Kagome's breath hitched in her throat. She had imagined this moment a thousand times, in a thousand different ways—each scenario a tangled mess of relief, regret, longing, and uncertainty. But nothing, nothing could have prepared her for the weight of reality settling over her shoulders now.

Koga stood there, just beyond the threshold of the house, his form cast in the dim glow of the streetlights. His hair was shorter, his stance more rigid.

Time had shaped him into something older, something sharper. But his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—hadn't changed. They burned with the same fire she had always known, but there was something else, something deeper.

Disbelief.

Recognition.

And something like… pain.

She almost hesitated to know of the struggles and pain that had been endured over five hundred years.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick, humming with all the things left unsaid. Ginta and Hakkaku had gone completely still, as if even breathing too loudly might shatter whatever fragile moment had formed between them all.

Kagome swallowed hard. "Koga…"

His name barely left her lips before he moved. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her shoulders with a force that was almost desperate. His touch burned through her clothing, grounding her in the present, in this impossible, beautiful, terrifying reality.

"You're real," he murmured, his voice hoarse, like he had spent years convincing himself she wasn't. "You're actually here."

Her chest tightened. She nodded. "I am."

Koga's fingers twitched against her shoulders before he abruptly let go, stepping back as if he needed the space to process what was happening. His gaze raked over her, searching for answers she wasn't sure she could give.

"When?" he finally asked. "How?"

She inhaled shakily. "It's… a long story."

His jaw clenched. "Then tell me. We've got time now, don't we?"

Time.

She almost laughed.

Time had been the true villain here.

But time had also been their savior.

There was an edge to his words, not anger, but something dangerously close. Hurt, maybe. Frustration.

She understood.

Kagome glanced back at Youko. He had remained silent, his golden eyes observing everything with that unreadable expression of his. He met her gaze and gave a slight nod—an unspoken reassurance.

She turned back to Koga, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "I don't know where to start."

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before gesturing toward the house. "Inside. We're not doing this out here."

Something about his response startled her.

It was so firm.

So sure.

Stern.

For a split moment, she felt as if she was being scolded.

And maybe she was.

Ginta and Hakkaku, as if suddenly shaken from their stupor, scrambled to make space. "Yeah, yeah, come in!" Ginta said hurriedly. "We'll get you some tea or—uh, do you want tea?"

Tea? She almost laughed at such an absurd thought.

Never had she envisioned this on her bingo card of life.

"I think she needs something stronger," Hakkaku muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from Koga.

Despite everything, Kagome felt a small, almost imperceptible smile tug at her lips.

Some things really never changed.

They really were just the same.

She stepped inside, Youko following silently behind her. Briefly, Kagome swore she saw Koga give the fox a suspicious glare. But as quick as it was there, it disappeared.

The moment the door closed, sealing her within the warmth of the home, she felt the weight of expectation settle over her.

Koga crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "Start talking, Kagome."

And so, she did.

Koga was the first to speak. "Kagome…" His voice was rough, hesitant in a way she had never heard before. "Is it really you?"

Her chest ached at the way he looked at her—like she was a ghost, something impossible made real.

She swallowed hard and nodded.

Well, if she was gonna do this, she had to start somewhere.

Ginta let out a shaky breath. "But how?" He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "We looked for you. We thought—" His voice caught, and he exhaled sharply. "We thought you were gone."

Kagome's fingers curled into the fabric of her pants. "I was."

Technically.

But 'gone' differed in meaning to others.

Koga's sharp gaze darkened. "Explain."

She hesitated before finally speaking. "You remember the well?"

It had been five hundred years. She would be surprised if they said yes. But yet, all three of them nodded immediately.

Demons and their memory.

Odd how it was so fickle in humans.

"That's how I traveled back and forth between my time and yours. It was the link between us." She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself. "But when the battle with Naraku ended… the well stopped working. I couldn't go back."

Silence.

She waited.

She knew it was a lot to take in.

Koga's jaw clenched. "So you were trapped here?"

Trapped?

She supposed she was.

But not really.

Her throat tightened. "Not trapped. I was home."

For the longest time it didn't feel like home. But it was, it had been, and by all definitions, it had and was 'home'.

A heavy silence followed.

Ginta blinked. "Wait…" His expression shifted, something clicking into place. "You mean…" He turned to Hakkaku, as if trying to confirm his own thoughts before turning back to Kagome. "You weren't there after the battle? Like, at all?"

She shook her head. "No."

Hakkaku's eyes widened. "So you weren't just stuck on this side. You were… never there again."

That was a hard pill to swallow, but he had understood perfectly what she was saying.

Kagome exhaled. "Exactly."

Koga's ears twitched, his brows furrowing in a way that told her he was piecing it together.

"I never lived through those five hundred years," she said carefully, watching their expressions shift. "For me, I left the Feudal Era… and I woke up here, in my own time. While you lived on, I just… skipped ahead."

Realization settled over them like a slow-moving storm.

Skipped ahead.

But those years dragged on.

They felt like a lifetime.

She could only imagine how five hundred years felt for them.

Ginta exhaled. "Shit."

Hakkaku ran a hand through his hair. "So while we searched, you weren't even there to be found."

Koga let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Five hundred years." His voice was low, edged with something rough. "Five hundred years, and you were never even there."

The sheer weight of those words made her chest tighten.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Koga's hands curled into fists. "Dammit, Kagome." His voice cracked, frustration bleeding through. "Do you know how long—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "I waited. I searched. We looked everywhere." His eyes burned into hers, filled with something raw and unrelenting. "But you were already gone."

Her vision blurred, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I know."

She knew Koga.

She knew Ginta and Hakkaku.

So when he said everywhere, she believed it.

For years, she had convinced herself that she had lost them forever. That time had taken them away from her, that they had disappeared into history, unreachable.

But now, they were here. They had lived. They had waited.

And somehow, impossibly, time had brought them back together.

Koga exhaled, his shoulders finally easing, even as his eyes remained locked onto hers. "Okay, now explain the fox—and how you became my mate without telling me."

Somehow, she wasn't ready for that question.

But she should have been.