I don't own anything Inuyasha.
...
The Western Lord was compared to autumn by his mate and many agreed with the consensus. Prestige colored him nicely, but even stripped of his silks and status he would be an impressive youkai. Also, he adapted well to change. During the late season he became more alive, ensuring treaties were well in place and his land was well maintained before cold winters; like a creature preparing to hibernate. He was stern, only allowing those closest to him know his true intentions, and none knew them all. Never making a move without a reason, the proud silver-inu alpha prepared for what he only described as 'A New Age'. It was as if he knew what a long, bitter season his heir would have to endure after his death.
The Lady of the West, however, was winter- cold, dormant, and pristine. She walked as quietly as snowfall, her silver hair swaying softly with her natural rhythm and had eyes as sharp as icicles that never missed a detail. To Sesshoumaru, her role as his mother was more of a station then sentiment. It was an esteemed position, symbolizing strength and recognition, but there was no warmth. Where his father instructed him on how to be a proud alpha, her duty was to teach the responsibilities and etiquette required as lord. She was strict, harsh, and unforgiving. Over the years, the mask of indifference he wore to hide the yearning for her warm attentions slowly became genuine. In the beginning, Sesshoumaru had earnestly devoted himself to her teachings for acceptance. But now, on the edge of winter where the soft snow and dark clouds gave way to warm skies, he felt the attachment to the inufemale melt away.
"Does that make Sesshoumaru the spring?"
He resigned himself enough to sigh and look up at the imaginary girl, wearing a ridiculous amount of layers, clinging onto a branch above him. Strange garments and wraps overtook her small form, leaving only her face uncovered. Her head tilted to the side in genuine curiosity, but the scheming smirk on her lips told of her teasing.
With a short roll of his eyes, Sesshoumaru turned back towards the landscape below him and gave up thinking on his parents. "Nonsense."
"I don't know," Miko started arguing with a bounce in her tone. "Spring is full of life, energy, new awakenings and fresh starts!"
"I do not have the luxury of new beginnings."
After an awkward travel down to his branch, she sat close and looked out to the falling sun on fading snow. "Don't say that just because you are dull."
"Dull!?"
She giggled. "I think you just need to find your way." Miko held out a covered hand to him, patiently waiting for Sesshoumaru to play along. What he did not expect was a small cherry blossom to fall into his palm.
Sesshoumaru considered the bloom but failed to understand Miko's meaning. With his deepening, even tone he stated, "They are a metaphor for a fleeting life."
"But also of eternal beauty. You are going to live a long time, Sesshoumaru. I just hope you don't forget about the brief, beautiful things along the way."
"I could not forget about you."
She turned to his gaze with a cherub smile and rose-hued cheeks. "Well, duh. I'm a part of you."
"A different part of me."
With a nod, Miko looked back to the sunset, but he kept his passive eyes on her as she answered, "The part you can't always be."
A thought wandered. Sesshoumaru found himself looking at the pink flower in his childish but deadly hands. "Then I am not the spring." His clawed fingers encased her tiny gift in his grip, and he never wanted to let that part of him go. "You are."