The Goodbye
Inuyasha was distressed. It was plainly obvious to anyone who knew the hanyou even just a little.
His ears were folded back and hidden in his hair, his usual annoyed scowl replaced by the expression nearing despair.
"How can I live without you? Did you ever stop to think about that?" he asked, trying to sound angry. He outstretched a hand, his fingertips hovering just a few centimeters away from the smooth part of the one he was talking to. He knew this smoothness was a lie, the one he was talking to was hard and strong. Or maybe it was better to say 'had been' than 'was'.
"We... We spent so much time together..." he whispered. "I have so many memories of the time I hanged around you," he didn't get a reply. After a second of hesitation the hanyou reached forward and wrapped his arms around the cool, not moving one. His cheek touched the dry, rough surface and he relished the feeling it brought to him the memories of a certain girl shouting up to him to watch her practicing her aim. He still could see the marks left by her arrow on the nearest tree.
"Inuyasha," Miroku approached the silver-haired boy. "It's time."
"Gimme a minute, dammit!"
"We already did," the monk whispered softly. "Listen, I know it's hard for you, but they have to do it. Before it's too late and someone gets hurt when they pass by to get to the river. You know, children go this way pretty often."
"Keh," the hanyou sighed and stepped back. "Do it now."
He turned his back and walked away, passing by the group of villagers holding saws and ropes.
Still, when not too long afterwards the villagers cut down the dry tree that was about to collapse on the path leading to the river, they could feel a pair of inhuman eyes watching them.
Miroku stood near, praying in his heart that Inuyasha could find a new one, a new tree from which he could overlook Kagome and retreat to pout when she sat him.
But for this, for making new memories of his time with the unusual miko, she had to return to this time.