"It..it couldn't be..", Kagome trailed off. Her wide eyes continued to stare. And then she started to pace around her room, muttering to herself. "Sesshoumaru?! Writing poetry? The idea is absurd." She glanced back at the book. "Perhaps it's his father's. Yeah. That makes more sense", she said as she continued to attempt to calm her over-active mind.
The pacing would not stop, however. Soon enough, Kagome was flailing her arms and making gestures of someone truly bewildered. After a few more minutes of pacing and rambling, an idea struck her. "What if he's changed?", she whispered. Kagome stopped and ogled the object of her confusion. "I never really knew him or his hobbies to begin with. If he had any hobbies besides honor and death." Kagome let out a small snort. "I suppose it's possible he would have liked to write. He was raised as nobility. Or something of that sort", she continued, raising her hand to her chin, contemplating. "Well, let's see...", Kagome said as she started to count on her fingers. "It's been about five hundred years since I've seen him last!", she exclaimed. Her countenance dimmed minutely. "I wonder what happened to him. It must not have been easy with all the wars. And then, demons are myth now. If anyone survived, of course it would have been Sesshoumaru. Like anything could kill him", she mentioned with a hint of sarcasm. "I wonder if he's lonely. The world isn't the same as when he was a great demon lord. Would it be possible for me to see him?", she quietly questioned. And then she brightened, "Guess I should start doing some research!" And with that, she grabbed her newest point of interest and made herself comfy on her bed.
Fingering through the first few pages, Kagome found an Author's Note from Sesshoumaru, demon lord of the West himself. Kagome let herself become enraptured with his words.
For many years I have debated on the ramifications of putting so much of my family's history out in the open. Some might find it anomalous that I am calling a collection of poetry 'history'. I assure you, disbelieving reader, that the innermost workings of one's heart inked onto paper is indeed history. If not the most revealing and at times, riveting, history.
After much indecision, I took my family's legacy to a publisher, who, much to my disdain, was euphoric at the prospect. After a small amount of negotiating, the collection would be published with this one overseeing every aspect of the book-to-be.
Kagome stopped there. She could perfectly imagine Sesshoumaru glaring at the businessmen, his expression insisting that if they wanted the poetry, everything would be done his way. She snickered at the thought of their cowering forms and continued on.
I have taken the time to organize these works in a way that only holds meaning for me. They hold no rhyme or reason beyond that. The author of each piece shall be kept a mystery of which I am the sole guardian. I leave you with these final words: I hope you find what you are looking for. Be it something to relate to, elusive understanding, or the inspiration for your own love affair.
"Hmmm. I wonder how many poems are in here?", Kagome mused as she flipped the pages. At the end of the book she found a note listing the address for fan mail as well as an e-mail address. "Oh! Interesting. I'll have to get to that later. First, the poetry itself."