InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Drabbles ❯ Drabbles ( Chapter 1 )

I did not love her; this, I know to be true. Once, I would not have known, but the child changed that, changed me. So I know I did not love her, and in the knowledge there is, faintly, disappointment. Because I miss her, and missing is something I do not understand; because I did not love her, but I did feel something. I wonder, what was that feeling? When the wind is strong enough, I am caught in memories as if in the strands of an invisible web. I cannot cut it; neither my claws, or my sword, is sharp enough. More to the point, neither my claws nor my sword can reach. I have been thinking, and I wonder: is it her I am missing, or what might have been? Now, I do not know the answer, but someday; someday keeps me breathing - the possibility, the promise, of an answer. It is in the wind - that promise.

 

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Will it ever be enough? I'm missing so many pieces now, pieces of myself that are scattered like grains of rice in the wind, like a spilled basket of mulberry leaves. I keep asking, when did it begin? When was the first time, when was the moment - the moment it first began, the shattering of my soul. I think...it was that day, the day I came back here. How strange it all seemed, how unbelievable - how wonderful, but even then, I knew that I did not belong. There was a flock waiting, to devour the grains that escaped my grasp; the basket of leaves has spilled into the mouths of silkworms. The birds are well-fed; someone somewhere will be dressed in a beautiful robe - but what...about me? The person I was when all this began and the person I am now are not the same person. We share a name and a face, a pair of eyes that sees the world in certain colors, a heart that feels in certain shades of grey. How is it that I share all these things with the self I used to be, and yet am not the same? It is in that same way, perhaps, that I am not the person she is - that though we share a soul, a shape, we are not one. Does he understand that, I wonder? All the time, I wonder, but I do not think he understands. He cannot look at either of us without seeing the other; I can almost, almost smile at that, the thing I cannot understand myself. How is it he cannot feel the difference between us? The past and the future...somehow, neither of us belongs.

 

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Like an essence, the sword brought death to my senses, like an essence retrieved the chill from the air, gave it to my bones. When I found her, the first changes were only skin deep, and I could have held her in my hands. Instead, I looked at her. She was small, she was weak; she was the sum of the things I despised. Silently, I questioned the red-thread between us, the life-thread, and thought - how foolish. She was dead, and because of this, there could be no connection. The sword I carried out of habit became a light; the light restored her. I watched her breathe, held out judgment, confined myself to the evidence of my senses. The red, binding thread - it was a real thing. It tightened. She said her name and nothing else, and I was pleased that she knew how to decide what was important, what I needed to know. She followed, without questions, without answers, without expectations. I thought, yes, this is the way it is supposed to be.

 

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The day she found me, right away, I wanted to like her. Love her, even. When I said so, once, she laughed and said, "But didn't you steal them from me - my shards?" I couldn't deny that, but it is still true, and she knows the reason why I took them, anyway. Knows it wouldn't have done any good - anyway. Shards...I wanted them then, but now - I hate them. If it weren't for shards, what would we be doing? It's spring now, sakura spring, so maybe we would go to the cherry-blossom festival, and there would be good things to eat and she would be smiling, a real, happy smile. I know when she pretends, when he runs off to be with the other one, when he is wounded, when he is fighting, when he is stupid. A real smile. A festival - yes. Or maybe - maybe, since only she is human, we would not go to the festival. Maybe we would stay home in the village, and eat something simple, tell a story, laugh together, go to sleep together. There would be no more fighting, no more looking for fighting...well. Except maybe him. But that would be okay. That would be fine, if there were no shards. But - if there had been no shards, no shikon for them to break off of, she would not be here. I would never have met her. I hate them - shards. And I love them, but...I don't understand. She says, “when you're older“... about some things. This, too?

 

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