Work Text:
“It's a boy,” Miroku revealed as he emerged from the hut where Sango had given birth to their third child.
Inuyasha nodded, before congratulating him sincerely. He couldn’t remember having seen him so happy, not even on his wedding day or when they had discovered Sango was expecting not one but two children during her first pregnancy.
The monk patted him on the back, still smiling, and then without adding anything else, he returned to his waiting wife.
Outside, under that single sliver of moon, only Inuyasha and Shippo remained. The fox demon raised his face towards Inuyasha, watching him closely, but before he could open his mouth, his friend spoke.
“Well, there's nothing more to be done here,” he muttered before he disappeared. Shippo kept watching him walk away, straight towards his destination that had never changed: the bone-eating well.
He shook his head and sighed, wondering why every happy event always had to be tainted with that melancholy note, why Inuyasha—but also he, Sango and Miroku—could never enjoy a moment in its entirety. Finally, raising his green eyes to the moon, which looked equally sad to him—influenced, as he was, by those thoughts—he told himself it was to be expected, after all.
Her absence would always be felt within the group, and therefore, even the greatest joys would never be fully experienced if she was not there to celebrate with them.
“Sango has given birth to a baby boy,” whispered Inuyasha, his eyes pointed towards the dark depths of the well.
He was sitting cross-legged, the faithful Tessaiga resting on his right shoulder and his elbows pressed against the edge of the old structure; a curtain of silver hair hid his face from anyone who might observe him from afar and thus also his melancholic expression and his eyes full of unexpressed desires that were trying hard to solve the mysteries that the darkness—which had been tormenting him for more than two years—concealed.
“At last Miroku has the heir he always longed for; you can even imagine the goofy and even a bit cocky smile he had when he told me the news. Who knows how long it would be before someone erases it from his lips.” He laughed, but there wasn't that much feeling behind that laugh.
“So you missed this one too,” he resumed, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. “There was Rin to help Kaede with the birth—she’s grown up too—but you know Sango would have wanted you beside her.”
He clenched his fingers on the wood, feeling it crumble beneath them, and swallowed a snort before it could escape his lips.
“Don't worry, she doesn't blame you for it anyway,” he heartened her, as if he could clearly hear the concerned voice on the other side, blaming itself for an absence that was actually no one's fault. “Neither do I,” he added in a hushed voice.
He shook his head then, as if realising the absurdity of what he was doing. It always happened like that.
He would arrive at the well and start talking to himself, imagining the answers she would give him as if she were right next to him, he heard her voice, but after a while, he would begin to feel foolish. Then grief and anger at himself would take over.
“I don't pretend it's everything alright any more; I got fed up.” He studied his interlocutor again, the darkness, and focused on the reflection of the moon that reminded him a little of the lighter locks in her dark hair. “I know, I know,” he commented, petulant. “I never fooled anyone.”
Finally, he stood up, put on a determined expression, and as scripted he crouched down and jumped into the well after violently closing his eyes. When he opened them again the same moon seemed to mock him; no roof, no old hut, no unpleasant smell of future.
So he slumped his shoulders and slowly abandoned the structure that had become his confidant.
With his back to it, he whispered his parting words—for now. “I’m not tired of waiting, though. Even if I have to wait 500 years, I’ll never stop.”
On the other side of the well, a girl exhaled a weary sigh before closing the book on which she had been bent, getting up and stretching.
It seemed like she had been studying for weeks and, in fact, turning towards the window the moon that greeted her surprised her; when she had started, the sun had just risen and she hadn0t even noticed that night had fallen.
She hoped that at least all those hours of study would earn her a good result in the next day's exam. Not that she needed much. She didn't count on enrolling in university after graduation, but she knew how much her family cared about a good mark, especially considering how much admission to the same high school had been hanging in the balance just over two years before.
Two years.
Sometimes it seemed like much longer. Absence and pain had made those years even longer.
Casting one last glance at the night, she donned a heavy dressing gown and descended the stairs. Taking care not to wake anyone and avoiding tripping over Buyo's tail, she went outside and headed for the small structure not far from the family shrine.
Sliding open the wooden door, she was not surprised at the ease with which she managed to open it—there was always someone looking after the upkeep of the place, although in some ways it had lost the importance it had had, and she made sure to open it every three days.
It was dark inside, except for the moonbeams penetrating through the door left ajar, but her eyes were used to it and skilful, she descended those few steps, avoiding the creaking ones.
Finally, her hand met the age-old wood that, despite everything, still retained its vitality and seemed to speak to her, telling her of the many adventures that had taken place on the other side.
She too, like Inuyasha, leaned against the well and looked in: the darkness was the same, as were the unanswered questions. But she couldn’t solve the many mysteries it concealed either.
“Tomorrow will be a new moon night,” she began, also expecting the echo that followed. “I wonder if it's the same over there. I guess not, though.” The smile on her lips was caused by some more lighthearted memories, but it wasn’t without bitterness. “Every month I wonder how you spend this night and if others remind you how strong you are even as a human, if you escape this supposed weakness.”
With one hand, she shook off a lock that had fallen across her face and was surprised to feel her cheek wet. She studied her fingertips wondering when she had started to cry, but then shook her head, remembering that it always happened to her.
Memories had that effect on her. Or maybe it was the thought of not being able to keep him company in his most fragile hours.
Later, when she decided it was too late, she got up and cast one last glance at the bottom of the well. She would have liked to go down but did not dare in that darkness. She would return the next morning, perhaps before the exam.
“I'm sure Miroku, Sango, Shippo and all the others repeat it to you every month, even though you're very stubborn,” she chuckled to herself. “But one day I’ll be the one to do it, remember; the moon is my witness.”
And when she returned to her room and made sure the curtains were closed, her eyes met the moon once more. Perhaps, before that last sliver disappeared the following night, it would be lenient enough to bring back her message without that veil of sadness that permeated everything.