InuYasha sat high in his favorite tree and allowed the downpour to wash over him. His ears were plastered to his head in an attempt to keep the water out of them, but that was the only action to reflect that he’d even noticed the thunderstorm. His mane and clothing were drenched and plastered to his body, and he made no effort to stop the drops from streaming down his face.

He wanted to roar his frustrations, but he continued to sit in silence in the deluge. Here, in the rain, no one would see the tears streaming from his closed eyes to be washed away. No one would see the pain that he suffered every time he returned to the well to find it remained closed to him, and he was still separated from Kagome.

The hanyou did not go through the ritual every time it rained, but sometimes it became too much and it was his only outlet. Kaede seemed to understand, but she believed that Kagome had returned to her world for good. Miroku was busy with Sango and his two brand new daughters. That thought made InuYasha smirk – that the once-cursed lecherous monk’s first child ended up being beautiful twin girls.  And then the ache returned, for the monk was happily married with a family. Was that something that InuYasha ever would have, or was he destined to be alone? The first woman he’d ever loved had died in his arms, and the second he safely returned to her own family before coming back to his era alone.

InuYasha couldn’t help but to think about Kagome nearly every day. There was always something to remind him of her and thus was the foundation of his pain. But in spite of her absence, he still had the things she’d left with him, the things that he’d learned. And suddenly, he remembered that the tears he shed for her was one of the gifts she had given him. He recalled that it was only because of Kagome that he had come to care for others and had friends, friends that he could rely on and that he could trust. He was no longer alone, no longer an outcast.

He wiped his face and looked up at the sun breaking through the clouds. It appeared that the summer storm was over. It was time to wash away this pain. Kagome wasn’t dead – she had not died in his arms. She was at home with her grandfather, mother, and brother. She was safe, which was what he had always wanted for her.  The hanyou smiled. He would wait for the miko from the future to return, for he was certain that fate had intended for them to be together. In the meantime, he would recollect and use the lessons he had learned from her.  Yes, he would still be lonely sometimes, and he would continue to check the well regularly.  But he did have companions that could help fill his days until she came back to him. He would help Miroku with his youkai eradications and around the village as needed since the villagers were no longer afraid of him – something else he could thank the young miko for. And then there was the added bonus of the fact that if Shippou annoyed him too much, he could drop-kick the kitsune all the way to the river and not hear a single “Osuwari!” A large grin crossed his face as he shook himself off and then headed towards Miroku’s hut to rescue the monk from diaper duty.  He would wait for his miko, but in the meantime, there were places to go and youkai to kill.

*finis*