Yeah, I thought of this and it felt juuust cool enough to actually write. So yeah. This whole thing is based off one single sentence I swear I could almost hear Kagome say. (You ever get that? You'll be almost asleep and then SOMETHING says a line, a word, a sound, a whole sentence. There's no one in the darkened room but I swear someone said it.)
I think my mother understood even more than I did. Maybe because she had the benefit of hindsight, as I do now. She knew the ins and outs of teenage love, the ups and downs.
It seemed then like there were only a few ups for the long downs. I eventually figured out that it was those few quick moments of pure happiness that really defined love. They were the times that made it all worth it. But I wanted more then. I was young and naïve, I thought I should be happy with him all the time.
I thought there should be more to love than there was.
By the time I found out that everything was perfect, it was already far too late.
I don't go back to the sengoku jidai much anymore. It's really not worth it, now. Our little group disbanded long before the jewel shards were all gathered. We just lost interest, we lost our innocence, we lost a lot more than that.
Every time we found a jewel shard the little pile would get a bit bigger, and every time we met a formidable enemy they would be stolen, it would get a little smaller. For every enemy we killed, a new, fresh one would come take it's place. We seemed to be the only ones fighting for the good side of things.
Eventually we stopped caring. The evil takes care of itself, you see. It regenerates, the new kills anything that's been around so long. Like death, it's inevitable, and not that bad when you think on the grand scale of things.
But that's not even the real reason we stopped fighting. That was just our excuse.
We couldn't keep up anymore. Sango, Miroku and I …
I still remember the day I realized what was happening. It was my twenty- third birthday. We were far, far away from the well. I remember thinking that it was the fourth birthday in a row I wouldn't make it home, and I remember not really caring.
I was where I wanted to be, with him.
It was on that day I knew I wanted to be with him forever.
And the day I realized I couldn't.
He was still sixteen.
As far as I know, he still is, and will be for years to come.
But I, I grow older. That's why I don't go back anymore. Now, as I write this, I'm as old as my mother was, when I first found the well. Like the old story of Peter Pan, I expect him to show up any day now, to whisk me back to never- never land.
Sometimes I'll be doing the dishes in the sink, and I'll just stop, and stare out the window at the shrine door. In my mind's eye, I can almost see the red haori- clad boy shoving the door open, and barging into the house, wanting to know exactly how long I thought I could stay away.
But he doesn't come.
I think I'm glad. I want him to always remember me as the grinning teenager who would always be there, trying to help in any way I could.
I think he wants to remember me that way, too.
Oh, I own no characters at all. R&R, you're already half done!