“You’re a heartless monster!”
She screamed, crying.
“How dare you, she loved you. She loved a coldblooded beast like you!”
Neither of them felt the rain that pounded their bodies. She was clearly yelling, but the words seemed like a distant echo. The cold rain was soaking him to the bone; drowning his already dulled emotions. His senses were numb and he didn’t fight back.
Because he knew he was wrong.
It was his fault.
His averted eyes seemingly bored into the furious brown pupils that continued to scream. To reprimand. To release anger instead of accepting sadness.
And he took it all, because he deserved it.
“How dare you leave her? How dare you.” Disgust was evident in her tone, streams of tears trailed down her face. “Does she mean nothing now that she’s old and dying?”
A stern hand grabbed the screaming woman’s small shoulder, “Sango, stop.” He was old, and as the female stopped to catch her breath, her age also caught up with her. Now, they were both old. Only the fire in their eyes remained unchanged all these years. The hoshi’s gaze trailed from his wife to the rigid demon. “Please, Sesshomaru-sama, just go.”
Silver hair swayed, turning to leave, his steps heavy. As he begun to disappear into the night, the screaming behind him continued.
“That’s right! Just leave, you coward! Get out of my sight! You never cared about her!”
There was sobbing. Heart wrenching cries.
The loud pounding of a painful heart.
But deafening silence came from the hut.
The hut where he left her. The hut where he vowed to not return.
Keen hearing burned his eardrums as Sango croaked against the old man’s shoulder.
“He can’t leave her. He can’t. Not when she’s dying, Miroku.”
He steeled himself and took to the skies.
The further the daiyokai travelled, the more he wanted to turn back.
It was hours, days, almost a week of wandering.
It seemed that he couldn’t stay away. Wasn’t able to throw away the importance and meaning of their relationship. Ignorant and stupid, as if ignoring the issue would somehow cause it to dissipate.
He was back to square one.
The day when he finally had the courage to confess that she meant something to him.
She happily agreed, laughed, danced, teased. Expressed many emotions that he didn’t have.
But their happiness was fleeting.
The years caught up with her, but not with him.
Soon, she couldn’t move as she used to. She didn’t have the energy from before. She slept early, napped more; didn’t feel like eating. He was scared of touching her, holding her, just in case she broke. Time was a cruel thing.
An inevitable reality.
But ignorance was bliss.
However, his ignorance was loathsome.
A shadow of his former self stood in front of the tiny hut. He tried to stay away, to leave—to go to the corners of the land. But he always circled back. He had to circle back. However, he could only come so close before leaving again. It was as Sango had said. He was a coward—
“...You came.” A gentle voice floated out through the straw thatched door. His canine instincts screamed at him to run. But he couldn’t. She coughed, taking a shallow breath, “Won’t you come in, this time?”
She knew.
Of course she knew.
Gingerly, he stepped through, ducking his crown of silver hair briefly to enter the small space.
Everything else was a blur as he focused on the heave of breath under the covers. He took a step forward, inching closer, seeing strands of white hair, face turned from him.
Involuntarily, it rolled off his tongue, “Kagome?”
The body shifted, barely able to turn. Her pretty features had aged; the soft taut skin became creased with extended use. Clear blue eyes faded to a mute grey.
But it was the same smile, her eyes barely opened.
“Well hello, stranger.”
She was still able to joke, but it crushed him even more.
His swords and armour was tossed to the side. Heavy knees knelt before her with a thump; wordlessly he gathered the fragility of her body into his arms. She was light, frail, in a position of weakness, and he left her. He had left her out of self-interest, something he swore not to do.
Because he had experienced loneliness.
Understood the solitude.
The pain.
The suffering.
The regret.
But he didn’t have the capability to apologise.
An icy hand cupped his cheek, a weak smile touching her lips, “I know, Sesshomaru. I know, and it’s okay.”
Her body felt thin through the fabric, if he squeezed any tighter it was like she’d disappear. He hugged her close, breathing in her scent that now had a twinge of loneliness. Something he was familiar with. Something he would never forget.
She let him grasp her weak body, familiarly leaning into his warm chest.
“Even if the whole world doesn’t understand, I do.”
He made a sound, like an injured animal. Her wrinkled, feeble hand reached up to stroke the back of his head, feeling the silkiness of the strands.
He wasn’t good with words.
Even worse with being expressive.
So he hoped, prayed, that she could feel what he felt.
But she was good at that—good at a lot of things—but best of all good with him.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
He halted his breath and claws gripped the fabric of her yukata tighter, mumbling something incoherent.
“I used to be scared too, but not anymore. And that’s because of you.” She could feel the tremor emitting from his body and she cooed, “don’t be scared, Sesshomaru.”
They sat in silence and felt each other’s heartbeat.
He had never said it, and he thought he never would.
But in sudden realisation he knew this was his only chance.
“...I love you, Kagome.”
She took a shaky breath, smiling, making one last comment.
“Good bye, my love.”
Her arm slipped.
Limp.