Watching by Rieka De-Volka

Watching.

I watch her, because I can not have her. I watch her smile, her tears and her laugh. I watch her steps and her falls, her triumphs and her defeats. I stand back and watch, because there is nothing else to do.

It hurts, to see her cry, to let her feel alone, worthless. I know that sometimes, when the sky turns grey, moments before the rain falls, she believes everything he has told her. I know that in those fleeting instants, when her defenses are weakened, when her mind is clouded, she truly feels useless, unrequited. The burning embers of her love dim with the bitterness of her thoughts, and she feels lost and helpless against a memory. She feels fake against the original.

And I hate it when he does not understand it. When he is too blinded by the circumstances, too excited by the ghost before him to actually assess the true worth of what has been entrusted into his care. He bowed to protect them, both of them, but he cannot realize they are not the same. His mind is clouded by a bittersweet love, one that was not meant to be, and in his tragic angst, he refuses to see beyond his despair.

He loves two women, but can only see one.

At first, when I had not yet realized her true value, I thought her to be an annoyance, a trivial distraction towards my main goal. But she grew on me, calling my attention with those silent displays of power, her ready smile, the depth of her eyes, her selflessness and her never ending source of love.

She is not a copy, she is not a second attempt, she is not a reincarnation. She is original and special.

She is unique.

Sadly, it appears to be that I am the only one who notices this, who values her for who she is, not for what she has done or could do. They all see her as something else, a sliver of her true self, but none is brave enough to try and admire her completely.

None of them love her as fully as I do.

The monk admires her beauty, physical and spiritual, but he does not understand the true nature of her essence. He lusts after her, but he is not willing to pay the price for it, so he contents himself with wondering on what will never happen. It annoys me, because it reminds me of myself. The taijiya cares for her as the sister she never had, but does not see her for who she is, but for what she lacked in her own life. She is willing to sacrifice her own life for her, for that warm creature that accepted her even with all her faults, and who never dared to judge her. The kit sees her as a mother, the mother that was so brutally taken from him, but not as the insecure girl that does not know how to deal with a child in a proper way. He keeps close to her, not willing to admit he is afraid, but feeling soothed whenever she touches him with the love of a parent. The wolf prince sees her as a prize, he claims to love what he does not know or understand. For him, she is not a woman with a soul, a heart and a spirit; she is the key to attaining power and status among the youkai.

And then, there is my brother.

My own blood. He who has everything I do not. My father's undying love, his mother's memory, the sword that was for right my own, the woman I so desperately desire, yet will never dare to touch.

My brother cannot see her for who she is, but rather for whose soul she shares. Stupid, senseless, blinded fool. How can he prefer a bitter, unforgiving demoness to the shining, loving angel he has been given? How can he run to that doll of clay and bones, living dead that haunts this lands, and leave behind the precious jewel entrusted blindly into his care by Fate's capricious ways? I pity and hate him all the same.

But above them all, I love her.

I love her smile, warm and forgiving, always. Her graceful movements, becoming of a lady of the highest rank, and yet so innocent and naïve they could be compared to Rin's nonsense dancing. I love her, fully, with her insecurities and her fears, with her bright smile and her gentle heart. I love her...

And yet, I dare not come close to her.

She's crying right now. Thrown against the soft summer grass, crystalline tears spilling from her eyes, her whole frame shaking with her pain.

My brother made his choice today, and she was not the one chosen.

She does not know I am here. She cannot feel me, after all this time watching her; I have made sure of it. I could go to her now, I could claim her as mine, I could take her, and yet I will not. I dare not. She is too pure, she deserves more.

I am a murderer and a demon. True, I do not kill for pleasure, nor I harm innocents, but my life has been long, and the stains of blood in my hands remain, even if they cannot be seen. I am bitter and I carry a hatred settled too deep within my soul. I have been scarred far too much to try to achieve happiness. Simply because I do not deserve such comfort.

Hatred and Love... I remember a stray conversation, one of the very few times she actually saw me, the human me. The one with fears and uncertainties and feelings. That part of me I keep locked away, because I know it to be much more dangerous than even my inner youkai.

Wounds of the flesh will eventually heal, but a shattered heart will not.

They had chased the hanyou into my lands, and after a short confrontation, we made a bothersome truce. I had long since quitted my attempts to claim Tetsusaiga and Rin was present. I think it was then when my heart started to melt, and my mask to shatter. We were not, though, in civil terms, and as I took a night stroll, away from the horrid smell of humans, I found her sitting on a rock on the riverside, contemplating the full moon and thinking.

"I hate him" She told me, once she noted my presence "Naraku I mean. I hate him for all he's done... all those lives he's shattered"

"You do not know what Hatred is" I retorted, and I was not mocking her, it was the truth. At that time, she had been naïve; she had yet to see the true monstrosities that were committed in the world to realize what Hatred mean.

"Perhaps I don't" She looked up at me, from her safe perch on that wasted rock, smiling at the unspoken truce between us "But at least I know what Love is" I frowned, and spoke without thinking, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.

"I know what Love is" She laughed. Not mocking, not pitying, but sad none the less.

"No, Sesshoumaru, you don't know what Love is"

She had been right. I did not.

But now, standing here, under the protecting shadow of this old tree, watching her cry her heart out, knowing her eyes will loose their light after tonight, I do.

I know what love is, because I love her.

And because I love her, I will not come out. I will not be stupid enough to offer her so little, I will not let myself be hurt, nor will I hurt her with my unrequited feelings. It ends up this way, it seems. I am afraid of hurting her and of her hurting me in return. I am a coward.

And as such, I step back, into the shadows, where no one will see me, where no one will miss me, where no one will hurt me.

And so I watch her.