When Kagome turned 50, her hair started to turn gray but thats not what aged her. The death of Miroku and Sango is what aged her. When Kagome was 51, Sango died. When Kagome was 53 Miroku died.

When Kagome turned 55, Kikyo died.

She was still pretty. She aged like fine wine. She was healthy in body but sick in heart and soul.

Rin came to stay with her after Sango had died, and Sesshomaru came as well.

He watched over her like a shadow as she tried to move through the days in the days after.

"You dont have to hover," She whispered,

"You are sad,"

"Im always sad, and now I'll truly be alone,"

"You could come West," He had offered her a dozen times, the offer always stood.

She did not deny him right away this time, and he thought for a moment she would. But she didnt.

When they returned West without her, he sighed. If he had known their last time would have been their last time, he would taken her more, longer, deeper.

It seemed so long ago, and yet, like yesterday for him.

Hell even Inuyasha was starting to age some, you saw it more on his human nights.

Rin was older now too and the bounds of their life, their age, their lack of time sat on his chest heavy like stone and while he could lift and break stone, this he could not. It ate at him.

He realized that, just as Kagome had not married, he had not mated. He was content with her. Of course like she, he had had slept with others, but kept not a one.

He spent the night he returned pondering the last 50 years and the fact that they didn't have 50 more to give.

Then, he would truly be alone.

Sadness was an arrow that nailed him. But true to Sesshomaru, after letting it seep into him, he pulled it out and tossed it away for another day.

He wondered if Kagome would ever agree to move West. The need to be closer to her grew. Their time together had been a blink, and in no time, she would be gone.

Rin could not keep traveling to her, and Kagome couldn't t keep traveling to them.

He would have to go and go more, and he would, and each time he would ask her, and each time she said no.

He asked her why she was being stubborn about it. She told him one day, he would thank her.

But one day never came.

She told him she was old; he was young.

He reminded her that he would always be older.

She laughed, which pleased him, but she did not move West, which did not please him.

Another decade is gone. Had time always moved this fast?