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InuYasha picked up his pace to get back to his hut before the sun fully set.
Winter had wrapped its icy grip around him as he walked the trail, the soft earth beneath his toes hardening more and more each day as the temperature dipped lower.
He had wondered when the snow would finally fall.
The pressure dropped earlier in the day, something he noted in the subtle shifts in his body.
First it was a small ache in his temples as he made his morning rounds patrolling the borders of the village. Then, the slight stiffness in his knees as he chased Miroku's kids after breakfast. And of course, the general irritation he couldn't seem to shake.
Though that was nothing new, especially during this miserable time of year.
Everything was wet. And cold. And dark.
Nature had a way of bringing melancholy and solitude as it progressed in its own rhythm.
And he was only reminded of his loneliness as families spent less and less time outside, seeking as much warmth and protection from the season inside the comfort of their own homes.
As the first flurries of snow drifted past him to the ground, the wave of nostalgia that always arrived with the first snowfall overcame him with an intensity he should have expected by now.
Kagome had once said this was her favorite time of year.
A sentiment that shocked him at the time.
She said in her era, people celebrated some holiday during winter. That it was a happy time, lots of gatherings, and gifts were exchanged.
He could hardly believe there was any happiness to be found during this bleak changing of the seasons as they trudged through the elements on the shard hunt.
Then one day, just around the solstice, she showed up with her yellow backpack overflowing with parcels. She handed them out with a big goofy smile on her face, which their group accepted with equal parts confusion and excitement.
'They're presents!' she had said. 'I'm going to be staying in my time for a few days with my family for the holidays, but I wanted to give you all your gifts before then.'
He remembered scowling at her announcement, irritated that she was delaying their search for more jewel shards.
He wished he hadn't been such an ass about it, knowing now just how limited his time with her would be.
She handed InuYasha's gift to him last, eager eyes expectantly waiting for him to open it.
He unwrapped the deep red fabric that was neatly folded around the contents.
'A scarf! Ya know, now that it's getting so cold?'
He pulled his red robe tighter around him, flinching at the memory.
He shouldn't have scoffed at her, shouldn't have lied about not needing a dumb scarf because he didn't get cold like humans did.
But in the moment, he was just taken aback that someone had actually given him a gift.
A first.
Not something he had inherited. Not something he was given for trade.
But something that was given over freely, picked out with him in mind without expecting anything in return.
And the kindness, the sincerity of it was too much for him to process. So he did what he always did — buried his emotions down deep and deflected with his gruff attitude, belittling her in the process.
What a fucking idiot.
He had been surprised to see that inside the scarf lay various sweets. Some homemade by her and her mother, others wrapped in shiny green and red packaging the crinkled under his fingers.
He could still remember the headache he got from eating them all so fast.
But under those lay a small stone.
An arrowhead someone had carved out of obsidian. The inky rock had been polished so thoroughly, appeared so black that it almost seemed to absorb light. Only when he turned it in the sunlight did it reflect back a deep, purple shimmer.
Frankly, it was beautiful.
Multidimensional, intriguing, nothing like he had ever seen before.
To this day, the only thing he had seen like it were the galaxies in the meido.
'Just a little something to remember me by,' her voice had cut through his wandering thoughts after he took too long to say anything.
She had blushed a little, turned her eyes to the ground.
He should have said thanks. Should have said anything other than 'Keh' before he walked away.
He regretted it every day since.
It was difficult to give himself grace, viewing that moment with the clarity only hindsight can bring.
He had been young then. Generally still was by yokai standards, but the time since her disappearance aged him more progressively than before.
He knew better. He felt more deeply.
If only he had the opportunity to give Kagome that maturity he unwillingly acquired in her absence.
Several winters had passed by now.
Since the well stopped working.
Maybe 10?
He wasn't positive.
But he ran a thumb over the rough stone in his pocket just the same, as if it would remind him of how much time had passed since he received her gift.
One decade down, 49 to go.
He was only a few long strides away from his hut as the wind picked up, scattering more flurries in the air around him.
Ice filled his lungs. The ground beneath him hardened, crystallized earth crunching underfoot as snow dusted the path to his hut.
A sigh of relief left his mouth as he pushed back the reed mat to his hut and finally escaped the cold.
He grunted at himself, trying to quell the shiver in his body that ran bone deep. He was softening with the luxury of a place to call home, a shelter from the elements.
But Kagome had started softening those edges to him years ago.
He added more wood to the hearth, the light and warmth gradually expanded within his simple hut.
Sitting by the fire, he pulled the arrowhead out of his hakama to examine it more closely under the dim light.
Its ebony sheen bounced off the light of the dancing flames, the rough edges just a little smoother after years of wear under his fingers.
The gift.
He was fortunate enough to have received more over the years from his friends or fellow villagers.
But this was his first.
He swore if he survived this wait, finally got to see her again, he would give her a gift.
Something worthy of her and everything she meant to him.
Something that would let her know just how much he loved her
He didn't even know if such a gift could possibly exist, but he would try his hardest to find it.
He had time.
A sudden breeze shook the walls of his dwelling, jarring him from his thoughts with an intrusive frigid wind.
Depositing the arrowhead back into his pocket, he stood and paced towards his sleeping mat.
In the corner sat her yellow backpack, the one he meticulously preserved since it had been abruptly abandoned.
Shuffling through the contents with practiced ease, he retrieved the red scarf. Its threads soft, thinning over time.
Walking back over to sit by the fire, he gently wrapped it around his neck and inhaled deeply.
Her scent had faded from the fabric long ago, but the scarf provided the same comfort he craved when he sought its warmth in secret.
One day, winter would feel different.
Its chill wouldn't sink as deep into his skin, the long nights wouldn't feel as dark and empty.
The isolation would be a thing of the past.
Because one day, if he kept himself alive, he would be with her.
All the winters he spent without her would be worth it.
He had hope in that.
And maybe that hope was the gift she left him with that she never intended to give.