He was brunet and tan from his skin to his hair to his clothes. His aura, usually held tight to him had shrunk into an invisible ball of upset. There stood his brother, five hundred years younger and completely oblivious to the progress around him.
He had told Kagome the brothers were no longer on speaking terms and she had interpreted that as an invitation to invite the beast to dinner with her family. He would also be attending, but as his alter-ego Daisuke, the flirtatious, naïve, and very much human artist.
Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and slowly breathed out, relishing in the fairly clear evening air. His baggy sweatshirt hung from him like a tarp, at ends with the sleek jeans he had chosen for the occasion. He looked very much the starving artist her pretended to be.
Before dinner, there were chores to keep his mind occupied, and then introductions once everyone had arrived.
"This is Daisuke, my friend from the gallery," Sesshoumaru nodded in his half-brother's direction, hands trembling in his pockets.
"Keh."
It was easy to read the subtle rejection in that non-statement. Jealousy and superiority burned hard in his little brother's eyes. The hanyou remained jumpy and patronising throughout dinner. Sesshoumaru ignored his antics, keeping his eyes on his plate. Keeping his teeth clenched.
He was no longer on speaking terms with his sibling, he had told Kagome. In this time, Inuyasha was long dead. He missed his scent. He missed his arrogance. He missed the man he had become.
He hadn't even managed to shake this boy's hand.
