A/N: My very first work of fanfiction uploaded on the web, woo-hoo, what a milestone!

Hm, not a lot to say about it really, I'll only really say that it's fairly short, and I know that, so if you decide to review, please don't tell me. I write for my own pleasure mostly, so I don't care if you don't review. They are nice to get though, I admit.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this story belong to either Rumiko Takahashi, or Yoshihiro Togashi.



by: Tea House


Youko had thought he could forget her, but the memory lingered, compelling him to seek her out this day. It was the person in which he could not forget that led him down this path.

Was it fate? He wondered often, angry at the notion.

Had fate led him to her that day years ago? Did fate make him remember?

He'd never believed in it before. He steadfastly refused to acknowledge that he could not control his destiny, for he was always in control. It had already been that way.

Until that day.


He'd never heard such a pitiful sound; the sound of anguish, the sound of heartbreak. It was strangely alluring, weaving a spell upon him, and stirring something deep inside his soul. He could not dismiss it, and so he searched for it.

He outright snarled when he found her; a stupid, pathetic human weeping in the rain. Had he known what he would find, he would have never came looking for it, but the curiosity that he felt was over-powering. Had he known it would be nothing but an inferior, human girl, he would have disregarded the twinge of poignancy that he felt inside.

In that moment, she glanced up, startling him with her eyes. They were captivating, striking; drawing him in like a moth to a flame. The pain reflecting in her eyes was so raw, the depth of her despair never-ending. She was tragic.

And she was beautiful.

She stared at him with those eyes for a long time, if possible looking infinitely more sorrowful than before, and when she slowly approached him, with determined, unfaltering steps, he froze. And it enraged him, for now he felt inferior; powerless.

"You look a lot like him," she said ambiguously. He narrowed his eyes minutely on her slight form. What was she talking about? Her enigmatic statement was indecipherable; it made so sense at all. It was frustrating, just like she was. He didn't understand her at all, and it fueled the hate he felt towards her intensely.

He hated her for making him feel.

"Who do you compare me to, wench?" he growled, making her smile whimsically. It was a swift, sudden change from the sadness that shadowed her face, and in the next moment, she was bitter.

"Inuyasha," she answered, and then thoughtfully continued, "but I think you're much more beautiful than him, even if your eyes are empty. He used to call me wench too, you know; hardly Kagome."

Youko dismissed her compliment, for he knew that he was beautiful, but considered her addition to the statement, curious about this 'Inuyasha'; had he done this to her? This curiosity was burning him up inside like an intense fever, and he realized darkly that the only way to assuage it was to ask her questions. But he didn't want her to know that he was curious. He did not wish to converse with her any longer.

Yet he remained, too fixated by her to do anything else.

'Kagome' moved on, easily withholding the mostly one-sided conversation. "I wish I was a youkai, sometimes."

The control he generally maintained so flawlessly slipped, and regrettably he questioned her. "Why?"

She regarded him levelly, "Because, humans are weak, naïve and ignorant. I used to think the opposite. I'd thought our emotions were our strength, but like I've been told, they our eventually our downfall."

He nodded mutely in agreement to her discovery. He'd long ago resolved this. But what was it that shattered her ideals? It seemed that she used to believe, and now she did not. Like most other humans, she had no faith.

"I was very foolish," Kagome admitted, beseeching the sky to allow the rain to cleanse away her pain, "how could I have given him so much power and not expect to be betrayed, to be hurt?"

"It is simple. You are human and you believed," Youko replied and she smiled again.

"I guess you're right."

"I am always right," he informed her loftily.

Kagome met his eyes. "We're alike in a sense, you know," she told him, "we're both alone. I can see it in your eyes that you don't have anyone."

Angrily, one of his lethally clawed hands snapped out and grasped the fragile column of her throat, "Do not compare me to yourself, wench!" How disgraceful; to be compared to a human. Her audacity was insulting. But deep inside, he knew that she was right.

He was alone.

She didn't struggle, only stared up at him with her haunting eyes, "Would you kill me? I understand you. I know how you feel," her softly spoken words amplified his ire and his hand tightening around her throat simultaneously; "You know nothing of me."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you would kill me."

Youko hesitated. He wanted to kill her; he could easily kill her…

So why hadn't he killed her yet?

He never answered, merely dropped her to the ground and walked away. And he could almost feel her smile.

He couldn't kill her, because they were the same.


He'd vowed to himself that day that he would never go back, never see her again, and he lied. He was coming back today, to see her again. He'd tried to forget, tried so painstakingly hard to wipe her very existence out of his memory, but she had enraptured him with her tragic eyes, and he hadn't been free since.

He was alone; he realized it, acknowledged it more and more everyday. And everyday, it got harder to bare. They were both alone, living each day bound by their loneliness, and he regretted walking away from her, because he wanted her.

He'd wanted so few things in his life; yet he wanted a pathetic, beautiful human girl. Wanted her desperately, but he'd walked away.


Kagome was as foolish as they came.

On days, when she felt particularly hopeful, she would wait, telling herself that if she waited, then it would be her turn. But that never really was the case, because waiting required patience, and she had none. It had dried up just like the Bone-Eaters Well.

And yet she waited, every second of every day, she waited. She waited because she loved him, and she'd thought that it was worth the pain, the loneliness.

Years later, she knew that nothing was worth the pain.

Years later, she was still alone, still cold, because years ago, he had destroyed her.


Inuyasha burst through the foliage, skidding wildly to a stop along the earthen ground, "Kikyo…"

The miko gazed at him dispassionately, her eyes cold, empty. "You hesitated Inuyasha," she remarked bitterly, "Did you not wish to leave the girls side? Could it be that you love her?"

He fell silent under her accusations, never contradicting her, nor admitting to anything. Something flashed in her eyes—anger.

"Do you love the girl enough to forget your promise to me?"

"I could never forget it."

"Then make your decision, Inuyasha," a pale hand gestured to the trees, "she is listening."

Inuyasha cautiously sniffed the wind and his ears flattered down to the crown of his head.

"You Kikyo… I made a promise to you." he closed the distance between them, closing his arms around her, and from behind the tree, Kagome could see her cold smile, could see her mouth, "I win."


He'd never answered Kikyo that day, but Kagome knew. She knew that it had been her who in which he loved. Only her.

He'd loved her, but he'd thrown it away. Inuyasha had thrown away the most beautiful thing in the world.


He'd thrown away their love. And that hurt more than him ultimately choosing Kikyo.

It hurt more, because she could have lived with that. She could have lived knowing that he loved Kikyo, and only Kikyo. But Inuyasha had loved her.

In those few, fleeting moments, Inuyasha had let her have her dream, let her have that in which she yearned for, for so long, and in the next, he'd cruelly, selfishly, taken it away.

While she could have lived with him choosing her, she couldn't live with that reality, that memory.

So that night, she never returned to camp, and she wandered through the rain.

And it was that night that she met him.

The silver stranger, she called him, for she didn't know his name. But she wanted to know, because they were the same, and he knew the pain of being alone. She saw the loneliness, the grief, the sorrow that imprisoned his soul. He'd felt it too, and she'd saw that it scared him, because he didn't want to feel. He'd successfully ceased feeling anything for so long.

Kagome wondered if he had changed. She had changed, changed because of him. She didn't feel sorry herself anymore, because she wasn't the only one in this world that was alone. He was alone too, and he understood the pain, he knew how she felt.

But she'd made him walk away, and not once did he turn back.

Years later, she was back to her old habits. Waiting.

She was waiting for the silver stranger to return.

Then, one day, he did return.

She saw him. Saw him coming towards her with purpose in his molten eyes. He was beautiful, a creature of white and silver, a creature of perfection. He stopped before her, an emotion in his perfect eyes that she hadn't seen the day they'd met. He had looked down at her with such disdain; he'd hated her.

But he was different now, he'd changed. He'd changed because of her.

She reached out to touch him, wondering if he was a dream, wondering if he was real. Her fingers clutched the silk of his tunic, and she felt a warmth flood through her veins. It had been a long time since she'd been warm.

"You came back," she whispered, "why?"

"I couldn't forget," he answered, covering her fragile hand, with his large, powerful one. The same hand that wrapped around her neck so menacingly years before was now so gentle.

She closed her eyes, with a tiny smile. "Did you want to forget?"

His fingers traced over her closed eyes, "At first; not anymore."

Kagome burrowed her face into the folds on his clothing, "You've changed," she murmured, "I'm glad."

He embraced her then, wrapped his arms around her tightly, afraid that she'd fade away.

Indeed, he had changed.