He would have thought he was used to it now, the sight of a once idyllic countryside torn apart and reduced to rubble, but he was wrong. The shock of it all hit him low, sinking inside his stomach, churning out a nauseous feeling of dread.

"No...don't tell me...Naraku?"

His friend could only nod, his strength beginning to fade.

"But how? How could he do this? I killed him!"

Miroku struggled to his feet, ignoring Inuyasha's words. "Inuyasha," he said. "Please help me over to that ridge." Inuyasha opened his mouth to argue, but the grim look in his friends' eyes made him reconsider.

Throwing the monk's arm over his shoulder, the half demon guided him to where he requested. When they finally reached the peak of the ridge, he finally saw what hissensitive nosehad told him long ago.

Sango lay in a heap, her battle armor torn and tattered. A dark pool of blood had gathered about her body, her face frozen in a grimace of pain. Inuyasha stared, his mouth agape at the sight of a warrior he had so deeply respected, her beaten body and—no, she couldn't be…

Miroku broke from his friend's grip, limping towards her with the last bit of his strength. He seemed to collapse rather than kneel by her side, struggling to stay in control. He put her head onto his lap, his shaking hands framing her youthful face delicately. Brushing away a dark strand of hair from her pale face, he softly caressed her fair cheek with his hand.

"Sango," he whispered. Her eyes opened slightly, carefully, before fully taking him in. Her grimace seemed to melt away, easing into a painless relief.

"Miroku," she said, her words coming out slowly, as if her breath were fading away. "I'm glad…you're still…alive. What of…the others?"

"They're all fine," he assured her, his eyes wavering ever so slightly. She looked at him now, looked at him in such a way that she had never done before. He blinked under her intense stare, hating himself for it. It was yet another lost moment.

"You never…could lie...worth a damn…monk," she coughed. "But I guess that's why…why I…love you," she sighed, her words dying on her final breath.

Miroku clutched at her, stunned, as he blinked away the tears, slowly closing her lifeless eyes with the gentle brush of his now steady hand. He held her head tightly, resting his tired face tenderly against hers, kissing her closed eyes, his own eyes clenched shut. Miroku opened his mouth to speak, but could say nothing. The expression on his face told his story plainly enough; he had loved her as well, more than he could ever admit.

Inuyasha watched this scene unfold in disbelief, the shock freezing his mind into numbness. Sango…dead? He turned away now, hearing Miroku struggle against the sobs, the human half of his heart aching as much for himself as for his heartbroken friend.

Slowly, the world steadily returned to focus. Inuyasha turned back to face Miroku, ready to take him away. Maybe someone who knew medicine could heal his wounds.

"Miroku...we need to get you to Kaede," Inuyasha said. "She can fix you up, make you right again."

The young monk stared at him, and for a moment Inuyasha could've sworn there was a burning hatred in those eyes, but the moment passed so quickly he wondered if it had ever truly been there.

"Inuyasha," he began. "It makes no difference; I can never be...whole again...without her. Do you understand?"

The half demon reluctantly nodded. He had seen such hopeless reactions to the tragic loss of a loved one before, particularly with humans. But he could never understand, especially in someone as strong as Miroku. Why, even when he had lost his mother--

"Inuyasha," he repeated. "I need to tell you what happened before I...go on myself."

"What do you mean," Inuyasha asked, surprised at the harshness in his voice. He hated to see Miroku give in so easily, to act so weak.

"Just listen...for once," Miroku said. "I don't want you to blame yourself for what's happened. It was...a trap, don't you see? Even in death he would do whatever he could to destroy us..."

As Miroku rambled on, it slowly crept upon Inuyasha; a nagging voice that furtively whispered to him what his heart had already told him, what his own nose had already realized. The blood on his hands was from Sango's deep wounds; the tears in Miroku's body caused by his own demon claws. But...how?

"And so, the dark essence of Naraku's spirit was housed within the tainted Shikon Jewel...no matter who touched it, they would become corrupted by his evil, taken over by his demonic soul. As fate would have it, that happened to be you, Inuyasha."

Inuyasha felt his knees beginning to buckle, the realization hitting him harder than a stab to his chest. He knelt at the feet of Miroku and Sango, his heart shaking furiously.

"I...I did this," he asked, his question in fact a statement.

"No," replied Miroku. "We all knew...it was Naraku controlling you. You mustn't blame yourself, Inuyasha. Do you hear me? It's not your fault!" But his desperate words fell on deaf ears. Inuyasha could only stare hollowly at him.

"Why didn't...why didn't you stop me," he pleaded.

Miroku leaned back against an uprooted tree stump, his exhaustion evident. "We tried. But when Naraku died, so died my wind tunnel," he replied, looking at his right hand. "I had no means to stop one such as yourself. And Sango...she did her best."

"And the others...?"

"It's too late for them as well, Inuyasha. Naraku...devoured Shippou and he..." his words trailed off.

"Wha-what about Kagome," he asked, afraid to hear the answer, but needing to.

"She's...dead," answered Miroku. "Leave it at that, Inuyasha. There is nothing you can do for her or us now. Just remember our sacrifices, destroy the jewel, and move on. Please...it's what she would have wanted."

But Inuyasha heard nothing, only the pulsing rumble of blood raging in his ears, a furious anger and self-loathing rising in his soul.

"Where is she," he said, his words coated in ice. Miroku cringed at the coldness in his voice, realizing there was no convincing Inuyasha of anything. Not before, and certainly not now.

"Over that hill," he directed. "But know this...Naraku did not give her a quick death. He...did things to her, Inuyasha. Things no woman should ever have to suffer."

The words pierced Inuyasha's heart; for Kagome to die, so young like that, thinking it was him...no, she knew he'd never hurt her...right? As he walked towards the hill, he thought of the safety spell Kaede had cast upon him. His hand strayed to his neck, and he found the necklace gone. He began to run.

Night had fallen over the ravaged countryside, the pale glow of the moon barely touching the dark graves he had dug over the hours. The work was probably the best thing for him, to push back his thoughts as he toiled. He rested now by the silent graves as the evening breeze cooled the sweat running down his back. There was only one last task ahead of him now; no use putting it off any longer.

The sacred jewel. He wondered why he had ever wanted it in the first place; it wasn't power he sought. No, it had only served as a means, a way to strike back at Kikyo for her apparent betrayal. He drew the Tetsusaiga, raising it high above his head, preparing to strike down with all his might. But...he hesitated. Such a small trifling thing, a simple jewel; yet so much blood had been spilled over it, so much pain because of it. Would all this have been for nothing?

He recalled Miroku's words..."It was what she would have wanted." He heard the words, but could only see her body, torn and tattered, a bloody mess of young and tender flesh. Even her scent, her delightful summer scent, was tarnished by the foul stench of blood. Her blood, spilled by his own claws. He had considered taking her back to her own time to be buried with her families, but he knew he couldn't face her family. He couldn't let them see her like that. It was easier this way, at least for him. Not than anyone else mattered now; it was back to the old days.

Lost in his thoughts, he lay back on the fresh dirt beside Kagome's grave, his soul suddenly more weary and tired than he could ever remember. The loneliness...he wondered if he would ever get used to it again. As his thoughts drifted back to the young girl that had changed his once-cold heart, he felt his eyes well up and he blinked away tears. He turned his head and realized there was no one around. No one would see this moment of weakness. The tears finally came, pouring down his face in hot streams of despair and sadness. Eventually the sobs relented and he slept, clutching the sarcred jewel in his hand. As he slept, the jewel began to glow.