Whispers
He had always been there for me. I had tried to kill him, he had returned the favor. I had saved his life, he had done the same. We fought side by side, we traveled side by side, we slept side by side. We were the farthest in our group, and yet we were the closest. Some days we would hardly share a word, working together like clockwork out of pure habit. We trusted each other.
I would save his life, he would save mine. We valued each other as brother and sister, as friend and friend, as something else, something there is no word for. We were companions for those five long years, and we never lost sight of what we were looking for. We never let anything change between us. Nothing ever was between us.
A year has passed since then. I have known him for five years, and that time never seems to remain set. Sometimes it seems as if I have known him for a mere day—every look, every battle, every demon blurring together in a whirlwind of memories. Sometimes it seems as if I have known him for my whole life, every moment standing out with perfect clarity in my mind.
It is in those moments that I try to dash the thoughts from my head. I have a new life; I have a village to rebuild. Not all of us died—there are second and third cousins still living, still willing to help. He, too, is moving on with his life—after Kagome went through the well, he decided he would, for the time being, guard the Shikkon no Tama, and try to eliminate all those with grudges against any of us. Where he will go after that, we don't know. We just hope that he remains hanyou, or turns human.
We. There is no we. Not anymore. Miroku is gone, he died in the Battle. Kagome went through the well, and never came back. Inuyasha cannot go fetch her, so we—I—assume that the well has closed to both of them. Shippou lives near Kaede's village, and he is still as buoyant and cheerful as ever. And Kohaku is long-gone, but he died free.
There are three left. A taijiya, a kitsune, and a hanyou. Spread so far apart, yet constantly, persistently together.
I realize it now. I accept it now. They are the closest things I have to my family.
Shippou is like my nephew, my brother, my young charge. He will always have a special place in my heart, reserved just for him and his little fox-fire.
Kagome is like my sister past-away, my friend long-gone. She will always be close to me, even though we are not even of the same time.
Miroku is my lover-past, my fond memory. I have only happy memories of him, only fond memories and wry smiles. If I close my eyes and remember, I can still feel his persistent, lecherous hand.
Inuyasha…Inuyasha is my friend, my ally. I do not know what else. All I know…All I know is that when he is near, I no longer think of that venturing hand. I no longer mourn for the death of my brother. I no longer miss my friend Kagome.
Sometimes, when I look in his eyes, I see something. Something I only saw before when he looked at Kagome.
A sad longing, the one that always lurks somewhere behind his eyes, intensified. That makes sense—before, he had lost Kikyou. Losing Kagome only made it worse. Miroku's death probably didn't help, either.
A steely hardness, a determination. He will not lose. He has a new mission for himself, and he will do it alone. Before, it was to protect Kagome. Now, it is to protect the jewel.
A wariness, a toughness that wasn't there before. He has had his heart broken twice—he will probably never be the same.
Sometimes when I sit there and just think, something I do less and less, little whispers that tell me sweet lies.
That sad longing is for me, they say. For my heart. That determination is his will to protect me, forever and for always. The wariness is for those that might hurt us, might keep 'us' from happening.
And then I shake my head. I'm going mad.
For who would ever believe the little whispers in their head?
And what fool wouldlisten tothe sweet lies of their heart?