A/N Alright, just so we know what's going on here. I'm completley and totally stuck on YBTM(You Belong To Me), and therefore have taken a short break on YBTM, b/c it's being stubborn and I don't like it much right now. This was originally a narrative essay for my English class. It's true y'all, so this is one of the few times I mind a review harrassing the subject. I lengthened it earlier, and substituted Inuyasha character names for the ones I had in there, but I might have missed something, so if I did, I apoligize. This is also unedited, b/c I feel like if I send out to someone else, I might not get the nerve to post it again. I've been told it's good, but this is close to my heart, so it's hard to share.

Because I feel like this would be a great time to mention it, let me say this. If you ever have the chance to congragulate on of our troups or do something for them, take it. It means so much to my brother when someone says anything to him, and I know that's true for other troups. They sacrifice so much, and get very little in return.

And now that I got that out of the way, enjoy, and just so we know, because I said so, Souta is older than Kagome in here; why, b/c my bro is older than me.

Watching You Walk Away

Everyone has that moment in their life, that one moment they realize that life is not a fairy tale. That not everything has a happy ending, and that just because you love someone, doesn't mean they will remain safe. That doesn't necessarily mean that they will be hurt, just that you realize that all is not safe. But with this moment comes knowledge. Knowledge that not all life is forever, and you need to live it while you can, to the fullest extent, because without notice, it could all be gone.

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Our car pulled into the darkened parking area, country music going on, passengers silent. No one wanted to say anything, do anything, or see anything. Heck, I even hesitated to breathe. After all, if I moved (and breathing counted as moving), then the world would keep going, and if that happened, I lost my brother. I wasn't ready for that yet. I wanted more time

"Alright," Grandpa announced, breaking the stagnant silence, "we're here." 'No, really?' I thought sarcastically, but wisely kept my mouth shut. Now was not the time to be a pain in the butt. Even if my brother was not leaving today, it would not be right to harass Grandpa. He was just down here to see Souta before he left for Iraq. It's not his fault he feels the need to state the obvious and repeat lots of pointless details when he is feeling sad. Besides, he was leaving for Tokyo right now too.

We slowly piled out of the car, none of us really wanting to leave the safety of it. It's weird, I never really thought of a car as safe before, but for now, it was. If I was in the car, I could pretend we weren't at the airport. If we weren't at the airport, Souta couldn't leave. If Souta couldn't leave, then he couldn't go to Iraq, and if Souta couldn't go to Iraq, he would be safe and so would our mental state. Alas, but this was not to be. Souta grabbed his two bags, Mama grabbed Grandpa's (Grandpa was not allowed to carry anything right now due to some recent surgery), and I held Souta's CD case. I never wanted to let it go.

We trudged slowly through the parking garage, each of us trying to think of something to say while at the same time, afraid to say anything. Again, Grandpa broke the silence.

"Well, before I go, I want to finish my cigarettes." he announced while pulling the pack out of his pocket. "I've got two left. Souta, you want the other one?" Souta nodded silently, and Grandpa handed him the cigarette. 'Wow Grandpa, way to encourage him not to smoke. I am so glad we brought you along.' I thought sarcastically, but again, wisely kept it to myself. Didn't want to cause a fight, now did I?

"Crap, I forgot my lighter at home." Souta mumbled. I silently fished mine out of my pocket and handed it to him. Mama, Grandpa, and Souta all stared at me, and Mama had an obvious question in her eyes.

"No Mama, I don't smoke. I just figured that Souta probably would forget his, so I brought mine." I was, of course, lying about this. The real reason I had the lighter is because I'm a mini-pyro. No, I'm not gonna become some arsonist who sets buildings on fire and laughs manically while they and the people inside burn down, but I do enjoy playing with fire. Don't blame me, it was inevitable. Dad raised me like this, not on purpose, but it still happened. Souta was an even bigger pyro than I was. So, for a good comfort toy, I had brought my lighter.

"I never said you were." Mama huffed, I guess she was offended or something. To tell the truth, I didn't really care. I just rolled my eyes in response and walked as close to Souta as I comfortably could, with him smoking the cancer stick and all. I watched as Souta tucked my lighter inside his carry-on bag.

"I'm never gonna get that back, am I?" I sighed as I watched my baby disappear.

"Nope." Souta responded happily. I did the mature thing, and stuck my tongue out at him. Freshly sixteen, and acting like it, that's me.

We continued walking into the overcrowded airport, silence engulfing our group as the continuous chatter of other people, happy people, surrounded us. We split up real quick, Mama with Grandpa and Souta with me to check in luggage. Souta had a small issue when he tried to get his ticket for the flight to California (they had been reserved online, and so he was picking up the actual tickets now). They had overbooked the flight. 'Oh, isn't that just friggin' wonderful. They can't even manage to properly book a flight and they're in charge of getting my brother somewhere safely.' I know I wasn't being fair to the airports, I even know why they do overbooking's, but that didn't stop me from silently fuming at the stupid airport people. I'm not known to be sensible when I'm depressed. The lady who was handling it was real sweet, especially when she found out Souta was in the Corps. and was going to Iraq soon. I could see how much her respect meant to Souta when she thanked him for fighting for our country, and wished him well. Suddenly, I no longer disliked her, and wanted to hug her. Anyone who made Souta happy couldn't be so bad. She also bumped Souta up to first class for the second half of the flight.

We reconverged in the area outside the gate entrance where they do the carry-on checks and searches. My new worst enemy. Beyond that point, I was no longer allowed to accompany my brother. I hated it already. Mama pointed to our left, and we skillfully maneuvered over to that area, Souta and I putting to good use the crowd evasion skills we had learned so many years ago at Disney World.

My vision blurred as tears filled the rims of my eyes, and I clenched them shut to try and stop them. Souta hates it when I cry. Grandpa gave him the first hug and said something, I don't know what, I couldn't focus. Next it was my turn, and I didn't know what to do. I held on to Souta as tight as I could, as if by my very grip, he couldn't leave. I buried my face into his shoulder as the tears I couldn't contain leaked out, and he talked to Mama over my shoulders, trying to comfort her I'm sure. I don't know, I couldn't hear anything. The rough yet not abrasive material of his beloved black Marine Corps. hoodie scratched my cheek, and the salty taste of my tears filtered into my mouth. His smell wafted into my nose, and I did my best to memorize it, so I could never forget him, never forget my big brother. The mildly bland but still good smelling soap he used, the smell that made him uniquely him, uniquely Souta and... my nose twitched as I smelled it again, and a small smile spread on my face. Axe deodorant. God but I hated the smell of that stuff, but it seemed not even the Corps. could break him of it. I finally forced myself to step back, knowing that I had to let him go eventually, his CD case clutched to my chest. Looking into his beautiful blue eyes that I was so often envious of, I said the only thing I could think of.

"Be safe bro, and you'd better come back home. I love you, Stephen."

"I love you too ,Kagome," he replied softly, and I swear I saw his eyes tearing up a little. Mama went to say her goodbyes, and I just tried to stop crying, failing miserably, since Mama was crying too. We walked to that place where they scan you and your bags, what I always think of as the gate entrance. Souta looked at me expectantly and I reluctantly handed him the CD case, feeling like I was giving up my last connection to him, and he got in line. Grandpa left to catch his flight, but neither Mama nor I noticed. We moved behind the little glass wall that separates the people seeing people off from the people leaving, and more tears trailed down my face. As Souta stood in line for the conveyor belt, the line closest to us, he came over for one last hug. Mama and I cried more, and then he was gone. Passed all the little security measures and walked away, not looking back. Seeing him walking away, watching him do that, and not trying to stop him, it has to be the hardest thing I've ever done.

Mama and I just stood there, waving like idiots and calling out that we loved him, until we could no longer see him. Then we cried. No other way to put it. We stood there, and cried on one another's shoulders, knowing that that could be the last time we ever saw Souta, and praying that it wasn't.

As Mama and I walked to the car, having seen Grandpa off (or trying to, we couldn't really find him when we looked), I borrowed her cell and sent Souta one last text message.

Love ya bro. A message returned a short while later, and I felt the tears well up yet again, and regretted not spending more time with him.

Love ya 2 sis.