Miroku is dead, and Kagome is too far for anybody to reach, most of the inu-tachi are gone from them. It is only the two of them now. She squeezes her strong muscles around his hips as he makes his way to the Taijia village and she doesn't think of the way she leans her chest against his back or rests her chin on his shoulder as he runs. She didn't ask him to carry her, he insisted.
She thinks it's because Kagome has been gone so long and he misses being touched. She misses the touching too. Some nights she longs for even his inappropriate touching and can feel the anger at his disrespectful fondling but it is far away and leaves her feeling hollow; on those nights, she cries—a lot.
Inuyasha smells of wild woods, and rain. He squeezes her thigh when he lets her down.
They don't speak of it. They don't speak much about anything really. They fight demons, and they hunt for food, they make a good team, they always have. When a difficult kill and a harsh winter forces them to take shelter he wraps both of them in his haori, she can feel his heartbeat.
He takes of her all the time now, he never asks. When she takes of him she doesn't ask either but she can tell he's always surprised. Her hand on his hip, intertwined with his finger, through his hair. He didn't think she would be this affectionate; she didn't think she would need him as much as she does; she is always touching him.
When she loses her meals at all hours of the day and her breasts become tender, she knows what it is. She thinks of a man with a charming smile and violet eyes. When she looks into his sunset eyes, she can see that he too thinks of him and of, her. She misses, her, as well. He understands.
She did not think his touches—could—get, more tender, but they do. In quiet nights, snuggled underneath warm blankets they whisper to each other of their youth, their lives, and secrets. He shares so much of himself, from then on, his easy smiles give her a sense of accomplishment. They talk about their lost loves and snuffed dreams, it does not hurt as much as it should.
She is taking a short-cut on her way back to the hut he is building with help from the villagers. Only, for the first time in years, the clearing of the Bone Eaters Well is not empty. There is a beautiful young woman there—with blue eyes and a ready smile—she shouts Sango's name with joy, and runs carelessly into her arms.