Chapter Text
That morning the sun shone high in the sky, and a few stray clouds couldn't obscure its light. It was a beautiful day, and InuYasha had hoped it was a sign that the bone-eating well would bring Kagome back to him. He went to that special place full of hope and waited.
He waited for hours.
He waited until the sun high in the sky, began to hurt him.
And then, reluctantly, when the diurnal star took its descending path, InuYasha gave up.
That time, too, his hopes would not be fulfilled.
He had been going to the well every three days for three years now to look for a sign that the time passage between the two ages had reopened. But, alas, only ruthless darkness emerged from the well.
Countless times he had jumped into that dark tunnel, hoping to find himself in a Japan five hundred years ahead, and each time, instead, he found himself on the bare ground of Sengoku, intent on gazing at a sky that could not be seen from the Higurashi house well.
He turned away, frustrated, his bones aching from excessive immobility.
«Well, all the better, so I have time to fix my hair.»
The hanyou tried to take courage, despite the fact that those constant disappointments always took away a hint of hope. But he had faith in Kagome and the feelings that bound them together. When he was in the Meido, he had affirmed, sure, that the two of them were destined to meet, and he still believed it: it was not yet over between them, despite that three-year separation, despite that five-hundred-year temporal separation.
And precisely because he knew she would return, and he did not want to receive Kagome's reproaches, he had kept his promise to take care of his own hair.
Luckily, Mrs. Higurashi had given him that sheet of paper with instructions to prepare a pack, so even in the absence of the girl's modern products, he could keep his hair soft and detangled.
Kagome's backpack had been placed in Kaede's hut, and the hanyou knew that in there were all the products the girl carried with her to take care of her body and hair: he would be able to take advantage of both the brush and the cream. But he had told himself that the only one to open that backpack would be its owner, and so it would be: to open that backpack personally would have meant giving himself away, and that was an inadmissible possibility.
He knew that Sango and Rin also used herbs for their hair, but he had never joined them in that moment of personal care:it was something he had shared only with Kagome and he wanted it to remain a private matter between the two of them. The only one he had mentioned it to was Jinenji, because he needed an expert to help him find and recognize herbs.
He smiled, thinking of Mrs. Higurashi: she had been really kind to him, had made him feel like a part of the family from the first day they had met. She had not screamed in fright at seeing a half-demon in her kitchen, nor had she been hostile at the thought of her daughter spending so much time with him in another era. She had been welcoming and kind; it was easy to see the similarities between her and Kagome.
He kind of missed the Higurashi family, even the weirdo grandfather, who thought he was a priest.
«Ah, damn it, what's taking her so long?» he threw a stone into the grass, frustrated, and started looking for herbs for the pack.
In fact, it was not only for Kagome that he was dedicated to his hair. After talking with Mrs. Higurashi, he had realized a truth as obvious as it was important: his mother loved him and wanted him to always be taken care of because he had to love himself back.
In the few years they had been together, Izayoi had done her best to protect him, give him love and security because she wanted him to grow up strong and confident. But over time, that maternal love had become an increasingly painful memory, and the meaning of that feeling had been lost in the bitterness of a life of loneliness and anger.
And when Kagome's mother had shared with him her feelings as a mother, something had awakened within his soul, as if the woman's words had been spoken for him by his mom through the voice of another mother.
Bitterness had set aside to make room for affection, the warmth of a hug and a sweet word: the little attention that seemed only torture to him was a gesture of love, a pampering that was supposed to heal his soul as well. He had never realized this before because he had not yet learned to accept himself. Because the thought that he was worthy of love had been lost in time, covered by layers of suffering.
Kikyo had managed to chip away at the armor with which he protected himself from pain, giving him hope that perhaps he, too, could be loved. But the time given to them had not been enough to give him self-confidence, especially after the tragic ending of their love.
And then came Kagome, who had taught him the power of kindness, generosity, compassion, and made him see what was good in him as he was, without having to become entirely human or demon. That had made him remember that he was as deserving of love as any living being.
That was why he did not flee to the trees, why he continued to work with Miroku, to visit him and Sango, and put up with their little twins climbing all over him. Because of this he now knew that he was accepted and well-liked by the villagers, who years earlier fled in terror at the sight of him.
He was worthy of love and had to take care of himself.
Therefore, now that he accepted and liked himself as he was, attention to his hair was no longer an issue.
He owed it to his mother, to Kikyo and Kagome, who had given him love, but, most of all, he owed it to himself.
Besides, he certainly could not disfigure himself in front of Sesshomaru!
They were sons of Toga, the Dog General, and they both had to be worthy of him, both in strength and appearance.
«You'll see Kagome, when you come back you'll be proud of me for keeping my hair in great condition.» he smiled and, invigorated by pride and hope, decided to fight the day's stillness with a run through the trees.