I was somewhat depressed when I wrote this. I don't know, I stared too much at a pic of Bankotsu, and I realised that his eyes are... different. They seem to have a life on their own or something. I wouldn't know how to describe them in few words. So this is ny not-so-short description on what I- or in this case, Bankotsu, feels when he sees his eyes reflected on a pool or watery surface.

I love to write these- Disclaimer: I in no way own Inuyasha, or in this case; Bankotsu. But someday, I'll ask Rumiko-sama if she wants to sell him to me . For the right ammount of money, it's sth Bankotsu would do, I think... oO

The eyes of the mercenary...

He looks at his reflection.

He gazes at it, he studies it.

But he can't find himself in it.

There are many men he has known who have braided their hair.

There are many men whose skin is suntanned because it's too exposed to the sun.

All about him is usual.

Except his eyes.

Where did he get those blue, blue eyes?

They seem to come from within the sea.

They make him what he is; they are his most loved belonging. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't have those eyes.

He looks at the person reflected before him.

The eyes are his soul; the window to his soul. All that shows life on his face are his eyes.

He even painted the star on his forehead to be easily recognised by others.

He doesn't know that all it takes to know him, it's to see his eyes.

Those eyes- they say- those eyes are not human.

How foolish.

Of course they are.

They are his eyes.

The eyes of the mercenary.

Those eyes, that seem to come from within the sea.

And as they come, they go, and they only inspire fear. But they are his pride, more than whatever else he owns.

Those eyes-, they say- those eyes are not normal.

As if he cared whether they are or not...! They are his. No one has the right to say anything else about them.

The bluest eyes he has ever seen.

They are beautiful.

Everyone tells him so. He doesn't have to make an effort to believe it.

Those yes- they say- those eyes are too pure to be tainted with the horrors he causes...!

He laughs about that. He laughs, so as not to cry. People should remain in their own matters. Stay away from his.

From him.

Because people hurt more with words than what a samurai does with his sword.

He knows perhaps too well.

He is seeing his reflection, but he isn't looking at it.

His thoughts are beyond it now.

Those eyes-, they say- shouldn't belong to someone like him.

They don't know how wrong they are.

Those eyes wouldn't belong to anyone else. They are his. More than anything else.

His eyes.

The eyes of the mercenary.