Author's Note: I intended this to be a fairly short one-shot. It's turned into something longer, but don't look for full resolution here. Spoilers for the end of the manga.
Absence
Chapter One
"Do you think Inuyasha's lonely?"
It was a commonly uttered question among the group. One without an answer.
Inuyasha knew they worried about him. It was their way—the human way—to focus so much energy on thinking about their companions. And over the years, he had come to be one of 'them'. One of the group.
He didn't mind. Even as part of him would always brace against the rejection he feared, deep in his heart, would inevitably come, he welcomed the comfort of knowing they were there for him. At the end of the day, as the setting sun slanted deep shadows across the small village, they would be grouped around the fire in Sango and Miroku's hut, cooking the evening meal and preparing for the coming night.
And when he walked through the doorway, there would be smiles and warm greetings, enthusiastic hugs from the twins, and a smart remark from Miroku or, more frequently now, Shippou. Sometimes he brought something to share—flowers for the table, or trinkets for the children, or fish or game caught in the woods.
There would be hot tea and white rice and companionship in the cottage before the different companions went their own way to sleep—Kaede and Rin back to Kaede's smaller hut close to the shrine's grounds; Inuyasha to the outdoors; Shippou with whomever he chose for the night.
Sometimes Inuyasha stayed with Miroku and Sango, or with Kaede. When the twins had come down with a fever, he'd spent an entire week with the monk and his family, staying up through the night—it didn't bother him as it did the humans—to change the cool cloths on their foreheads and to offer a sip of water when they woke, frightened and petulant.
And when Kaede had fallen ill with a coughing sickness that past winter, leaving all with the fear that the old miko would leave them for good, he'd spent day and night at her side, nursing her best he could with the herbs and potions she instructed him to mix into teas and broths.
But tonight, Shippou perched on Inuyasha's shoulder as the hanyou rose to leave. "You don't want to stay? It's cold out still," Sango said as she cleared away the dinner dishes for Miroku to take out and wash in the river. She was pretty as ever, her eyes dancing now that her brother was safe from Naraku's grasp and was healing. She had softened with motherhood, blossomed with the love of her family. No longer was she the strict, severe taijiya from their traveling days.
Inuyasha's answering response was predictable, but he, too, softened the words with a lopsided grin. "Keh. You're as bad as Kagome."
It slipped out unintentionally, and for a moment, Inuyasha's heart twisted painfully in his chest. The silence was hollow, and he managed to force the grin, strained, back onto his face. "Always worrying about me. I'm not weak like you humans."
"Weak humans! Weak humans!" The twins, Mieko and Kimiko, chortled happily. They probably didn't understand the meaning of the words, taken as they were with mindlessly repeating anything Inuyasha said. He'd had to learn to be more careful about what he let come out of his mouth when they were within hearing range.
The look Sango cast him hinted at his failure to be careful enough this once, and Inuyasha's ears dipped slightly in apology. He bent to scoop one child in each arm, jostling them rowdily as they giggled and squealed in glee. "Uncle Inuyasha!"
Uncle Inuyasha. The title, still, sent twin bolts of delight and fear through him. The name hinted at a closeness, a permanency, a responsibility even now, two years after Kagome's departure, he wasn't sure he wanted. Was ready for.
"Humans aren't weak. You're human, and you're cute!"
"Cute! Cute!"
Miroku's smile was warm and full as he stood to reclaim his daughters. He lifted an eyebrow at Inuyasha as the hanyou turned to leave. "Watch it, Inuyasha. You're going to be an old softie before you know it."
"Keh. Stupid monk."
"Monk! Monk!"
Wincing, Inuyasha hurried out before he'd be called on that one, too.
Shippou, perched on Inuyasha's head where he'd been safe from the twins' grabbing hands and endless curiosity about his tail, clambered back down to Inuyasha's shoulder as they made their way out of the village boundaries towards the dark forest. The evening air was deep and still, the sky overhead an endless expanse of velvet studded with the diamond sparkle of stars. The moon was waning; in another few nights, it would pass into nothingness as it did every month.
"You going to the well?"
Inuyasha snorted, but he folded his arms across his chest against the slight chill in the breeze. "You already know the answer, so why ask?"
Shippou shrugged, the movement small, careless. "You think it'll ever work?"
"I'll never know if I don't try." His throat was tight, his chest hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt to try, it hurt to hope. It hurt to know that the choice he'd made two years ago was the right one. He'd finally done something right, but still it hurt. Even if it hurt, hurt so bad sometimes it felt like someone had reached straight into his chest and ripped out his heart to squeeze it until he couldn't draw air into his lungs to soothe the burning, he couldn't regret it.
Kagome was happy, wherever she was, and that was enough. That was good enough.
"What would you do if it did?"
Inuyasha dragged himself out of his thoughts to cast the kitsune on his shoulder a glare through dark amber eyes. "What?"
Shippou repeated the question. "What would you do if you could see her again?"
I'd tell her I need her and never let her go. I'd grab her and hold onto her forever. I'd…I'd…
He'd do the same damn thing he'd done before, and he knew it. The decision had been his to make, and he'd made it when he'd let the well suck him back through that one final time without so much as a peep of protest. A final good-bye. All there was was the familiar drag on his body and soul, the blinding flash of light, and the look of startled denial on Kagome's face as he disappeared from her world a final time.
"Nothing." Inuyasha sighed, tipped his head back to look up at the stars through the night-lined branches. Too early, too cold yet for the trees to leaf out, green and verdant, in anticipation of the hot summer months. He'd admitted defeat, failure, long ago. "She's safe, and she has her family and friends and her life there."
Shippou's face was as stubborn as ever. "She'd be safe here, too, or would you have stopped protecting her? We're her friends, we're practically family. She had a life here, with us." He knew Inuyasha, even if he wouldn't admit it himself, blamed himself in large part for Kagome's permanent disappearance. Shippou had known all along Inuyasha always blamed himself when Kagome went through the well to that 'other time' after their petty fights.
It was long past time to stop blaming him. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
Inuyasha was tired of defending Kagome in her absence. In a way it always felt like he was defending himself. Hunching his shoulders, ignoring Shippou's squeak of protest as the movement unbalanced the kitsune, Inuyasha muttered, "Annoying brat. When are you leaving for training camp again?"
Shippou just snickered. The sound faded as they stepped into the clearing where the well stood in the center of the grassy knoll. Vines grew around the unused rim, dormant now in winter, but soon to explode in a tangle of greenery. Testament to the well's own status of disuse.
With a glance at Inuyasha's face, Shippou hopped wordlessly off his shoulder and stepped back, into the fringe of forest. He watched with the familiar twinge of guilt as Inuyasha, alone, stepped towards the abandoned well. He always felt like he was intruding on something intensely private when he accompanied Inuyasha on these visits. Like he was privy to something no one should have known, something so special it hurt to watch. Something that should have been Inuyasha and Kagome's alone.
Inuyasha paused at the edge of the well, gazed down at the empty, shadowed depths. In the faint light of the moon, with his superior sense of vision, he could barely make out the hard dirt bottom. Empty of bones now, as it had been for years—any youkai killed in the area were scavenged by Sango, bones and hide sent to Toutousai for use in armoring Kohaku on his travels—it was nothing but a hollow monument.
Empty, dark. Like his heart.
Inuyasha didn't need to look behind him to know Shippou was sitting in the shadows, watching with something, something like fear and guilt and interest, on his face. The little kitsune was the only one who knew about his frequent visits here, and his increasingly futile attempts to go through the well.
He placed both hands on the edge of the well, fingers gripping the dry wood. Please. He didn't know who he thought to implore, but his eyes moved away from the darkness and focused on the towering form of Goshinboku ahead. Please. Please, let me…
His hands tightened briefly, and before he could finish the thought, he vaulted over the ledge.
It was musty in the bottom of the well. The ground was chilly against his bare feet, packed hard by too many rough landings and previous years of use to dispose of youkai remains. The walls stretched high around him, and, tipping his head back, Inuyasha looked up not to the wooden ceiling beams of the well house, but the sky.
He wasn't surprised. He'd have liked to say he wasn't disappointed, either, but Inuyasha couldn't ignore the clenching in his heart. He pressed a hand against the side of the well, balancing himself, as he bowed his head and fought back the hot tears in his eyes. He hadn't thought, he hadn't let himself really think, that he'd be able to make it through…had he? He didn't think this would be any different than the hundreds of times he'd tried since she'd left, did he?
But it was the same. The same sharp disappointment that pulsed through him in one hard, debilitating wave. Fisting his hand so he felt the bite of his claws against his palm, Inuyasha grunted once and leapt easily out of the well.
He set himself up for failure every three days, but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't help it.
He wanted Kagome. He'd never stop wanting her.
And as long as the well stood, he couldn't stop trying. As long as he could hold her in his memory, he couldn't stop hurting.
Edited: 10.1.08 for grammar