Meeting
Summary: More random drabble! Jeez, what is it with me and modern people? Anyway, enjoy! Though this is so short, I don't know why I bothered…
Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha. There. You happy now? Because I'm all depressed. I'll just go cry in a corner…
He walks nightly, strolling through the streets as sidewalk lamps wink on, silently observing the growing play of shadows by his feet. He is dressed impeccably, as always, a job as head of a major Japanese company along with a considerable inheritance allows him the freedom to get what he wants and dress as he will. Some would say that it isn't wise for him to be pacing these streets at this time, especially as darkness falls ever more swiftly and the road becomes less well cared for, but he has always done this, and there is no force on earth that could stop him from doing what he wants.
He turns into an old park, one where the once-neat lawn is overgrown and wild trees are encroaching on the rusty playground, a lone swing creaking. He turns his head, and sees the woman seated there. She has hair the opposite of his, midnight black to his moon-bright silver, and it is in a messy bun. Her lips and eyes are slashes of red, the lips makeup but the eyes something less common, on a par with his cool gaze of gold. She taps a fan idly on her knee as she stares off into the blackness, leaning sideways against the stiff chain of the swing that is her perch. As he steps forward, her head whips in his direction, and gazes that are utterly different—hers defiant, his detached—yet equal in intensity lock. Then she looks away, and he crosses to sit on a swing as well.
"Well? What do you want?" Her voice is uncultured, angrily questioning, and he can see that her clothes are less then new, jeans with worn knees and a rip, and a red tank top with a strap that has slipped down her arm. She yanks it back up like it is solely responsible for everything that's ever gone wrong in her life, and shivers, obviously involuntarily, in the brisk wind. When she sees that he has ignored her question, she glares at him. "So, are you just gonna sit there, or actually say something, asshole?"
He is silent for another long moment, then gets up, slipping off his long, dark wool coat and laying it neatly on the swing he has just vacated. Then, still without making a sound, Sesshoumaru Takahashi strolls off unconcernedly, leaving Kagura Furikaze staring after him, speculatively, until he is swallowed up by the darkness.