Big Sleeves to Fill
It smelled like his father. He took the haori and buried his little face in it. Sometimes his mother slept with it in her arms, her weak human nose only able to smell the sweat and musk. She cried when she slept with it and it made him sad, so he would crawl into bed with her, promising in his three-year-old way that everything would be all right.
Pulling his face out, he stuck his arms in the sleeves, but they didn't even reach the slit halfway up the arm. It had fit his father perfectly. Hopefully one day, it would fit Inuyasha as well.
