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Chapter 5: The Feeling of Something Forgotten

The sun hasn't climbed far past the treetops when Inuyasha and Kagome set out through the village, the air still touched with the chill of night. Neither of them speaks at first. Birds chatter high in the branches overhead, but the path ahead feels quiet—strangely so. Kagome keeps her eyes on the dirt road, her bow slung over her shoulder. Inuyasha walks a few paces behind, ears twitching with every sound, but it's not danger he's listening for. It's her.

The soft crunch of dirt under their feet is the only sound for a while.

Kagome walks just ahead, her bow and quiver swaying at her back. She is following the directions Kaede had given her, assuming her companion will speak up if she's going the wrong way. Inuyasha remains a step behind, hands shoved in his sleeves, eyes flicking between the trees. The scent of firewood and cooking rice drifts through the trees—familiar. Almost too familiar.

Then she sees them.

Sango is crouched near a small garden alongside their home, one child on her back, another toddling nearby with a wooden toy. Her head lifts at the sound of footsteps, and her whole body goes still. Her brown eyes widen like she sees a ghost.

"Kagome?"

The name falls from her lips like a whisper.

Kagome nods, smiling—uncertain and tender. "Hey, Sango." She offers a small, awkward wave. Inuyasha lingers back in an attempt to not get noticed by the toddler and end up with his ears getting messed with again.

There's a beat. And then Sango runs forward, child still clinging to her, arms flung wide. She hugs Kagome tightly, but there's a hesitation in her grip. Like part of her is afraid the moment will vanish if she blinks too hard. Kagome's smile grows as she absorbs the much needed hug with relief.

She wasn't forgotten after all.

"I… I didn't think—I mean…" Her voice breaks as she takes a step back and her eyes scan every inch of her. "Is it really you?"

Kagome nods again, voice thick. "Yeah. I'm back."

The familiar sting in her eyes is beginning to return again, and Inuyasha picks up on the scent, slightly crinkling his nose in response and glancing away from the reunion.

Miroku appears in the doorway, eyes widening. "By the gods. I thought… Sango, you didn't imagine it."

"I told you," Sango breathes, looking back towards him. "I told you it didn't feel right."

Miroku steps down from the doorway, his robes loose around his shoulders, a small child cradled in one arm. He stops in his tracks when his eyes meet Kagome's, his expression caught between relief and something quieter. Something confused.

"Kagome…" he murmurs. "It's been… three years, hasn't it?"

Kagome offers a small, tentative smile. "It feels like both more and less."

The little girlin his arms blinks sleepily at her, then hides her face in Miroku's chest. The other little one had ran over to her father the moment he stepped outside, and now peeks out from behind the doorframe, clinging shyly to his deep, purple robe.

"They're beautiful... and they've gotten so big," Kagome says softly, her gaze drifting between them all as she studies them each. They all look like a perfect mixture of Miroku and Sango, with deep brown hair and brown eyes to pair with it. Kagome is nearly speechless, looking at the children of the two people she considered to be her best friends.

"You really did it, huh? Peace."

Sango nods, tears shimmering but unfallen. "We did… but it never felt whole."

She reaches out again, brushing Kagome's arm like she's trying to anchor the moment—afraid it'll slip through her fingers again. "Come inside. You must be tired. Hungry. Gods, Kagome, I thought maybe—maybe I imagined you."

The warmth of the home hits gently—herbs drying above the fire, toys scattered across the floor. Kagome sits near the hearth with Sango, the child that was originally outside playing, realized that Kagome was a good friend of her mothers, and is now nestled comfortably in her lap like it's the most natural thing in the world. Inuyasha leans against the wall near the door, arms folded but eyes never leaving the scene. He's thankful the little twerp is focused on her new toy, Kagome. At least for now.

Miroku pours tea, his movements slow, thoughtful. "It's strange," he says after a beat. "We remember the final battle—Naraku falling, the curse lifting. I remember feeling like my lungs were full for the first time in years."

Sango nods. "I remember Kohaku. I remember thinking I'd lose him again. That pain—those days—they're still sharp."

"But then… after it all ended," Miroku continues, setting the tea down and glancing over at his sife, "it's like the memories get soft. Foggy."

Sango stares into her cup. "You faded, Kagome. Like smoke. I couldn't remember saying goodbye. I couldn't even remember if you had left… or if you'd ever really been here at all."

The words land heavy.

Kagome holds the sleeping child in her lap a little tighter. "I was there. Until I wasn't. And I didn't get to say goodbye either." Her eyes are full of regret as if she had control over the outcome.

Silence stretches, but it's not uncomfortable. Just full.

Miroku chuckles softly, breaking the silence, as he settles closer beside Sango. "Do you remember that time in the mountains? When we were snowed in, and Inuyasha refused to admit he was cold until Kagome lent him that puffy yellow coat?"

Sango laughs, covering her mouth. "He sulked for hours—but didn't take it off once."

Kagome smiles, her expression distant but warm. "He grumbled about the sleeves. Said they were useless for fighting."

Inuyasha huffs from the doorway. "They were. I couldn't even lift Tessaiga properly."

"Oh, you did fine," Kagome says, her tone playful but soft. "You always did."

The four of them didn't have to say it out loud, but they were all glad to at least share some memories together.

Miroku leans back slightly, his gaze flicking between the hanyou and time traveler. "Back then, we always assumed you two… felt something. But none of us really knew for sure. You never said."

Sango tilts her head. "I don't remember ever hearing you say goodbye, Kagome. Or when it shifted—when it went from teasing and bickering to something deeper. Maybe we didn't notice. Or maybe we forgot."

Miroku nods in agreement. "I do remember you two bickering like a married couple though. And I can say that with experience now." A sly smirk spread on his face as Sango reached over and lightly shoved his arm, a small blush on her cheeks.

Their words land like soft stones, rippling the quiet between them. Kagome's hand stills on the child's back. Her eyes lift, immediately drawn across the fire to where Inuyasha watches her—expression unreadable but undeniably present.

They stare at each other for a moment. Caught in something unspoken. Heavy with knowing.

Inuyasha doesn't say a word. His claws curl slightly into his sleeves. Some things were easier left unspoken—especially when they'd been buried for three years.

Then—

"Mmm—salty!"

Kagome yelps as a small weight suddenly lands on her shoulder. A familiar, tiny flea-demon gleefully sucks on her cheek before bouncing back, belly round and satisfied.

"Myōga!" she gasps, swatting at him—though the fond smile tugging at her lips betrays her joy.

"Ah, Lady Kagome!" he croaks, wobbling in the air with a satisfied sigh when he reaches the palm of her hand. A small giggle escapes her in response. "Delightful as always, and so full of spiritual energy—!"

Inuyasha's eye visibly twitches. "Really? You had to make your entrance like that?" His voice comes out in a croak.

Inuyasha crosses the room in two strides, pinching Myōga between two fingers. Myoga had leapt from Kagome's hand, but failed at avoiding Inuyasha's demonic skills of being very quick and accurate, caught in mid air between his claws. "You couldn't just say hello like a normal flea?"

"Ow, ow! Lord Inuyasha, mercy!" Myōga wheezes, his little legs flailing. "I merely wished to confirm that Lady Kagome was indeed real and not some illusion!"

Kagome sighs, rubbing her cheek. "There are better ways to do that."

Sango raises a brow. "You knew something was wrong?"

Myōga wriggles free and lands with a bounce on Miroku's sleeve. "But of course! The threads of fate have been tugging oddly for months now. Old demons murmuring about strange dreams… memories that feel borrowed or blurred. I felt a shift the moment the Bone-Eater's Well stirred again."

Kagome straightens slightly, heart ticking faster. "You know why it brought me back?"

Myōga folds his arms. "Not precisely. But I suspect it has something to do with the Echo."

Miroku's brow furrows. "Echo?"

"A spiritual reverberation," Myōga says, voice unusually grave. "When something powerful ends—like the Shikon Jewel—it doesn't always vanish cleanly. It leaves behind an echo, a residue of its will. That echo can warp time, distort memory… even tug at souls not quite finished with their purpose."

The fire pops, sending a crackle through the silence.

Sango's hand tightens around Miroku's.

"You're saying," Inuyasha mutters, "this 'echo' is messing with our memories?"

"It's possible," Myōga nods. "Even likely. Think, the Shikon Jewel was full of souls and wishes, good and bad. Some bonds may have been dulled. Others tangled. And when the jewel was destroyed, if shards of that echo still exist in the world…"

Kagome's gaze falls to her lap, knowing where this is going. "Then we have to find them. Don't we?"

Myōga gives a solemn nod. "Before they find you first."

"Tch." Inuyasha leans back on his hands, gaze fixed on the floor. "Figures. We finally get some peace, and the damn jewel still finds a way to screw with us."

His tone is sharp, but not loud. More tired than angry.

Kagome watches him, her fingers tightening slightly in her lap, careful not to wake the child. "You think it's really the jewel's fault? Even now?"

"It always is," he mutters. "First it ruined your life, then mine, then everyone else's. And now—what—it's dragging you back here like some unfinished curse?"

"Inuyasha—" Sango starts, her voice soft.

But he just exhales and shakes his head. "I just don't get why it didn't leave us alone when it was gone. When she was gone."

Kagome sucks in a breath.

Miroku studies him carefully. "You don't think this is fate, then?"

Inuyasha's jaw tightens. "I don't care what it is. I'm not losing anyone again. Not because of some echo, or shard, or whatever."

Kagome blinks, her chest tightening at the way his voice dips on again.

Myōga clears his throat, hopping closer. "That resolve may be exactly what you need, Inuyasha. The Echo's pull is strongest on those still bound by unfinished emotion. Regret. Longing."

Inuyasha glances at Kagome. Just for a second. But it lingers.

Then he looks away, eyes flicking toward the fire. "Yeah, well. We'll finish it this time." He responds gruffly, a low growl almost escaping.

Kagome watches the fire crackle, warmth brushing her skin. But it's his voice that stays with her, heavier than the silence that follows.