Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Fading away	By : Akikazehana Category: InuYasha AU/AR > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7157 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Inuyasha even thought I'd like to and well, I stay as penniless as before this story as I won't even a single penny out of this

Chapter List
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*@ work on chapter 3
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A week later Sesshomaru was sitting in his loft and studied some documents concerning the recent market overseas when somebody knocked.

“Mr. Fuyu? I have a package for you.”

“Come in.”

A secretary opened the door, and shyly came closer, holding a package of the size of a shoe box. The youkai didn’t even look at her and continued to read his papers.

“The security scanned it and it’s safe.”

“Who sent it?”

“A certain Mr. Shirayuki. It was sent to you privately. Shall I open it?”

“Do so.”

Sesshomaru continued to read even though he had his suspicion on who was the sender with such an obvious alias while listening to the sound of the secretary cutting the lid open, followed by the rustling of securing rice paper.

“Mr. Fuyu, it appears that Mr. Shirayuki sent you some old photographs.”

“Leave them here. You may go.”

“Call me if you need anything, Mr. Fuyu. I wish you a pleasant evening.”

The secretary bowed and left the room while Sesshomaru reached out and grabbed the first picture frame. It was a very old photography in sepia, showing a family of humans and his younger brother before the house on the cliff, only that the cliff wasn’t visible at all on this photo. It looked like this picture had been taken just after the family had sold the house to his brother. They all smiled but only Inuyasha had a slightly melancholic look while the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His hair, just as black as he had seen it on the beach, was draped over his shoulder like a waterfall of ink and his kimono only underlined the almost ephemeral appearance. Even to a human’s eyes it would be clear that this being next to the family head was definitively not on the same level. The next few photos were impressions of the cliffs, showing clearly how much the landscape had changed, especially the one that had been made after a storm, but it was the last one that caught his attention. That modern photo had apparently been made by someone else as Inuyasha was on the picture. The view on the sandbank it offered demonstrated clearly how easily that one moved but it was Inuyasha that held his gaze back from trailing off.

The hanyou was sitting on the beach, comfortably seated on a blanket and munching on a pencil while looking through what looked like to be a notebook. He was completely focused on his task and didn’t even notice the long black hair slipping out of their bind, a few strands already dancing softly in the breeze. Whoever had taken that picture had chosen the perfect moment. Everything was perfect, the way the wind blew, the way the sun gently illuminated the scene in a soft light and the way the landscape complimented him. Sesshomaru held up the photography in the air and stared at it for a long time while the lights of Tokyo at night began to take up the place of the setting sun. The youkai deposed the photo on the low table and as he walked over to the panoramic window of his penthouse he thought:

“He’s wearing glasses…”

The next days were quite charged with work and Sesshomaru couldn’t get to his business with the land for the hotel complex. He ordered his secretaries to have copies made of the photo and on a whim asked for two copies of those with Inuyasha on them. On the evening of the fourth day, he was just resting a bit to calm down before he accidentally decapitated one of his useless underlings especially those who had made quite annoying mistakes that day, the secretary came in after knocking and deposed the photocopies of the photos and asked him what she should do with the originals.

“Send them back, you should have the address noted somewhere…”

The secretary bowed and went to the door but stopped and looked back hesitantly.

“Uuhm, Mr. Fuyu… Is this Mr. Shirayuki the writer Makoto Shirayuki?”

“He said he was a writer… why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering as Makoto Shirayuki-sensei is my favourite author. I didn’t you were acquainted with him.”

“Is he good?”

“You haven’t read him? Oh please forgive me; this was disrespectful of me… Shirayuki-sensei is one of the bestselling authors nowadays and he has won several literature prizes. I love to read his novels during my breaks…”

“Really…”

“I’m sorry to have held you up with my stupid chit-chat, I wish you a pleasant evening.”

“Wait.”

“Yes, Mr. Fuyu?”

“You don’t happen to have any books of his right here?”

“Oh yes, I have some… the last three small novels he wrote.”

“Could you lend me those for tonight?”

“Of course, you may keep them as long as you wish.”

The secretary hurried out of the room and came back shortly after and deposed three small books on the table.

“This one, <A song for the moon> is one of his earlier works that has been rediscovered recently by the critics and these two, <Summer Evening> and <A Butterfly’s Death>, are his two most recent novels. Novels are his most preferred kind of books and he has written almost 20 of those. But Shirayuki-sensei has also written a play, a trilogy of rather voluminous books about a family feud in the Meijin era, several fantasy books and it is rumored that there are some erotica of him though I don’t believe it. A person with a delicate writing soul wouldn’t write such vulgar things.”

Sesshomaru took the first book of the pile and looked at the author’s description. Instead of a picture of his brother, a little picture of a half-moon smiled at him while a few sentences described his brother as a successful writer, followed by some titles, the mention of a few prizes and lastly that he was very secretive about his private life and no further information was known. The secretary took her leave and left her chef who was already buried in the book.

It was three in the morning when Sesshomaru looked up from his lecture for the first time. Although he had been very skeptical about his brother’s abilities as a writer he had soon been enthralled by the language. He didn’t know if that was because it had been written by someone with youkai blood and behavior or if it was because of the centuries that trickled through the chosen words. The writing wasn’t old-fashioned, he used quite some modern kanjis but the way he chose to delicately connect them in-between, creating a poetic flow of words in a soothing rhythm and adding a song of sounds that repeated itself endlessly with myriads of variations appealed to his centuries old mind. The story itself was a classical one in its foundation and yet Inuyasha managed to give it several unexpected twists that left him on the edge of suspense. Only when the finale brought the denouement, he came back from the world created in the book to look at his surroundings in an almost surprised manner.

Sesshomaru was slightly confused. Not only the ability of his brother had been a good surprise but the fact that he, the great Sesshomaru, ice-blooded inuyoukai, had been captured by a mere story and already craved the next. He sighed a little and tousled his own hair when he noticed that he actually could lift the spell for no human would now come and importune him. With a little whisper of his, his hair began to grow and turn into the ethereal moon-white hair color it naturally had. Almost relieved to feel its weight he twisted a lock between his fingers and looked intensely at it. Inuyasha had never had the same silky hair but the color had been identical. The memory of his brother on the beach came back and he tried to imagine him with his natural colors. He could see him with the white veil instead of the fine net of black hair and golden orbs staring impassively at him and yet, the human black hair and the deep purple irises didn’t seem to feel false on him like Sesshomaru felt every time he looked into a mirror. Maybe it was because of the human blood that an Inuyasha with black hair and dark eyes didn’t look unnatural, just as his human ears did look good on him.

With a sigh he stood up and walked over to his bed room. Daiyoukais didn’t need a lot of sleep and could easily go on for a week without sleep but they enjoyed it as a luxury. Especially now that he didn’t have to look out for other youkais attacking him in his sleep, Sesshomaru liked to slip into a comfortable hazy region between sleep and being awaken. After passing through several spells that hid his bedroom in the upper floor of his penthouse apartment right over the main building of the Tsuki company, towering over whole Tokyo as if was the throne of heaven, he entered the only room he had been able to preserve form any human stench and relaxed fully in the completely traditionally styled room, including tatami mats and wooden ceiling. He got rid of the suit and put on a kimono, feeling immediately more at ease in the traditional clothing. Behind traditional panels of finest rice paper was a big window, showing him the buzzing capital of the humans with all its light and darkness right at his feet, offered like a present to him. Even though he had a magnificent futon laid out already, he took the next book of his brother and settled down against a wooden pillar, the light from the city his only light for his exceptionally good eyes, even after 7 centuries of existence.

The following morning he surprised his secretary with the task to go and buy him the whole collection of his brother’s books in the deluxe version. The secretary smiled as she put on her coat to fulfill her job for the morning as she had already feared that her boss was a machine instead of a human with feelings. Her colleague was given the task to put the copy of the modern of photo of his brother in a picture frame and carefully wrap the originals back into a box. During the evenings, having no hobbies at all, he now savored each book to its best, frequently pausing to reread a whole chapter just for the pleasure of language. To his surroundings he would never admit this new addiction of his and kept his stoic façade. He didn’t chat about the books with his secretary who was apparently a big fan of his brother and when she told him about the reception given in a few days for the newest prize won by his brother, he acted as if it didn’t interest him. He only cursed at himself when the next day he read in the newspaper that the first exemplars of his prize-winning novel that had not yet been released to the public had been distributed at the reception.

Almost two weeks after he had received the photos, Sesshomaru himself drove to the coast where his brother lived. As the landscape flew by his sports’ car, he thought that flying by himself would be much faster but again, the pressure of the human existence forced him to stay put and almost travel at the pace of snail in his eyes. A traditional wall surrounded Inuyasha’s domain and he had to search quite a bit until he found a spot to park his car. Holding the box under his arm, he ran in a flash to the entrance half a kilometer away, almost rejoicing to feel real speed again. As he stood before the heavy wooden door, he thought about just jumping over the wall but then again, Inuyasha might have visit and acting like a youkai in front of humans wasn’t exactly in his agenda for the weekend. He ringed at the speaking device under the small tag indicating that it was indeed the Shirayuki residence behind those walls.

“Yes?”

“Open, it’s me.”

“Sesshomaru? Why the hell are you here?”

“Bringing back your photos.”

“*Sigh* you could have sent them by mail.”

“I felt like bringing them myself. Do you want me to jump over or do you open the door?”

“Suit yourself, oh Lord of the Western Lands.”

Sesshomaru didn’t wait for him to open the door and just jumped over, landing elegantly on the paved way. As he walked over the path to the house on top of the hill, he thought that Inuyasha had rather good taste in gardens although the garden wasn’t much more than a piece of forest left in it ancient natural glory but that had the same effect on Sesshomaru as it probably had on Inuyasha. He felt more at home than in the city, than in the penthouse that had been his house for almost ten years now. Almost expecting a youkai to jump out of the bushes, he carefully sniffed his surroundings to teach his nose again, what vegetation in its raw state smelled like. All too soon for his taste he reached the house, completely held in a traditional style. His brother leaned against the doorway, his white hair flowing freely down and the perky little dog ears on alert while his face was an impassible mask. They looked at each other for a while before Inuyasha turned around with a sigh.

“Come on in…”
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