Ah... It's been a while since I've written anything. Partially due to school - the IB program is specifically designed to drive its students slowly insane. Partially due to lack of inspiration, and my own laziness . But here's a new story! Hope you like it, whoever reads!

A.S. (ante scriptum): The story is set during the 19th century - aka. 1800s. Just to give a little context - the war is not one wherein atomic bombs or nuclear weapons are being used. No machine guns, either.

I do not own Inuyasha.

Live on.

Those were the last words on the page.

She wanted to scream. To rant, to rave; to rage at the world and humanity. It was their fault! Their fault! Their fault she felt like she was slowly dying inside; burning, freezing, losing herself in a maelstrom of grief.

Live on.

How could she? Her life was gone. How could she live on, when he could not? His eyes, vibrant, golden – full of life – she could imagine them now. Dull. Flat. Life-less.

Live on.

He had smiled before going off. His teeth had flashed, in one of those rakish grins that made her knees go weak. Still made her knees go weak, after all this time…

He'd looked so handsome, so dashing in his uniform. She'd not been the only one to say goodbye to a love that day. There had been other couples whispering farewell and I'll return. But no one had been looked at as lovingly as she had. None had been held as tenderly as she had, or had felt more loved when he whispered his own words in her ear – no farewells, nor promises that weren't his to make. I love you. She had smiled back, tears blurring her vision as she had clung to him in that last embrace, stolen that last kiss, and whispered the words back to him. I love you.

Tears were blurring her vision again, now. The paper she held, crumpled, in her hands was blotched with them. Her face ran with them, as she stood staring straight ahead – into nothing.

Live on.

She read those words again. And again. From the beginning: My dearest Kagome – all the way to the end. He wrote not of the battles he had led, nor of the horrors he was sure to have seen. Not of the death, the suffering, the utter hell of war. No, instead he wrote to her of their home. Of life, of love. Of the hope of seeing them again someday.

She could imagine him writing it, in the deep of the night when even the most veteran of warriors were unable to tell friend from foe, and the guns were mercifully silent. A single candle would have lit his barrack, on the table scattered with maps and battle plans. The table where, now, on top of all those documents of war, lay a fresh page being filled with words of home. The candle would have flickered over his beautiful hair and face, over the slight smile gracing his lips.

Those lips would not smile again now. Tears continued to fall, as she grieved and raged against that command.

Live on.

He was gone! No more playful kisses, or passionate touches, or that absent gentleness that seemed to be so much a part of him as the steel core he showed the world. Gone. Forever.

Passed away, they had said. Standing in the door, handing over his possessions. We are sorry for your loss. He has passed away. Died. Murdered. Gone.

She had stood there, in the door, holding his possessions, as they had retreated. Then, slowly, she had looked down to find a letter. A bag. A sword. A letter. Carefully, as if afraid of breaking, of falling to pieces, she had opened the letter. And she had read. Read his letter of life, of love, of hope. And cried.

Live on.

"Mama?" a small voice called from across the room.

Turning her head, Kagome spied a young girl with silver hair and intensely blue eyes. She would become beautiful one day, like her father.

"Mama?" she asked again, hesitantly, a touch of panic creeping in her voice, a sparkle of tears forming in her eyes.

She looked at the young girl a moment more, then, slowly again, every so carefully, she kneeled down, tears still flowing from her eyes, and opened her arms. A small sob escaped the girl as she ran into her mother's arms.

Live on.

Kagome closed her eyes, in defense to her daughters tears, to her own, to the life she had to face now – a life without amber eyes shining down on her and guide her through it. For she would grant her husband his last request. She would live on. Even though he could not.

Et voila. I do hope you enjoyed the read - and will kindly express those sentiments in a review. If you didn't like it, feel free to click the review button as well, and tell me why. :) Thanks very much!