Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.
For A Promise
As the sky darkened, Inuyasha waited, appreciating irony.
The day he had once most hated and feared—the day when he was most vulnerable—had become, in the twilight of life, as much succor as bane. As he felt his sparsely-furred ears slide down his skull and change shape, as his eyes darkened and his fangs withdrew, he considered his options for the evening, when he could step from between the interstices of the great city and join-gingerly-the chaotic stream of humanity.
Gingerly, of course, because danger was not gone, only changed. The few remaining youkai in Tokyo were mostly incorporeal, and uninterested in or unaware of one old, tired, hanyo. He was in more danger of being sought out because of his tattered, decrepit condition. Sought out by those who would see an elderly, homeless man, and be desperate to 'help' him.
It would be nice to be given a warm bed, clean clothing, and sufficient food to eat. But, it wouldn't be worth the stares when he changed. Or the endless questions. Or the risk, that he would never again be free to wander.
Or free to keep his promise.
Someday—sometime soon, he often hoped—she would return, and then go. When that happened, then he could keep his last promise, made only to himself. He would keep his promise, and then—
He would seek a sleep without waking.
He was so … very tired.
Author's Note: This takes place at some indeterminate time before the first two chapters. This was written in response to the prompt "Evening", on the Issekiwa LiveJournal community, and originally published on February 17, 2011.