Entry in iyfic contest's "Memory" theme. Also, 50th drabble, w00t!


Title: The Face
Words: 198
Genre: Family Drama
'Ships: No.
Summary: Some things are worth remembering. Others can't be forgotten even if one tries. Sometimes they're one and the same.

*.X.*

It feels strange standing there. He plays with the thought: my father—nothing. Not even on his grave. Not a shadow. Not a smell, or a feeling, or an association. Not even anger. Just...nothing.

It's not as if Inuyasha isn't marked by his parentage. Who his father was should be more important to him than most. But he doesn't have a memory to his name, and Sesshoumaru isn't sharing. It's not like they could reminisce, and Inuyasha could get the feel of his father by proxy. In fact, Inuyasha wishes he'd known his father quite a bit less than he wishes he'd never met his brother.

Look at him. Arrogant prick. Ready to kill his own little brother over some idiotic sword he wasn't meant to have and can't even use. And all on about Father this and Father that. Like knowing father's face makes him better. Inuyasha isn't jealous. If Sesshoumaru turned out that badly, Inuyasha can only conclude that his father was equally unbearable.

As he severs his older brother's arm with their father's heirloom, he thinks: I don't want to know the man who spawned monsters like us.

Sesshoumaru stops first, picturing Father's disapproving glare.