Author's Note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews I have been receiving. I am glad everyone is enjoying this fic. Because of that, an early update for you!

pqpq

Another week went by.

It was getting colder, but everyone was festive at school, preparing for their winter holiday. Kagome felt like she couldn't breathe half of the time, seeing their merry faces while listening to their cheerful laughter as it echoed in the hallways. She tapped her pencil in math and hummed in history again, before Friday released her from the schedule she had come to abhor more than life at home.

Saturday was a lull that dragged on. With some confidence, Kagome stayed out of her room and lounged in the living area with Souta. He was playing Dance Dance Revolution with what had to be considered unrivaled skill. From her place on the couch, Kagome watched the colors go by, her ears filled with the bass and techno backbeats from the game. It blurred together, like Tokyo's streets at night. Like Ginza after dusk, where buildings were illuminated with neon and clubbers stalked the streets with glow sticks at the ready. Fast paced and Souta kept up, dancing without missing a beat. He moved forward without stumbling, without fear, and with eyes towards a hopeful future. Kagome felt slightly jealous.

That night, Kagome lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling for the longest time. Buyo came and joined her, stretching out across her feet. His purring was a steady constant and her toes tickled with the feel of his fur brushing against her skin. When she closed her eyes, she imagined Kirara doing something similar to her before the fire pit in Kaede's home. Sango was looking rather serious as she repaired some of her weapons, but Kagome could see the gentle curve of her spine resting against Miroku, leaning against his strong arm. For once, his hand was not wandering and the monk seemed rather content with the position, despite its absence of lechery. Shippou stirred at the pot above the flames, listening to Kaede's instructions on which herbs to add when the time was right. Kirara meowed at the smell of the stew, jumping from Kagome's arms to Sango's lap, crawling up onto her shoulder with an adoring sound. Miroku made a face and made a comment about being ignored, bested by the small fire cat. From behind Kagome, there was a snort and a muttered response that only she could hear, making her smile, turn her head just the slightest to see him there: InuYasha was beside her in his red haori, Tetsusaiga casually resting against his shoulder. Miroku looked between them and asked what he had missed, but the two of them said nothing in reply. The kitsune began to cheer that his stew was ready and Sango's eyes narrowed marginally when Miroku's hand strayed lower from her waist. Amongst the noise that followed, InuYasha's hand settled itself over hers and she smiled. This was her family.

Her eyes opened. They felt wet and achy. In the darkness around her, she realized that Buyo was gone and that her mother must have come in and covered her up, shutting out the light as she went. Turning on her side, Kagome wiped at her eyes and cheeks. Her heart ached "with loneliness" as the cliché term declared. That was the only way to describe it. It was the sense of losing something so precious that being reminded of it was painful instead of gratifying. She should have been happy for the memories, but their clarity only served to leave her hollower than she ever thought possible.

pqpq

Sunday morning brought a few inches of snow.

When she left in the morning, her feet crunched and sank slightly, leaving footprints in her wake. It was much like in the Sengoku Jidai, when the snow would fall and cast blankets of white upon the countryside. She missed the sight from Kaede's doorstep; the smell of the freshly fallen snow. Here in this time, it smelled like exhaust smoke: the pollution of the age she had no desire to live in.

The station was busier than usual when she arrived. There were a lot of people carrying a multitude of luggage and shopping bags. It was the holidays, which accounted for this and meant that it would be crowded and loud. But even still, Kagome found herself in front of the board again, where he was standing. Waiting.

"I haven't been to Kyoto in a long time," she said, after a while. She was following the orange line with her eyes. Orange, like Shippou's hair. She bit on her lip to keep it from trembling. "Um, the temples there are nice," she added, clutching at straws for conversation. Anything to keep her mind off the lives that had been so unfairly taken. "Maybe you can take some pictures." He didn't say anything and she watched him as he pondered the map in silence. Finally, his head nodded curtly in agreement and his one red shoe put itself in front of the black towards the ticket machines. She followed.

He sat on one side and she on the other, people watching or window-gazing to pass the time. The city gave way to country and then to city again, where the train stopped at their station some time later. It was the first time they had ever gotten off to walk around somewhere. She felt awkward, walking beside him as they huddled inside of their coats for warmth against the December cold. After all, she still didn't know his name.

Beyond the station, they traveled about the city, walking along a main street towards the temple. From where they were, the gates of the shrine were a bright orange in contrast with the white, snaking along the incline around Inari Mountain. If Kagome did not focus her eyes correctly, she could see the blurry orange that took a spiral shape around the mountain, like fire. A light snow fell, landing on her nose. Cold and wet, she blinked and focused again. Cars passed. Other pedestrians kept their hoods up against the chill. It smelled like gasoline and fish.

"I haven't been here since I was a kid," he said, indicating the red torii before them. It signaled the entrance to the shrine, so they followed the pathway wherever it led them. Up several flights of uneven, snow-covered stairs, they reached the top platform. She was faced with a large, open space that was purely white. Built to accommodate many worshippers, it seemed quite lonely in its abandoned state. Quietly, respectfully, they took to the red path, where a corridor of red gates led them around the long trail of the mountain. Every torii had inscriptions upon the surface, but Kagome let her eyes meld the colors together again and the kanji became faint, black scratches among the fire.

After they walked the entirety of the pathway in silence, they returned to the shrine. He didn't take one picture on their journey, but she did not voice her dissatisfaction. Instead, she looked around at the beautiful layout of the cemetery and holy buildings within the Fushimi-Inari Taisha jinja. It was beautiful, old, and whispered ancient words she could not understand. She tried to ignore the ghosts she could not see, but could feel.

They passed a temple where monks were praying. It smelled of incense and heat, caressed by the low murmurings of scripture. Miroku would have understood it all, but she didn't. She swallowed dryly as they circled the buildings and walked through the memorials in the adjacent courtyard. Tall pillars of stone rose up towards the gray skies, all with kanji commemorating spirits and deities of Inari. Before an offering, there sat five stone fox demons, carrying grain in their mouths as the symbol of prosperous harvest. Kagome let her eyes drop to the frosty stone before them, where an offering of food and sake had been placed. When they moved onwards, she did not lift her eyes until the kitsune spirits of Inari were no longer in sight.

Together, they paid their respects to the shrine, made an offering to the Gods, and then prepared to leave. It was late afternoon and Kagome knew her mother would be worried if she arrived home past dark again. After all, she had school in the morning. The thought of going back made her want to run away, back up the red corridor into the mountain. But she settled her fear and followed the footsteps in front of her. Red before black and red before black again, patterned, matched.

When the converse stopped in the frost, she did too, glancing up to see exactly why he had halted. Before them, there was a bare tree with no leaves or flowers. Its gnarled branches were shimmering with the lightest bit of snow. Knotted papers decorated the shoots and twigs like butterfly wings.

"I'm going to make a wish," he said, dropping a few coins into the offering nearest the tree. Beside it, there was a wooden box, a brush pen, and an inkwell. For a few moments, Kagome stood off to the side to give him his privacy, watching from afar as he skillfully brushed tiny characters upon the paper. When he was through, he blew on it to dry the ink, waiting a few more moments before folding it a few times length-wise. Then he walked over to the tree, cleared a space upon an uncluttered, but flurry-covered, branch before he tied his wish there, adding to the collection of other hopes and dreams people had carried to this same place.

She watched this in silence, only turning in the direction of the offering when he was through. He waited as patiently for her as she did for him, and with numb fingers, she clutched at the brush he had written with. Trying not to think about how warm it was—because his hand had been there only moments before—she focused on her letters, the characters; the wish that the Gods would only know. And when she was through, she tied the tanzuku onto the branch next to his.

Kami-sama. I wish for only one thing…

They caught the late train home, taking the Nara transfer back to Tokyo. It was busy, crowded, and they were forced to stand, much like they did every Sunday when their excursions ran later into the evening. They spoke so little during these hours and yet, Kagome didn't know if she would have had it any other way. The silence was welcomed because the company was enough. She did not know his name or his story or the real reason why he rode the trains with such a wistful, yearning expression. She did not know why his shoes were mismatched or where he came from or why he seemed to be hurting as much as her. She did not need to know what he wished for. She did not need to know anything at all. Except for…

I want InuYasha by my side.

Upon arriving in Tokyo, it was night. Everything was lit up with color and movement and life, chatter, business, pleasure. The hours moved forward, the snow fell, and the trains continued to come and go. And he once again went East alone, while she took the long road West.

InuYasha...are you here?

pqpq

Word Count: 1,889