Disclaimer: I do not own the Inuyasha series or any of the characters.
Summary: The brothers think about each other, and the words they'll never say. Dec. 10, 2007.
Collected Works of a One-Shot Junkie
Words Unsaid
When I was a kid, I wanted to stay with you.
I think you knew that, although I'm not sure why I think so. You never said anything, and it didn't stop you from beating the shit out of me when our paths crossed. You never bothered to explain why you did that, either. I was only a kid. Was I really so disgusting to you?
You never tried to kill me back then, though. Did I mean anything to you? Or was it just because children were beneath your notice? I suppose you didn't want to tarnish your honour by killing a kid, even if that kid was me. Of all the things I've seen you do or heard about later, killing kids has never been one of them. And now you let that human girl trail after you. She seems happy. You even protect her. What is it about her that's so tolerable to you? Why is she good enough, when I…?
That's the past. I don't care anymore what your reasons were. You've always hated me, and that's all I need to know.
I hate you too. Most of the time, I hate you. You, and your perfect youkai blood, and your perfect, fancy words, and your perfect, cold expression. And I hate that there's a part of me that wishes you didn't hate me.
There's stuff I'm sure you could answer, that I can never ask you.
What was Oyaji like? Was he brave? Was he really so strong? Stronger than even you? What was it like to grow up with him watching over you? How much did he teach you? What do I still not know? Was he proud of you? Would he have been proud of me? Did he love me? He must have loved you.
But even if I swallowed my pride long enough to try asking, you'd never bend your proud neck enough to give me a straight answer. So I ain't gonna ask, and you'll never tell me on your own. So we argue, and we fight, and we bleed (and yes, I've made you bleed too, haven't I? I ain't as weak as you thought), and it never ends. I don't even want to kill you, really; at least, not anymore. Sometimes I think you seem reluctant too. After all, you've had opportunities, and you haven't done it yet. But we don't stop fighting, either. We'll probably keep on fighting until we're both dead, 'cause we're both too stubborn to be the first to die. Still, no one will win that way. Dead is dead.
You're the only family I have left, and we can't even fucking stand each other. It's a shit life, ain't it?
If Oyaji had lived, would things have been any different between us?
::oo::oo::oo::oo::
It seems that every time I look at you, you're doing something impossible.
Just like Chichi-ue.
Clad in Chichi-ue's red hunting clothes and holding Tetsusaiga, you could almost pass for him, if only you were taller, and if those ridiculous ears didn't give it away. I'd have said it was impossible for a hanyou to look like a Taiyoukai, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
The impossible. Like a hanyou brat managing to feed and defend himself. Like a half-human wielding Chichi-ue's fang. Like a half-breed adolescent defeating Ryuukotsusei, who even Chichi-ue himself could only seal, and only at great injury to his person.
Impossible like a hanyou surviving to adulthood.
They almost never did. Hanyou were actually disgustingly common. They simply didn't live very long, usually due to the large number of youkai and humans who would like to be rid of them. This was especially true of orphaned hanyou. But somehow, with mixed blood, and appalling manners, and the vocabulary of a peasant, you managed it. You survived.
How did you manage it, I wonder? You'd never tell me if I asked. You certainly didn't accomplish it with my assistance, and the resentment in your eyes is even stronger than the hate. I left you to fend for yourself as a pup because I saw you as weak, and the weak have no place in this world. You probably would have suffered less if you'd simply died young, and it would have solved several of my problems. But somehow, you clawed your way out of childhood kicking and screaming, and lived. No one anticipated that (and for all your ignorance of the fact, the upper ranks of youkai society do indeed know your name, and have been watching with increasing interest). Your survival was an achievement in complete defiance of the odds. Or as you might describe it, the ultimate "Fuck you, world!"
There are things I will never say to you, things I cannot bring myself to utter. To do so would cost me my pride, and in the end I would gain nothing. It's too late now to go back. Even if I was inclined to do so, saying these things would change nothing between us.
You're not weak anymore. Maybe you never were. Certainly, you are still young and foolish, and you are still no match for my power. But when I think back, was I any more powerful as an adolescent than you are right now? You regularly defeat full-blooded youkai in battle who ought to be your superiors in strength. And your power continues to grow — slowly, steadily, building towards something that promises to make the world take pause. If you continue as you have been, perhaps one day we might meet on equal terms, little brother.
It ought to be impossible. Hanyou just aren't that powerful. It simply doesn't happen.
If I'd been asked not so very long ago whether I could ever respect a hanyou, I'd have said that was impossible as well.
But you've made a habit of doing the impossible, haven't you?
