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The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting soft golden light across the courtyard of the apartment complex. On the ground-floor patio of Unit 1B, Inuyasha lounged in a lawn chair, barefoot and relaxed, sipping iced tea like he’d finally figured out what peace felt like.
Kagome was curled up in the corner of their bench swing, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap. Their daughters, Moroha and Kiki, sprawled on a picnic blanket nearby, giggling as they played a chaotic game of tag with Buyo, their chubby cat.
It was one of those rare, quiet weekends. Or at least, it had been.
The peace fractured with the sudden roar of laughter and clattering metal. Inuyasha's ears twitched beneath his illusion—an enchanted necklace that made him look fully human to the outside world. He muttered a low curse and sat up straighter.
“Guess who’s throwing another unannounced ‘exclusive event,’” he said dryly.
Kagome didn’t look up. “Let me guess. Tamiko again?”
“That’d be the one.”
The mini-park in the center of the courtyard—a space meant for everyone—was being taken over. Again. Folding tables, coolers, a grill, even a handmade sign that read PRIVATE EVENT had claimed the public area as her own. Tamiko barked orders at a handful of guests, her voice carrying across the lawn like a megaphone.
Moroha stood and tugged at Kagome’s sleeve. “Can we go on the swings now? Please?”
Kiki looked up too, eyes wide. “We’ll stay out of the way, promise.”
Inuyasha clenched his jaw. Earlier, when they’d tried to play there, Tamiko had waved them off like pests. Called it “adults only today,” even though it was supposed to be open to everyone.
Kagome gently brushed Kiki’s hair back. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let’s give it a little more time.”
Tamiko didn’t stop there. Minutes later, she stormed toward their patio with the same entitled energy.
“I need you to move your stuff,” she said flatly, pointing to their chairs and grill. “We need this area. It’s too crowded over there.”
Inuyasha stood, calm but visibly annoyed. “This is our patio. We’re not moving.”
“But we have more people coming, and you’re just sitting here!”
“That’s the point,” Kagome said, still seated. “We’re using the space. Which means it’s taken.”
“There’s plenty of room!”
“There are also cameras,” Kagome added coolly. “And a very long list of complaints. Keep pushing, and you’re going to be at the top of it.”
Tamiko scoffed and stomped off without another word, muttering under her breath as she retreated to her party. The noise didn’t let up. Guests spilled into walkways, music blasted at full volume, and someone even went door-to-door asking to use other residents’ bathrooms because hers was “too full.”
One man sheepishly knocked on their door. “Sorry, uh… is your bathroom free?”
Inuyasha stared at him. “Nope.”
They shut the door.
Later that week, management sent out a mass email reminding everyone about shared space rules and maximum guest limits. No names were mentioned, but the timing wasn’t subtle. Tension lingered. Tamiko kept throwing smaller parties, but her grip on the shared space began to loosen.
Then, two weeks later, she disappeared.
Rumor had it she tripped over a stray dog and broke her foot. Stuck in a third-floor unit with no elevator, she went to stay with family to recover. Her name quietly disappeared from the tenant directory. Word spread: her lease wouldn’t be renewed.
Her apartment was taken over by a soft-spoken art student—a relative, maybe—who introduced himself with a tray of cupcakes and a big smile. The change was instant. The courtyard felt like a community again.
On the patio, Inuyasha grilled skewers while Kagome read in the swing. Moroha and Kiki ran barefoot through the grass, Buyo chasing them like he had a chance of catching up.
“Think we’ll finally get a full summer without drama?” Inuyasha asked.
Kagome laughed. “Don’t jinx it.”
He smirked and tossed her a skewer. “At least if we do get another disaster, we’ve got video footage. And the emotional endurance now.”
She took a bite and grinned. “And you didn’t even have to throw anyone over a fence.”
“Yet,” he muttered.
But for now, peace had returned.