Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. Plain and simple.

Author's Note: This is it, everybody! The end. After much contemplation and some input from my beta, I've decided to go with this one. So, again, thank you all for reading, I hope you've enjoyed it at least a little.

(For future reference, there isn't going to be a sequel.)



There is a well of memories inside of me, and if I jump I will tumble and fall, down through the years and back to a time when bills didn't matter, and a bunch of kids could change the world.

I remember most all of it, but there are little snatches, the ones I don't remember, that come back to me, sometimes, in my dreams. But when I wake up, they always fade, and I am left feeling reminiscent and sad.

There are things about the past that I will never know, and stories to which I will never know the ending, whether they were happy or sad. And there is a boy, or perhaps he was a man, that I will never see again save for in that old well.

His is a fate I will always ponder but never know, like so many others that I would have liked to see.

I would have liked to know a great many things, but karma cannot be so kind.

Yet, despite the fact that I have a great wealth of unfinished endings, there are some things, whether intentional or unintentional, that manage to write them for me.

When, at the age of twenty, I awoke cold and naked, but unharmed, at the bottom of the shrine's well, and days later returned home from the hospital to find the sacred stone gone from my desk, a brush inside me picked up a memory and dipped its tip in the ink of knowledge and theories, and wrote an ending.

It is the only ending I have ever written, but I fear that if I were to write endings to them all, that well of memories inside of me would dry up, and I could never fall down again.