Chapter Text
InuYasha always came home like nothing had happened.
That was the part that bothered Kagome the most.
It was almost midnight when the apartment door clicked open, careful and quiet, like he was trying not to wake the walls themselves. Kagome, sprawled on the couch with a sociology textbook open on her chest and the TV humming static, lifted her head immediately.
She didn’t need to look.
She could hear it in his breathing.
The apartment smelled faintly of instant ramen and old carpet. A single lamp cast yellow light across the living room, catching dust in the air. Kagome sat up as InuYasha kicked off his shoes near the door, movements loose in the way people get when they’re pretending not to hurt.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
He didn’t look at her.
InuYasha shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair instead of the hook. That was new. He usually hated clutter. His ears, pale against his silver hair, flicked once before he forced them still.
Kagome’s stomach sank.
“You’re late,” she said carefully.
“Study group ran long.”
That was a lie. Not a terrible one, but a tired one.
He turned toward the kitchen, probably aiming for the fridge, probably thinking if he stayed moving long enough she wouldn’t notice. Kagome noticed anyway.
The sleeve of his hoodie was torn near the elbow. There was something dark staining the fabric. His knuckles were scraped raw, red and swollen like he’d punched concrete instead of faces. When he stepped fully into the light, she saw the faint shadow blooming along his cheekbone.
Kagome stood.
“InuYasha.”
“I’m fine,” he said immediately, like he’d been waiting for it.
She crossed the room in three steps and grabbed his wrist before he could dodge. His skin was warm. Too warm. He tensed, instinctive, like touch itself was a threat.
She turned his hand over.
Blood, dried and cracked between his fingers.
That was it. She had let it slide for long enough.
Her voice came out quieter than she meant. “What happened?”
He pulled his hand back. “I told you. Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
He scoffed, aiming for casual and missing. “You should see the other guy.”
“There was another guy,” Kagome said flatly.
InuYasha’s jaw tightened.
He walked past her into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring into it like the answers lived between half-empty milk cartons and leftover takeout boxes. Kagome followed, arms crossed now, more for stability than attitude.
“Was it on campus?” she asked.
“No.”
“Near campus?”
He slammed the fridge shut harder than necessary. “Drop it.”
Kagome flinched, then straightened. She’d known him too long to be scared off by volume.
“You can’t just come home bleeding and expect me to pretend it didn’t happen.”
He turned on her then, eyes sharp, gold catching the kitchen light. “Why not? Been doing it for years.”
That hurt more than it should have.
Kagome opened her mouth, then closed it again. She reached for the first aid kit under the sink instead and set it on the counter with a quiet finality.
“Sit.”
InuYasha snorted. “I don’t need—”
“Sit,” she repeated.
He hesitated, then leaned back against the counter with a scowl, arms crossed defensively. Kagome took his hand again, gentler this time. He let her.
She cleaned his knuckles in silence. The sting made him hiss, but he didn’t pull away. Kagome focused on the task, because if she didn’t, she might say something she couldn’t take back.
“How many?” she asked.
InuYasha shrugged. “Couple.”
“And they just happened to be assholes.”
“Most people are.”
She pressed gauze to his hand. “Were they human?”
His ears twitched.
Kagome’s stomach dropped.
“Were they human?” she repeated.
InuYasha looked away. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Yeah.”
Kagome swallowed. “What did they say?”
He laughed, short and humorless. “You don’t wanna hear it.”
“Try me.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere outside, a car passed, music thumping faintly through the walls.
“They called me a mutt,” InuYasha said finally. “Asked if I was lost. Told me campus wasn’t meant for half-breeds like me.“
Kagome’s hands curled into fists.
“They said I should be grateful,” he continued, voice flat, detached in the way people get when they’re repeating something they don’t want to own. “Said twenty years ago I wouldn’t even be allowed in the building.”
Her chest ached.
“And then?” she asked.
“And then I told them to screw off,” InuYasha said. “They didn’t like that.”
Kagome closed her eyes for a second. “You didn’t start it.”
“No,” he said. “But I finished it.”
She looked at him, really looked at him. The way he held himself like he expected impact at any moment. The way his shoulders stayed tense even now, in their kitchen, in their apartment, with her.
“You don’t have to keep doing this alone,” she said.
InuYasha laughed again, bitter. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do.”
He shook his head. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and angry and tired all at once. “What do you want me to do, Kagome? Run and cry every time someone reminds me what I am?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
She stepped closer. “I want you to stop thinking you deserve it.”
The words hung in the air.
InuYasha froze.
“I don’t think that,” he said immediately.
Kagome met his eyes. “You let them hit you.”
“They hit me because I exist,” he shot back. “That’s not the same thing.”
“It is if you never fight back when it matters.”
His eyes darkened. “I did fight back.”
“Physically,” Kagome said. “Not emotionally. Not… like you’re worth defending.”
That struck something.
InuYasha looked away again, jaw clenched so tight Kagome thought his teeth might crack.
“Drop it,” he muttered.
“No.”
She surprised herself with how firm it came out.
“I’ve watched you protect me since we were sixteen,” she said. “From creepy guys at parties, from professors who thought I was stupid, from anyone who looked at me wrong. You step in without thinking. Every time.”
He scoffed weakly. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“You’re human,” he said.
Kagome stared at him. “That’s not a …”
He interrupted softly. “It is.”
Her throat tightened.
“You don’t get to decide that you’re disposable,” she said.
His eyes flashed. “I’m not saying that.”
“You are,” Kagome said, voice shaking now. “Every time you come home like this and pretend it’s nothing.”
Silence fell heavy between them.
InuYasha scrubbed a hand over his face. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “You don’t understand what it’s like.”
“Then teach me,” Kagome said.
He looked at her then, really looked, like he was seeing her not as the girl he’d known since high school, not as his roommate, not as someone he protected by default.
But as someone choosing him.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he said.
Kagome laughed softly, exhausted. “Too late.”
She finished bandaging his hand and stepped back. Her heart was pounding.
.
That night, Kagome didn’t sleep.
She lay in bed listening to the sounds of the apartment. InuYasha moving in the other room. The couch creaking as he shifted. The faint clink of a glass in the sink.
She stared at the ceiling, thinking about every time she’d let him step in front of her. Every time she’d accepted protection like it was natural law.
She thought about the bruises he hid.
And she made a decision.
Two weeks later, InuYasha came home early.
Kagome wasn’t on the couch.
She wasn’t in her room.
She wasn’t at the dining table with her laptop.
He found her in the spare room they barely used, hair tied back, hands wrapped in cheap athletic tape, standing in front of a battered punching bag she’d clearly dragged home herself.
She threw a punch.
It was clumsy. Weak. But determined.
InuYasha stared.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Kagome turned, breathing hard, eyes bright with something fierce and unresolved.
“Training.”
He barked a laugh. “For what?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“For you.”
The room went quiet.
InuYasha’s ears flicked back. “I don’t need that. And neither do you.”
Kagome stepped closer, fists still clenched. “You don’t get to decide what I need.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
“You could get hurt,” he said.
“So could you,” Kagome replied. “And you already are.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile.
InuYasha stared at her like he didn’t recognize her.
Maybe he didn’t.
Kagome lifted her hands again, shaky but stubborn.
“I just want to stand next to you.”
InuYasha exhaled slowly. There was no way out of this. He knew her.
“Your stance is terrible,” he muttered.
Kagome blinked. “What?”
He stepped closer, reluctantly. Adjusted her shoulders. Her feet. His touch was careful, almost reverent.
“Again,” he said.
And Kagome did.