A Distant Promise – Drabble #11
That icy voice…
He would have known it anywhere. Even in his sleep, he could never forget it. When he was young, his half-brother's image had spoken to him in nightmares, threatening his life with that same tone of dispassionate malice. Over the years, Sesshoumaru had grown and changed, becoming slightly more likable and trustworthy, but no one would ever have accused the man of being vivacious. Disinterest permeated his every pore. Sesshoumaru had been capable of sounding bored in life or death situations. Almost nothing seemed to rattle him.
So, when he heard the reserved, sonorous tone of his half-brother's voice flowing toward him, he instantly froze and stood at attention. It couldn't be. That deep bass, unforgettably drilled into his unconscious – there was no mistaking it.
Slowly, Inuyasha faced the hot springs in the resort where he now worked. This was one of the outdoor onsen, on the men's side of the building. Steam obscured his vision, and he cursed softly, missing his keen, half-demon nose again. Mere fog wouldn't have prevented him from identifying someone, when he was hanyou. Surely, it couldn't be…
He delayed, biding his time, until he could ascertain exactly who was speaking with that eerily familiar voice. Part of him didn't want to know, but he knew the curiosity would eat him alive, if he didn't learn the truth. First, he brought fresh towels into the area, then picked up discarded, soggy ones for cleaning. Next, he mopped the stones, all the while listening to visitors sitting out of sight, outdoors, in the misty springs.
Finally, he could bear it no longer – he had to know! Throwing down his mop with a clatter, Inuyasha stomped around the perimeter of the onsen, until the two conversing men were in view. His heart plummeted. After getting so worked up, he was actually disappointed to see that neither man looked like his brother. Both had black hair, black eyes, and short hair. No markings or demonic features grabbed his attention. No dangerous aura.
Both men stopped speaking and stared at him incredulously. Stifling a sigh, Inuyasha realized he seemed very rude, interrupting a guest's bath in this manner, so he quickly tried to turn the situation to his favor. "Would either of you like another towel?" he found himself asking lamely.
The washcloth resting on the taller man's head dropped into the water with a plop, and the shorter man stood up, sloshing his way across the spring toward Inuyasha. Thanking god for small favors, he noted that they both had white towels wrapped around the waist, so he didn't have to see more than necessary. Stupid, really, to worry about such things in the first place – he had bathed with Miroku and Shippo in the past, and going to a Japanese onsen was a long-standing, time-honored tradition in this era. They were completely normal men. Harmless mortals, just like he was now. Another bitter pang of disappointment rushed through his chest.
"Inuyasha?" A breathless plea drifted toward him over the steaming water, and his gaze snapped up to meet the stranger's eyes.
"It is you!" gasped the shorter man, eyes desperately searching his own for recognition. And then, right before his eyes, the man transformed. His features did not change, but his hair color bled from black to reddish brown, and his eyes from pitch to emerald. A mass of sodden fur soaked in the spring behind him.
Kitsune – Inuyasha noted absently, his mind briefly empty as he dealt with the shock. Then, his neurons finally made the connection. He only knew one fox-demon. He had come forward on a hunch, hoping and dreading that he might find his half-brother, but he had found his long-lost ward instead.
"What are you doing here?" the kitsune asked in amazement. "It's too soon."
Inuyasha was still unable to reply. If Shippo was here, and he could hide his youkai features from the world, then maybe the other man could too. It was possible. It could be…
Staring at the other man's chiseled, high cheekbones, he imagined he could see stripes trailing along them. And that cold, assessing stare – it couldn't be duplicated. Sesshoumaru was still alive, after all this time, and obviously still hated his guts, if that glare was anything to judge by.
"Inuyasha?" the fox-demon asked once more, reaching out one hand. He walked away without a word.
