Homesick
"Inuyasha… why don't you come eat supper with us tonight? The twins would love it."
He shook his head. "No thanks."
Sango watched him a moment longer—sitting in his usual cross-legged, cross-armed position, back resting against the wood of the Bone Eater's Well—then sighed. "How long do you plan to stay out here?"
He shrugged, not looking at her.
Something in Sango's chest constricted, ached. He'd done this last year, too — the first anniversary of that day.
Sighing again, she closed the short space between them and kneeled down beside him. She clasped her hands in her lap; her gaze remained there when she whispered, "I miss her too."
He said nothing, though his right ear twitched towards her. Dusk gathered about them, purpling the sky as the sun disappeared below the horizon. They sat together, leaning against the well, for a long time as darkness fell.
::
::
Later, when Sango had returned home to her husband and children, Inuyasha still sat against the well.
He tipped his head back to look up at the sky. Overcast. Only pale glimpses of stars between drifts of cloud.
I miss her too.
He knew she did. So did Miroku, and Shippō, and Kaede. They all missed her.
But what Inuyasha felt—and could never explain, never tried to—was more than just missing. More than wishing for a lost friend to return. Because Kagome…
Kagome was his home.
So he sat there, as close as he could get to Kagome now, and struggled to fight off the sense of homelessness that overwhelmed him.
He sat there, homesick, until dawn.