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As Kagome brushed aside the reed mat hanging in the doorway of Kaede’s hut, she called out into the dwindling twilight, “Moroha! We’re leaving..!”
Within seconds, over the height of the inclining slope leading to the river, a small head topped with a riot of dark hair appeared. Middling sunlight shone at the child’s back, illuminating golden flecks in her bright brown eyes that widened when they landed on Kagome.
“Coming!” Moroha shouted, startling a few birds from their evening roost on the roof. Kagome tipped her head back, shielding her eyes to watch them take flight. Dirt and gravel scratched together as her daughter scrambled up on hand and knee, crushing tender grass beneath clumsy footsteps in her haste to her mother’s side. Kagome stepped further outside to allow Kaede to fill the doorway instead. Her arms held out to cushion Moroha’s impact when the little girl leaped into them, squealing with pitched laughter as Kagome swung her up onto her hip, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
One arm slung around her mother’s neck, and the other raised to offer a hearty farewell; Moroha called, “Bye, baa-chan,” to Kaede.
Kaede waved in return, one hand tucked behind her back. “Take care on your way,” she said, disappearing inside only after Kagome carried Moroha past the bridge leading to the priestess’ hut and onto the backroads.
Quickly, the peaceability of their walk wore on Moroha, and curiosity took its place. “Why does she always say that?” She asked Kagome, continuing after she received a questioning hum in return, “Our house isn’t that far.”
Kagome laughed, soft and unmocking. “It’s only polite, Momo. Like a good luck charm….” In the shadows cast by the eve, mother and daughter met eyes. Seldom did it startle Kagome how her daughter had her eyes, as pointed out by Inuyasha when their daughter first opened them, but the way Moroha wrinkled her nose endearingly reminded her of him in every way. She imagined her husband in every speck of gold in their daughter’s eyes, in every stubborn set of her jaw, and in the way she questioned everything with endless wonder.
“Even though home isn’t that far, traveling with a little peachling can make for a dangerous journey….” Kagome tucked her arms around Moroha, pulling her in closer so that she could nibble at her cheeks, earning another ear-ringing laugh.“Especially one so sweet, anyone would want to eat her up.”
Moroha batted her away with elbow nudges and grumbles, protesting, “Mama, I’m not a peach!”
Kagome feigned bewilderment, “Of course you are. When you were born, you were bright red, like a peach’s skin, and look. You’re wearing red right now.” She tugged demonstratively at the sleeve of Moroha’s kosode, rubbing her thumb over a frayed thread beginning to weave itself back into place. It was likely an accident that tore, but it would’ve gone unnoticed by a child without prompting. Doubly so for a child blessed with a Robe of the Fire Rat. Considering the lengths taken to acquire its furs, Kagome wasn’t sure if Moroha should wear it until she was a little older and could care for it, but Inuyasha insisted otherwise.
Threads of the Fire Rat were hot to the touch, but they protected their wearer, and Kagome felt no pain in touching them. If anything, she felt Inuyasha’s yōki pressed into every square inch wrapped around their daughter like a shield. A brief brush, a reassurance of a father’s love and devotion, obvious in every piece if you knew where to look.
Unaware, Moroha continued rallying against her mother, pointing one chubby finger at the ground. “So are you!”
Kagome smiled, rubbing her cheek against Moroha’s. “But you were a gift from the heavens, just like Momotaro.”
“Momotaro?” Moroha cocked her head, eyes wide and shining with the prospect of learning a story.
Crickets chirped longingly in the tall grass, bidding the daylight farewell as the pair crossed wildflowers and gently swished reeds. All the while, Kagome told her daughter a little tale.
“Mm, a little boy born from a peach who became the son of an old woodcutter and his wife. They raised him with lots of love, and when he was older, he realized he wanted to protect other people in the same way. So, he journeyed far from home, defeating evil and making friends along the way.”
Moroha gasped, “Did he have a sword?”
Resisting the urge to narrow her eyes, Kagome sighed inwardly and nodded. “I think so,” she said, anticipating the response before she even finished her sentence.
“So why could he have a sword when he was little, but I can’t?”
This again, Kagome thought. “I said it’s when he was older, and you know the rules. You have to be five before you have a sword of your own.”
“But maaa…!” Moroha whined, bending backward in her mother’s hold. Stubborn, hardy little knees knocked against Kagome’s sides, but their poking wouldn’t deter her. A smattering of kisses pressed to Moroha’s neck, and the strip of skin peeking from beneath her collar made the girl giggle and thrash.
“No buts,” Kagome said, laughing while she tried to get a hold of Moroha. When they were face to face again, she tapped the tip of Moroha’s button nose, then pointed with a nod toward the warmly lit hut off in the distance. “And if you really want to have a sword, you’ll have to convince your dad.”
Moroha groaned, “Fiiine…” swinging her feet and pouting until Inuyasha called for them from the veranda. Then, Kagome smiled as her little peachling called back to her father with a smile brighter than the sun.
“Papa! Moroha’s home!”