DISCLOSURE STATEMENT: This author has no financial or non-financial relation nor do they possess any right to "Inuyasha: A Feudal Fairy Tale" franchise. Full ownership of all characters is the sole intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi.

Wherever You Will Go


Inuyasha hummed happily when he woke up with his cheek resting just above Kagome's heart. The soft, gentle thrum against his cheek calming in ways words never could be. It was weird to wake up and not immediately feel miserable. Foreign even but definitely not unwelcome. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could breathe again.

He sighed contentedly as he realized the hand closest to his face was loosely covered by Kagome's. She must've fallen asleep holding it while the other rested on his back which strangely warmed his heart. She'd held him. Even after he'd...

Pushing that memory to the side, he stretched out one leg and gently rubbed his cheek against her skin as a soft smile played on his lips. Maybe he was getting better? That'd be nice. To be honest, it was getting to the point where he couldn't remember feeling. The world becoming dull and distant while he went through the motions. It was when he tried to force himself to do something different, when he tried to force himself to...

Sniffing once, he realized he hadn't had a logical, predictable reaction to most things this past year. For some reason, he kept thinking, at least in the past, that he'd been doing an alright job of acting relatively normal. It was here when he broke routine that he was having issues. Well, all of this was something that would go away when he established a routine then. That thought brought him immense relief and hope.

Speaking of which...

"Good morning," Inuyasha hummed as he smiled down at a groggy Kagome who looked more resigned than well rested. Sapphire eyes searched his face for a moment while her mouth formed a thin line before she seemed to relax and offered him a hesitant smile.

"Morning," she hummed as she stretched slightly and propped herself up on her elbows, "Did you, um, sleep well?"

Inuysha nodded and dipped down to give her a quick kiss before noticing the flecks of dried blood caked onto her skin. His face fell as he reached up to touch his chest and frowned. He hadn't realized. Gently probing the area, he registered that several of the self-inflicted wounds were still healing which was unusual. Since when did he take so long to heal? The somewhat soft scabs and dried blood we're still pliable to the touch. While the timing of his outburst was a little fuzzy, it had to be hours ago. So why...

"Why don't you take a shower?" Kagome offered, "Or I could clean..."

"No, no, I'll do it," he muttered quietly as the memory that inspired such a panic attack lazily drifted through his mind. Why had he reacted like that? Like a frightened animal running on pure instinct. He barely remembered hurting himself. Barely remembered anything except sheer blind panic. Was it because he wished he was still in his time, with his friends, or was it because he was afraid he was still in his time without Kagome?

Glancing at Kagome, he noted how she was watching him with wide, frightened eyes. Like she fully expected him to lose his mind again. He couldn't blame her there. To be honest, he expected to lose his mind as well. Sanity slipping through his fingers with each passing day. If there ever came a day where he felt he was past the point of no return, he would need to leave. If he hurt her...

He had a feeling he had hurt those he cared about before but he could never be sure. And this wasn't the first time he'd hurt himself in his panic but...usually he was awake during those. This was definitely a first.

Shaking his head subtly to toss out the strange memories, he offered Kagome a hesitant smile as he moved to the edge of the bed and stood up - his fingertips still playing with his wound. Kagome swallowed thickly but still managed to look somewhat calm.

"Do you want me to make breakfast?" Kagome offered and he shook his head.

"Not hungry right now," he muttered distractedly as he moved to his closet and sighed despondently before rifling through the various garments. Kagome let out a shuddering breath and nodded like she expected him to say that. A moment later he had picked out a shirt and pants before heading towards the bathroom while the former miko watched on anxiously.

It was becoming more and more worrisome how little he was eating - although relatively speaking that was the least of her worries. Last night had been terrifying. Waking up to him trying to claw his own throat out. She'd barely slept because even in his sleep, he'd scratched at it. She'd ultimately ended up clutching at his hand to keep it from moving, which was thankfully easy, while her free hand stroked his hair until she passed out from exhaustion. If he wasn't so volatile, she'd try to go back to sleep but with him being like this...

Sighing shakily, she headed towards the kitchen where she placed a kettle on the stovetop and lit the burner. Tomorrow was going to be a clusterfuck and she knew it. It wasn't like she could call in for the first day of the new year and she fully expected him to have some type of separation anxiety outburst. Probably do it on purpose just to...

Freezing, Kagome blinked and furiously shook her head. Where did that thought come from? He would never do this on purpose. He had always prided himself on being strong and resilient which is what made this whole...whatever this was so sad. Why he was struggling so much. Feeling disgusted by herself, Kagome reached for the fridge door and opened it. Searching for something that he might eat. He used to be a bottomless pit although he had been picky. A bemused half-smile grew on her lips as her eyes landed on the pickled radishes. She had been so mad at him over the stupid omelets she'd made. Wanting to impress him and show that she could be a good wife. Like that mattered to him at all.

Picking up the jar, she closed the fridge door and hummed. Maybe he'd eat this. It wasn't the healthiest but it was better than the nothing he was consuming now. Sure, he ate yesterday but that was honestly the first thing she saw him eat since he got here. Know what? Little victories were victories all the same. This wouldn't be forever. He'd get better. She just needed to be patient with him.

To be honest, it was understandable to a degree how this last emotional blow had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. And this was a strange, complicated world he didn't understand which was exacerbating the issue. Sighing forlornly, she wished she could talk to Miroku and Sango to find out what they'd done. This couldn't be something that happened overnight. Like he said, he cried and then stopped. If he was acting like this with her...he had to have been acting like this with them too.

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Five hundred years in the past, Miroku stared down into the well with a defeated, morose look. The guilt would probably always plague him. To have been the one to send his dear friend on a dark path. Up until that day, Inuyasha seemed to be coping...well not in a healthy manner...or even a good way...but he'd been coping. Acting relatively normal if not a bit too obsessed with the well that once connected their world with Kagome's era. Functioning for the most part. Afterwards...

The sound of Inuyasha sobbing in the well still haunted him. When the half-demon hadn't come to supper like he promised, he'd immediately rushed to the well - heart hammering from fear that bordered on terror. There had been something hollow in those amber eyes. Those well intentioned words had broken Inuyasha's usually resilient spirit. Stolen those last remnants of hope that lingered. No amount of damage control ever made it right.

The first sign something was terribly wrong was when Inuyasha stopped coming for dinner and when he did, he barely ate anything. Before he at least put in an effort but no longer. While he smiled for his nieces and nephew, it was forced and his movements sluggish like he had to force his muscles to move. There had been times, not that Miroku even spoke of them to Sango, when he'd found the half-demon having a melt-down in the woods to such a degree he wasn't aware of his surroundings.

Miroku tried to talk him down once. Golden eyes seemed to stare straight though him and he lashed out when the monk tried to offer a comforting touch. The subsequent injury he'd lied about and blamed on a random demon. Even Inuyasha seemed to believe it although there had been signs he knew it had been him and afterwards, the half-demon began avoiding him. No longer coming to dinner. Staying away from the village in general and usually perching on rooftops when he did venture in. When they went on exorcisms, there was no eye contact made with him, much less anyone else.

The weight loss became more drastic. He spoke only when spoken to and eventually only non-verbal responses were given. It seemed to be getting worse. So much worse.

Sango was nearly beside herself when obviously self-inflicted injuries began to appear on random parts of the half-demon's body. She made it a point to wrap them and tend to them which Inuyasha didn't even bother fighting which only bothered the slayer more. No explanation was given other than 'wasn't on purpose.'Sango never fully believed him.

That day when the well opened once more was the first moment in more than a month that elicited any type of response. The nearly comatose half-demon reacting and speaking and...

It was such a mistake to tell him hope was lost. Such a mistake. That was his fault. All of what had transpired this past year was completely his fault. How he wished he could turn back time and do things differently. Perhaps encouraged a different approach or merely tried to distract his friend. But it was no matter. What had been done had been done and now Inuyasha was gone. Forever.

Miroku sighed and sent up a silent prayer before turning and heading home.

'Please let my friend find happiness. Let him live long and well. And...may he forgive me for my transgressions.'

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Inuyasha scrubbed his much shorter hair as his mind wandered through the dream to try to find a reason that he woke up like he had. It didn't make any sense. Sure, it hadn't been a pleasant day. The last time he tried the well occurred shortly thereafter but that didn't explain why he'd lost his damn mind when he woke up. Didn't explain why he'd clawed at himself. Well, okay, he hyperventilated and was trying to breathe which might explain it but like...

He lowered one hand and stared at it. He should probably cut his claws anyway. Men in this time didn't have long nails. Plus he didn't want to accidentally gouge himself again. Those wounds were still healing which was confusing. Fresh blood leaking out of them as the scabs sloughed off with the soap. They didn't feel particularly deep so they should've been gone by now. Maybe something was wrong with him physically? Because why the hell not. Why did he only need to suffer mentally? Just watch his body begin breaking down too. Great. Just freaking great.

Leaning his head back, he let the warm water rinse off the shampoo and ran a single hand through it to assist. Maybe it was because he wasn't eating. Even he knew that people were more likely to get sick when there was starvation. Problem was food sounded revolting anymore. Not always but most of the time. He honestly just wasn't hungry. Didn't want food. Wasn't interested in food. Just wasn't a priority.

When he was younger, he actually got sick pretty often like most children did. His mother would make him that putrid tea and forced it down his throat which usually made him feel better. Sighing he tried to think about why that occurred to him. It seemed relatively random and yet the memory rushed forward for no reason. Shrugging, he reached and turned off the water.

Well that was an easy fix. All he had to do was eat and he'd probably start healing like he normally did. After all, he was actually feeling okay today. Today would be different. He was sure of it.