"I cannot love." He muttered, pools of liquid amber staring stoically ahead to meet eyes of cobalt blue.
Her face remained unchanged, his words passing through her like the cold wind.
"I know." She whispered, gaze shifting to the ground as she sits down on the grass, legs demurely folded.
The response stilled him. Her reaction, more specifically her lack of reaction, to his confession galled him, and the fact that such simple action had an effect of him, made him mad even more.
But pride, pride will be enough to silence him. He turned away from the sight of her to revel the splashes of yellow gradually succumbing to strokes of blue, in its midst a crimson color lay spewed across.
Blood
It is his calling to spill it. Nothing can change that.
A noise broke through his thoughts, and his gaze returned to her.
"I understand not, why you persist in wearing inappropriate clothes even in a weather such as this." He frowned.
She rubbed her itching nose. "Because I can."
"You truly are stubborn."
"It takes one to know one."
He refused to grace her with a response instead he again shifted his gaze away from her. He hated how she always drew him out in a conversation.
She stared at him, wondering what it was that convinced her that she could ever make a difference in him. How gravely mistaken she was.
A person could only hope so much.
She brushed the dust from her garments as she stood up.
He watched her at the corner of his eye.
"You are going back to him."
She shook her head. "I am heading home." She bit her lip. "I'm not coming back."
Something stirred in him.
"Not even for him?"
She answered hesitantly, quietly sifting through her thoughts. "I don't think so."
She moved forward, eyes trained at his form. "Things have changed. But it is up to us to acknowledge it."
His head tilted to her direction. "You deceive yourself."
Her eyes withdrew from his, head bowed. "You are right. I believe too much in you."
He growled, surprising both of them.
An imperceptible smile formed her lips. "It is nice to know you can agree with me."
"Do not provoke me." He glared.
"I always try not to."
"It is never enough."
"I am not enough." She whispered.
He frowned. "I did not say that."
"Sometimes, words are not needed."
The sole of her shoes crunched against the leaves as she stepped closer to him, breaking the silence.
She reached out her hand to touch him, but half way through she pulled it back. "If I was a youkai, would that have been enough?"
Surprise cracked through his indifferent face.
Something broke in him.
"I do not know." He replied quietly.
"I see." Her dejected reply came, before giving him a small smile. "Goodbye, then, Sesshoumaru."
He did not reply nor acknowledge her words. She sighed, looking at him one last time, then turned to trace her steps back to the village.
He slowly turned to watch her figure disappear down the road.
His hand rose to clutch the kimono over his chest.
Something spilled in him—poisoning his mind.
He scowled.
"Damn you."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Weird and vague, huh? It came out of nowhere while listening to Nora Jones' "Don't Know Why." I think it's also influenced by Celyia's "Heartless" and Aoko's "Innocence Dark". As it stands, this conversation takes place in the middle of a bigger picture, which at this moment really escapes me. Very frustrating if you ask me. This story maybe a teaser, or a one shot. It really depends on *you* the readers, if you show interest, I will show interest. Anyhow, thank you for reading this fic. Hope you liked it. *AHEM* In case, someone misunderstood…I do not own Inuyasha…I'm just not that talented nor creative.