If possible, the arms around his neck tighten more.

He can't pull her any closer than he already has her—not with one arm. But he rubs his cheek against hers and presses his face to her hair, seeking more of her scent. "You were missed."

The admission is not easy for him, and something in Kagome's heart swells.

It doesn't make sense. Books, rain, tea—none of it makes sense. But it's neither here nor there. She's glad for it, and he is too.

She laughs into his neck, the sound pure delight.

The corners of his lips lift.