Nevermore by LeRenardVert [Drabble #71]
Title: Nevermore
Author: LeRenardVert
Prompt: Steam
Genre: General
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word Count: 400
A/N: Second chapter of a new serial named Veracity.
Summary: The only reason he'd read the book was because it was wrong.
Souta stared quietly at the closed book in front of him. It sat on the countertop, gold lettering glinting in the fake light. He slumped in his seat and rubbed his eyes wearily from under his glasses, feeling tired.
Kagome.
He hadn’t thought about her in years. Perhaps it was because she was an old memory now, perhaps it was because he had been so young, or perhaps it was the pain that he had come to associate with memory of her leaving.
It had hurt when she left.
He grew up without her, something that he’d never imagine himself doing. But he was twenty two now, tall and solemn, eleven years older than the age where everything was centered around his demon fighting, superhero sister. People would remark on how he was growing more and more distant and aloof, a jaded adult in the making.
He never blamed his sister though, even if everyone else did. He loved her too much for that and accepted all of her decisions. All that mattered was that she was happy, nothing else.
But that one sentence kept echoing in his mind.
The miko and the taiyoukai lived happily ever after.
As hard as he tried, Souta never recalled Kagome saying that Inuyasha had been a taiyoukai. The only taiyoukai he remembered was Inuyasha’s brother.
The tea kettle let off a sudden wail and Souta snapped out of his thoughts. He plucked the noisy thing off of the stove and poured its contents into the teapot he had set aside filled with a few dried chrysanthemum blossoms. His glasses fogged as he leaned over the pot and he took them off irritably, wiping them on his shirt.
He turned and gave the book a wary glance. It was wrong. Souta knew for a fact that she loved Inuyasha and that Kagome, his beloved sister, would never leave him. His face gained a determined look as a decision was made and he reached out to grasp the book. His hand hovered over the cover before resolve strengthened and he flipped the book open.
He’d read the book, but the only reason that he would was because he knew everything in it was wrong.
Souta had his beliefs but they were what they were, empty.
And after eleven years of believing so blindly, he wasn’t sure he could handle the truth.
Not yet, at least.