Disclaimers: The characters of Inuyasha do not belong to me and are being used without permission.

I know…

I'm hurting her.

Yet, every time I look at her I can't help thinking I'm betraying Her. They look so much alike. At times I find myself unable to tell them apart, unwilling to make the differentiation between them - that is until she opens her mouth.

I love the sound of her voice. It's not soft or gentle, but sure and steady, so filled with conviction and care. No matter how often I tell her to shut up I can't help but silently plead with her to ignore me, to keep prattling away the way only she can, talking about anything and everything, her words not always making sense to me, yet the sound of her voice reassuring, letting me know I'm not alone.

They're so different in that aspect.

She used to be so quiet, silent and sultry, taking in everything around her, closely guarding her words. I don't remember holding many conversations with her our relationship went beyond mere words, although looking back at it now I can't help but think we were just keeping each other company, to prevent ourselves from being true outcasts. She was so wrapped up in her duty that I think she forgot that there was more to the world than just the jewel. And in a way, I forgot as well.

That's the difference between the two. One treasures the world and her duty, putting neither in front, yet making both important; the other can't bring herself to choose, casting herself in a state of limbo, not realizing that no one's ever asked her to commit to one or the other.

And I… I who had learned to loathe the very nature of my being, who so sought power and revenge am now more confused than ever. I know she's not the same, "they're" not the same. I can see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices, and feel it all at once the second I'm near them. For two beings whose souls are supposedly one and the same their differences scream out at me. And I am left wondering, why my heart betrays me so.

My heart knows the difference, has already made its choice, but my brain betrays me. The guilt I feel is eating me alive, yet I know in the end I must chose, and in that choice I will undoubtedly hurt someone whose place was once secured.

I don't know how she did it. One moment all I wanted was to kill her, and now… now I can't imagine my life without her. Were she to die I know this time I could not continue living. This time I would willingly take my own life if it meant I could be with her in death. For I have learned they're not the same, and with that knowledge I have realized the difference between loving a memory and loving a soul.

AN: The last of the IY vignettes, didn't quite turn out the way I expected it to. Thank you J. Rhaye for the review inspiring me to write this one.

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