T U R N by sumire

prologue: because i know i shall not know

I.

Sesshoumaru catches the decay before it fades, the brocade of rot and death a fluttering banner in the air. His face remains impassive, however much he desires to shy away and cover his nose in disgusted derision.

"Should the wound remain untreated, the woman-child will be one limb less," he thinks to himself, almost smirking.

There is no twinge of guilt, for not only is it the hanyou's responsibility to care for his pack (and if he cannot smell even this he his truly inferior), but this is the girl that had cost him his own arm. This is neither his problem nor his business; the miko is not his ward and the Shikon trinket is of no use to him. There is only a cold indifference colored by triumphant vengeance that resides within.

Sesshoumaru leaves as silently as he had come, and no one but the miko notices.

II.

He next sees the miko with her arm heavily bandaged, the scent of death hidden beneath the thick linen.

She is smiling, laughing, but he (all too easily) deciphers the cause for the pained curve of her mouth and the sweat upon her brow.

For this, there is a slight...; he stiffens, and it passes quickly.

He does not linger.