Hiroshi snorts from the island counter behind Sesshoumaru as he fills a pan with water, setting it on the stove calmly even though it was apparent that he was expending a large amount of energy just to keep from strangling the scrawny bastard where he sat. The impressive amount of youki nipped at the boy's canine ears, making them flicker like a horse's tail swatting flies. He reached up and flattened them out, running his finely trimmed claws through shaggy black tresses. His roots were coming in, sprouts of silver peeking out through the bad dye job.
"Ah, ramen. Moving up the world. Next week you might even have a television that was manufactured in this century!," Hiroshi cackled, clapping his hands lie he was congratulating himself on his own juvenile joke. Sesshoumaru broke off a corner of the ramen in his hand and flicked it with his thumb directly into the teenager's mouth, subsequently making his cough and hack up a storm. Sesshoumaru smirked visibly, pleased with himself as the boy slammed his hands down on the counter, making disgusting wet gurgling noises as he chocked on the bone-dry noodle chunk.
When he was finally done choking, he glared at the back of the older demon's head.
"No wonder mom left you. Fucking dick."
"Does our culture not teach children to respect their parents anymore?," Sesshoumaru , plopping what was rest of the yellow brick into the boiling water.
"Our culture also teaches NOT TO MURDER YOUR CHILDREN, YOU PSYCHOPATH."
"Hm. That does not really sound like the Japan I remember. Back in my day, you could behead your offspring just because they folded your yukata wrong."
"You're disgusting," Hiroshi sneers, flicking the wet lump he hacked up from the back of his throat towards his father with a claw. Sesshoumaru raises an eyebrow at him. Hiroshi doesn't seem to pick up on the irony of his actions paired with his statement.
"Did you come here just to complain at me, or is there an actual meaning to your existence here in my kitchen?," Sesshoumaru inquires, a bored expression already replacing his previous angry one. The boy was only amusing for a few seconds before he became unbearably irritating.
"Where'd you hide mom's body?"
"That does not concern you."
"I know you have it somewhere, old man."
Sesshoumaru turns and stares him square in the eye, all playfulness escaping from his aura. His body was rigid, hands gripping the handle on the oven as he grinds his teeth, the fuschia stripes on his cheeks burning and itching. He was having a difficult time not transforming these days, in Hiroshi's presence.
"Why do you want to know after all this time?"
"It's her death anniversary."
"As there has been over five hundred anniversaries before this one and you never cared before."
Hiroshi's honey eyes flashed down to the marble counter, avoiding Sesshoumaru's gaze as he clenched and unclenched his hand in his palm. His entire body read anxiety, his youki swirling in the opposite direction than usual.
Sesshoumaru stepped forward, putting his palms on the cold stone surface. His entire posture demanded attention. His amber eyes were wild and murderous, fixated on the smaller boy's hanyou ears.
"Who told you?"
"I-I didn't mean to find out, okay- I just wanted to see-"
"Look at me when you speak." His entire body seemed larger now, casting a much wider shadow than before. Wind whipped up from the floorboards, making all of the utensils hanging from hooks rattle frightfully. Hiroshi could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he peeked up at his father's intimidating stare. It was like looking death in the face.
"...Grandmother," he breathed out, unable to lie to Sesshoumaru when he looked at him so intensely.
Sesshoumaru leaned back, hanging his head between his shoulders, silver tresses falling in front of his face and obscuring it from view. The ramen on the stove boiled over, making the fire kick up and lick at the side of the tiny silver pan.
"...what did she say?"
"She said.. That maybe.. There would be a way to..," Hiroshi gulped, his lips feeling remarkably dried out all of a sudden. It was as if the air around him was becoming thinner, the moisture being drawn out of it by his father's immense anger. "Like.. Restore her or something?"
A growl escapes from Sesshoumaru's lips and he slams his arm down on the counter, effectively splitting the wood in middle and making it cave in on itself. Hiroshi jumps back a bit, almost falling out of the metal stool her occupied.
"Do not. Ever. Believe a word that woman says. People are meant to stay dead."
They sit in silence across from each other for a few seconds before Sesshoumaru tilts his head up enough to make eye contact with his son. Hiroshi swears his heart has temporarily switched places with his brain.
"Well? Do you want some ramen or not?"
A/N: May or may not continue this depending on demand. I wanted to show Sesshoumaru the way I think he would be after hundreds of years living on his own. I don't think he'd be as serious or hard as he was in his younger age. Anyway, please review and tell me if you'd like more! And who is Hiroshi's mom?~