It's been 500 years since the day my life had meaning. I was so happy back then. There is no place in this world, this time, for a half demon. I mean, at least in the 1500's I had a purpose. Even though I killed demons that harmed humans, I was still a killer. My hands have been bathed in so much blood over the years. I can still smell the blood of my enemies all over my hands.

There are no demons left now, and if there are, they are doing a pretty damn good job hiding. So, I wander the streets of Tokyo trying to learn whatever there is left for a 568 year old hanyou.

I stay at the Higurashi Shrine, with Kagome. She remembers all about the times in Sengoku Jidai. Her family puts up with me. They feed my, clothe me, keep me out of the rain, and I am grateful for it.

I wish I could go back, jump through the Bone-Eaters well and see my beloved again. He died about 483 years ago, tomorrow.

No one knew that Miroku and I were lovers. We never showed it. He always flirted with the women we met and I always insisted on his lechery. But he was a faithful lover, never straying to another. I have never let anyone touch me since he passed on.

Kagome always insists that we are together. No matter how many times I tell her I don't love her that way she shrugs it off and thinks that I'm hiding it. I want to tell her that I miss Miroku. I know it would hurt her, and I don't want to do that.

When I was young, I was an arrogant, bullheaded, selfish jerk. Now, I'm quiet and I cry a lot. I don't care if others see me. I often sit myself down in Buddhist temples and just bask in the beliefs that Miroku believed in so much.

There are a lot of things that remind me of my friends from long ago. I think of them often, for they were all human, save Shippou and Kirara, and they have all passed on. Whenever I see a small child, I think if the little kitsune that I secretly saw as my son. He was killed by my brother, Sesshoumaru. I never forgave him for that.

Sango died at the ripe old age of 82, an unheard of age for that time. I took Kirara and kept her, until the small demon took her own life out of sorrow and loyalty to her owner. I feel partially responsible. I should have watched her more.

Miroku and I had set up a little home in Kaede's village. We lived together, comfortably, until the day came when he... you know. He was about 35. I remember that day so well, as it was the day my existence lost its meaning.

It started out as an ordinary day. I awoke with him in my arms, his chest pressed against my own, and his lips touching my neck. He awoke soon after, and nuzzled his face into my neck, like he did every morning. He mumbled something, and kissed the flesh beneath his lips.

We eventually made or way out of bed, quickly to find ourselves back in it only a half hour later. Our lovemaking was always slow and gentle. We were as tender to each other as one would be a newborn baby. I still remember the exact way we touched each other, and I often replay that last session in my mind, as it was one of the best. We were lost in the heat of passion that morning, and oh how I miss the way he touched me and held me to him. I still dream about that perfect body beneath mine.

When we had both sated our need for each other, we once again made ourselves presentable to the world. We had planned to hike out to the village where we met and reminiscent the past.

Things didn't go as planned. Naraku, my greatest enemy, snatched the life of my lover right beneath my nose. I had went to relieve an everyday bodily function, AKA urinate, and when I returned to where I left my partner, I found him lying in a pool of his own blood, struggling for his breath. I heard Naraku's wicked laugh reign over the trees and I fell to my knees next to Miroku. I pulled his head onto my lap and stroked his hair. I remember him struggling to hold his consciousness, as I kissed his bloodstained lips.

He struggled to speak, and managed to croak that he loved me, so much. He raised his hand with his last ounce of strength and caressed my cheek. I kissed him again, after telling him that I loved him too, and when I finally had the courage to lift my lips from his, I knew that Miroku was alive no longer.

In a desperate rage, I used my claws to slash at my own flesh, to end my life and be with him, but it was in vein. My heart refused to stop beating.

I felt my blood begin to boil in a rage that rivaled that of one hundred rabid wolves and I stood ready to destroy the monster that took my love from me.

I don't remember much of what happened next. All I remember is the intense satisfaction of ripping the limbs of Naraku one by one. I remember the blood splattering against the wall next to us and the feeling of his still pumping heart in my hand as I ripped it out of his body.

I sit, now in this time era and reflect the last day that my life was perfect. After that, days, hours, and minutes all blended together. I have no concept of time any longer.

I sit, now under the Sacred Tree, and hold the bottle of pills in my hand. It says take no more than 2 at once. I pop open the lid and drop about 20 or so into my palm. One by one I place them into my mouth and swish them down with the warm sake I have by my side. I can feel the Seroquel taking place in my system. My eyes are starting to droop, and I feel sleep begin to overcome my senses. I pull the short letter I wrote to Kagome out of my shirt, and lay it next to my leg.

I can see the image of Miroku kneeling next to me, and I reach out to him, pulling him to my chest. He collapses against me, and mumbles, into my neck, just like he used to every morning.

He pulls back a little, and smiles, beaming with happiness.

"Inuyasha, I've missed you so much. What took you so long?"

THE END

Seroquel is a medicine used to make insomniacs sleepy. I need it. Lol. Anyway, the dosage Inuyasha took was more than enough to kill someone. Basically, he just shut all his body functions down. Please review!!