If She Was The One
He's like a brother to her. Not like Kohaku—nothing could ever replace Kohaku, and besides, he's older than her, too hot-tempered and proud and independent. She can't take care of him like she could Kohaku, at least not normally and not without protest; he's too much of a fighter. Besides, that's Kagome's job, to take care of him—though sometimes she wonders if she doesn't understand him a little better than her friend.
Not that Kagome doesn't do a wonderful job with him. And it's true that she probably handles him a lot better than Sango would, because even if she doesn't quite get him on the same level, she knows from trial and error and stubborn persistence how to love him and she's so, so good at loving people. It's just that sometimes, Kagome doesn't understand the things that Inuyasha does, doesn't get why he says things or does things how he does them. She doesn't quite understand the drive in him, the pride and stubbornness and passion and fight in him.
Sango does, though. Even if she sometimes has to understand him from afar, she does. Too often has she sat side-by-side with him, in that companionable silence that Kagome can never seem to tolerate or even achieve, the way friends do. The way comrades do. The way siblings do.
Occasionally she wonders, though. When Miroku is off with another girl or Kagome is home in her own time—sometimes both. And she sits by him in that same silence, the understanding, the companionship that proves they don't need to know everything about each other to know everything about each other. She doesn't need to know his life or his past to know his motives, his feelings, him. There's just something that clicks between them and she can't help but wonder—anyone would wonder, she consoles herself—if maybe things could have been better if they were. Well. Different.
If it was her, instead of Kagome, that made his cool expression come alive, that made his eyes dance and his heart beat faster (because she knows it does, just like she knows him—she can't help it). If it was Sango he chased after instead. If she was the one who was allowed to hug him, to poke at his ears, to cook for him and bandage him up and argue with him and love him. If she was the one he gave his haori to, if she was the one who got to ride on his back, if she was the one he would lunge for first. If she was the one.
And as soon as those silly thoughts enter her head, she knows she's just being silly. This is the way things happened, and of course she loves Miroku (she's just mad because he's being difficult—and who's perfect?) and of course Kagome deserves Inuyasha (Sango really can't blame her for overreacting that time or taking him for granted—she would too). Maybe Kagome doesn't understand him like Sango does, but she knows that the miko loves him and needs him in a way that she never could. Maybe Miroku isn't devoted to her or doesn't fight for her like Inuyasha would, if she was the one, but she can't ignore the way he always comes back to her or the way he inexplicably seems to be able to comfort her, always, in a way that Inuyasha can't quite do. Besides, Inuyasha has enough women in his life without Sango adding to the complications and she's got enough on her hands taming that crazy monk—because she knows he can be tamed, she just has to work at it.
She's happy to have him as a friend, a comrade, a brother. She's happy to have that one connection, the understanding that everything else lacks. She doesn't know if she would've been happier if she was the one, and she never will. She can only quietly speculate with a faraway smile on her face—until Kagome calls her to the hot springs or Miroku interrupts her with a grope, and she remembers who she is and what her place will always be. She's not unhappy like this. Maybe just a little wistful.
But she always will wonder what it would've been like if she, the only one who really gets him, was the one.