He wasn't like this when he first learned of her death, he just raised his eyebrows, was silent for a moment, and then, even happily, "Is that so? Is that woman dead? That woman? It really makes me comfortable."
Until he sat on a tall tree, lonely and sparse. His sincerity was revealed.
So sad, unbelievable.
"Really? Is it dead?"
Fifty years have passed.
For fifty years, he was sealed and slept by her, and she died—death was actually a kind of slumber. It's just very long, without end, without dreams.
He woke up. She is dead.
If you don't die, how will you stay?
If Kikyo didn't die, fifty years later, when Inuyasha woke up, the Kikyo he faced should be an old "aunt" like Kaede. He couldn't recognize it, just like he couldn't recognize Kaede.
Yongtai's grief is also here. And Yongtai is even more sad, because he has to watch, change day by day, powerless to stop, powerless to restore.
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