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Crunch... Crunch...
The sounds of his footsteps broke the peaceful silence that surrounded the place. He had almost forgotten how deserted this place becomes during this time of the year. It was winter, after all; the weather was far too cold for any sane person to attempt to brave the outside world. Then again, he wasn't exactly what you would call 'sane'.
Crunch... Crunch...
Already he could feel sweat gathering at the palms of his hands, his breaths becoming shallower by the minute. Idly, he wiped his hands on his black slacks, transferring the bouquet of Thyme underneath his armpit in order to keep ahold of them; his hands were far too slippery.
"Courage," she said, "and strength." That was what they meant. It was something that she wanted to portray to the world: no matter how cruel and dim the circumstances may be, she would keep on fighting.
Crunch... Crunch...
Her parents had never approved of them, together. They never voiced it whenever he was in proximity with their daughter, but he knew - he just knew. He could see it from their eyes: disapproving glares followed every move; every touch; every precious moment he spent with her.
He had tried viewing things from her perspective, and every single time he did so, he was wracked with guilt and pain; not for himself, but for her. How could he have allowed her to stoop to his level? She didn't deserve the life that he lived and yet, she made no complaints. She was... happy, content. For the life of him, he could not understand how she could have turned her golden life away so... so... recklessly.
"I know what I'm doing," she would often argue, "I'm twenty-three, for crying out loud. I can make my own decisions."
Crunch... Crunch...
As he neared his destination, he felt the beginnings of an elephant stampede in his stomach. Seeing her had always made him feel nervous; nauseous, even. It was a reaction that he had become accustomed to over the years, but it had been so long since he last visited her. He needed time to adjust.
Every meeting with her had always felt like the first; so beautifully potent. He had stuttered that first time he spoke with her, months after he had observed her from afar. His mind had suffered a minor short circuit, leading him to utter his thoughts the wrong way. She had taken offence almost immediately, fire accompanying her words. Not being one to back down, he had yelled back at her. It was the first of many arguments between them, but it was also the start of a tentative friendship between them.
"Believe it or not, I kinda like the arguments," she mentioned one day while they were both under the shade of a tree. "True, they were pretty explosive and absolutely ridiculous half the time, but it was also one of the things that made us, well, us."
Crunch... Crunch...
'Almost there,' his mind whispered, excitement leaking into the thought. Subtly, he increased his speed. He was often impatient, or so he was told, time and time again.
He supposed his impatient nature came from this - this need to always keep moving; quick and fast, and never look back. If not, he might get caught. All the whispers, and the jeers, and the taunts: he had learned to ignore them. They were only words, after all. Words couldn't possibly do more damage than his self-imposed exile.
But she was different.
She was naive, innocent, ignorant of the rule that existed among the town; a rule that he broke, solely because he existed.
He was a half-demon: an outcast. He should not have existed.
"So what, that you're a half-demon," she had said softly after he had almost lost the will to live, "You're kind, caring... You're better than half the people that try to force their beliefs down your throat."
He had asked her; demanded almost desperately why on earth had she chosen to be with him. She had a life with family and friends that care about her. What could she have possibly seen in him?
"You're the first person who truly understood me. It didn't matter that you were different; heck, that's the thing that made you better than those who turn their eyes down on you," she had replied, her brown eyes soft and genuine as she stared intently at his. He could barely move from his spot then, her every words sinking into him like quicksand.
"I like you as a half-demon, Inuyasha."
She had been patient with him as he came to grips with his heritage. In turn, he was patient with her as she fought her own battles. For her, he would do anything.
Crunch... Crunch...
Her place stood separate from the rest; independent and oh-so-beautiful. 'So much like her,' his mind supplied.
Slowly, almost tentatively, he approached her final resting place. He bent down and placed the bouquet gently on the ground.
It didn't look very different from the last time that he had visited. "Then again, who would dare visit the grave of the damned," he remembered her saying as he held tightly onto her frail, fragile hands.
"Don't say that," he had replied, unable to comprehend what she was implying. "You're not going to have a grave because you're not going to die. I'm not gonna let it happen." Oh how he had been so sure back then; he would save her from her sickness, as he had always done before.
"Oh, Inuyasha." She had let out a timid laugh, physically unable to laugh any further, "We've already known for months that I'm not gonna be here for very long," her tone took on a melancholic note.
"Kagome, you can't - you can't just go." He had repeated multiple times, each time more desperate than the first. It was a thought that he had suppressed for a very long time. He could not imagine his life without her by his side.
"I'll always be there beside you, you know. Haunting you, stalking you," she had joked before a small smile graced her features. "I'll always love you, Inuyasha."
He almost choked on a sob as he remembered her last few words. They shared an intimate moment between them, their hands intertwined tightly with the other's as their eyes delivered words that would never be spoken; that did not need to be uttered.
As she took on her last breath, Inuyasha had whispered his love for her, kissing her forehead to show all that he felt for her; his gratitude, his happiness, his love.
No one could ever replace her; he wouldn't let them. She had affected him in so many ways that he was hard-put to remember the dark times when he was reckless and wild, uncaring to a point that he was willing to hurt the innocent.
She showed him the world from a different perspective, and he would continue on the path that they had forged for themselves.
Slowly he lifted his hands a placed them on her tombstone. Caressing the top, he looked down fondly on her epitaph.
"Hey, Kagome. How's the other side?" He began softly, "I hope you're not doing a lot of damage up there. You know you gotta leave some for me too." He chuckled.
"Me? Well, I'm doing well. Our business is blooming! Remember that expansion that I mentioned before? Well, I'm finally putting that into action." He shook his head, grinning.
"You should have seen Sango and Miroku's reactions when I told them! Man, it was priceless." He trailed off after a moment.
"I've been all over the continent, trying to get more international business partners to invest. It's why I've been away for so long... There were a lot of potential investors, but there were still those who turned their backs just because I'm a half-demon." He sneered out.
"Keh, it doesn't matter though. If they don't want in, then I won't force them." He retracted his hands back in his lap before he stood up and got ready to leave.
"Well, I better leave you to it, then. I'll visit again soon, I promise." A small smile graced his features, the tip of his fangs peeking out underneath his lips.
"I love you, Kagome, always," he whispered, feeling the soft caress of the wind along his face. He imagined it as Kagome's fingers, feeling her memorise every bump and curve on his face, and he leaned further into the touch. He turned around after a while, his ears twitching atop his head as he readied for the trek home.
"No regrets," Kagome had said. "Things will get better in the future."
Things were better, and he owed it all to her.