Disclaimer: I neither own Inuysha nor any of its property.
Author's Note: After an attempt to de-stress (and a long absence from writing), this one-shot was the result. Please read and enjoy! Any honest comments / criticism are welcome!
Tears
An Inuyasha fan-fiction
Tears.
They have so many meanings.
They can express so many feelings.
Tears.
Their authencity can seldom be doubted.
Their mere presence speak a thousand words.
You feel the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you see the hulking figure of red standing in the distance, a bit ways off from you. You thought that he was dead, having sacrificed his own life in exchange for yours. You thought that he had died a fool, an unworthy death, because you never thought that he would choose to end his life this way -- to die for your life. You thought you would never have the chance to set your eyes upon him again, to be lost in the depths of his amber eyes, flashing with impatience and anger, yet distant, veiling the sorrows of his life, the many pains he had suffered.
But he was alive.
Slowly, they form at the corners of your eyes, gathering in a small pool, before they drip, drop by drop, like a gentle waterfall, down your face. They glisten like the pearls which sparkle, like the rain which falls, yet they hold more meaning than either of them, precious, genuine.
And the tears come.
They are tears of happiness.
He feels the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes as he holds the small, lithe body in his arms, relishing the soft shallow breathing exhaled onto his face as he leans towards you. He thought you were dead, that he had failed you yet again, failed to protect you yet again from the dangers that continuously circle the both of you, that he had lost the person he held most dear to his heart. He thought he would never hear your voice again, so soft and so warm, like a knitted blanket he could snuggle into and wrap himself around, thought that he would never be able to your laugh again, merry, sweet, clear, the sound of a bubbly brook.
But you were alive.
The tears form, collecting in a small pool at the corners of his eyes. Every drop hovers, as if suspended in mid-air, each drop threatening to spill over. They catch in the sunlight, shimmering under its reflection. Not one drop falls, yet each drop is precious and genuine, priceless in each's own way.
And the tears come.
They are tears of relief.
You feel the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you kneel in front of the Sacred Tree, the Goshinboku, hands clasped around a bottle of shards that spell both happiness and sorrow. You thought that you would never see him again, that you and him were never destined to be, that you might have been happier off ignorant of his presence, his mark on your world, your life. You thought that you would never set your eyes on him again, that you could never hear that gruff voice, rough yet gentle, mirroring his very own character, that you could never feel his warm body pressed against yours again, sheltering you from the dangers that always pursue you both.
And he feels the same.
They form, running unchecked, cascading down in waves like the violent storm, fast free, a torrent of water. They come endlessly, their beauty reflected by the soft sunlight through the trees, shimmering, glistening, glinting, precious, genuine, pure.
And the tears come.
They are tears of sorrow.
They are tears of despair.
They are tears of hoplessness.
Tears.
They have so many meanings.
They can express so many feelings.
Tears.
Their authencity can seldom be doubted.
Their mere presence speak a thousand words.
You cry.
He cries.
And the tears come.
Full of meaning.
Precious.
Genuine.
Pure.
And the tears come...