How could this tiny little thing, this little woman, hold him in such suspense? How had he come to this point, pining for her? This woman, with her raven black hair and soft brown eyes that often spoke for her more than her own voice could, had somehow crept in and found a tiny spot to reside in his heart. Whether or not she knew that she had accomplished this, he did not know, but it did not matter anymore.
The simplest of daily routines became something of a whimsical dance. Washing clothes, rinsing out those odd bottles she kept in a nearby stream, brushing and running her fingers through her hair. These things seem so simple, but so beautiful when completed by her.
He could have her. She could be his. He could simply tell her that she was his and it would be. She would be by his side, no one else would have her. She would be his. He could simply pick her up and carry her away. But something stopped him. What was it? He did not understand it. Not intimidation. No, he was intimidated by nothing.
Fear. Fear of rejection. He knew this to be the answer, but would never admit it to himself.
So here he sat in the shade of a Willow tree, the long branches swaying in the wind, tickling his cheek every so often. He sat and watched. Her long, elegant fingers gently plucking a flower from the meadow. Watching the wind sway the flowers past her long legs, the tall grasses swirling around her pale skin. Her black hair flicking and swirling around, dancing with the wind as it passed by her. Her odd green "skirt" as she called it swaying and kicking up every so often, though never revealing what lay underneath.
He hadn't noticed, but his clawed hands and gripped tight onto his knee and had drawn blood. Slowly, he released his grip, noticing his knuckles had turned white, and stretched his fingers out. He stared back out toward her, watching her retreat back to her friends and his pathetic half-brother. His golden eyes flickered with jealousy that passed as quickly as it had come.
One day you will be mine, Kagome.