Nothing
By: The Hatter Theory
Disclaimer: I Don't own the rights to Inu Yasha
Happy Birthday Wiccan. Thank you for helping create and maintain a home for us.
~*~
He knows that love is for fools, and love is for the self destructive and weak. He knows this because love (love is the poison and the pain and the catalyst) took away everything he had ever tried to create, destroyed the strong and tainted everything. If love (he's beginning to hate that word, because there is no word equal to it, no synonym that can match it and so it's become repetitive and there's the dim hope that if he repeats it enough it will mean nothing) could destroy his father, the great, the strongest (his mind rebels because he is the strongest, but what if love had not toppled the great youkai?) and the most feared demon on their small island and legend on the mainland, then why should he want it, why should he embrace it?
He is not (but he is, oh he is) afraid of love. He is above it, and he knows it (but maybe not really, because this longing might just be shy to the other side of obsession). Intelligence and priorities are enough to keep him from thinking on it overlong (because days of thinking on it are nothing when you have lived for centuries, and that is what he tells himself) and so he continues on, marching along until the static drowns out the sound of her voice (except she is still there and he isn't sure he'll ever forget, his mind is one of the greatest of his time and he forgets nothing, even if he's trying).
Love is for fools (and he is beginning to wonder if he's foolish, because he wonders what it would be to touch her) love is for the self destructive (on that he muses as well, because despite his confidence he has always taken risks even he could not calculate an end to). Love is for the weak (if the passing days of distraction continue, what his weakness is might be exploited, and how does one fix that?). Love is taking away everything, and he needs to fill the hole and replace it with something worthwhile (but how could a human woman ever be worthwhile, yet what else would do?).
Self destructive and almost blind to it (but not quite, because he can never forget the past) he reaches out and touches her fingers, a ghosting glance, and there is a drop to fill the echoing emptiness, warmth that blooms (and her answering, confused but welcoming expression fills his eyes and maybe that empty place where his pride once stood). And nothing can match what he feels when she smiles at him. Nothing (not even that word without equal, to which he has found an unnamed, silent, unfathomable thing that is even greater).