I don't own anything Inuyasha.
...
Many seasons passed, and Miko did seem to grow with him. Her short hair grew, along with its restlessness, and her bangs never seemed to lay flat. Her characteristic round face gave away to high cheekbones, but the brightness of her eyes did not fade with childhood. However, where she was once a clumsy child Sesshoumaru was now almost awkward and lanky in his transitional years.
The hot season was ending and the smell of dying leaves drifted with the breeze. Sesshoumaru would walk the castle grounds and pay close attention to the small creatures scurrying in search for food. He often wondered what it would be like to live off the land, to have no walls around you, and to depend solely on oneself. It was just then when Miko came around the corner, her hands hidden within the pockets of the oddest, and tightest, hakama he had ever seen.
He paused in his stride and looked at them questioningly. "Miko, what are you wearing?"
Following his gaze, Miko's small smile dropped as she shrugged. "Jeans?"
For all purposes her response was not an answer, so his curious look was joined with a raised eyebrow.
She clicked her tongue. "That's what they're called. You're the one imagining it, why don't you tell me?"
"That is the issue," Sesshoumaru finally spoke, and fought against his voice cracking as he did. "I do not know, so how could I envision them?"
Miko was by his side in a few short steps and she reasoned with a sarcastic grin, "Well, you must have a weird imagination."
He looked down at her, amusement in his golden eyes. "Clearly."
With a playful punch to his arm, they continued walking, and for reasons that escaped Sesshoumaru the subject of where 'jeans' came from was dropped.