November blurred into December.

Had it truly been over a month since InuYasha and the others had died? Since Kagome had buried them on that snowy day outside of Kaede's village? Since Kagome had to return to the present era, forced to take up a normal life without them? She couldn't believe that it had been so long and didn't want to. It was so unreal to live in her time day in and day out. Everything that she had wanted when she had been going back and forth between worlds—eating breakfast with her family, hanging out with friends, having a social life outside of class—was now at her disposal. And she didn't want it.

"Kagome," her mother said one morning, when she had been staring at her oatmeal for too long.

"Yes," Kagome replied, forcing herself to take another bite. It tasted like glue from having settled too long with not enough water. She did her best to chew, but Kagome couldn't get the motion correct for some reason.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Her brown eyes were concerned and there was a worried pinch to her brow.

"I'm fine," Kagome answered automatically, eyes moving down so that she didn't have to look at her troubled expression.

"Are you sure…you don't want to talk with someone?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine," Kagome said again. Beside her, Souta stopped in mid-chew to look between the two of them. The kitchen had gone silent. Even the sound of the television in the other room, where her grandfather was snoring lightly, seemed far away. Remote. The oatmeal tasted like sand.

"Where do you go all day on Sundays?" Ms. Higurashi asked, crossing her arms and appearing a bit sterner than usual.

"Nowhere," Kagome said.

"Nowhere," she repeated.

"Yeah, nowhere," Kagome replied, stirring her stiff breakfast with a disinterested gaze. She was trying to calm her heart, telling it to settle down so that the blood wasn't pumping, beating in her ears. She did not want to be angry, because anger wouldn't help. But she couldn't stand the prying anymore; the prying and her mother's assumption that everything was going to be alright. It was never going to be alright, Kagome knew. She just had to become accustomed to it. Adapting to such a cruel fate was not going to happen overnight.

"Kagome, I really think…that you should talk to someone about all of this," her mother said.

"What am I supposed to say, Mom? That everything sucks because all my friends were killed by a demon five-hundred years in the past?" she snapped, the anger peaking with her mother's insistence to seek medical help. Kagome felt like dying when she imagined herself, crying on a leather couch before a bespectacled man who would never understand. "That will get me committed for the rest of my life. Just let me get over it, okay?" Ms. Higurashi's lips pressed into a thin line and she said no more. Kagome put her spoon back into her bowl, declaring herself done before leaving the house.

I'm sorry, Mom she thought, hurrying down the stairs towards the street. And she was sorry, because she knew that the slight wrinkles around her mother's eyes and the gray strands of hair were from worry. After all, Kagome was a time-traveler who found out it was her destiny to fight demons. If that wasn't stressful enough, the prospect of Kagome not coming home, devoured or tortured by ancient demons, was.

I just need more time.

Because it was slipping out of her fingers, like the pink dust of the Shikon no Tama, when she wished it out of existence.

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Math held no interest for her. Not that it ever did, she supposed. But algebra and geometry and trigonometry were so dull that she day-dreamed more than usual. Tapping her pencil on her desk, she passed the days by in class without keeping any attention on the subject in question. When she received a test, it was a surprise, because the formulas and equations she should have known, she didn't. But math didn't really matter anymore, Kagome decided, and continued to tap her eraser on the edge of her desk and gaze longingly out the window when Takeshi-sensei wasn't looking.

After this realization, Kagome declared that science, literature, and language were just as trivial. History only dug a wedge deeper into her chest, which made the class ten-times more painful than it had to be. When they spoke about the Sengoku Jidai, Kagome hummed to herself, singing songs in her head, sketching meaningless pictures in her notebook. Anything not to listen about the time she had been a part of. A time that she considered making her primary era.

Then, Kagome began to worry about herself a little more when she found that spending time with her friends was almost as meaningless as her school subjects. They were shallow, gossipy, and immature. Kagome couldn't believe that their biggest problems concerned make-up and the boys over in 2-D.

"We're going clubbing this weekend," Eri told her. "You should come. I have a dress that would look amazing on you."

"Um, I don't think so," Kagome said, poking at her lunch with disinterest. "I have a lot of stuff to do around the shrine."

"Maybe next weekend then," Ayumi said and Kagome nodded, trying to keep the stiffness out of it.

"Maybe," she replied, but with no surety.

"We'll invite Hojo!" Yuka said, unhelpfully. Her cheerfulness only annoyed Kagome, but she hid it well. The last thing she wanted to do was go clubbing, especially with Hojo tagging along. He would want to dance with her, put his arm around her, and then, most definitely kiss her, which made her push her lunch away, upset. But she didn't voice her dissatisfaction, flipping idly through her chemistry book while the other three discussed what they would wear and who from 3-C they could hook up with for a weekend of hitting the clubs and karaoke bars. When Friday came around, Kagome was more than thankful to return home, away from their endless chatter. She made sure that the cell phone her mother had given her remained off for the weekend, so that no one could bother her.

She spent Saturday on her homework, locked in her room as she poured over textbooks concerning the college entrance exams. Despite counseling in school, she did not know where she wanted to go, just much as she could not comprehend the words in the books before her. They were all formal, distant, cold, and meant the change of forward motion into her life that she could not shake. It was scary and she hated it, craving the simple life she had lived with everyone back in the past. She tried not to cry, because she had done too much of that.

No matter how many times her mother tried to get her to come out, she replied that she was busy and sent her away. Although Kagome knew it wasn't helping to shut her out, she just wanted her space. She wanted her time to heal without anyone prodding her, pressing her to do something, to smile more, to feel better. She couldn't feel better until the wounds scabbed over a bit. Only time could do that.

Time and a few more Sundays with the unnamed stranger.

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He was in front of the map when she arrived at the station on Sunday morning. She shook the small flakes of snow from her parka as she neared him. Like the times before, he did not acknowledge her presence, seemingly fixed upon the board before him. In his hand, he held a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee. When she stopped beside him, he tilted the tray towards her slightly in offering, not using words, and she accepted it just as silently.

"I'm going North today," he told her, pointing at a green line. It ran from their station through many others. They would be required to get on and off a few times, but after their second transfer, it was a straight shot North. Far North. "It's a long ride."

"Okay," Kagome agreed. After the week she had, she was glad for the extended ride. They went to their usual machine and ordered their tickets, taking the small cards and swiping them before the turn stalls. Then, she followed him towards the train that would take them along Honshu's Eastern shore, Northbound in the direction of Hokkaido. They sat on opposite sides of the aisle again, sipping coffee from orange Styrofoam containers. Some people entered, sat, and took the train to the outskirts of Tokyo before exiting. When they were cruising along the white countryside, the train was practically empty. In their own car, they were alone with empty cups and silent thoughts. Kagome stared at his shoes: the red and the black converse with the tattered, rough edges. They had to mean something, but she couldn't think of what.

"It's almost sad, isn't it?" he asked, after an hour spent in silence. He was looking out the window at the white landscape that rushed by. There was nothing except for the snow and the heavy gray clouds and the harsh, black shapes of telephone wires. "So desolate." She didn't comment, her eyes moving from the window behind him to him. They followed the curve of his jaw, the wave to his hair, the fine lines that cut into a severe v under the collar of his open jacket. She couldn't help but compare him to InuYasha, as almost every part of him reminded her in some way of the hanyou, who had meant more to her than anyone in the world. Her eyes fell guiltily, landing upon the dark material of his jeans, sliding over to the bag that rested beside him. From beneath the flap, Kagome saw the circular lens of a camera.

"Are you a photographer?" she asked, to change the subject.

"I used to be," he answered, not moving his gaze from the window.

"Used to be?" she repeated.

"Used to be," he said again, his eyes finally dropping to look at the camera beside him. With careful hands, he removed the Nikon from his bag, placing it upon his knees with a seemingly disappointed sigh. "I was hoping all this change of scenery would inspire me somehow. I want to take pictures again. Maybe write. I just want to do something. Anything at all."

"Searching for your muse?" Kagome asked, scrounging up a smile from somewhere inside of her.

"In a sense," he replied. She watched, almost enviously, as his fingers moved over the sleek buttons, the smooth curves of the digital camera. He had nice hands, just as InuYasha had. It took all of her might to push the recollection of him from her mind: the way his fingers felt against her flesh, so gentle that the tips of his claws grazed her skin with the most tender of care. She lowered her eyes to his shoes again, staring stubbornly at the fraying laces. He shifted slightly in his seat and sighed again, softer this time. "I've been searching for a long time."

"What happened to it?" Kagome asked, tilting her head curiously. When he didn't answer, she lifted her eyes to meet his. A wry smile had twisted onto his lips, the bitterness reaching his eyes.

"She died," he said, coldly.

The train seemed terribly loud after that. But she did not say anything and he did not say anything either. The rest of the trip was made in silence, quiet stares, and then a wordless goodbye.

He to the East and she to the West once more.

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Word Count: 1,966