The hanyo's skin born no scars despite so many injuries he could not possibly remember nor could he count them all. He marveled on that fact and part if him wished he wore at least some permanent reminders of past victories on his body if anything but to make his appearance more intimidating when he fought demons. He blamed his yokai blood and healing abilities for perfect skin and his youthful face despite his advanced age in human years.
None of this mattered to his woman. Every time he came home with a pittance of a wound, she insisted on pressing some smelly plant or salve on the lesion and sometimes worse! Sometimes she cried making him wish each cut or bruise still hurt as when they were inflicted. He loathed to see her cry, her tears constructed such dull pain within his half-human heart the only thing he could do was try to kiss each one away.
Sometimes, they held each other in their marital bed and she moved her soft hands over his unmarred flesh just to give him goosebumps so she could giggle at the reaction and remind him he was hers. She'd also remind him his skin answering to her touch proved the strength of his humanity, after all, whoever heard of a full yokai getting goosebumps from the touch of his or her human lover. He'd scoff and tease her it could not be proven.
They'd make love on the night of the new moon, when the clouds lay dark against an equally blackened sky, a darkness identical to his long hair. Still, in the hanyo's human form, he carried no imperfections and his wife continued to worship his body and endearing soul. She'd tell him over and over it didn't matter that he was a great warrior – though that she was thankful of his promise to protect her always – but that she loved the hanyo. He'd smirk and ask her why? She'd answer because he keeps her on her toes, always gives as good as he gets but still is tender and loving. The woman would take him by surprise and pin him down, knowing he let her, and ask the same. The hanyo replied the same.
Still, the fact that he carried nothing of penance for his past misfortune, misdeeds and battles bothered him. It pestered him horribly each time his own strong, clawed hands roamed her body for although she radiated beauty, her skin did not escape unscathed.
She received a scar the very first day they met when the Shikon No Tama burst from her left side and came back into this world after being lost to the universe for fifty years. It was a tiny mark, white and only an inch or so long but as he stroked it with his thumb, he cursed it and the pain she suffered from it and the whole journey that started after the stone's expulsion from her body that day.
On her shoulder, she bore a deeper mark, this one red and he kissed it with reverence. Kohaku's weapon caused this one, the night he couldn't get to her fast enough to stop Naraku from controlling the youth. The hanyo remembered smelling her sweet blood and the fear that built up in his belly that he'd not reach her in time.
He slowly kissed his way down her right arm to the scars that caused some of his worse nightmares, ones in which his beloved died a gruesome death...by his own hard claws. Indeed, three red strips marked her upper arm where in his yokai rage, he swiped at her and tore her soft flesh. The half-demon loathed these marks of all the ones on her pale white skin, he hated them the most because he gave them to her. It didn't matter he wasn't in control, her blood still soaked his claws and she bore the remnants of that fight while they were inside Naraku and would carry them forever as a constant reminder.
She didn't care one bit. She told him as long as he loved her, it didn't matter to her what imperfections she had. She even had the audacity to tell him that she wasn't scared of him and never would be! The hanyo reminded his wife that she should be and they both should always be careful of his yokai half. Although his woman agreed, she still swore to him that no matter what, nothing about him would ever frighten her and she knew he'd never hurt her. Sometimes, he felt like she was right about that too.
Both had their own battles in the past and over come them. Inuyasha's scars still remained inside where he still had some doubts about himself and his place in the human world. Kagome's scars were more apparent on her skin but her heart remained determined to show Inuyasha how much he was loved, wanted and needed not just by her, but by all the friends he made along their journey.
He figured he'd let her keep him happy for as long as she wanted and she believed that would be forever and that was fine for her, scars and all.