Work Text:
Kagome was growing up too fast.
Mrs. Higurashi wished with all her heart that she could turn back time, back to the days when her daughter was just a tiny little thing wrapped in a bright pink blanket, when she fit perfectly in the crook of her arm, when it was easier to hold her close to her chest and keep her safe from the dangers of the world.
But time was relentless and didn’t grant wishes, and in the blink of an eye her baby girl was already taking her first step.
And then she took another and another until she became a force to be reckoned with. Kagome would race through the house, jump up and down on every piece of furniture they owned, fill every corner of every room with her energy and laughter as Mr. and Mrs. Higurashi struggled to keep up with her.
"She gets all that energy from you," Mrs. Higurashi would say, her hands on her knees as she desperately tried to catch her breath.
Her husband would never contest it because he knew damn well that it was true. He would simply smile, his brown eyes lighting up with pride and joy as he gazed in wonder at the little ball of sunshine he was half responsible for bringing into the world.
Mrs. Higurashi's eyes welled up with tears as the memories played in her mind. She blinked them away and attempted to return to her gardening.
"Mama!"
Kagome emerged from the house and ran toward her, her treasured, overstuffed yellow backpack slung over her shoulder and swinging violently back and forth with every step she took.
"All ready to go?"
Kagome let the backpack fall to the ground and kneeled beside her mother, taking a garden trowel and digging a small hole where they could deposit the seeds Mrs. Higurashi still held in her hands.
Kagome nodded. "I just wanted to come and say goodbye before I left."
When Kagome had dug a deep enough hole, she held out her cupped hands for Mrs. Higurashi to transfer the seeds into, and as she did, their eyes met.
Kagome had her father's eyes. They were those same honey brown eyes that could be soft, warm, and kind but also fierce, reflecting a courage and determination that intensified every time her daughter came back through the well.
Kagome laid the seeds gently into the place where they would rest and slowly gather enough water and nutrients to grow roots and anchor themselves into the soil.
After the seeds were covered, Mrs. Higurashi reached for her daughter's hands and wiped them clean with a towel.
"When will you be back?" she asked.
The irony was not lost on her. As a mother, her job was to protect her children from the make-believe ghosts and demons that hid in the shadows and underneath their beds, to dispel their fear of evil entities with stories and lullabies, hugs and kisses. So how could she allow her daughter to return time and time again to a world where they were real? Where they could really hurt her?
"When the well opens, you must allow her to make her own choices," her husband had said to Mrs. Higurashi on his deathbed. "Just as you were allowed to make your own choice and write your own destiny, we must allow her to do the same."
It was one of the hardest promises she had ever made. But her husband was right. Every day she prayed that the well would never open, that Kagome would never be given the choice that she had been given. That she would never be allowed to enter the perilous world she had entered when she was Kagome’s age. She dreaded the day it would happen, but when it did, she did not curse the well or fate. The well had led her to the only man she ever loved, after all.
And so Mrs. Higurashi honored her husband’s dying wish. As much as she wanted to dig out and destroy the well and protect her precious baby forever, she forced herself to take a step back. And when Kagome made the choice to become a part of that other world, she practiced acceptance and patience, admiring the courage with which Kagome faced every challenge that presented itself, wholeheartedly trusting her daughter’s strength.
There was nothing more that she could do. There was nothing more that she could do but pray to the gods for her daughter's safety, to wait by the well with her heart in her throat, to welcome her precious baby home with open, loving arms.
And so Mrs. Higurashi was always there to treat every cut, every bruise, every wound Kagome brought home from the Feudal Era. She was there to comfort her each and every time she came home with a broken heart, to dry every tear she cried over a certain hanyou boy. And she was there to listen to every word of every story of every adventure she embarked on with her new friends. She knew she could not do more, and so she prayed it was enough.
Mrs. Higurashi and Kagome walked toward the well house, stopping at the goshinboku to say their goodbyes.
Kagome threw her arms around her mother. “I’ll be back in three days, I promise. I love you, Mama.”
Mrs. Higurashi pulled Kagome close. “I love you, my Kagome. You be safe now and say hello to everyone for me.”
Kagome jogged the rest of the way to the well house but hesitated at the entrance.
She turned toward her mother and called, “The seeds, when they sprout, what will they be?”
“Edelweiss,” her mother answered. It was a slow grower but nonetheless a tough, persistent plant known to survive the harshest winters. It was strong, resilient, just like her daughter who smiled and waved one last time before disappearing into the well house.
They wouldn’t see its white, star-shaped flowers bloom for two years, but they would be worth the wait.