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In the month since the Bone-Eater’s Well reopened, and Kagome chose — there were moments, minutes, days Inuyasha still couldn’t believe it — to return to his time, he notices a strange shift in her sleeping habits.
No matter how early they bank the fire and go to bed, the next day she drags herself from her futon, bleary-eyed and yawning, well after first light. It happens so consistently Inuyasha would have driven himself into a frenzy of worry (well, who was he kidding, he’s always going to worry, but at least it feels manageable) — was she having nightmares? was she sick? did she not feel safe sleeping in the hut he’d built? — had Kagome not been as cheerful and kind as always throughout the day, albeit prone to a second cup of strong green tea at breakfast and a quick afternoon nap when she has a moment in between chores. She’s an adult and could make her own choices, Inuyasha knows, and it isn’t his place to nag after her to take better care of herself — nor would she appreciate it.
Still. It’s something he’ll keep an eye on. He makes sure to shore up every chink in the walls and rethatch the roof until their sleeping room is snug and cozy, protected from drafts and drips. He saves up furs and trades them for the best futon he can find, thick and luxurious, with a sashiko-quilted cover stuffed with real duck down.
It gets better during the rainy season, when the sky is blanketed in thick gray clouds and a perpetual cycle of drizzle-shower-drizzle-shower puts everyone, including Kagome, into a sort of dreamy stupor, lulled to sleep each night by the pitter-patter of raindrops pelting the eaves. The autumn, too, isn’t so bad, with the rigors of harvest and the occasional typhoon keeping the whole village busy to the point where even Inuyasha sways on his feet at the end of another long day.
He finally catches her out during the first real frost.
It’s an early cold snap, cold enough to set the beams of their house creaking, though it was toasty enough with their futon dragged near the embers of the hearth and the willing heat and breath of two bodies shared, until even Kagome’s perpetually chilly fingertips are little pinpricks of warmth where they rest on his chest. It’s that heat he misses when he wakes in the middle of the night to find himself alone in bed, the extra blanket they had brought out missing.
Feeling goosebumps prickle across his entire body as he throws the covers back, Inuyasha fights to keep his teeth from chattering as he pads over to the door and sticks his head out to find Kagome — that adorable idiot! — sitting on the engawa, wrapped up like a little potato. She turns to face him in surprise, and her flushed apple-red cheeks are so adorable, he can’t be mad at her even if he tries.
“Kagome what the hell are ya doin’, it’s freezing!” he scolds, even as he settles himself behind her, fitting her between his legs so he can wrap his arms around her shivering form.
“S-s-sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she says with a small smile. “I th-thought I was being stealthy.”
“Stealthy as an ox.”
“Inu-yasha! ” She jabs him in the ribs with one elbow, and he feels a laugh rumble through his chest. “Now I’m definitely not telling you.”
“Naw, come on, wife,” he knows she loves it when he calls her that, “don’t be coy.”
He feels, rather than hears, her huff. A puff of breath crystallizes in the air before them like a shimmering cloud. “Since when do you use words like ‘coy’?”
“Since ya starting acting like it! Kagome, what’s been keeping you up so late? Ya can tell me anything,” he wheedles. “Please?” Another word Inuyasha knows she can’t resist, since he uses it so rarely.
“You won’t laugh?”
“I won’t laugh.”
“OK,” Kagome acquiesces, nestling herself back into Inuyasha’s chest a little more firmly. He curves around to fit her form. “It’s...like a new hobby that I picked up when I was in the future? I’m, uh, stargazing? Looking at the constellations and stuff.”
Inuyasha has only ever looked to the stars when trying to navigate by the hokkyokusei — the north star — not for pleasure. Not that he knows any of the other formations, anyways.
“Why?”
“They make me feel closer to you,” she mumbles. “When we were apart...I wanted to find something that would tie us together and I figured that no matter where we were, in what time we were, at least we were under the same sky. That the moon I saw, you saw; that the progression of the seasons and the stars was the same for me as it was for you.”
Inuyasha rumbles encouragingly.
“And I just got...really into it?” she continues. “I know it became a little bit of an overboard habit. But the skies here are so clear! There’s no pollution or electric lights blocking out the stars, so I can see so much more! And I guess...just like the constellations made me feel tied to you, now I feel more tied to my family. Look, there’s Orion. It’s my favorite.” She wiggles one arm free from her blanket cocoon and points somewhere just above the horizon, changing the subject. Inuyasha looks obediently, but it all looks like “stars” to him.
“I don’ know what ‘Orion’ looks like.”
“Oh, this one’s easy,” Kagome chirps. “OK, do you see the three bright stars in a row?”
Inuyasha nods until he realizes she can’t see him nodding, then grunts in affirmation.
“That’s called ‘Orion’s Belt.’ Because, well, it looks like a belt, yeah? And then there are four brighter stars that make this kind of lopsided rectangle around it. Those are Orion’s shoulders and knees…”
Inuyasha tilts his head back and tries to follow the swoop of her finger as Kagome tells him the story of Orion the mighty hunter, and how the gods placed him in the sky after his death, where he now forever held out his bow. He could kinda see it? If he squints?
“It’s a winter constellation, and when I realized that it was now cold enough I could probably see it, I just couldn’t resist. I wish I had my phone, I had this app where it would superimpose little pictures of the constellations over the stars using GPS,” she grumbles. “Plus, it’s one of the only ones you can actually pick out in Tokyo, so…”
Inuyasha runs his hands soothingly up and down her arms. “Tell me another?” he asks.
So Kagome tells him of the Scorpion that killed Orion, shows him the long starry curve of its stinger and the three prongs of bright lights that make up its claws; the seven shining pinpricks that made up hokuto — the big dipper; and the jagged line of Casseopeia. And they shiver together, breath mingling, as Kagome opens up the heavens to Inuyasha’s eyes.
He didn’t think he could love her any more, but somehow she always found a way. Soon they are both half-dozing, the warmth of their futon temping them back inside.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re the brightest star in my sky,” he mumbles sleepily into the fluffy cloud of her hair. He thinks she giggles. He’s got grand plans to build an extension room with a window in the roof; he’ll save up as long as it takes for the clearest pane of glass, so she can stargaze inside, where it’s warm, whenever she wants.
But that’s a mission for another day. For now, she tugs him back to bed, and soon he’s seeing “stars” of another variety, not that he minds whatsoever. And if they’re both yawning the next morning? Well. The night is good at keeping secrets.