Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Artwork by Mickisketch

The building was tall, and imposing: several stories of shiny concrete and gleaming windows surrounding a neat courtyard lined with trees and shrubbery. The wind blew gently, and the sun shone down from the sky.

Higurashi Kagome looked out at the street, which was bordered by a series of lamps, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Kagome!” A voice behind her called out her name, and Kagome turned around. She saw three girls standing in the entryway to the building; they were three girls that she knew, and knew well, although they were not dressed how she had expected them to be.

“Everyone?” she called out softly.

Kagome’s friends ran across the courtyard to join her at the entrance to the complex. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” said the girl with the headband—Eri, Kagome remembered.

“Come shopping with us!” the girl with the short air—Yuka—added. 

“Yeah,” said the third one—Ayumi—“we can look at sportswear!”

“Um,” Kagome stuttered, “okay.”

That’s right. I’m in high school now.

Kagome followed her friends around that afternoon, from shop to shop, seemingly in a daze. When Eri held up a polo shirt to Kagome’s chest, commenting on how the color looked so pretty with her eyes, Kagome could only nod, and watch as Eri put it in her hand, confused as to why they would be looking at shirts to begin with.

At the fast food restaurant, when the girls all ordered French fries and sodas, Kagome did the same, and she watched her friends with interest as they chatted away about Yuka’s rejection of a boy who had asked her out.

“You should just go out with him!” Ayumi insisted.

“No way,” Yuka said, lifting her nose in the air, “he’s shorter than me.”

“Okay, I guess,” added Eri.

“Oh!” Kagome said. “Someone asked you out? Who was it?”

The girls all turned to stare at Kagome, confusion on their faces.

“Remember the guy who came up to us at the entrance ceremony?” Ayumi asked.

“Yeah,” Yuka added, “you were with us, Kagome.”

“Oh,” Kagome replied, “was I?”

The girls continued to chat while Kagome sat quietly with her thoughts.

The entrance ceremony…
How could I have forgotten something as significant as my high school entrance ceremony?

There was a nagging feeling in her heart that she was forgetting something else, too, but exactly what, Kagome couldn’t be quite sure. Like there was something missing…

The most important thing in the world. 

She wandered home from downtown in a daze. Around her, the world was going, but to Kagome, it all was standing still. Whatever it was that she was missing, it made her feel heady, dazed, like she didn’t quite fit in—like she didn’t belong.

The distant feeling continued when she got home. “Oh, hello, Kagome dear!” her mother called from the kitchen. “Will you come give me a hand?”

Kagome joined her mother at the counter; her mother stirred the pot on the cooktop, while Kagome mixed the flavors for the sauce. “How was your day, dear?” her mother asked her.

“It was good, I guess,” Kagome answered, although she didn’t really remember going to school.

“Have you decided what club you’re going to join?”

“Yep,” Kagome replied, “the tennis club.”

“Tennis!” her mother exclaimed. “That will be such a good experience for you.” She took Kagome’s bowl of sauce and added it to the pot on the stove. “Go ahead and tell your grandfather and Sota that dinner is ready,” she said, and Kagome ran off to do just that. 

Dinner was what Kagome would have called a “typical” affair: curry, rice, and salad. As usual, Kagome asked her grandfather for a gift for entering high school; also as usual, her grandfather insisted that he’d given a perfectly acceptable gift: a dried dragon’s tail and Tengu whiskers. Sota jumped in and revealed that she’d fed those gifts to Buyo, the family cat, but Kagome couldn’t remember either event: Jii-chan giving her the gifts, or the feeding of said gifts to Buyo. 

As the days seemed to bleed into each other, she couldn’t help but feel like her mind...seemed so fuzzy...like the events of her life seemed to be dancing around her, like she was only watching them, not actually participating.

And then there would be moments—flashes—where she seemed almost on the verge of remembering something—that something that, if she could remember, would explain to her why she felt a nagging in her heart, and why she felt a longing for something she could no longer remember what it was. 

There was the moment at tennis club, when she was running laps with the girls. Ayumi was lamenting the fact that they’d bought the right clothes, but weren’t even allowed to step on the court, when Kagome heard a twang, followed by a thud, and it made her stop mid-stride. She turned, and saw the line of kyudoka, also at practice, nocking their arrows and letting them fly, the arrows hitting the mado with a thwack. 

They were beautiful, and Kagome turned, her eyes wide, unable to move, unable to take her eyes off the kyudoka, hard at work. 

She looked down at her hands. Had she...had she ever…?

“Oh, the archery club,” commented Eri.

“They’re so cool,” said Yuka.

“Mmmm,” was all Kagome said, and then began to jog after her friends, wondering why she had suddenly been so drawn to the kyudoka, why her body had responded to them so viscerally.

And then, there was the moment she arrived home from school, and crossed the shrine courtyard, and stopped in front of a pretty shed: there was a picnic table with bonzai and other plants in terracotta pots on it, and a broom and a dustpan leaning against the wall. The gleaming yellow of the door—so bright it nearly blinded her—made Kagome stop and stare. 

It seemed new—much newer than the other building on the property—and wildly out of place. Why—why was it there? Had it always been there? Was there something else there before it?

She stood, staring at the shed door, her brow furrowed in thought, until Sota came up behind her.

“Nee-chan!” he called.

Kagome turned. “Oh, Sota,” she said. “Welcome home.”

“Man,” he said, running past her on his way to the main house, “I’m starving.” He pushed when he saw Kagome’s face, confused and pale. “What’s wrong, nee-chan?” he asked her.

Kagome frowned, and turned to the shed. “Say,” she answered him, “was this storage shed always here?”

Sota nodded. “Yep.”

“But…” Kagome struggled with her memory, which was frayed and foggy, “wasn’t there a shrine with a well here?”

Where had that come from? A...shrine with a well?

“What are you talking about, nee-chan?” Sota asked her.

“Oh,” their grandfather called, coming through the gate of the main shrine, “you two are back?”

“Yes,” called Sota, “we’re home!”

“Come in, then,” Jii-chan said, waving at them, “your mother has made tea.”

Kagome followed Sota and Jii-chan into the house, her mind a blur and drawn back to that spot where the shed was, where she was sure a rickety old shrine with a well once had been.

“A shrine with a well?” her mother asked as Kagome sat at the chabudai beside her. Jii-chan sat cross-legged at the head of the low table, reading his newspaper, while Sota leaned up against the table, playing his Nintendo 3DS.

“Yes,” Kagome said as her mother poured the tea. “Do you remember it?”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that at our shrine,” Jii-chan told her, his face still buried in the newspaper. 

“Really?” Kagome asked.

“Really,” her grandfather said.

“Here,” her mother added, pushing a cup of tea towards her, “have some tea.”

After tea, Kagome went to her room, changed into regular clothes, and laid down on her bed. She crossed her arms and rested her head on them.

What’s going on? she thought. Something’s wrong. I can’t…

Kagome’s phone buzzed, and she didn’t get to finish her thought.

It was a text...from Hojo.

How are you?
Want to see a movie on Saturday?

Kagome sat up on her bed, and tapped her chin with her phone.

A movie…
A movie with Hojo.

Again, somehow, it all felt wrong, but she didn’t know what else to do, so she texted him back.

Sure, her message read. What time?

Kagome flopped back down on her bed, and closed her eyes, sure that whatever was going on, it wasn’t right, and she had to figure out what exactly had gone so, so wrong.

“Higurashi!” Hojo called to her from down the block. 

Kagome smiled and jogged to meet him. He looked...handsome. His sandy-colored hair was a little longer, and he wore it in ragged bangs that fell haphazardly across his face. He wore a navy hoodie, a light red t-shirt, and jeans.

“Long time no see!” he said as she caught up to him. He fell into step beside her as they began to make their way towards the movie theater. 

It was a date...Kagome 100% knew that this was a date...but still, she felt…
Well, she felt nothing. Like she was going to a movie with one of the girls. Or her brother.
Was that how she should feel? Was dating like hanging out?

No, she told herself as Hojo babbled on about what movie he wanted to see and bought the tickets. 

A date should be special, and magical, she told herself as Hojo bought her popcorn and a soda.
A date should make you have butterflies in your stomach, she told herself as they found a place to sit.
And a date should make you want to hold that person’s hand, and be physical, she told herself as the movie began, and ask Hojo’s arms slipped around the back of her chair.

She knew that she should be feeling all these things on a date, but yet…

Kagome felt nothing.

And that was how she knew…
This date, this life?
It was wrong.

She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know why, but all of it...was wrong. 

“And???” The girls all leaned forward towards Kagome, their sodas, burgers, and fries forgotten. 

“We saw a movie, played around in a video arcade, then we had dinner before heading home,” Kagome said, taking a sip of her soda. 

“So...you two are dating!” Yuka exclaimed.

“We just hung out,” Kagome shrugged, now taking a bit of a French fry. 

“But that was clearly a date,” Eri pointed out.

Kagome tried to refrain from rolling her eyes. “No,” she replied, “we’re just friends.”

Honestly, she thought, how could anyone be more than friends with Hojo? The guy was...sweet, yes, but also...kind of boring, and lame.

Ayumi’s eyes grew wide. “You do realize that Hojo’s been in love with you since middle school?” she said incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Eri added, “why don’t you go out with him?”

“You don’t hate him or anything,” Yuka said, “right?”

Kagome blushed and looked down at her food. “Well…” she said slowly, “it’s not like that.”

“Well,” Eri replied, “there isn’t anyone else you like, is there?”

There isn’t anyone else you like, is there?

Those words...hit Kagome hard in the chest. Her eyes grew wide. There...there wasn’t anyone else she liked, was there?

WAS THERE?

Kagome hesitated before answering. “No…” she whispered, but in her heart, even though she didn’t know why, she knew…

That answer was a lie.

Kagome left the girls soon after. She didn’t feel like talking much about her “date/non-date” anymore; she just wanted to go home and curl up in bed. She didn’t want dinner; she didn’t want to do her homework; she just, more than anything else, wanted to be alone. 

Slowly, she made her way up the stairs between the torii gates, and trudged across the courtyard. She walked past the tall tree that stood alone in the yard; a shimenawa with shide decorating the rope that circled the trunk. As Kagome walked by, a breeze kicked up, and the shide tinkled next to her; she paused, her skin tingling, the back of her neck bristling, and she turned to face the tree.

The sun was shining down, casting a soft light through the leaves of the massive oak. The breeze gently blew, rustling the leaves, and Kagome’s hair. She stared at the tree, transfixed, and she could have sworn that it stared back at her. 

This tree, she thought, this tree...it’s...it’s different.

Before she knew what she was doing, her feet drew her forward, closer and closer to it. Her hand was reaching out; her body was leaning forward, and she pressed her hard to the rough bark. She examined the trunk closely; it was rough, yes, but the bark flowed smoothly, from as far as she could see up the tree, all the way down to the ground.

Wait...there’s supposed to be a scar on the Goshinboku.
A scar?
From what?

Kagome’s eyes blew open wide as a vision washed over her.

A boy...sealed to the tree by an arrow...there so long that his body was wrapped up in vines.
A boy...with long silver hair, glowing like moonlight, a handsome, peaceful face. 
A boy...with silver, furry, perfect dog ears.

The realization hit Kagome hard; she felt sick; she wanted to vomit; she wanted to faint; she wanted to collapse.

Inu...yasha.

Kagome remembered; she remembered it all:

How five hundred years before, she and Inuyasha were under that very tree. How five hundred years before, she freed Inuyasha from his seal. How five hundred years ago, she had shattered the Shikon no Tama. How five hundred years ago, she and Inuyasha embarked on a quest to restore the jewel. 

How they met Shippo, Miroku, Sango, Kirara.
How they battled Naraku.
How they defeated Naraku.
How she fell in love—hopelessly in love with…

Inuyasha.

Kagome pressed her hand to the tree and looked up into the sky.

“Inuyasha! ” she screamed. “Inuyasha!

“INUYASHA!”

Chapter Text

Dark.
It was so dark.

Kagome reached out slowly, into the darkness, trying to see if she could see her hand.

Nothing.

She knew her hand was there; dammit, she could feel her hand reaching out into the darkness. But she couldn’t see it; she had only the sensations of her body to tell her that she was, in fact, moving it and that it was, in fact, there.

Where had she been? What had she been doing?

High school. A date with Hojo.

Inuyasha.

She’d forgotten Inuyasha.
Until she hadn’t.

Kagome shook her head, trying to get a sense for the world around her. But she could see nothing: not the ceiling or the sky above her, nor the ground beneath her. Indeed, it felt as though she was hanging, suspended in space, with nothing holding her up nor keeping her down.

Nothing to see, and also, she realized with a start, nothing to hear.

No, wait; that wasn’t entirely right.
She could hear something:
The beating of her own heart.
Her breath, short and fast.

Was she sure, though? There was nothing else: no other sounds around her. So how could she be sure of what she didn’t see? Of what she couldn’t hear?

Tentatively, Kagome held her hand up to her face, and breathed out. She felt a warm breeze caress her hand, and she knew:

This was her breath. That was her hand.

Two things Kagome could be sure of.
Because everything else?
Was darkness. And despair.

“Kagome!”

At the sound of a man's voice, Kagome opened her eyes. The voice was oddly familiar, like she had definitely heard it before…

“Kagome!”

It was louder; could she hear?

Kagome brought herself to a sitting position. As her eyes blinked out the sleep, she realized that she could, in fact, see, and what she could see?

Well, it was definitely not where she had been last.

She was in a small, square, one room hut, sitting on a futon. There was an irori in the middle of the room; a tea kettle was hanging on the hook, boiling merrily. On the far wall, there was a low shelf, with jars and earthen pots and herbs and vegetables. It almost looked like…

Kagome shook her head. That was impossible.

The bamboo mat hanging in the doorframe rattled, and Kagome sucked in a breath and scooted back. A man pushed his way into the hut; he was tall, and well-dressed, and wore his Sandy hair in a topknot. His face was handsome, and kind, and he smiled generously at her.

“Well, well, sleepyhead,” he said, striding over to her and dropping to his knees beside her, “did you have a good nap?”

His face...his face…
Kagome gasped. She knew.

“I—I guess I did, Hojo,” she said, returning his smile hesitantly. “I guess I must have slept longer than I intended?”

“It’s time for the closing rituals,” he told her. He got to his feet, then held out his hand. “We can’t have the miko of Hojo Shrine late to her own closing ceremony now, can we, oh my wife?”

Kagome’s fingers froze as they reached Hojo’s hand.

Hojo Shrine.
My wife.
When...when did I get married? 

“Hojo,” she said, and he gently tugged her to her feet.

“Come, come,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek, “haven’t we been married long enough for you to call me something other than Hojo? How about my name?”

“Your—your name?” Shit. Hojo had a first name?

“Akitoki?” His smile was patient, but she could see the frustration on his face. “Five years of marriage,” he sighed, “and you still insist on calling me by my last name. Which is also your last name.” He paused. “And isn’t it about time that we had little footsteps and little laughs filling this hut? Don’t you think?”

No, I don’t think, was her inner reply, but she refrained from answering him with sharpness.

“When it’s time,” she said demurely, “the gods will see fit to bless us with children.”

“I just don’t understand,” he complained bitterly as he followed Kagome to the door. “After all, Yash and Kikyō have had four children in the same amount of time. Why do they get to have all the children, and we have none?”

Kagome’s hand froze on the bamboo mat. Yash?

Why...why did that name freeze her heart?

Kagome took a deep breath, and pushed the mat aside.

“Patience, dear husband,” she said silkily, and grinned inwardly when he lit up at her use of the term. “We will be rewarded with children; I’m sure of it.”

She allowed him to take her hand and tuck into the crook of his elbow. Together, they made the short walk across the courtyard to the main shrine. There, Hojo kissed her hair, then stepped back to allow her to enter the shrine. Kagome turned, and made to leave, but the joyous cry of a child had both her and Hojo turning their heads.

Scampering up the shrine steps was a small child, no more than three years old. Her dark hair was tied away from her face, and she wore a pretty yukata: pinks and purples and yellows that reminded Kagome of sunshine.

“Rin!” called a husky voice. “Come back here, before Papa gets mad!”

The little girl spun around. “You wouldn’t dare, Papa!” she called. “Rin knows that you could never be mad at her!”

A tall figure, swathed in the shadows of the evening, climbed to the top of the steps and stood there, his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. “You need to come when your Mama calls you, Daughter,” the figure said seriously. “Or next time, I’m not gonna be chasin’ ya all over creation...yer gonna be on yer own.”

The little girl squealed, and ran forward, jumping into her father’s arms. He laughed, and held her close; she was tiny, and even more so when he held her.

“There, there, little one,” he said softly. “Your mama’s worried about you. Let’s say our apologies to the Lady Miko and her husband and be on our way.”

The man stepped into the light, and Kagome gasped: she couldn’t help it. The man was tall, taller than most, with long, dark hair that flowed out in luminous waves. His eyes were large, and Kagome could see that they were a shining violet; she’d never seen eyes that color. He wore a red haori and matching hakama, but his feet were oddly bare.

He was beautiful, so beautiful. Did they make men that beautiful, ever?

Kagome felt her heart twist, and lurch forward, towards him. He was, even from a distance, filling her completely; her eyes, her ears, her nose. He surrounded her, and Kagome may have let out a little moan of longing before clapping her hand over her mouth. Hojo shot her a withering glare, then turned to the man and smiled.

“It seems little Rin decided to try and run away again, huh, Yash-san?” Hojo said amiably. He stepped forward to the man and his daughter, and bowed his head.

The man—Yash-san—dipped his head in return. “Almost every fucking night,” the man replied; Kagome noticed that, even though his words were harsh, his voice was soft, and he snuggled his daughter closely. “But she’ll never fool her old Papa. He’s got the keenest nose in Musashi.” The man and Hojo laughed together.

“If she shows up here again, Yash-san,” replied Hojo, “I’m happy to return her to you and Kikyō-san.”

Kikyō. Why…

“Or maybe ya just keep her for a night, Hojo-san,” Yash said with a laugh. “Teach her a lesson.”

“Better watch out on that, Yash-san,” answered Hojo. “Kagome and I might just want to keep her. She’s awfully cute.”

At Kagome’s name, Yash whipped his head up, his violet eyes meeting her gray ones. Was it just her, or did Kagome sense a hint of recognition flashing there?

But that...was impossible, wasn’t it? She’d never met anyone named Yash.

The silence after Hojo’s poor attempt at a joke had Yash chuckling awkwardly. “That she is,” he said, snuggling his daughter again. “Be careful what you wish for, though. This one’s trouble.” He turned to leave. “I gotta get her home to Kikyō. My wife’s already out of her mind with worry. Night, Hojo-san.” He bowed briefly to Hojo, then his eyes drifted back to Kagome. “Hojo-sama,” he said, and why was there a hint of longing in his voice?

“Good—good night, Yash-san,” Kagome choked out. 

She and Hojo watched as Yash carried Rin through the torii gate, down the steps, and out of sight. Hojo turned to her, a smile on his lips.

“Ready to close up the shrine for the evening, Wife?” he asked her.

Kagome sighed. “Ready, Husband,” she replied, and found she couldn’t wait to go into the shrine, away from her husband.

Because in the shrine, she could be alone with her thoughts…

Of Yash, the handsome man who entered the shrine looking for his daughter, and left with her heart.

The days passed much in this way: Hojo and Kagome woke early each morning, and Kagome would open the shrine. They would take care of it; villagers would come to see Kagome with just about every possible problem she could imagine. They had basic ailments, ranging from cuts and bruises and headaches, to more serious ones, like deep, hacking coughs, rashes that wouldn’t abate, and infections that Kagome worried could result in an amputation.

But somehow, some way, she had extensive knowledge of plants and herbs, and she could make all kinds of teas and salves to heal just about every problem the villagers brought to her. 

She was also apparently the village midwife. Almost every day, a pregnant woman would make her way up the steps of the shrine for their weekly appointment with Kagome, who would check dilation, the position of the baby, etc. For the women who were too far along to climb the many stairs of the shrine, Kagome would go to them, carrying her bamboo basket full of treatments specifically for pregnant women. 

It was a busy life, and it was a hard life, yet Kagome felt a strange sense of satisfaction helping others. She enjoyed talking with the women, playing with the children, and trading gentle barbs with the men. 

She especially enjoyed when she ran into Yash.

He seemed to be quite popular around the village: tall, strong, handsome, and friendly, he could often be seen helping build fences, or mending houses, or chopping wood; the sleeves of his haori rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms. 

Kagome looked longer than she knew was appropriate, but she didn’t really care.

Truth be told, she felt...nothing...for her husband. Hojo was kind, and gentle, but he was kind of a bore and not really someone Kagome would have chosen for herself. And when she thought about it, she realized that she actually didn’t know how they met, or how they came to be married. And if Kagome didn’t know any better, she would say that Hojo had no recollection, either; when she asked him point-blank if he remembered how they met, he shrugged and said, “What does it matter? We’re together now,” and Kagome had let it drop, because she didn’t feel like pursuing it, and, quite frankly, it didn’t matter all that much, after all. They were married, and it was all she could do to maintain a sense of decorum.

Because while she was married to Hojo, her heart felt an inexplicable longing for Yash.

And, she might have been crazy, but she thought that perhaps he felt a longing for her, too.

When he laughed with the men in the village and she walked past, his eyes lingered on her for a second too long. When she politely said hello, the other men bowed, but he merely bobbed his head, a boyish grin on his handsome face, making her blush and scamper away. And if they happened to meet in the street, they would bow, and make pleasantries, but his eyes would stay focused on her lips the entire time, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, and not her cold fish of a husband.

But as much as she yearned for him, and as much as she believed that he yearned for her, Kagome knew that there could never be anything between them, because Yash was married to Kikyō, the eldest daughter of the village headman, and thus, the most unattainable of the unattainable. 

And Kikyō was beautiful, too. In fact, it made Kagome a little sick to see how beautiful Kikyō was. She was a tall, slender woman, with stick-straight, long black hair that she wore in a low ponytail. Her kimonos were silk, and colorful, and she was often surrounded by her young children. She laughed, and played with them, and they followed after her, a tiny gaggle of goslings trailing after their mother goose, all of them smiling and happy. 

Kagome couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Kikyō was beautiful, wealthy, blessed with many children, and had a husband like Yash? It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair...and it didn’t feel right. At all.

There were days where Kagome looked at her husband, and imagined that he was Yash, and that they had children: a daughter, with dark hair and sparkling eyes, and several sons, strapping and handsome like their dad. She could see it all so clearly—so much more clearly than she could see that kind of life with her own husband. Did that make her a terrible person? Did it make her someone who envied another woman’s husband? Another woman’s life?

Was it bad if she was sure that the life she had was not the life she believed she should be living? If she felt in her very bones that everything was wrong?

Or, was she, as she feared, going mad?

She didn’t know the answer to that, but she did know that, whenever she saw Yash, she felt like there was another life out there for her, just waiting, beyond her idea of what was possible—beyond the limits of her rational thought.

Beyond, yes...but possible.

It was morning; Hojo had gone into the village to help with the raising of a new hut. Kagome was alone, working on some sewing, enjoying the quiet and the cool, crisp air of the morning. She’d opened the door, curling up the bamboo mat and hooking it above the doorframe. It was too nice a day to be cooped up inside, even if she did need to stay in the hut to keep an eye on all of her materials, so raising the mat was a way she could enjoy the fresh air, too.

Kagome hummed as she worked, her needle going deftly through the material. She couldn’t remember learning to sew, but yet here she was, expertly hemming and making neat and even back stitches. She found the sewing...comforting. Even though she didn’t know why.

A soft rap on the doorframe brought Kagome’s attention away from her fabric, and she jammed the needle into her forefinger. She swore softly under breath, then called out “Come in!” to whoever was standing just outside the door.

“Are you all right?” said a soft, familiar voice, and Kagome inwardly groaned. 

Kikyō.
Yash’s wife had come to see her.
Why?

“I—I’m fine,” Kagome said through gritted teeth as Kikyō swept into the room. “How are you, Kikyō-san?”

“Fine, thank you,” Kikyō said politely. She bowed to Kagome, who bobbed her head in return. Kikyō gestured to the spot on the floor beside Kagome. “May I join you, Kagome-sama? My husband has gone to the forest to help fell trees for a new border fence, and my children are staying with my family for the day. I have inexplicably found myself idle, and I thought it might be a nice time for me to come visit you and for us to have a chat.”

Kagome’s heart froze. Did—did Kikyō know—did Kikyō know how Kagome felt about Yash?

“A—a chat?” Kagome asked, her fingers shaking slightly as they continued their sewing. “What would you like to discuss, Kikyō-san?”

“You have been living in this village for quite awhile, Kagome-sama,” Kikyō said, her idle hands reaching for a piece of sewing out of Kagome’s bag, “but yet we know nothing about you. How can that be?”

Kagome shrugged. “There’s not much to tell, I guess?” she said. “I was born; I live; I am married to Hojo; we are here. We take care of the shrine. Hojo wishes that we could have a child, but as of yet we have had no luck.” She frowned. “Not like you, Kikyō-san, who has been blessed with many children.” It was hard to keep the bite out of her voice.

“Your husband is a good man,” Kikyō said quietly. “I am sure that when it is time, the gods will give you a child, Kagome-sama.”

“Why are you here?” Kagome ground out. She didn’t like the way Kikyō was sitting there, smiling at her, so sweet and demure, while Kagome was poking her fingers with the sewing needle. “Why did you come here, to see me?”

Kikyō frowned, and the two sat in silence for several moments. Finally, Kikyō spoke, and her voice was much lower than normal. 

“I—I wanted to come and see you, Kagome-sama,” she whispered, putting down Kagome’s sewing, “because I have a question for you.”

“A question? For...me?” Kagome was once again shocked at the direction of the conversation.

“Yes,” Kikyō said calmly, “a question.” She sat back on her heels and smoothed out the fabric of her kimono over her knees. 

“Hopefully I have an answer,” Kagome said, trying to keep the conversation light, and failing. “Okay,” she added. “What do you want to ask me?”

“You,” Kikyō said almost immediately. “Who are you?”

Kagome gaped. Who…

“Who...am I?” she repeated blankly.

“Yes.” Kikyō sat back and crossed her arms over her bust in satisfaction. “Who...are...you?” Kikyō paused. “You’ve always been here, Kagome-sama, just like I have always been here. But yet—where you came from, though, remains a complete mystery. So, instead of trying to catch the answer from the gossips, instead of asking around and being appeased by rumor, I ask you directly:

“Who. Are. You?”

Kagome felt as though she’d been stabbed in the chest. Kikyō’s question boiled through her. Had anyone ever asked her this before? Had anyone ever wanted to know? Had Kagome ever wanted to know? 

Who was she?

“I—I don’t know,” Kagome settled on at last. “I don’t know who I am, or why, or how, I got here, or why I’m married to Hojo. It’s like...I woke up one afternoon, and here I was, and it was Hojo who was waking me.”

Kikyō got to her feet, and held out her hand to Kagome. Kagome put down her sewing and accepted Kikyō’s hand, letting Kikyō lead her out the door. There, Kikyō dropped Kagome’s hand, but gestured around her so passionately and beautifully, that Kagome sucked in a breath as she looked around. 

There, on the shrine grounds, all was quiet, yes, but was it quietness that she always craved? Was it this kind of life—lonely and quiet—that she desired?

Kagome was pretty sure that the answer was a resounding no.

“Think about it,” Kikyō said, and Kagome nodded. “Who are you, Kagome-sama? And, is this the life that you want to be living?”

“Why—what other life would I have, Kikyō-san?” Kagome asked without stopping to think, and as the thought of Kikyō’s husband ran across her mind, Kagome blushed and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Kikyō took two steps, then stopped, and looked back at Kagome. “Whatever kind of life you want, Kagome-sama,” she said. “That’s the life that you should be living.”

And she walked away, her geta clacking on the stone surface of the courtyard, leaving Kagome standing there, alone.

For the rest of the day, Kikyō’s question haunted Kagome. Who was she? Why was she there? Why, when she looked at her husband, did she feel nothing, but when she looked at Kikyō’s husband, she felt everything? 

Who was she?

The day passed in idle work. No one came to see her; when Hojo came home, she prepared a simple meal that they ate in silence. As the sun began to set over the shrine, Kagome went outside to complete her evening duties, and as went to the main shrine, she found herself muttering:

Who am I? Who am I?

The gate clanged open, and Kagome huffed in irritation. 

She hated when her grandfather did that.

Wait….grandfather…

Kagome fell to her knees and clutched her head as memories flooded her mind.

Her grandfather giving her Tengu whiskers for luck.
Her mother making oden.
Her brother playing video games.

Her friends.
The real Hojo.
The real Inuyasha.

With a grunt, Kagome pulled herself to her feet. She looked around the shrine—her home —NO.

Wherever this was, it was not her home.

Because Kagome’s home? Was somewhere else.
Somewhere in time.

Kagome closed her eyes. She saw friends….she saw family…
She saw Inuyasha.

“That’s it,” she said firmly, “that’s why. Why I’ve always felt like something is not quite right. Why I have no love for my husband. Why my world feels all wrong.”

She paused. “Because...it IS.”

Because I am Kagome Higurashi. I am from the future, and I don’t belong here.  

A sharp, shooting pain ripped through her skull, and Kagome fell to her knees, clutching her head, as the world around her shuddered and faded to black.

Chapter Text

Dark.
Nothing.
Dark.

Once again, darkness was all she could see; darkness was all she knew. She reached her hand out in front of her; she was sure it was there, but yet, she couldn’t see it. She touched her fingernail to her thumb; she could feel her hand, yes, but again, she could not see it.

If she could feel it, but not see it, was it even there? 

“Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing in the distance. 

No response. No sound but the beating of her own heart, but the slight inhale and exhale of her own breath.

“Hello?” she called again.

No response.

Was she alone? Was anyone there? Was anyone coming to get her?

Was Inuyasha coming to get her?

How long she...sat? Stood? Laid down? She couldn’t tell; it was all so dark...she didn’t know. Minutes? Hours? Days? Did time have any meaning anymore?

Even the sound of her own voice was hollow, empty, like it wasn’t there anymore.

Like she wasn’t there anymore.

Oh, gods.

How would she ever be found?
And how would Inuyasha ever find her?

The last thing Kagome heard was the sound of sniffles. The last thing she scented was the smell of salt. And the last thing she felt were the tears dripping down her chin.

“Mama?” 

A little poke of something against her arm brought Kagome into wakefulness. Her eyes were still closed, but her mind was suddenly picking up other scents, other voices…

She was no longer alone.

“Shhh,” a second, tiny voice said. “I don’t think she’s awake.”

“Papa said she’s a sleepyhead and slept too long,” the first voice said impatiently. “He said it’s time for her to get up, and that she’ll be nicer if it’s us.”

“Oh!” said the second voice. “Look! She’s moving.”

Two little bodies piled up on top of her; two little sets of arms snuggled her close. Kagome opened her eyes and looked down. 

They were children; a boy and a girl—siblings, Kagome guessed. The girl appeared to be a little bit older; she wore her hair in a high ponytail secured by a red bow. Her brother appeared to be a few years younger; he had violet eyes to his sister’s brown, and was the spitting image of someone she’d seen, somewhere before.

“Mama?” said the little boy. “Mama?”

Her? Did the little boy mean her?

“She just woke up, Takeo,” said the girl impatiently. “Give her a minute.”

“Wha—” Kagome said groggily. She pulled herself to a sitting position, and looked around. She was sitting in a huge, Western-style bed, with a fluffy gray comforter and lots of pillows. Perched at her side, on their haunches, were the two children, their eyes wide and staring. 

“It’s time to take me to school, Mama,” said the little girl. “Papa’s already made breakfast, and he said you are a lazybones and you have to get up.”

Kagome rubbed her face. Papa? “O—okay,” she said, not really comprehending. “Give me a few minutes?”

The little girl wrapped her arms around Kagome and gave her a big kiss. “Okay!” she exclaimed. “Come on, Takeo,” she said to the little boy. She scrambled off the bed and out of the room. The little boy followed, calling, “Moroha! Wait for me!”

Takeo...Moroha…
Were they...her children?

Kagome shook her head. She still felt cloudy, despite being fully awake. She pulled back the covers of the bed, and slipped off the side. She saw that she was wearing a lacy pink nightgown, with straps and a smocked top. It fluttered away from her at the bodice. Kagome gave a little spin, and admired the way that it flowed around her. She saw there were slippers on the hardwood surface; she slipped them on, and padded over to the double doors opposite the bed. She pushed them open, and found a huge closet, full of clothes—his and hers, she noticed. The right-hand side seemed to contain women’s clothes, so she selected a pretty red dress from the top rack. There were no underwear or bras in the closet, so she looked around until she saw a dresser to the right of the closet. She opened the top drawer, and found lingerie. She pulled out a pair of underwear, black tights, and a bra, and quickly got dressed, then went out the door that the children had gone through. She found herself in a hallway of a fairly typical Japanese-style house: wooden floors, what looked like a bath to the right, and a laundry with a sink to the left. She heard voices, and followed them: down the stairs, and into the kitchen. There, seated at the table, were the children—Takeo, and Moroha?—eating grilled salmon, rice, and miso soup. And standing at the counter, pouring some amazing-smelling coffee, was…

A man.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said, turning around and grinning, “I didn’t think you were ever gonna get up this morning. That’s why I sent the kids. Figured you wouldn’t say no to their little faces.”

He was...tall, with dark hair that tumbled over his shoulders. His eyes were a sparkling violet, matching Takeo’s, and his face was strong, and handsome. His red button-down shirt was quite nicely filled out, as were his black dress pants. He grinned at her, revealing a shining smile, and handed her a fresh cup of coffee.

“Th—thank you,” Kagome said gratefully, accepting the cup and inhaling the dusky aroma. She tilted the cup to her lips and took a small sip, and the flavor combination—hazelnut and something else...maybe vanilla?—exploded on her tongue. “This—this is really good,” she said.

The man chuckled. “You say that as if I never make you good coffee,” he admonished her gently. He turned back to the counter, and picked up a breakfast tray. He set it at the table next to Moroha, and patted the back of the chair. “Eat,” he told her, “you and Moroha have to leave for school in…” he looked at the microwave “...fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Moroha nearly spat out her tea. She shot to her feet. “I’ve got to pack my bag,” she said frantically. “Mama, where did I put my homework from yesterday?”

Kagome blinked, and looked at the little girl. “Home—homework?” she said blankly.

The man smiled at her, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Still a little out of it?” he said, his voice light and teasing. “I did leave you gasping and befuddled last night, so I guess it’s to be expected.” He rose; Kagome blushed furiously. Just what had they gotten up to the night before?

And was it bad that she really, really, wanted to know?

“Your homework is already in your bag, Daughter,” he said. “Your mother put it there after you went to bed last night.” He gave Moroha a little push. “Go get your bag,” he told her, “and here.” He went back to the counter, and handed her a bento box. “Your bento is all ready,” he added, “so go ahead and put that in your bag, too.”

“Okay, Papa!” Moroha chirped. She dashed off into the washitsu, and the man turned his mirthful eyes to Kagome and to his (their?) son.

“You two,” he said, “eat up. Then, you should take Moroha to school, Wife. We don’t want her to be late again.”

Wife? She was...married...to this gorgeous man?

Kagome felt her heart flutter in her chest. How had she managed to convince such a handsome man to marry her? She was just Kagome; she was no one; she had nothing to offer anyone. She was just...just her. 

And yet, as she looked at this man, who was now leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, his coffee mug firmly in his grip, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for him. She knew that he was the man she loved, and would continue to love. But when he smiled at her…

She...she couldn’t help it…
She felt like...like something was missing. 

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but when she looked at him, she felt this swirling of love, yes, but also…

Oh, maybe she was just crazy, right? Maybe she was just imagining things. 

“Yen for your thoughts?” he asked her, a soft grin on his face. He put his coffee down on the counter, leaned forward, and tucked his finger under her chin. Kagome jumped at the sudden contact. 

“I—I was thinking…” she breathed. His eyes were deep, so deep; she was getting lost, she couldn’t remember what she was thinking about, she was...she...she was…

He pressed his lips to hers, and the world fell away. Kagome moaned softly, and she felt his tongue dance over her lips. She opened her mouth and permitted him entry, and he gave a soft swipe of her tongue with his own, before withdrawing and standing upright, grinning madly at her.

“Go get your bag, Takeo,” he said to his (their?) son. “Mama will need to leave as soon as she gets back from taking Moroha to school.”

“Okay!” Takeo replied happily, and took off for the washitsu to prepare his bag. The man took this moment that they were alone to slide up close to her again. 

“A little preview for tonight, love,” he whispered, then stepped away from her, heading into the washitsu as well, and calling, “don’t forget to finish your coffee!” 

Kagome was left, standing in the kitchen, her hand clutched to her chest, trying to sort out what the hell had just happened…

And why when, her husband tucked her chin with his finger, her first thought was that he was missing a claw at the tip.

Days passed for Kagome, and slowly, she was putting together the pieces of this life that she found herself in. She was Fujimura Kagome; she was married to a man named Fujimura Yashiko, and they had two children: Moroha, the eldest, who was six and a first grader, and Takeo, who was three, and who attended the preschool where Kagome also worked. She learned that she walked Moroha to school every day, because otherwise, she didn’t get a lot of time with their daughter. Moroha was in school, then went to after-school activities, and by the time Kagome and Takeo picked her up at 5, she was already so exhausted Kagome had to carry her home. She barely made it through dinner, and Kagome had to encourage her to do her homework. Bedtime was at 8:00, and Kagome often had at least an hour to herself before Yashiko (who preferred Yash) came home from his office job. He worked for his half-brother, who he apparently didn’t get along with, but who also couldn’t do without him, and so they coexisted—usually peacefully, but there were days where Kagome heard shouting matches on the phone that made her want to cover her ears. But afterwards, Yash would always smile, and shrug, and pull her into a warm hug, saying that he was glad to have her, because Kagome, to him, was everything.

But yet, also as the days passed, Kagome had an increasingly strong feeling that something was not right. She loved Yash—she loved him with all of her heart—but there were times when she felt as though there were something...missing about him, or something that felt off, somehow. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it? But there were moments when he would say something, or do something, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was only looking at half of her husband, and not at all of him. 

The feeling intensified when they were close together; she had this nagging suspicion that something...yes, it wasn’t right. Was he keeping secrets from her? Was there something about him that he didn’t want her to know? Kagome was frustrated with herself: in every possible way, Fujimura Yash was the perfect husband, the perfect father, the perfect salaryman.

Maybe it was also the perfection that told her something was off.

Because Kagome knew: as much as she loved Yash, her purest, truest heart could never belong to someone as perfect as he. Kagome herself was flawed; she felt it every single day of her life, and she knew that the “perfect” person for her would also be someone who had flaws.

At night, she was plagued by dreams of a different Yash: he was gruff; he swore; he called her “woman” and not “wife.” 

And she had to admit: she liked that Yash better. She couldn’t explain why; she didn’t quite understand it herself. But Kagome knew: the Yash in her dreams was a lot closer to her heart’s truest desire than the Yash in her reality.  

“You’re always thinking these days, aren’t you, Wife?” Yash’s voice startled her from behind. She jumped, and spun around, and nearly swooned at the sight of him in nothing but boxer briefs, his manhood bulging so she could see it through the fabric. 

“I—I am,” she replied, a hitch in her voice as she thought about what lay ahead for them that night. 

Yash came up behind her, and slipped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck affectionately, and again Kagome was swept away by visions of a different Yash—one who was darker, deeper, harsher: one who loved her with an intensity that burned brighter than the sun.

Who was he? And why did she long for him, even as she loved the man to whom she was married?

“Why so much time spent in your head, Ka-Go-Me?” he whispered darkly, and Kagome felt a shiver go through her spine, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. She had a faint memory of being called that, once, long ago, by someone else that she couldn’t remember. All she knew, though, was that she loved it.

Kagome spun around, and kissed her husband, hard. He moaned at the suddenness of her movements, and drove his tongue into her mouth. Kagome opened up for him, eager to feel him; as their tongues explored each other, their breathing becoming heavier and heavier, Kagome wrapped her arms around her husband’s body, palming the perfectly formed muscles of his back, then trailing up and becoming tangled in his hair. She tugged, and he deepened the kiss, holding her by the back of her neck and tilting her head upwards. 

She was hot...so hot...she was burning...burning. His kiss seared right through her body, right through his body, starting at her feet and shooting all the way up to…

Dog ears.

Kagome’s hands had reached the top of his head, and for some reason, she had instinctively gone to massage something that should have been there. And she didn’t know why, but she felt sure that he should have a pair of dog ears perched on top of his head. 

Soft, white, furry, twitchy dog ears.
But...that would be impossible, right?
Right?

“Hey, Yash,” she said softly, breaking the kiss and pulling back slightly, “this is gonna sound crazy, but..”

“Nothing’s too crazy, Kagome,” he breathed, and went in for another kiss, but Kagome’s fingers twitched, and the image of dog ears returned again.

“I—I seem—I think—” She was having trouble getting the words out. 

Focus, Kagome.

Kagome took a deep breath, held onto Yash’s hair to keep her steady, and said:

“Didn’t you used to have dog ears on top of your head? Like, here?” She scratched the top of his head; he looked at her, puzzled. “For some reason,” she continued, “I feel so sure that you di—”

Inuyasha.
Inuyasha has dog ears.
Inuyasha.

A searing pain went through Kagome’s skull, causing her to clutch at her hair and squeeze her eyes shut, and then the world went black and Kagome knew no more.

Chapter Text

Dark.
Alone.

Kagome was...always alone. 

That’s how it was, wasn’t it?
No one would hear her. No one would come for her. No one would find her.

Only her, and the darkness.
Only her, and the sound of her own breath, of her own heart.

And was she even there anymore? If she couldn’t see anything? If she couldn’t see herself?
Did she even exist?
Did it even matter?
Silence. Darkness. Loneliness.

Kagome.

All synonymous with Kagome.

“KAGOME!” 

Something rang out in the distance. A voice, maybe? Kagome scoffed, a slight sound escaping her throat. All she could hear was her heart, her breath. Her own name?

Must be in her head.

“KAGOME!”

A little bit louder; a little bit more desperate. 

Her head must be losing it now, to hear her own name outside of it.

No one was coming for her.
No one would find her.
She had resigned herself to this fate.

Yes.

“KAGOME!” The sound of her name was impossibly loud now, and as Kagome looked up (or thought she looked up), she saw a blinding flash of light make a crescent shape, and—oh, she must really have been going mad—a piece of the world was falling away, seemingly cut by the light, which was now oozing out and filling Kagone’s world with brightness. She raised her hand to her face, trying to block out the light, and realized that yes , she could see her hand, and yes , there was a figure emerging from the shimmering light.

A person dressed in a crimson haori and matching hakama. A person with long silver hair, which glowed against the shining light from the cut in the world. A person whose adorable dog ears twitched in her direction, and when he turned, and saw her, she watched as his golden eyes grew wide, and as his dark face grew luminous in the midst of the darkness.

If she were a believing person, she would have said that Inuyasha was there, that he’d come for her, but she knew:

This was not real.

There was no Inuyasha.
And he would never come for her.

“Kagome!” he shouted again, and Kagome could see the relief that flooded his face when he saw her. She nearly sobbed, and held out her hands to him, but she knew:

Inuyasha was not there.
Inuyasha was not real.

Every world she had been dropped in, he wasn’t there, not in the way that she loved him, anyway—not like the hanyō she loved—and now, the Jewel had figured out her heart’s greatest desire, and was laying this vision before her, plain, so she would make her wish. 

And once she did, it would all be ripped from her. Again.

“Kagome!” he said, sheathing his sword and flying through the air towards her. “Thank fuck you’re all right. I’ve been searching for you forever. How are you—wait, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s all wrong!” she cried, covering her eyes to shield them from viewing the person she wanted to see more than anyone in the world—the person who she knew was not really there.

“What’s all wrong?” he asked. “You got taken away into the Meido, and I followed you. I’ve been searching for you. I fought hordes of yōkai to get here. To get to you !”

“You’re not here!” she yelled, keeping her eyes covered. “You’re not here! It’s not really you. It’s some trick, just like everything else has been a trick!”

He reached for her, but she yelped and jerked herself away.

“Goddamit, ‘Gome,” Inuyasha snarled, anger starting to seep into his tone, “it doesn’t have to be this way! You don’t have to be like this!”

“No!” Kagome shouted, recoiling from his touch. “Don’t try to trick me. That choice has been gone for a long time; don’t trick me into false hope now. Not again.”

“I’m not trying to fucking trick you!” he shouted. “I’m trying to fucking rescue you!”

“You’re not!” she wailed. “You’re not here. You’re not real. You’re all in my head, and I’m not going anywhere with a false Inuyasha!”

“Dammit, woman,” Inuyasha hissed, and Kagome whipped her head up. Did he just say…

“You’re being goddamned near impossible,” he snapped. “Why don’t you just shut up and let me protect you so we can get out of here!”

Kagome’s mind exploded, in colors of gold and red and green and white. She saw , really saw , the man standing in front of her for the first time, and saw his face—loving, worried, terrified—as she struggled to grapple with the reality before her.

Inuyasha was real. The Jewel would not—could not—know that Inuyasha called her “woman” when he was pissed, nor could it know that he had once, in a fit of rage (like now) told her to “shut up” so he could protect her. These were things only Inuyasha—only the real Inuyasha—could know, and say.

Kagome turned her gaze to the hanyō before her, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Inuyasha!” she sobbed. “It’s you! It’s really, truly you!”

She held out her arms to him, and in seconds he was there, holding her, and he felt warm, and strong, and firm, a pillar of strength and light against the chaos of the darkness.

“Silly woman,” he murmured into her hair, “of course it’s me! Did ya think that I’d leave ya to rot in the stupid fucking jewel?” He sighed, and tilted her face up to meet his. “Don’t you know by now, Kagome?” he asked her. “I will always come for you: no matter how long it takes, or how far I have to go, or where I have to look. I will always be there for you, and I will always come for you. Because…Because I was born for you.”

“And I will always come for you,” breathed Kagome (was this really happening? Oh, gods, please let this be really happening), “because I was born to meet you.”

“Kagome.” His eyes were shining; his fingers still on her chin as he drew her close and pressed his lips to hers.

A jolt of electricity coursed through Kagome’s body. His lips—his kiss—so warm, so perfect, so real. She knew now: the jewel could not keep her from Inuyasha; they would always find each other, they would always be by each other’s sides.

They would always be together.

A flash of light, and Kagome and Inuyasha broke apart, his arm still wrapped protectively about her waist. From somewhere above them, the Jewel descended down, radiating a heavenly lilac light, Kagome’s arrow still piercing its center.

Kagome thought that she would feel...angry, betrayed, something, by the way the Jewel had tortured her, had kept her from Inuyasha for so long. But she could see: the Jewel wanted so desperately for her to make a wish, to wish for a life she did not want, that it was willing to go to extreme lengths to get her to make that wish, and, by extension, to have her soul.

But now, with Inuyasha’s hand keeping her steady, Kagome felt nothing but sadness and pity. The Jewel was evil, yes, but it was also fighting for survival, just they were, and it had done all that it could to stay alive.

Now, though, Kagome knew her wish, and knew that it was time to make it.

“Shikon no Tama,” Kagome said, her voice clear and loud and firm, “I am ready to make my wish.”

The Jewel blazed in response, its lilac light burning like fire all around it now. It pulsed, once, letting her know that it was ready for what she had to say.

Kagome took a deep breath, and Inuyasha squeezed her waist. She could do this. She could.

With Inuyasha by her side, she could do anything.

“My wish,” she declared, “is for you to disappear!”

The Jewel pulsed again in response, and Kagome felt its anger radiating. She had to act fast.

“Forever!” she shouted, and she and Inuyasha watched as the Jewel, and her arrow still lodged in it, shattered and burst, and disintegrated. Before their eyes.

Kagome sighed, and leaned her head on Inuyasha’s shoulder.

It was over.

Chapter Text

“Inuyasha!” Kagome giggled. “You can’t get much closer to the baby than you already are!”

“Keh,” he retorted, snuggling down by her side and resting his ear against his wife’s blossoming belly. “You don’t know what kinds of sounds I’m hearing in there, ‘Gome.” He paused. “Our kiddo’s...moving around a lot,” he settled on at last.

Kagome sighed, and rested her head back against the tree trunk, her fingers gently combing her husband’s hair. It had been five years since Kagome and Inuyasha had defeated the Shikon no Tama; five years since she had become trapped in Inuyasha’s time; and two years since they had married and mated. 

The happiest five years of her life.

She missed her family, yes. But she would have missed being apart from Inuyasha more. He was her life; he was her soul. He was everything to her. She could not have borne life without him.

A life that, thanks to him, was about to get a little bit more exciting.

When Kagome hadn’t become pregnant right away, she’d been sad. She wanted, more than anything, to give Inuyasha the family he wanted: the family that he deserved. Kaede had preached patience, and she was right to do so; it had taken them time, but here they were, finally, with a baby on the way…

A baby that would make their family complete.

But it was times like this...when they were all together, the three of them, snuggled close, that Kagome couldn’t help but remember her time in the Jewel. 

How, like her baby, she was alone in the dark, with no one to see, no one to talk to, no one to tell her it would be okay. Her heart pained for her child in those moments; were they as lost, alone, and scared as she had been? Were they wondering who was going to come for them, and if anyone ever would?

She shivered, and her fingers went to massage Inuyasha’s ear closest to her; a reflex for when she felt scared, or alone, or that, at any moment, she was going to wake up back in the jewel, back in the darkness, away from everyone she loved. 

Away from Inuyasha.

She’d done that a lot in the early days: rubbing his ears, that is. Because in none of her visions was Inuyasha a hanyō. In none of her visions did the Jewel ever imagine that was one of the things that she loved about him most. Because the Jewel could not imagine how anyone could ever love someone who was half of two things, and whole of nothing.

But Kagome disagreed. Because Inuyasha was the whole of everything good, and wonderful, and joyous to her, and she intended to hold onto him—to fight for him, and fight for her family—forever.

Then, Kagome felt a kick against her abdomen, and she smiled, placing her hand over the spot where the baby had kicked.

A reminder: I’m here, and I’m with you, always.
A reminder she didn’t mind at all.

“Hey, hey, hey, kiddo!” Inuyasha exclaimed, rubbing her belly gently. “You can’t kick your mama so hard. She’s taking really good care of you, ya know.” His eyes turned up to Kagome and took her in: glowing amber in the late afternoon sun. “Ya are, ‘Gome,” he added when he saw her scoff a little. “Our baby’s gonna be perfect, because you’re doing everything right.”

“Everything except for one thing, Inuyasha,” Kagome said softly, her fingers still kneading his ear. His chest rumbled as he hugged her belly. “The baby is...alone...there, in the darkness. And there’s nothing we can do about it. She’s—and I know it’s a girl, don’t argue with me on this one,” she added when she saw him stiffen, about to respond. “She must be so scared there, by herself, and we can’t do anything but wait for her to be born.”

Inuyasha sat straight up; Kagome felt his eyes now holding her gaze, so steady, refusing to let her look away. He reached over and tugged her into his lap, giant belly and all; his head came to rest on her shoulder, while his arms circled her stomach.

“Now look here,” he whispered, his voice gentle and calm, “this baby?” He rubbed her belly as if to add emphasis to his point, and the baby kicked back under his gentle massage. “This baby is surrounded by people, every single day. And we all talk to them, every single day. We say how much we love them, how much we can’t wait to meet them.” He paused, and nuzzled her neck, then drew back slightly and turned her cheek so they were face-to-face. “This baby, ‘Gome,” he continued, his voice gentle, “can hear us, I just know. And I’m gonna keep talking to them, every day, so they know, for sure, that they aren’t in the darkness alone—that their mama, and their papa, are here, waiting, so anxiously, for their arrival.”

And then he kissed her, with a depth and a sincerity and a passion that Kagome had rarely known in his kisses, and adjusted them so that she was no longer in his lap, but back against the tree, and his head was resting lightly on her stomach. Kagome could hear him whispering to the baby, and her heart swelled with love: for her husband, who would always be there for her, and who would always find her; and for their unborn child, who was going to be the most loved baby the world had ever known. 

Because Kagome, and Inuyasha? They were meant to be together, to live out their lives together in love, and at peace.  

And no one— no Naraku, no Jewel, no 500 years—would ever be able to change that.