Disclaimer (for entire story): I don't own Inuyasha.

A homely suburb barely an hour away from the bustling city of Los Angeles was experiencing a sudden rush entering its borders. On that warm, autumn day as the leaves were slowly turning crimson and gold on the trees lining the sidewalks, a solemn parade of people accumulated around a quaint house on a cul de sac, most strangers to each other, but all sharing the same purpose—to say farewell to one they supposedly loved and hardly knew.

The sea of black suits and dresses didn't notice the lone figure that quietly slipped in through the front door. Amidst the soft murmur of voices and the faint tinkle of glassware, a tall young man with waist-length midnight hair easily mingled with the unsuspecting crowd as a pair of deep, violet eyes surveyed the scene before him. Faces, some recognizable, others strangers, all held the same vapid expression they believed to be remorse and grief. The smell of fingers sandwiches and champagne was in the air, as an unfamiliar voice uttered the phrase, "this is a celebration of his life."

Disgusted, he moved away from the pudgy man to which the voice belonged and into the main room, where across the equally crowded room stood the object of his visit. Surprisingly, not many stood near it, an effigy that paled in comparison to the one it held inside. Instead, the flocks of people milled around the refreshments and among themselves, with only a few glancing every now and then in the coffin's way.

The self-control the man held began to wear thin, and as he felt a bubble of anger swell in his chest, his fingers began to clench into tight fists. A low growl that began to emit from his throat was cut short as a warm hand grasped his unsuspecting shoulder.

"You made it."

The young man turned, coming face to face with the only two people he cared to see there. Another man, equal in height and age, stood with his hands jammed into his pockets, his usually bright navy eyes dull and blank, his lips pursed in a thin line. The woman beside him held a similar expression, wringing her hands in front of her as her chocolate-colored eyes searched his own.

"You're surprised?" He scrutinized the scene once more. "Who the hell are all these people?"

"Friends, acquaintances, colleagues," the other man wrinkled his nose. "Mostly distant relations."

"Keh, relations are overrated," he snorted, earning a few wide-eyed stares from some guests. "Half of these dolts are here for the food, and the other half don't even give a crap about who he was."

"Inuyasha, keep your voice down," the woman chided half-heartedly. "They'll hear you."

"Since when did Inuyasha speak to not be heard, Sango?" Miroku drawled sarcastically. "Besides, you know it's true."

"In the end it's still rude," she retorted hotly. "These people might not care as much as we do, but they're still here all the same."

"Who's that woman over there?" Inuyasha interrupted, his gaze landing on a shadow that had not moved from its spot next to the coffin since he walked into the room.

Miroku and Sango glanced over. "That's Kagome. Kouga's fiancé."

"Fiancé?" Inuyasha's expression softened as he watched the young woman lift a handkerchief to her eyes. "So that's her then."

"Yes," Miroku sighed. "She's such a pleasant and warm thing, not at all the grieving would-be-widow you see there."

"I think she's taking it the hardest, even harder than his mother," Sango supplied quietly. "She was the passenger in the motorcycle when the accident happened."

Kagome was exhausted. Wanting nothing more to crawl underneath her covers and sleep until eternity, she was forced to endure the stares and whispers of people who claimed to know her late fiancé. She didn't bother to put on a mask of fake smiles and caring words; Kouga was gone, and nothing she or anyone else could do or say could bring him back.

His face was perfect. The scratches the accident had bestowed upon him were covered with foundation, and his hair was brushed till it shone. He retained the exact expression he had while he slept, and dressed in a black suit, looked as though he would wake from his slumber and walk down the aisle, waiting for her at the alter.

The sound of a baby's cries brought her out of her daydream. No, she thought inconsolably, it would never happen.

The thought of never seeing his bright blue eyes, eyes that looked into her own with such love, never opening again nearly brought her to her knees. Part of her was thankful that her body stopped responding to the thoughts in her mind, and the other was frustrated that she couldn't crawl into the coffin with him and cling to him with her very last breath.

Kouga…

"Kagome?"

Chiyo, Kouga's mother, emerged from the crowd, her own blue eyes filled with new tears as she rushed towards her. She was a tall, lean woman, much like her son was. As much as she loved his mother, seeing her was the last thing she needed at the moment.

"Kagome," she breathed, holding her in a tight embrace. "Kagome, you must come away from him, even if it is only for a few minutes."

The young woman leaned back, holding the elder by her shoulders. "You're too kind, she murmured, not meeting her motherly gaze, "but my place is here, by him."

"You haven't moved from this single spot in nearly two hours. Come, you could use some refreshments."

"No, thank you, I'm not hungry."

Kagome felt Chiyo hover by her side a moment longer, watching her closely before sighing in defeat and leaving to tend to the numerous guests that came to honor her fiancé's life. Closing her eyes briefly, she mentally thanked her for leaving, memories of Kouga danced behind her eyelids as new tears began to form.

"Hey."

An unfamiliar voice drifted towards her ears. Disconcerted, she turned to find a man, likely around Kouga's age, standing next to her. His face turned away from Kagome, she was surprised to find that he wasn't talking to her, as she expected, but to the body in the coffin.

"It's been awhile, huh?" The man took a step closer, his hand reaching out and grasping the corner of the casket. "I don't think either one of this expected to say goodbye like this. I'm…sorry I wasn't there for you more often. I shouldn't have left like I did…and said the things I said."

Kagome watched him curiously as he paused. His voice, gruff, held remorse and regret that seemed foreign to him, but his body movements spoke otherwise. The way he held his head, the way his fingers stroked the casket…

"I'm sure he heard you."

He turned, his knee-length midnight black hair swaying in the process. Piercing violet eyes stared at her, the rugged planes of his face etching into something that resembled surprise and annoyance. His mouth twitched, as if waiting for her to continue.

"I'm sure Kouga wouldn't have wanted to say goodbye this way either," she reiterated, fiddling with the handkerchief. "But I know he's happy that you came to say goodbye, all the same."

He watched her for a moment, before nodding. Taking one more glance at the casket, he quietly spoke blatantly. "You were his fiancé."

"Yes, I was."

"I see." He looked over her, from the tidy black skirt to the loose blouse that hung on her loose frame. Inclining his head, he left her, disappearing into the sea of black.

Kagome couldn't shake the shiver that crawled up her spine as he watched her. It felt as though he was judging her, and although he was no more than a mere stranger, the way he spoke to Kouga proved that he had known him, possibly for a very long time. To be looked upon as what she could only describe as disapproving eyes only plummeted her heart further downwards towards her stomach.

But it wasn't that man's day. No…this day was for Kouga, the man she loved and cared for, even now as he lay dead before her. This was the man who brought her out of her misery, the man who took her under his wing when she felt the whole world was crumbling around her…

…the man who called her a different woman's name as he lay dying in his hospital bed.

"You talked to her."

"Yeah," Inuyasha sighed, pulling out the familiar green and gold box from inside his coat pocket. Flipping the lid, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long whiff. "She wasn't his type."

"Kagome's the girl-next-door type." Miroku grabbed the box from his friend, lighting one for himself. He threw the box at the woman sitting next to them on the steps.

"No thanks, I've been trying to quit." Ignoring Miroku's snort, she threw the box back to Inuyasha. "I thought they made a cute couple."

"That's not the point," Inuyasha argued, propping one leg up. "Looks are one thing, personality is another. They wouldn't have lasted."

"I suppose you would know," Sango shrugged, flicking a piece of lint off her skirt. "You were the one who knew him best."

"Although, I had never seen Kouga happier than when Kagome was with him." Miroku stretched his legs out. "She's quite a woman, Inuyasha. Sango and I have become rather good friends with her over these past six months."

"Don't really care."

"You haven't changed one bit, Inuyasha," Sango muttered. "You'd think moving away to the "Big Apple" would give you a sense of appreciation of what you left behind."

"Now why the hell would you say that?" The longhaired man glanced at her from heavy-lidded eyes. "I went to New York to pursue my career."

"I don't know," the other man exhaled. "Under the circumstances you left under…"

"Those circumstances, as you so lovingly call them," Inuyasha ground, "were between Kouga and I, not between the four of us. Even then, you all knew that I wanted to get out of his forsaken town."

Silence fell between the trio as they sat on the steps of Kouga's house, the murmurs of the people inside buzzing in their ears.

"So," Inuyasha broke, flicking the spent cigarette onto the lawn. "This motorcycle accident. How'd it happen?"

"Pacific Coast Highway," Sango answered softly. "They were on their way back from Malibu, where Kagome was dropping a package off for her work. Kouga was going too fast on a turn—"

"According to the police, the cycle screeched, bounced off the railing, and into the cliff," Miroku finished, rubbing the butt of his own cigarette into the sidewalk. "Kouga was supposedly killed on impact. It was a miracle that there was no oncoming traffic, or else Kagome would've been killed too."

"That sounds like Kouga. You think he would've learned that trouble and women don't mix." Inuyasha stood, jamming his hands back into his pockets. "As always."

"Do you regret it?" Sango stared up at him after a moment's pause. "Do you regret leaving us?"

Inuyasha glanced down; her chocolate eyes filled with unshed tears for the one they had lost. Tearing his gaze away he looked up into the sky, mentally cursing it for being so clear and blue, reminiscent of his best friend's eyes.

"There was a time when I thought it was the best thing I had ever done in my life," he mumbled. "But now, with things the way they are, I can't help but that that maybe, just maybe if I stayed, things would be different, and Kouga would still be with us."

AN: Hello again! I know I've been MIA for a while now…I posted an update on my profile, but at the moment I can't find the inspiration to update Vying Hearts. Hopefully, with summer here, I'll be able to finish the story before school starts!

Anyways, here's a new story that's been developing in my mind. I'm trying to go for a more, modern story of Inuyasha. No youkai, no powers…just regular people. I know it's a little messy right now with all the details, but things will start to clear up as the story progresses.

Thanks for all your patience!