Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but my dreams. Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks: I want to thank my wonderful beta, Mou Tzu Saotome, for his patience and dedication. I seriously recommed his work, he has real talent at writing.

Music: I have written this listening to the following music:

"Carmina Burana", by Carl Orff (yes, the whole opera)

A few songs of Blur, Metallica, Héroes del Silencio, Danza Invisible, Sex pistols, the Cardigans, Amaral, Anastacia, the Beatles and Simon &Garfunkel

"Iris", by Go Go Dolls

"Real to me", by Bryan McFadden

"It's gonna rain." By Bonnie Pink

"The bittersweet symphony" by The Verve

Authoress' note: this fic is a result of a challenge. I am beta-ing some writers and one of them issued me this challenge:

What would have happened if Inuyasha had been aware of his surroundings all that time pinned to the tree?

UNDERSTANDINGS AND SENSATIONS

Inuyasha looked up at the bright sky and smiled to himself. Two days. Only two days more and they would return. His smile grew wider and then, as if realizing what he was doing, and what he was supposed to do, he shook his head.

"Feh! I don't know why we have to go back! It's not like those te-est things are important!" He yelled at Kagome, putting on his best annoyed look. "Furthermore, we have more important things to do!"

"Sorry if I want to get a future, Mr. Always-complaining! People here have lives! And they are called tests! Not te-ests!" The girl replied back, her yelling getting really loud, making Inuyasha cringe, but he did not show it.

"You're so… Never mind! Feh!"

"OSUWARIIIIIIIIIIIIIII" Inuyasha was pulled onto the ground by the spell of his rosary, and waited until it wore off.

A friendly hand was extended before him, enveloped in a silky material. He took the hand and looked at the face of his friend.

"That ought to hurt, didn't it?" The concern remarking each word.

"Nah, it's only that the wench does not like to hear the truth!"

"Osuwari! I heard that!" The annoyed voice of a teenager sounded in the valley.

Miroku smirked at his hanyou friend, whose ears were twitching madly.

"Tell me, you really do this on purpose, do you?" The sly comment was accompanied by an amused look he did not even try to hide.

"What makes you think so?" The hanyou asked with a wicked smile and an eyebrow arched. The monk laughed, and shook his head.

"You'll never learn!"

Inuyasha laughed too. 'If you only knew, Miroku. If I could only show all of you what I've learnt… What I really am, what I really feel.'

Inuyasha was no idiot, after everything people could think of him. He had survived on the wilderness since he was nothing but a child, at least to human eyes. Even now, he was younger that Miroku, who himself was nearly twenty years old, if he guessed right. However, age was not a matter of physical appearance, but a matter of soul and mind.

He could recall Kikyo and how old she really was. Kaede was younger than her in most aspects, even now, that she felt the weight of years and responsibilities. Kikyo was wise, yes, wise beyond her age, and he had been truly impressed by her knowledge of the world. She could certainly be deadly, but she could care with the tenderness of a caring mother. She loved children, and she would have given her life for any little child who was in danger. But she would not have hesitated in killing the same child if she knew it was a youkai. Or a hanyou. When she first had seen him, and she had not killed him, he knew, in an instinctual way, that she saw him as a different being from the rest of demons who tried to steal the Tama. He still wondered why she had not killed him. He was sure that, perhaps, the day before, or the day after, she would have. But she didn't. He asked himselft often if the reason behind it was that he was not evil. He was untamed, simply as that.

Hell, he was still untamed. And he was not going to allow himself to be subdued. That was the main reason he still fought with Kagome. He was not a puppy one can command around. He was himself. If he did not even let that bastard of a brother of his dominate him, why should he be dominated by a "schoolgirl" who acted rather as a child than the woman she was supposed to be?

He frowned. He had to acknowledge the fact that, in Kagome's time, people did grow up later. At the age where people here were considered adults, there were still children. He wondered what would have those people thought of a child who had to look for himself alone in an extremely dangerous forest since a very young age. They would be horrified, and they could not even begin to imagine what he had been through.

He knew it was not fair; in this time, orphans were common. But they usually died if nobody was there to take care of them. It was that thought that scared him. Nobody had cared for him, except his mother. Until Kikyo, and, still, it took a long time for her to realize that she did really care about him. For a long time, she behaved like she did not care if he was there or not. Then, they had become a rather strange couple of sorts. They had not even kissed, or showed their affection in a public display. The only time he was close to her was after that afternoon at the lake, when she had tripped while jumping out of the boat, and he had held her against him.

He smiled unconsciously at the image in his mind. He had been so excited for a single touch.

Then, she had betrayed him. Yes, betrayed. That is exactly the word. Betrayal, as much as it pained him to say so. She was a miko, a powerful one in addition. And extremely-well trained, furthermore. But she was so angered and so blinded by her own ire that she had not realized even the different youki. He knew that Kagome could confound him, but it did not matter because she was not trained to distinguish youkis. However, he was sure Miroku would not confound him, well, unless the impostor found a way to copy his aura. It was possible, he knew.

"What are you doing, dog-boy?" The high-pitched voice of a child interrupted him.

"Leave me alone, brat!" He could sense the playful mood in Shippo, and he felt like letting him play around a little.

"Dog-boy, dog-boy!"

"You're dead, kit! Wait till I get my hands on you!"

The pursuit began. He tried very hard to keep a straight face, really, fighting against the urge to smile and laugh, but then…

"Osuwari! Inuyasha, don't be mean to poor Shippo"

Ignorant wench. If she knew how much damage she was doing to Shippo, she would stop her stupid interruptions. When pups, dogs play, like every specie. They would fight, and pursuit, and bark, and perhaps bite, but they would never do any real damage. It was good for the pups; it was the best way of having them grow healthy and strong, to teach them where to bite, and how to fight. Why she did not see that Shippo needed that was beyond his comprehension.

Shippo was a kit. And kits were very similar to pups. He was educating the brat, and he was doing good, why did everyone mistook his intentions? He loved the brat! He would kill anyone who dared to put a hand on him. Hell, he would put even Naraku's methods of torture to shame if someone really hurt his kid. To be sincere, he would put to shame those same methods if someone tried to hurt anyone of his friends. Miroku, Sango, Kagome, Kirara, Kaede. Hell, he would even stand up for Sesshoumaru, if only for the sake of the little girl he seemed to have adopted, in an odd way. Whether if the girl was his ward, his pet, his adopted daughter, his servant, or even only a new method of annoying the toad (the toad being Jaken), he did not care. His brother kept the girl fed, clothed, and safe, and the child obviously loved him, and would follow him no matter what.

After all, he knew what his brother was suffering, and he did understand, even if he did not approve his chosen path. The path of conquest, of power. Of pain and loneliness. Well, not that his path has been better until now, he guessed. Well, now that he thought, being the forest wasn't that bad. There were always those problems with fire, and excessive rain, but, apart from this, it was amazing.

He really was looking forward to arrive home.

"Inuyasha, I'm tired." Kagome complained in the background, and he did not even retort. He sensed his surroundings, and pointed a direction. "A mile in this direction there is a river. There are not hot springs in the area, sorry Kagome, but you'll have to do without hot water."

The rest of the group – his pack, he corrected himself – nodded silently and followed his lead to the designed camping site.

"Inuyasha!" Shippo's voice sounded very loud to his extremely sensitive ear, and he winced.

"What do you want, brat!"

"What is bothering you? You've been quiet all day."

"Nothing" He answered harshly, more than he intended.

The group went a little about how strange was for him to be silent all day, but he did not care, looking at the sky, with a soft smile in his lips. He could almost recognise each star, as much time as he had spent stargazing. He remembered that, when he was little, his mother used to tell him legends of gods who lived there, and who had come to the Earth.

"Nice night, isn't it?" The deep and smooth voice of Miroku startled him out of his reverie.

"Yes." He did not feel like talking, and Miroku quickly understood, lying beside him. Soon, Miroku drifted to sleep, his breath more deep, his heart sounding slower. He smiled again, and decided that, for tonight, he might as well rest on the floor. He had extended his youki, and there was no youkai in the area that would attack them, so there was no need for him to keep vigil all the night. They all would be safe, he was there.

He remembered his own first nights alone, in the woods, frightened and scared, and so utterly alone. Alone. He was only a child. He looked at Shippo, and wondered how it was for him the month between his father's death and their first encounter. He was even younger than him at that time. The kit was, indeed, brave, having wanted to face the Thunder brothers all alone. Yes, he would train this child, find out everything about kitsune's magic and teach him how to use it, how to transform to his true self, how to fight. Yes, he would do it, no matter Kagome's opinion. The boy was a youkai. Humans had some necessities, but, in this era, Shippo needed different things, and she should understand that. After all, she loved the brat, and she wanted the better for him. She could not want Shippo to face the hard and possibly deathly task of having to learn how to fight by himself. Not that many people survived.

He closed his eyes, planning future trainings, and fell asleep.

"Inuyasha, breakfast is ready."

He opened his eyes, looking at the face of Kagome. Scenting the air, he smiled hopefully at her.

"Ramen? Yes?"

She sighed, closing her eyes in a sign of tiredness, while trying to make her smile disappear.

"Yes."

A blur of silver and red crossed before her eyes, and then a loud squeak.

"That's my ramen!"

"Shut up, brat!"

The snapping continued for some minutes. Kagome looked at the hanyou. He seemed tense, and relaxed, at the same time. Wonder what he had been thinking the whole previous day, with that haunted look in his eyes.

Inuyasha ignored the look of concern on Kagome's face, and kept on 'playing' with Shippo, annoying Miroku and making of himself a fool, on general.

He remembered still the feeling of walking, of running, of jumping, of swimming in a cool lake, water soothing his tensed muscles. He still could remember the scent of spring, of hundreds of flowers blooming. He still could smell the fruits in summer, feel the warm air moving slightly his hair. He could sense the coldness in his feet as he walked in a snowed valley. He could still remember how warm and safe he was in his mother's embrace, as a very little child, so long ago. But then, all he could feel was rage, ire, pain, hurt, sadness and despair. She had rejected him, and she had tried to kill him. But she was not powerful enough to do so, he wished she could. If she had, he would not experience that overwhelming pain flowing through his veins, through his soul.

He could feel the arrow, the power emanating from it. He could feel as he absorbed some miko's powers from it, and he could feel how the arrow connected him to the sacred tree.

Strange as it sounds, he could sense the forest.

He could sense the comfortable feeling of cool air caressing the petals of a flower kilometers away. He could sense the tickling feeling of the paws of a fox as he wandered through the forest. He could feel the warm sensation of the sun's rays as they hit the leaves of a tree. He could sense it all.

He remembered the forest feeling him, too. He could sense the forest in the same way the forest could sense him. Connection.

The forest accepted him. The forest looked at his past, and still accepted him.

Inuyasha, his name, took meaning then. "Dog forest spirit", it meant. And now, it was true.

He learned, then. He knew of better times for this forest. He knew about trees that had died, about millions of flowers that bloomed and died every year, he knew then about the everlasting feeling of being eternal.

He remembered clearly the melancholy the forest became in autumn. The feeling a tree experienced as a leave fell down, the tiredness all the vegetation suffered, how flowers died, how fruits fell from its branches. But he loved the sensation of millions of drops of water caressing each inch of ground, the sensual feeling of a drop sliding slowly over the surface of a leave.

He remembered winters, when everything seemed so calm, so cold, where everything was sleeping. He accepted it, because he could feel the power accumulating, flowing under the seemingly dead picture of life. He could sense the vegetation preparing its blooming, under the snow. He loved winter because she came.

He loved springs, when he experienced the new feeling of a flower opening his petals to the world, the earth laughing with the steps of all those animals. The power. Spring was all about power, and strength, and expectancy. Expecting summer.

Summer. Maturity. Maturity was the most satisfying feeling. Sated, completed, feeling completely at peace. Maturity. He was so young then, but the forest told him about this. He knew that Maturity, for him, held a different meaning from the rest of living beings.

Then fall again.

But everything was not about this.

The forest accepted him, and gave him the calmness, the quietness, the peace, the reflexive insight. He gave the forest youth, and passion, and desire to fight and to live. He gave the forest the knowledge of other lands, far away from there. He gave the forest the knowledge of feelings. How love felt, how betrayal, how loyalty, how pain. And the forest understood.

He became a part of the forest, and the forest became a part of him. Connection.

But he was not dead to the world. He knew Kaede came to him. In winter. She would spent whole days staring at his sleeping form, and talking.

She would talk about her life, about the village, about her training, about her pain. He would listen, and he would understand. He wished he could speak to her. He wished he could transmit to her the knowledge of the forest, the truth about life and death. He wished. But the arrow, the same arrow that gave him the most wonderful experience in his whole life – being the forest – took this away from him. He wanted to tell her about his life, about his pain, how much alike they were. How it felt to be alone, how it felt to have to face a hard life without nobody by your side.

He wanted, but he could not, so he waited and listened, offering a mute comfort to the child, the girl, the woman, as she suffered.

The forest understood him, the forest wanted to help her. She was so much connected to Earth than her sister. Her aura was warm, powerful. Where she was, the vegetation around her will feel her, and would be protected.

Inuyasha wondered about Kaede.

He remembered the first time she came. She was a child with a patch in her eye. She cried, because her sister was dead, she had no one, and the rest of people looked down at her, or worse, did ignore her. She was too young, and so unprotected, he thought. Kaede did not deserve this. She reserved a mother and a father who loved her, who took care of her, who supported her. But she was alone. She was so young, and she needed to train to become a miko. Kaede had dreams, but all of them shattered. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be a healer. But she did not want to be a miko. Because she wanted to love. And a miko does not love. A miko helps, a miko takes care of, but does not love. And she loved.

She wanted someone, and she had come to him.

She walked away.

The following year, she came again. She sat in silence for days. One day, she spoke.

"I loved her. Did you know? She was like my mother, but she left me behind."

He wanted to yell it was a lie, her sister had been forced. And then, he remembered the betrayal.

"She left you behind, just like me. But you are lucky. You are not a shadow. You are not a fake. I am nothing but an imitation. A cheap one."

She was only thirteen years old, and she was dying inside. He acknowledged that fact, the same way he knew she was true. She wanted to be her, but she could not.

Next year, she came again.

"I am practicing archery, just like her. He says I'm not good enough, not good as her. He says I will never be as good. He says I will not reach her level."

The following year, she came again. He was waiting for her since the first snow.

"Hello." He was surprised, she had greeted. She never greeted. She thought for a few moments. "Next year, I will finish my training and come here again." She fell silent again. This time, her silence lasted five days. He was desperate; he wanted to talk to her, to ask her about her life, about her feelings. How bright the sky was, if it was still the same blue.

He could feel and experience everything that happened in the forest, but he missed colours, smells, he missed seeing the rain pouring instead of feeling it.

She seemed to understand, even if he did not move, even if he did stay there, sleeping. She talked about the place where she practiced archery, the area she had reserved to her hut, when she was forced to return. He would have frowned, if he could. Forced to return? He understood, however, her need to run away from the shadows they were forcing her into. She was herself, but she would only be seen as her sister's imitation. No matter what she did, they would never understand the untamed power that flowed through her body. She was young, much younger than her sister was when he met her. She was still almost a child, but she was alone. No one should experience such an excruciating loneliness at such young age. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would listen to her every word, who could look at her and smile, only because she was there. She did deserve better than the ex-lover of her sister, the ex-lover her sister had died while trying to slay.

He felt so sorry he could not help her. I wanted to be that someone, that friend she so desperately needed, but I could not.

The following year, she came to him again. She stared at him for a long time. He knew she was. He could feel the pressure of her weight on the Earth, and the warmth that enveloped her aura, next to the sacred tree. He wanted to greet her, to transmit the feelings that he forest experienced when she was near. He wanted to explain to her how her power flowed from her to the Earth, spreading, how she was much more connected to the Nature than her sister ever was; how this connection made her extremely powerful. The power of a miko is based on equilibrium, knowledge and understanding of the own limits.

She smiled at him. At least, he thought she smiled at him. He did not see her, tough.

"I am here."

Silence.

"I am a miko now. My sensei says that I have finished my training. But it is not true. There are things I don't understand, herbs I don't know of, there are species of youkai I haven't heard of yet. I have still to learn how inu-youkai like you are to be slain. It seems that, seeing as you're not dead, only sleeping, you cannot be killed with purifying energy. You can be damaged by it, no doubt, but you cannot die by it.

Did you know I passed across a village where people spoke about a man like you? Long silver hair, golden and penetrating eyes. They said he was amazingly tall, but he moved with a natural grace that only comes with being unearthly. They said he was beautiful, and even they could feel the power he released. They said he had claws in his apparently delicate hands, and was dressed all in white. I wondered if it was you. But no, it could not be, because you are here, sleeping. And they said he looked as a very young man, but no, you don't look like a man, you look much younger, a teenager. You look my age, not twenty and some years old. I wanted to see who he was, who dared to stole your appearance and made things in your name, but then I wondered that perhaps it was another youkai. But it could not be someone like you. You are a hanyou, I know this, and it does not escape my intelligence that you are an extremely powerful hanyou, but you are not a full-breed. I have studied that usually half-breeds are disgusting creatures who often die in a few weeks. Only few survive. But you were strong, and you were intelligent, and you could fight, and you were free, and you could laugh, and cry, and experience pain. So I do not think you were evil. You loved my sister. I know that. She told me you were going to give up your youkai inheritance only for her. But I must say that you were a fool.

You were blind, totally and completely blind. You could not see that you are what you are and who you are because you are a hanyou. You need the blood of your parents flowing through your veins to be sane, and complete. Giving away that part of you would have only resulted in pain and hurt, and despair. You would have resented my sister, and you would have been miserable. My sister was selfish to wish this fate for you. If you did the wish, the jewel would have been purified, because your desire was pure. But, if she made the wish, her soul would have been damned by the jewel. Her desires were selfish. She wanted to refuse her own obligations; she wanted you to change to mould her. Love is accepting the other. I know that. People look at me and do not love me, because I am different, I am not the person they wanted me to be. I am a miko, yes, but I refuse to believe that every youkai I cross is evil. A being is evil in the measure its soul is. Humans can be evil, and demons can be not. Is that simple, but that complicated at the same time.

Nobody wants to hear this, because they say I am insane. Insane for thinking on my own. I am not stupid; I know I am not that powerful to be careless. But it's me, the way I am.

I know you can't hear me, but I do not care. Did you know I have spent the past week without talking to anyone? Not even a word? You know how it feels? You know how hard it is for me to go gather the food, do the work at the hut, fight demons and then, at night, finally, be alone? I'm seventeen, but I feel like I am much older. Much, much older. I can not even sleep well, you know? I think it's the dreams fault, yes, those dreams where my sister tells me I am a shadow, where she is all bloody, and where she finds peace in death, while it is me who is burning in her funerary pyre.

You know the feeling of being in a brink of death. Probably you know it, I believe. You were alone, I think I remember, when you met my sister, and you are so young, still. So you probably would have to face death in more occasions you can think of.

Funny, because I guess I can understand you, even if only a little.

Perhaps I should go know, it is getting dark. You know, surely better than me that this is hunting hour for some carnivore demons.

I'll see you. Perhaps."

He could feel her aura getting near to her hut, undisturbed by monsters during those minutes.

He had wished for her a better world, but her fate could not be avoided.

"Inuyasha, you all right?" The concerned voice of Miroku pulled him out of his line of thoughts.

"Um… what? Emmm, where? How?"

The monk chuckled at his friend's obvious spacing out.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Perhaps you should tell me in what type of dream where you so engaged?" his tone sly, his smirk put firmly in place.

"What? You lech! I was not thinking about nothing hentai!" He shrieked.

"Who said nothing about hentai things? It wasn't me. Oh, you're so going to tell me what where you thinking about."

"I'm not!"

"Are too!"

"Yes"

"No"

"Please?"

"Your puppy eyes don't work on anybody, bouzou!"

"Oh, c'mon! I won't tell!" The houshi whined.

"No"

"Please."

Inuyasha thought about it.

"Perhaps. When you are ready. I will tell you then." He answered in a totally serious voice. Miroku understood, Inuyasha had been doing serious thinking, and that moment could not be the best to express their concerns.

"Ok, you know I'm here, don't you?"

Inuyasha didn't respond, but smiled, continuing his line of thoughts again, staring at the fire where the meal was being cooked.

Fire. He still could remember his first fire. Well, his first fire as a part of the forest, anyway.

He could remember the agonizing pain of fire, as it burnt plants, trees, as it devastated everything. He could feel the asphyxia, the rage, the impotent feeling that the whole forest experienced at such attack. Well, the forest was all about calmness, and maturity, and wisdom. But he was all about passion, and strength, and will to live. So he helped the forest. He helped the area to regenerate; he willed the plants to grow there again.

He and forest had merged completely in that very moment. He could sense it. He had acquired peace, wisdom, knowledge, quietness, but he had given in return his temper, his untamable heart, his passion, his rage and his love.

They had shared, and they had grown.

Inuyasha was completed.

Kaede still came to him. She talked about the villagers. She talked about the man she loved.

Oh, that man. It was a wandering houshi, so much like Miroku, but less… hentai. He was all about power and knowledge, and she wanted to learn. He taught her about some herbs, about fighting. She talked endlessly about her excitement about learning how to use a dagger properly. Archery was good, but in short distance, it was useless. She offered him comfort, a roof, food. She gave him a feeling of home. She was happy. Inuyasha could sense it in her aura. It was brighter, and she seemed to radiate happiness and warmth.

One day, she came crying. He had left. Like that. He was told who she was, and so, he, the man who had forgiven her lack of an eye, her faults, her poorness, and had loved her pureness, left. Left her because she was Kikyo's sister, because she was connected, if remotely, to the Shikon no Tama, and thus, she was cursed.

He left because he could not deal with it. He loved her, but he was young, full of life. Loving a miko was a sin, but loving a miko related to the Shikon no Tama was attempting to lose one self's soul.

He left, and she loved him. She mourned her fate, she wanted to die, but she could not, because the same people who had ruined her chance at happiness needed her. She wanted to scream her pain, her hurt, but she did not. She smiled and cared for everyone. And sometimes, when the pain felt too heavy, she would come to the sacred tree, and would pour her heart to Inuyasha, the man who will be sleeping for all eternity because he dared to love. Sometimes, she would confess she would want to be there, pinned to that tree, sleeping, instead of him. And Inuyasha wondered how good it would be to the forest to merge with her, because she was pure, and powerful, and she was all about love and forgiveness.

But she continued with her life.

One day, he remembered, about in his ninth year of sleep, Sesshoumaru came to him.

He was without Jaken, who he knew was with him because the toad had been with Sesshoumaru for a long time, long before Inuyasha himself was born, probably. His elder brother had a powerful youki, which make itself known in a very wide area. The whole forest could sense his power. He could sense when his brother was near the beach. He himself had been born near that beach.

When his brother was near the peaceful dunes, he could sense it.

He wondered why his older brother had actually bothered to come and visit his eternal rest. Then the realization hit him suddenly. Sesshoumaru had come to verify if it was true, that he was sleeping. Forever.

His brother's youki was impressive, he remembered. It was a pleasant feeling. Sacred trees had a very powerful connection among them. The daiyoukai's energy was pure, strange as it sounds. He had also suffered in life, but, no matter what he did, what massacres he could commit, his youki was pure. He had also a powerful will, an iron soul.

His brother had looked at him for a long time, before touching his face slightly, in a surprisingly gentle caress.

"May you rest in peace, little brother."

And he had left. Not once had he come near his area when he was still sleeping.

Inuyasha thought about his brother. He was not really evil. While he was not willing to admit it in public, he admired his brother.

He was a complex being. He had depths no one ever knew. He was wise beyond his years. He had strong emotions. But he had even more control. It was rather amusing, if you thought about it.

His brother had been raised to rule. Thus, no emotions were allowed, only the sense of justice and equality. He was a fair ruler. His criteria were objective. He protected his lands, killed the one who threatened them. He did not kill for amusement, or distraction, or because he had to survive. He did not even kill for his own life. After all, he understood that his life, Sesshoumaru's own life, was not his. It belonged to the ones he ruled over. His life was only meaningful while he could be useful, while he was respected among his, while he was feared among his enemies.

Sesshoumaru had had a hard life. His father was not there for him, and he what to suffer from his birth the pressure of protocol. The protocol was asphyxiating, Inuyasha could remember long ago, when he was only but a small child, and his mother and he had been in one palace, and all the rules he had to respect and obey; how oppressive that had been.

Sesshoumaru could not love. Sesshoumaru could not speak with freedom. Sesshoumaru could not laugh. Sesshoumaru could not even smile. Sesshoumaru could not feel the touch of another being if he was not killing it. And not even then. His fighting style is one that does not allow physical contact. He fights with his whip, or a sword, but he rarely touches anybody.

Inuyasha remembered his first weeks in the wilderness. It had been hard, really hard, not being able to speak to anyone, to hear anyone, to sense anyone but the wild animals, to feel the comforting touch of someone. He was a tactile person, and, as inus, he loved to be petted. To be caressed. He loved when someone rubbed his ears, tough, precisely for the closeness it implied; he tried very hard to avoid that type of contact.

Because of that, Sesshoumaru's quick and tremulous caress had been so shocking.

Because of that, it had hurt him more when they had returned to their original ways. He had been so enraged that he even cut off Sesshoumaru's arm. It will grow, eventually, after all, he was powerful, and, certainly, it was not a handicap to Sesshoumaru. He could defend himself like before. Hell, he was as good as before, when he had both arms!

He was royally pissed, tough.

Inuyasha had felt the deception the forest felt when he tried to explain his actions, but the forest had understood.

The forest always understood.

He smiled.

Looking forward, he could see the outlines of the mountains. Tomorrow afternoon, he will be home. Sitting in the tree, feeling the quiet forest in him, feeling the beat of life, and wisdom, and purity.

He closed his eyes, in a half-dreaming way, willing his body to respond to his every command.

Extend your youki all over the area, sense the earth, the tickling grass in your feet, the soft rustle of the leaves.

Now, check companions' states.

Kagome was worried; the slight disturbance in her aura told him so. She was probably worried about one of these things about school. If he were her, he would be probably more worried over how was a good older brother or not. It was not normal when Souta came to him instead of her for advice. He hardly knew the kid, and he certainly did not understand a lot of things of that world. However, the kid seemed more comfortable telling him his problems that telling his sister. He could understand his mother, he wouldn't want to worry her, he was the same. He could understand his granddad. Hell, the man was nuts. But, at first, Kagome seemed much closer to Souta, and now…

Perhaps he should talk about this to her.

On better thought, he did not want to die in a very painful way for pissing her badly, calling directly "you're the worst sister ever", which is what she would interpret from his words. Inuyasha knew he was not that good at expressing himself, but the girl had a tendency to misinterpret every word he said.

When he called her bitch, it was not an insult; it meant that she was part of his pack. He was an inu, for kami-sama's shake! It was the same reason behind him calling Shippo 'brat' or 'kit' or 'whelp'.

Talking about Shippo, the whelp seemed upset, or worried, or sad. The kit's emotions were difficult to read. He was also so full of pain and bad memories in his short life.

Perhaps tonight he would make him sleep with him. To leave Kagome time to study, he would say. The kit would say nothing. Perhaps Kagome will not try to sit him to death when he tried to cheer the fox by pursuing him all around the forest. It was meant to play, not to hurt.

The monk was feeling uneasy. He was worrying all over his kazaana again.

Oh well, it meant that the damned hole will start to pulse and Miroku will rub then Sango's ass. Only to erase the painful feeling and replace it with a pleasant sensation.

Inuyasha transformed his smile into a smirk when he listened to a slap behind him, and someone screeching "hentai".

Sango was well, he guessed by the sound of the slap.

Miles later, Inuyasha was not tired, but he forced himself to sleep, despite the excitation. He loved to dream. In his sleep, he was no longer the brash hanyou everyone made fun of, until they were slaughtered. No. In his dreams, he was still pinned to the tree.

Sometimes, he would be remembering all those stories Kaede used to tell him, all those stories about some child's or another's "adventures", or about the current demon, or about her life, or her dreams. Or perhaps he would remember the exact feeling of summer. Or he would experience again the blinding pleasure of the rain caressing the earth.

Sometimes, he would remember fires. He would remember trees destroyed, or the agonizing silent scream of the forest, crying for rain, during an especially dry year. Or he would remember his mother's death. Or his years of solitude. Or Kikyo. And then, he would experience again the excruciating pain of knowing that those nightmares were, in truth, his life, not an imaginary situation.

Perhaps he should tell someone about those dreams. Now that he thought about it, Miroku perhaps would know why his dreams were somewhat related to his real life.

Or perhaps he should tell Kaede.

No, Kaede was not a good idea. Kaede would know that he knew. And she would feel betrayed, because it was her life we were talking about. She did not need to know that he could remember all the pain the priestess had been trough. She would feel betrayed, and he didn't need that. Kaede should still see him as a child. A somewhat spoiled child, like the brother or friend she used to want.

He smiled. Kaede sometimes spoke about the desire of having someone loud near her, someone who she could bicker with. Someone who would fill the silence with laughter, screams and conversations. Someone who made the loneliness disappear.

He could do that. After all, Kaede still smiled at his antics, and she seemed fond of some aspects of his personality. She could understand when he needed to be accompanied, when he needed to be alone, and when he needed someone to spend time in comfortable silence, thinking.

She was his little sister. Or his elder sister. Whatever. Part of the pack, in conclusion.

Yeah, tomorrow, he would explain the forest about the new interest of Shippo in which types of leaves were good to some transformations and which were not. And he would talk about Miroku's increasing worry about his kazaana. And Sango's nightmares with his brother. And perhaps he would talk about the little girl his brother had adopted, in a weird way. He would talk about the time he asked Sesshoumaru what did Rin really mean in his life.

And how speechless his brother had been.

Perhaps now his brother would understand why Rin is so important in his life, just the way all the members in his pack were important to him.

"Inuyasha!" He turned to see a very angry/confused/concerned school girl.

"What! I was thinking!"

"Umm, ramen?"

Inuyasha wondered when had the ramen been cooked. Or better, why the hell had he not been able to smell that? It was ramen, for Kami's shake!

Well, not that that mattered that much. They were almost there.

Tonight they would arrive.

And he'd be sleeping in his tree, while explaining the forest what happened. Perhaps it had happened something.

Perhaps the forest had sensed Naraku's aura, or some of his incarnation's. Perhaps the forest had sensed the dark aura that surrounded the Tama, and they had another trail to follow.

Perhaps he should let Miroku know. He was too intelligent for his own good, he would be able to comprehend the strange relationship he had with the forest, and his memories, and the people he was surrounded of.

He could try to understand, and he was a spiritual being. His abilities of concentration could never cease to amaze him. While Miroku could seem somewhat distracted, he knew better. When they travelled, the monk could spend hours looking straight at the front, avoiding falling on the ground, but barely aware of what happened at his surroundings. He was meditating. He exercised his powers. Extend aura, retreat aura. Make aura dangerous, make aura pacifying. Or simply, he could spent whole days thinking about the same fact, trying to find something. He often did.

As Inuyasha said before, Miroku was far complex than he let on. His whole façade of a pervert was only a distraction. Why it is then that Miroku was sometimes pursued by youkais, priestess, crazy-in-general ones that wanted to steal his power, or to control him? They came exactly for him.

Just like, at night, some youkais might want to attack Sango, because of being a taijiya.

Or the same reason they wanted Kagome.

In this world, everything was about power, and dominance.

He had pursued the same things for a long time. Then, the fifty years on a tree happened, and he had changed.

Yeah, Miroku could perhaps understand. Maybe not the whole thing, but a great part.

"Were almost there! Look, Inuyasha!" The squeal of happiness of Shippo reminded him that the brat was still on his shoulder, not that he had noticed when the kid had jumped there in the first place.

His senses were getting duller, and he knew that was because of his own fatigue. He should not recall so intensely his past, the strain it put on his mind was incredible. The strong emotions that flowed through his body at his memories were too intense. To remember each little touch, each drop of rain, each flower, each second of sunlight, each centimeter of snow. And there had been an incredible amount. When he recalled a moment, it was like all his senses were overwhelmed, and his body could not manage to support the intensity of the sensations. He usually fell into a collapse.

Power, yes, but also a weakness.

The link he shared with the forest was too powerful, sometimes. He needed to learn to deal better with it. Perhaps he should ask Kaede or Miroku to teach him to meditate. Perhaps if he trained his youki, changed it by will, as Miroku did, he could switch on the "frequency" of the forest, and his strain will not be as enormous.

A sudden scent hit him.

The tree. He was home.

Inuyasha ran to the tree and jumped on it.

He spoke, and listened. The forest and he shared, in their own way. They merged once more, and Inuyasha felt safe, and calm, and protected, and not in charge.

He felt perfect. And he let the forest lull him to a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Hours after, he got up, looking wildly around him. He had just sensed something coming to him.

Miroku.

"Hey"

"Miroku? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was worried. Last night you did not even eat. I thought you felt broody, but this has last two whole days, and I'm beginning to think it may be dangerous. I mean, the thing you are thinking about. You seemed too tired, and you are not so easy to tire."

Inuyasha smiled, knowing what his friend had really meant with all those words.

"You mean you were curious, and you want to know, don't you?"

"Yep!" The monk grinned, and Inuyasha tried unsuccessfully not to smirk in return.

Inuyasha thought. He had told himself today he was going to explain everything to Miroku. He had promised himself he would. But then it hit him: he did not know how.

"I'm not prepared to do this, Miroku."

Ok, now Miroku did not look concerned, he had that look that said something along the lines "Nobody messes with my friends." That usually meant a youkai suffering from the wrath of a very homicidal monk. And then they say youkais are very possessive and protective. Well, they have obviously not met his pack.

"Tell me." And the edge in Miroku's voice had a promise of pain.

"There's nothing wrong. I do not think I will be able to explain it to you, but I know of something that could. Come here."

Inuyasha helped the monk to the tree and positioned him comfortably.

"Put your hand on the tree." Miroku obeyed, a quizzical look in his eyes. Inuyasha put his hand over the houshi's.

Kaede felt the disturbance in the air. She felt it in the trees, in their branches, in their leaves. She could feel it in the Earth, in the flowers, in the grass. She almost could sense a change, so much similar to those she had felt so long ago, a few days after her sister's death.

But, somehow, it seemed pacifying. There was calmness, quietness. And then, a surge of power. She had always thought she felt a strange connection to this forest, and it seemed that she was right, after all. The only being, apart from her, that experienced such a deep connection was, probably, Inuyasha. She had observed how he chose always trees or natural spots that held some significance, to rest and concentrate.

Perhaps she should speak to the young hanyou. About the meaning of his beautiful name.

Later that day, when Shippo came in search for the boys, they were still in that position, their hands connected to the tree, their eyes closed, and their expressions peaceful. They seemed younger, and he realized then, Miroku and Inuyasha were much younger than they looked. During day, their worries and attitudes masked perfectly their age, making them seem older that they were.

Shippo decided it was best if he returned to camp. After all, they seemed to be sleeping, tough the position was a bit uncomfortable. They were leaning one on the other and both on the tree, their hands connecting them to the trunk. He could feel something strange happening there, but he paid no attention, since it was not evil, as his youki confirmed.

Meanwhile, Miroku, like Inuyasha, and like the forest, understood. And he felt.

Thank you all for reading.

Davinci