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It was 4:27 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon and Inuyasha was in desperate need of coffee.
Well, specifically he was in desperate need of caffeine, which — theoretically — he could also have gotten from tea (weak), an energy drink (vile) or by popping a handful of those chocolate-coated espresso beans engineers and computer scientists seemed to favor (less likely to spill liquid on temperamental electronics), but nothing was quite as pleasurable as savoring a mug of hot, bitter black gold.
Currently he was trudging his way across the Quad — official name: Memorial Quadrangle, what a mouthful — towards the little wrought iron gate that would let him out onto the main street and just a block down from the Saltwater Taffy, affectionately referred to as Taff by students. It was, Inuyasha mused for the hundredth time, a completely inane name for a coffee shop, particularly since they offered no taffy whatsoever, but the brew they served was the strongest and darkest this side of the Appalachians, so he was inclined to forgive them this particular offense.
Shutting the gate behind him and making sure the electronic lock activated, Inuyasha shivered as a late fall breeze cut through his leather shearling jacket and he flipped up the collar, wishing he’d also thought to grab one of his many beanies to protect his sensitive ears, which had flattened automatically to the top of his head. The sun had already dipped behind the roofline, causing the shadows of buildings and lampposts to warp across the street. The air had that crisp smoke-and-leaf smell that always made him think of pumpkins and bonfires.
It was also a smell that reminded him in only a few short weeks the semester would end, he would have his last exam, and he’d be guilted, as he was each year, into heading back home for the winter holidays. An annual occasion of painful awkwardness as he tried — and failed — to navigate between his father (well-meaning, but historically unable to connect with his youngest son), stepmother (emphasis on the “step”), and half-brother (Inuyasha almost hoped this would be the year Sesshomaru finally admitted he just didn’t like him, instead of sniping about his academic choices under the guise of “big-brother life advice”). One big, happy inu youkai family. He never liked it, and neither did his inner youkai, which always chafed under the abrasive ambience of his family home.
But fortunately, before his mood could grow too bleak, Inuyasha reached his destination and pulled open Taff’s satisfyingly hefty door.
Immediately he was enveloped in the cozy hustle and bustle of the shop. He inhaled, almost too gratefully, the roasty perfume of freshly ground coffee beans; creaminess of hot, frothed milk; and the subtle underpinning sweetness of whatever muffins and cakes were in the display case up front. His ears tingled as they warmed back up, and he resisted the urge to massage their sensitive tips.
Inuyasha’s favorite barista, Shippo, was manning the counter today, and Inuyasha gave him a fangy grin when the chipper kitsune caught his eye. A few years younger than Inuyasha, they didn’t have any classes together — theater majors like Shippo didn’t often overlap with the STEM-heavy load Inuyasha’s earth and planetary sciences track did — but Inuyasha’s regular caffeine craving meant the two of them had forged a fast friendship built on a foundation of banter and tips, and Inuyasha could always count on getting an extra strong shot in his red eye (hey, it packed maximum stay-awake power without the frippery of whipped cream). Today Shippo’s trademark fiery hair was pulled back into some half-up, half-down thing, and the corner of Inuyasha’s mouth twitched when he heard the girl standing in line behind him whisper that he was “h-o-double-t hot” to her friend.
Idly worrying the end of his loose braid, which snaked (except for the two chunks he kept loose to hide his lack of human ears) almost to his hip, Inuyasha wondered if he should cut his hair. Clearly whatever Shippo was doing was working with the ladies, not that he’d ever tell him that — no need to inflate the runt’s ego any more than necessary.
But reaching the front of the line, Inuyasha put aside follicular quandaries for something far more important: c-o-f-f-double-e, which was what worked best for him.
“Hey man,” Shippo said, already moving with kitsune quickness to dust the espresso machine’s portafilter off and wipe it down for the next drink. “The usual?”
“Do I ever get anything else?” Inuyasha quipped, already pulling out four singles from his wallet (three for the drink, one for the tip jar).
“No,” Shippo grinned (Inuyasha swore he heard one of the women behind him give a thirsty whimper), tamping down on fresh coffee grounds with a practiced twist of his wrist and locking the portafilter into the group head to pull Inuyasha’s shot. “But one day I’ll get you to try something new. We’re a bit crowded today so why don’t you find a seat first and I’ll holler when this is ready.”
“Thanks,” Inuyasha said, turning to scan the room. Shippo was right: it was packed, nearly all of the seats occupied with other students also escaping the stress of last-minute studying in the underground library corrals, or simply the chilly gloom of the day. Frowning slightly — he didn’t really want to sit elbow-to-elbow with anyone right now — Inuyasha made a beeline for the back corner. Not everyone knew that there was a little nook partially hidden behind the bookshelf, and if he was lucky the particularly comfy loveseat there would be empty and he could just decompress with his gateway drug of choice in peace.
Quickly glancing around to make sure no one else saw what he was doing (the fewer people who knew about this particular hideaway, the better for him) Inuyasha slipped behind the bookshelf. And, fuck.
The loveseat was already occupied.
A woman he’d never seen before was curled into one corner, slim, leggings-clad limbs tucked up beneath her. Inuyasha noted she’d at least cared enough for the couch’s upholstery to take off her shoes; a pair of impractically flimsy — for this weather, what was she thinking! — ballet flats had been kicked off to the side. Her oversized pale pink sweater was more sensible, at least, though it had slipped off one shoulder and Inuyasha found himself uncharacteristically distracted by the pale swoop of her neck and the contrast of her skin with the riotous tumble of black waves cascading down her back.
Well. Damn if she wasn’t gorgeous. Not that it detracted (he told himself firmly) from his original goal: Solo. Coffee. Imbibing. And she was still in his seat.
Though...she hadn’t even noticed him come in. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the low table in front of her, which was covered in an elaborate array of...picture cards? What?
Inuyasha cleared his throat. Mystery Girl’s eyes — deep and dark as brown butter caramel — snapped to meet his, and she blushed, prettily.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, flashing him a rueful smile, “I’m hogging the table, aren’t I? Here,” and she moved to clear her cards, stacking them neatly in a single pile and pushing it off to one side. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to come back here.”
“Neither was I,” Inuyasha said shortly, crossing his arms and tapping one claw impatiently against his bicep. The implication was pretty clear, he thought: Leave (now).
She huffed, his brusque greeting not phasing her in the slightest. And fuck if he didn’t have a thing for women with fire. “Well there’s no need to be rude about it. You can either take your chances out in the main room or you can suffer to share with me, because I’m still not done with my coffee. But,” she added with a smug grin as Inuyasha surreptitiously poked his head out to scan the front again, “given how crowded it was when I got here, I suspect I’m the better option.”
Ugh. Inuyasha quickly realized that Mystery Girl was right: In the mere minute or two it had taken him to place his order and get to the back, the last of the seats — even the least-desirable middle ones at the communal table — had been snapped up. Damn. He once again eyed the space next to her skeptically, resisting the urge to growl when she smirked — smirked! — at him and patted the cushion gently.
“Yash, come get your jitter juice,” he heard Shippo call from behind the counter.
Inuyasha shrugged out of his jacket and slung it aggressively into the empty spot, daring Mystery Girl to change her mind. He quickly slipped back into the main room, sidling his way up to the counter and accepting a steaming mug from Shippo with a grunt.
“Find the surprise in the back?” Shippo asked, cheekily.
“You didn’t think to warn me?” Inuyasha hissed back. “See if you get any more tips from me, you traitor!”
“It will have been worth it just to see the expression on your face right now,” Shippo replied amiably, leaning against the counter as Inuyasha started to make his way back to the bookshelf, fiercely guarding his perilously full mug from any wayward elbows or bags. “And I know you love me!”
If Inuyasha’s claws hadn’t been otherwise occupied, he would have flipped the kitsune off.
Ducking back into the nook, he was half surprised to see his dubiously dibbed seat still preserved for him, Mystery Girl having left (oh so generously) his jacket on the cushion next to her. She’d even cleared all her cards off the table, and was instead shuffling them adroitly in one hand. With minimal spillage, Inuyasha managed to get his mug safely onto the coffee table and gratefully sank down next to her, tossing his jacket over the armrest.
Finally he could partake of the elixir of the gods. He would just ignore Mystery Girl next to him and everything would be absolutely, 100%, totally normal and fine.
Inuyasha felt the force of her gaze, a faint prickle on the back of his neck, as he took his first blessed sip. Why was she staring at him? Was it his ears? His claws? He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Whatever, he told himself, if she had a problem with what he was, she could be the one to leave, and then he’d have the whole couch to himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mystery Girl tap one delicate finger against her cheek thoughtfully, then — more decisively — give the cards one final shuffle, flipping over the card at the top of her deck. At her little noise of satisfaction, Inuyasha finally turned to face her and snapped, "What? ”
Most people would have quailed under the full, golden glare of a (still) caffeine-deprived inu hanyou, for the flash of fang he bared if nothing else, but Mystery Girl merely rolled her eyes. Why was that confidence so sexy?
“You’re not very good with people, are you?”
It was such an out-of-the-blue statement, Inuyasha felt his surge of irritation deflating like a soufflé straight out of the oven: quickly. “What?” he sputtered. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Ten of Cups, reversed,” she replied matter-of-factly. Because, that explained everything, of course. “It means you struggle to connect to those around you, or have trouble communicating with them. Or there’s some conflict with your values and theirs, and that’s causing friction.” Mystery Girl ticked off each piece of analysis one by one on her fingers. “Not that I like to generalize, of course. But I asked the deck to give me an overall read on you and, well, that’s more or less what it said.”
“Personal values” mumbo-jumbo aside, Inuyasha felt a frisson of unease — her statements did sound uncannily like the family drama he was currently stressing out about — at how close she’d managed to nail him. He leaned over slightly, taking a closer look at the card: It had one of those old-timey pictures on it, with a bicolored rainbow of ten...cups, he guessed, arcing across the top (well, bottom since it was “reversed,” whatever that meant) and an upside down man and woman in the foreground, sides pressed close together, each with one arm outstretched.
“And you got all of that from a picture of a rainbow and two people doing the ‘YMCA’ dance?” he asked, trying — and failing — to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
She snorted. “That and your heinously rude reaction to my very presence made it pretty obvious. They’re tarot cards, not black magic. I’m not going to suddenly whip out some sort of gauzy veil or turban, flip over a card and proclaim that,” she twiddled her fingers to indicate mystic spookiness, “the cards have foreseen your future, and they see death.”
Her voice dropped and cracked on the last word, like she was trying to mimic Benedict Cumberbatch’s take on Smaug from “The Hobbit.” Inuyasha couldn’t help it, something about the gruff croaking sound from deep in her throat with the bad British accent coming out of Mystery Girl’s petite frame, combined with the utter seriousness of her expression, set him off, and he started to laugh so hard he felt his sides start to cramp. After a few seconds where she just stared at him in utter confusion, her own lips twitched and soon she too was trying to control a fit of utterly adorable giggles.
It was music to his ears. Fuck, he hadn’t laughed like this in forever. Inuyasha knew it was probably just the result of fatigue and caffeine (he could finally feel it working its sweet, sweet chemical magic on his body, hallelujah) and a bit of insanity on both of their parts, but here they were. Laughing. Together. If it went on much longer, he was sure Shippo would come back to see what sort of drugs they were both clearly taking.
Finally, when both of their laughter reduced to nothing but the occasional wheeze, any remaining tension between the two of them just melted away.
Mystery Girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Kagome,” she said.
“Inuyasha,” he replied, and they shook, formally — her grip was firm and confident, and Inuyasha had to stop himself from thinking too hard about how soft her skin felt.
But from there, the conversation flowed from the standard university student small talk — year (they were both juniors, but their class size wasn’t so small they would necessarily know each other); majors (“Ethnicity, Race and Migration,” Kagome said, which explained why they’d never crossed paths, he had gotten his humanities credits out of the way early and stuck to numbers, which made actual sense, ever since); extracurriculars (“what the fuck is ‘step team’?!” he demanded. “Why are you a frat bro?!” she retorted when he admitted he was in Fence, “yes, you qualify even if it’s co-ed”) — to their plans for next summer (“no damn clue” they chorused in unison after a 3-2-1 countdown).
Before he realized it, an entire hour had passed in Kagome’s company. Briefly excusing himself, Inuyasha went and bussed both their empty mugs, intending to get himself another coffee (and yes, he could stop anytime he wanted, thank you very much). Kagome said she didn’t need anything, but at the counter when Shippo pointedly asked if he wanted one of the blueberry-chai muffins, Inuyasha took the hint and brought one back with him. The soft smile Kagome gave him when he nudged the treat to her side of the table made his heart do a strange fluttery thing he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.
She was digging out whole blueberries from the center (“stop ratfucking the poor muffin!” he mock-scolded — “but they’re the best part”) when he finally decided to ask a question he’d been mulling since he first saw her.
“So why the tarot cards?”
Kagome shrugged, as if there was no particular reason behind it, but Inuyasha thought there was something slightly embarrassed in the tilt of her shoulders. “Oh, you know,” she said breezily, “it helps, sometimes, if I have a big problem I’m wrestling with to give my mind something to focus on. Or another way to consider the issue. I’m not looking to them for definitive answers, just...guided hints and suggestions.”
She briskly licked a smudge of blueberry off one finger and palmed the deck again, fanning and unfanning the cards in a practiced manner. Almost as if she was nervous.
“Besides. I believe in reiki, right? And I believe in youki,” her umber gaze flickered to briefly meet his own, then up to his ears, “right? So why not some other force that could be out there in the universe, too.” The way she explained it felt rehearsed, neutral, and Inuyasha suddenly realized that she’d probably been teased for her use of tarot cards at one point, maybe more than once, and he had to fight down a little growl at the thought of someone making Kagome feel bad about something she clearly loved.
“Will you do a reading for me?” Inuyasha blurted out, trying to think of a way to make her feel better, like her interests mattered and were valid. Kagome looked at him again, arching one brow.
“You want a reading,” she repeated, dubiously. “Forgive me if you don’t seem like much of a believer, Inuyasha.”
He cracked a wry grin. “Let’s just say the only experience I’ve had with it was surprisingly spot on. Call me a likely convert.”
Kagome gave him a searching look. For a moment, the only sound was the thump-thump of his heart and the rustle of cards in her hands. Eventually, she seemed to decide he wasn’t having her on (he wasn’t!), and briskly began to shuffle.
“We’ll do a simple three card spread,” she said matter-of-factly, “nothing too involved or confusing.” When she finished shuffling, Kagome placed the cards in a tidy stack on the table between them.
“What I want you to do, Inuyasha, is picture the situation or problem you have a question about. Or, if you don’t have anything specific you want to probe, just relax and let your energy just flow out. Feel free to take a minute if you need to. And when you’re ready, I want you to cut the deck. Any questions?”
He shook his head.
“Alright. And you should know...I don’t usually let people touch my personal deck, so you’re a special one.” Now he was the one fighting a blush.
“Actually wait, I have a question,” he said. “Do I have to close my eyes?”
“Only if you want to.”
She nestled back into the corner of the loveseat, resting her arm on the armrest and curling up, eyes closed. Giving him privacy, Inuyasha realized, to do...whatever he felt like...without feeling like he was in a fishbowl.
Just staring at the deck — the back had a very simple pattern of golden stars on a blue sky — was making him inexplicably nervous, like they were judging him, so Inuyasha also closed his eyes, settling into the rhythm of his breath. What should he think about? “Nothing” seemed like a bit of a copout. He should give Kagome and the cards something to work with, he supposed. His fucked-up family was maybe the obvious choice. Or what he should do about his future career — go straight into graduate school, or try working for a few years in, what, consulting or finance or some shit like his brother advised?
He wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed, but eventually he realized everything was centered on the one question rattling around in his heart: Where do I go from here?
That felt...right, he guessed.
Thus decided, Inuyasha blinked his eyes open and reached out to cut the deck, aiming for the midpoint, careful not to scratch the glossy coating, or accidentally punch a small hole in them with his claws (he should really blunt them a bit, he knew). The deck felt warm in his hand, whether from the heat of Kagome’s palm, friction from being shuffled or...something else...he didn’t know. After setting his cut in a second, neat pile to the right of the first, Inuyasha cleared his throat to signal he was done.
As if it had been no time at all, Kagome languidly stretched up from her comfy-looking curl. “Ready?” she asked, and Inuyasha nodded in reply.
She carefully restacked the deck, making sure the half he had cut was on the bottom, and wiggled to sit comfortably cross-legged on the couch, facing him.
“So I’m going to flip over three cards now,” she explained. “The card on the left is going to be the ‘context’ card, basically what’s going on with you right now. The middle card is the ‘focus’ card, which is basically what you should be considering or taking care of. And the final card is the ‘outcome’ card. And again, this isn’t fortune telling. ‘Outcome’ is pretty general here, and could mean a bunch of things, so don’t take anything I say to heart, yeah?”
Suddenly slightly nervous — was he actually doing this, letting her try to probe and pick apart his life? — he cleared his throat self-consciously. “Yeah, OK. Makes sense.”
“Alright, here I go.”
The first card she flipped over read “The Moon” in big letters at the bottom. A luminous full moon, with fiery stars radiating outwards from its stern, humanlike expression, dominated the upper half. Below, what looked like a dog and...a wolf, maybe? Or a fox? Some sort of animal...howled up at it. And there was a random lobster crawling out of the water below that. Who the fuck knew what it meant.
The next card was upside-down — “reversed,” he guessed based on her earlier comment — and showed a giant, glowing hand bearing a chalice emerging from the middle of a cloud. The chalice was overflowing, with the water — in this position — seeming to defy gravity and flow “up.” A dove with a wafer of bread in its beak was flying into the cup.
And the final card showed two people, each holding a chalice of their own, offering to share with the other. He decided to ignore the random flying lion head with the caudecus because that made no sense. Maybe Kagome would explain. But he tried not to put too much faith that three utterly wacky pictures could tell him how to fix his life.
For a few long moments, she just propped her head in her hands and studied the cards. Inuyasha resisted the urge to fidget. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Unless, it really did mean something awful was going to happen?! (Psychics aren’t real, psychics aren’t real, psychics aren’t real, he chanted to himself.)
Just when he thought he was going to explode, Kagome made a little noise he couldn’t identify.
“Well,” she murmured, “this is interesting.”
“Is interesting...good?” he asked hesitantly.
“Interesting is interesting,” she replied, cryptically. “OK, so look. The first card — The Moon — is usually all about uncertainty and confusion. I mean, even the scene on the card is completely bonkers, right? So when it shows up in a position for ‘context,’ it could mean that you’re not certain about what’s going on right now. For youkai it can sometimes mean something’s up with your inner demon. At any rate, I’ve heard that more than once from other demons I’ve done readings for, so it seems to be a pretty common indicator.”
To Inuyasha’s uninitiated mind, this sounded very Not Good. He fucking prided himself on his instincts. They’d gotten him this far, right? Through a tumultuous childhood of being simultaneously ignored and bullied for his half-demon heritage; into the school of his fucking dreams; to the top 10% of his class. He’d proven himself again and again to his parents, to his teachers, to everyone. So what the fuck was defective about him? And what seeing this stupid card meant Kagome thought there was something wrong with him, too? The thought, intrusive as it was, settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach. If the fucking ether thought he was a mess, it was clear he couldn’t win.
So wrapped up in his own blackening thoughts, Inuyasha almost didn’t notice Kagome was still talking. He forced his attention back on her soothing voice.
“But this next card — Ace of Cups, reversed — is a major introspection indicator. So it’s telling you to really bear down and focus on, uh, yourself. ‘Treat yoself’ in tarot speak, basically. Figure out what you want and why you want it. And doing that,” she pointed back to The Moon card, “could really help sort out the whole instincts issue.”
Then she paused, staring at the final card again. Inuyasha waited. And waited some more.
“What about the last card?” he finally prompted, looking up from the cards himself to try and catch Kagome’s eye. Get the pronouncement over with.
And he was so glad he did. Because at his question, she fucking blushed , the pinkiest pink he had ever seen, from her ears all the way down to her collarbone and even lower…At this, his inner youkai stirred, clearly interested in just how low that blush went. That instinct was working just fucking fine, if nothing else. And he definitely hadn’t gotten this far by ignoring his inner demon when it deigned to speak up about what it felt about something. Or someone.
“It’saminiloverscard!” she squeaked out.
At this, Inuyasha smirked, good mood abruptly restored. “It’s a what now? Didn’t catch that,” he teased, wanting to hear her say the word “lovers” again. Because “lovers” was good, right?
“Well, Ka-Go-Me?” Each syllable tripped off his tongue. He was now perfectly happy to drag this moment out and watch her squirm.
“It’s a mini lovers card,” she whisper-shrieked.
Getting herself under control, he could see Kagome valiantly attempting to continue her oh-so-thorough explanation of his...situation. “So, I mean, the imagery...two people, sharing a drink...it usually means the start of a new relationship. Not quite as intense as the Lovers-lovers card, but still significant. Because you don’t share a glass with just anyone, you know? And so what the cards indicate is that if you put in the introspective work, you’ll go from your current uncertain state to the start of...something new, with someone new.”
She pointed at each card in turn as she spoke, squirming a little. And for the second time in as many minutes Inuyasha (and his inner youkai) concluded that she was dang adorable.
“So. Yeah. Was I accurate?”
Inuyasha thought about it. His inner youkai thought about it.
Then he looked at Kagome, who was steadfastly meeting his eyes, even though her cheeks were still as pink as her sweater (so damn cute). Unexpectedly, she had been mostly right about him, so maybe there was something to tarot cards after all.
His only complaint? The timeline for cards one and two could just be a little bit (OK, a lot bit) condensed, because he suddenly had no uncertainty whatsoever about what he wanted to do next.
Inuyasha reached out and picked up the final card, the one with two people sharing a drink and held it out to Kagome with a smile on his face and a promise in his eyes.
“Let’s get coffee together again tomorrow, and see just how well you’ve got a read on me.”