InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ You Are My Shelter ❯ Power ( Chapter 1 )

She watched for him sometimes. The forest flanking her village was his home, and every once in awhile, in the gloom cast by the dense patchwork of tree limbs and leaves, she'd catch a fleeting glimpse of red. She knew it was him, as she knew he allowed her to watch him. If he wasn't in the mood to be noticed, he wouldn't even let her hear the passing rustle of his departure—and more often than not he was in no mood. But occasionally, on the rare days when he seemed indifferent to her interest, he'd allow her that glimpse, that moment of acknowledgement.

 

She'd tried speaking to him on one such occasion. He'd been immobile unusually long, leaning against the trunk of a tree, staring at patches of sky—she'd seen his build, the silver of his hair, the outline of his face before he'd thrown a glance at her, turned his back, and started walking away.

 

“Wait!” she'd called, “What's your name?”

 

He hadn't stopped. If anything, his pace quickened.

 

“Hey! I'm Kagome!”

 

He was gone before she could finish, and she hoped, rather than believed, that he heard.

 

 

_______________

 

 

She'd known about him her entire life. Everyone in the village had heard the tales.

 

Her village was less than four generations old. The stories of its founding were still told at firesides. The first generation of villagers had fought for their patch of land—the local yokai did not take kindly to human intrusion. Clashes were brutal: battles that lasted for days on end, raiding parties fought on both sides, ambushes deep within the forest. Rather than seeking more peaceful lands, the villagers grew resilient and shrewd. The land was fertile, close to a broad river teeming with fish, and the forest provided game. The villagers were unwilling to leave, and the yokai refused to let them stay.

 

Then, one day, attacks on the village ceased altogether. For a solid week there was no demonic activity to be seen. The villagers praised the gods for their deliverance. Then he came. One bright morning, he stood outside the village's hewn-log wall and demanded to see the headman. His appearance, it was told, set everyone to whispering: blood red robes, hair as silver as the clouds, ears on top of his head, and claws in place of fingernails. Some still claimed that he didn't even have fingers, only deadly razors where fingers should be. The field laborers retreated behind the walls, the guardsmen took up their bows, and all was tense silence until the headman finally came out, wary but without hesitation.

 

No one knew exactly what was said in that conversation. The villagers couldn't hear anything from the safety of the walls. All they could see were the wild gestures of the headman and the rigid posture of the yokai (for yokai he must be). Then the yokai growled something loudly at the headman and took off in a sprint towards the woods. The headman returned with a thunderous expression and refused to tell anyone but a few trusted men what had passed between them. He only said that the yokai was not to be killed, lest the others retaliate.

 

Though no one from the first generation of villagers was still living, a small number of the oldest villagers continued to credit the village's prosperity to the silver-haired yokai. It was only because of this demon—this forest guardian—that the other demons stayed clear of the village, they said. There was still the occasional ambush, still random attacks on hunters who ventured too far into the forest, but the organized raids were a thing of the past. Without the constant worry of defense, the villagers had time to devote to their crops, animals, and artisan work. The villagers sent for their extended family; they came hesitantly at first, but quickly set their roots in the place. Couples began having children, enough that the villagers started clear-cutting a section of land to make space for future building. Despite this, it never amounted to much more than a fishing village. Its people, however, were firmly established, well-fed, and determined to remain that way.

 

The old villagers may have given credit to the silver-haired yokai for all this, but they were quickly silenced by the sneers of the rest. In all the years that followed, the yokai never reappeared. Slowly but surely, the villagers who had been alive to see him that day from the village wall died off, and those left behind didn't think much of their stories. The red-robed yokai had become a faerie tale, a myth dwindling into impotent legend.

 

But still, there were whispers; and still, when they stepped under that line of trees, they felt some looming presence in the woods.

 

 

______________

 

 

“Kagome.”

 

Silence. The stir of heavy breathing.

 

“Kagome.”

 

The slight twitching of an eyebrow under heavy black bangs, accompanied shortly by an impatient whine.

 

“Kagome,” creaked the old voice in exasperation. “I will get the water bucket if you make me repeat myself again.”

 

The sleeping girl's eyes flew open as she sat up with the speed of a small forest animal fleeing a predator. Grey irises—already squinting in the sunlight streaming through the doorway of the small hut—narrowed at the elderly woman standing above her, who was smiling in a way that might be described as “self-satisfied” in a lesser human.

 

“Someday, Kaede,” yawned the girl, “I'll wake you up from a dead sleep with a bucket of cold water to the face, and see how you like it.”

 

“When I laze about on my futon until mid-afternoon, you have my permission to do so.”

 

Kagome harrumphed, rubbing her eyes with her hands and arching her spine in a long stretch. “If you'd been up all night helping the midwife deliver Kawaguchi-san's baby, you'd be sleeping too.”

 

“Be that as it may,” said Kaede with more than a hint of amusement in her voice, “you are expected in the rice fields. All hands are needed.” Kaede's visible eye—the one not covered by a black, frayed eye patch—surveyed Kagome with a keen authority.

 

For as long as she remembered, Kagome had both admired and quailed from that look. She sighed heavily, blowing her dark bangs out of her eyes in the process. Her legs and lower back already ached from the night before, crouching for long hours next to the midwife, bracing Kawaguchi-san's shoulders to keep her upright during labor. Kagome's legs burned just remembering how long she'd held that squat. She couldn't imagine how her muscles would feel after an entire afternoon hunched over rice paddies while the sun scorched the back of her neck. She groaned at the prospect.

 

“Up!” Kaede barked, nudging Kagome's legs with her foot. “The rice and the sun long to greet you. You will sleep better tonight after a day's work.”

 

Kagome leveled a narrow-eyed, deadpan stare at the old woman standing above her. “Did you really just say that?”

 

“Up.”

 

Kagome sighed again. She could never bring herself to defy the woman who had taken her in, however much her sleep-benumbed mind wanted to. Trying to fool her body into believing it had just gotten a brilliant night's sleep, Kagome slowly rolled to her feet. She was already dressed in her work kimono, as she had more or less collapsed from exhaustion that morning.

 

“Would you like anything to eat before you leave? Some rice?” Kaede asked as she hobbled to the fire in the middle of the room and kneeled before the black pot hanging over its flames.

 

Kagome shook her head rigorously, more to wake herself up than anything else. “No, thanks, I'm about to have more rice than I can stand.”

 

Kaede simply smiled and began to stir the contents of the pot. “I am sorry, child.”

 

“I know.” Kagome stretched one last time, standing on her tiptoes and running her fingers through her long feathery hair, trying to smooth out some of the tangles. Once at the door of the hut, Kagome smiled at the old woman and waved her hand once. “I'll see you tonight, Kaede.”

 

She lifted the woven reed mat covering the doorway and ducked outside. The sun was bright, its rays immediately warming the skin of her face and arms. The air was humid, thrumming with heat and the chirps of insects. Before her, the village opened out in a gentle slope down towards the village gate, the only opening in the twenty-foot wall made of sharpened, felled trees that encircled the village on all sides. Beyond the gate was the forest, green and looming, a wild thing right on their doorstep. The rice fields—along with the vegetable fields—were just past the outlying trees, in a large expanse of open land close to the river. The soil was rich and vicinity to the river made for easy irrigation. A narrow dirt path led from the village gate to the rice fields, winding between the tall trees and sparse undergrowth of the forest. It was about a ten minute walk from the gate to the fields—it was likely going to be the most pleasant part of Kagome's day.

 

Well, the girl thought, the sooner I begin the sooner it's over. She trotted down the grassy hill, passing several huts along the way. She reached the gate without seeing anyone—most all the villagers were already in the fields, planting the year's crops—for which she was grateful. The moment she stepped into the shade of the forest, her breath left her in a pleased sigh. She'd always loved the forest, its loamy scent and shadowy trees. Her pace slowed some as she walked, enjoying the dappled light and the cooler air. Humming under her breath, she ran her fingers against the bark of the nearest trees as she passed. She heard birdsong in the branches above her, and the insistent scrapings of cicadas.

 

Ahead of her, the path bent to the right, around a tight cluster of trees. She rounded the bend and froze. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't move.

 

There he stood. Just to the side of the path, a few yards ahead of her.

 

It's him.

 

His back was to her, though he was angled in such a way that she could glimpse his profile and some of his face. The silver triangles of his ears twitched atop his head, and silver hair draped down his back, as still and motionless as the air around them. His arms were crossed over his chest, hands resting in the sleeves of his red suikan in seeming repose. Despite his relaxed posture, he was tense, taut as a bowstring. Still. Waiting.

 

Her lungs remembered to breathe before she did. Inhaling sharply, she wondered what she ought to do. Move forward? Call out to him? Turn back?

 

But it was too late. He'd heard her. Faster than she could track the movement, he whipped around, silver hair swinging in a graceful arc, legs crouching defensively, claws at the ready. Sharp golden eyes narrowed at her.

 

He didn't say anything, simply watched her. They stood, staring at each other for long moments, neither willing to move first. Kagome's eyes raked over his face, his frame, memorizing every detail. He was taller than her, even in his slight crouch, and he was younger than she'd thought he'd be—her age at least, maybe a little older. But the legends, she thought, he's been around for hundreds of years. He can't be this young. Her eyes went once again to the downy, triangular ears atop his head. Hanyou. Half-demon. He had a strong face, she decided. Prominent jaw, straight nose, black wing-shaped eyebrows over the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. Is this real? He'd always been a red blur through the trees, a glint of silver and gold in her peripheral vision. She'd never been this close to him before, never seen this much of him at once. Had she been less absorbed, she might have noticed the sudden quiet of the forest, the absence of birdsong and cicadas.

 

And then he was speaking. “Get out of here,” he growled, his voice low and husky, scraping across her skin.

 

She swallowed. Stared at him. Say something, her mind demanded. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it.

 

Dammit, she thought as her teeth clicked shut again. Say something!

 

“You deaf? Get out of here!”

 

“W-why?”

 

“You need to leave. Now.”

 

Her eyebrows snapped together in a frown. “I… I can't. I need to get to the fields.”

 

“You need to listen to me and leave.”

 

Wha… “No.”

 

“No?” His growl turned into a snarl. “If you think—”

 

There was a loud crack. His body pivoted towards the sound—the same direction he'd been staring earlier. Then a groaning, thundering crash that shook the very ground they stood on, and one of the largest trees Kagome had ever seen was moving, falling in a rush of sound, falling right on top of them. Before Kagome had the chance to scream, something heavy collided with her midsection, knocking the wind right out of her.

 

Her entire body tensed, preparing for impact with the ground. It never came. With a rough jerk around her navel, she felt herself being lifted. Arms held her around the waist, and suddenly she was soaring, her face pressed against warm, rough fabric. She opened her eyes and saw red cloth.

 

“If you don't want to die, hold on,” his voice rumbled from somewhere above her head.

 

They were high in the air, so high above the trees she could see the village in the distance. His grip on her was tough, uncomfortable, but when she looked down she didn't care. Oh gods.

 

Then they were falling, and she had the distinct sensation that her stomach was in the region of her throat.

 

They landed more gently than she would have imagined possible, his knees bending into a crouch to absorb the brunt of the impact. They were a fair distance away from the fallen tree—it lay directly across the path, the earth around it broken and jagged. As soon as their feet touched the ground he released her, and in the next instant he was gone, running in the direction the tree had fallen from.

 

He'd barely reached the fallen trunk when the entire tree line began to shake and rumble so fiercely Kagome thought the whole forest would come down in a blaze of sound. She slumped to her knees and felt the vibrations in her bones. The hanyou stopped, tense and expectant.

 

A yokai emerged from the shadows of the forest, a creature unlike anything Kagome had ever seen. It had a bone-white exoskeleton like an insect, with a head and sharp spiked forelegs that resembled a praying mantis; the rest of its body trailed behind it like a worm, fleshy and raw underneath the cage of its skeleton. The very end of its body was solidly encased in that bone, and it looked limber enough to swing—the perfect weapon. The beast was fifteen feet tall if it was an inch.

 

Suddenly that bone-encased tail was up in the air and arcing down, straight towards the hanyou. Kagome screamed right as he leapt out of its range, with a speed she couldn't even see. Her brain felt numb, her limbs as heavy as the fallen tree.

 

From where she sat, slumped on the ground, she was far enough away to be out of the yokai's range, but close enough to become its next target. The hanyou, who had leapt under the protective cover of the trees, yelled, “Move! Find a hiding place and stay there!”

 

She wanted to. She wanted to run, and keep running until she was back to the village, until she couldn't hear the high-pitched, rattling screech of that yokai, until she forgot it even existed. Terror pumped through her veins, bled into her lungs. Run, she thought. I should run. Her legs didn't even twitch.

 

Again. It's happening again.

 

An image flashed through her mind—blood-stained ground, bright agonizing light, the screaming of a child.

 

“Fucking useless human,” she heard from what seemed like a huge distance. The sound brought her out of herself. Her mind cleared and her eyes snapped into focus. There he was, leaving his cover, leaping towards the yokai with his deadly claws extended. Protecting her, she realized. With a guttural cry, he slashed at one of its razor forelegs. Bone splintered, flesh ripped apart. Blood sprayed him in the face as the yokai's leg fell to the ground. A long, high shriek was the only warning he had before the other leg swung at him, cutting the hanyou across the chest and throwing him into the ground, the impact so loud Kagome thought every bone in his body must be broken. In the time it took to blink, the yokai's tail was speeding towards the hanyou's skull.

 

Kagome didn't remember moving. It was not a conscious decision. One second she'd watched the half-demon get thrown aside like a rag doll, and the next she was running towards him, arm outstretched as though she could ward off the blow that would surely kill him. The only discernible thought in her mind was, I can't watch him die, I can't watch him die.

 

She reached his body, dropped into a crouch over him, her right forearm propped against his chest, her left arm raised palm outward above her head.

 

It happened in an instant. Her indrawn breath. The burning, aching sensation in her hand. One thought ringing through the utter stillness in her mind. For once in my life, I need you. Please.

 

Then a brilliant flash of pink-tinged light. A wailing shriek. The searing sensation in her hand traveled up her arm, spread through her chest, engulfed her entire body in flame and a deep bone-ache that made her forget everything but the pain. Her scream was drowned out by the yokai's wailing.

 

Just as quickly as it began, it ended. Deadened silence reigned in the forest around them. An insistent, tingling throb slowly replaced the aching pain in her body. Kagome took a deep breath and realized, with some surprise, that she had fallen to the ground. She opened her eyes and sat up. On the ground before her, the bone of its tail nearly touching her feet, lay the corpse of the mantis yokai. Hunks of charred, rent flesh clung to its skeleton, but there wasn't a single mark on the bone itself. The skull—every inch of skin and under-flesh burned clean off—faced her direction, as though accusing its executioner.

 

Kagome took a long moment to collect herself, to allow her mind to catch up with the events that seemed to span ten hours rather than ten minutes. She turned to face the hanyou lying on the ground beside her, only to find his eyes open and upon her. He watched her with something akin to dislike. Distrust. He sat up, still staring at her—were his eyes uncommonly bright in their scrutiny?—hesitated, and then stood in a quick, fluid motion. Kagome, startled by his sudden wariness, rose more slowly. They stood, once again, facing each other.

 

“You—your chest,” Kagome said, cautiously pointing a finger at the bloodstains spreading across his suikan, “and your face. How are they? Are you okay?”

 

“You're a miko,” he said abruptly. His voice was low, gravelly, and there was an accusatory edge to it that made Kagome step back.

 

She felt a tightness form in her throat. “W-what? No. I'm no miko.”

 

A frown puckered his eyebrows, and his lips pulled back in disbelief. “I know a miko's power when I see it.” Then he paused, took one deliberate sniff. “I know the stench of one, too. I've seen you before. You live in the village. Why the hell did you allow that yokai to hunt here so long?”

 

Kagome, caught somewhere between fear and an unaccountable resentment—the feeling that flooded her insides every time her powers were brought up—took another step back. “I told you, I'm not a miko. I've never trained. I've never even seen a miko.”

 

“You're not fooling me, wench, so you might as well stop trying.” A growl rumbled in the hanyou's throat. “If your village had a miko, you damn well should've said something before I came all the way out here.”

 

Said something? What? “Look, I'm telling you, I'm not—”

 

“Sonuvabitch Sesshomaru's probably laughing his ass off right now. Colossal waste of my time—”

 

“What on earth are you—”

 

He jerked his head to the side, snarling, “I'm out of here, your miko stench is making me nauseous. If you're smart, you'll get back to your village and stay there. Next time you let a yokai run around loose, don't count on any pest control—I won't waste my energy.”

 

“Wha—hey, wait!”

 

But the hanyou wasn't listening. Straightening his suikan with one hand and wiping the blood off his face with the other, he started walking away as though Kagome were no more than a pebble on the ground.

 

She stared at his retreating back, flummoxed by absolutely everything that had happened since she'd woken up in Kaede's hut—gods, had that been less than an hour ago? Watching him walk away towards the cover of the trees, she felt that inexplicable resentment curling in the pit of her stomach. She was familiar with this sensation, this burning cold weight cradled between her ribs—she'd felt it often. She realized, almost in passing, that this was the only time she'd ever heard him speak. And all he'd done was dismiss her.

 

She could not and did not care to understand her blossoming anger. She just followed its lead.

 

With a quick jerk of her body, Kagome started jogging to catch up with the departing hanyou, reigning in the urge to yank on the silvery hair swinging down his back. She called ahead, “You know, you're pretty rude for someone who owes me his life.”

 

His entire frame stiffened before he stopped suddenly. Pivoting on his heels, he turned and stared incredulously at Kagome, who came to a halt in front of him.

 

“Me?” he said, jaw clenching, “Owe you?” His mouth opened and then snapped shut again. He seemed to have reached the limit of words.

 

Kagome, exhaling a long breath, nodded as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. She saw a muscle in his jaw flex, and felt a deep, albeit vengeful, satisfaction. “I'm not denying you helped me out back there, and I'm grateful for it; but I'm the only reason you're still walking around with your head. So maybe you should try that again.”

 

His eyebrows lowered in a deep frown. He didn't say anything. She noticed his left hand clench into a ball at his side. This was the closest she'd ever stood to him, the first time she'd ever heard him speak, and she couldn't control that cold burning in her stomach. This was not how she'd ever imagined meeting him, speaking to him. Had he even said his name?

 

Suddenly, Kagome felt very tired. “Listen,” she said, “I didn't—I wasn't trying to...” She exhaled again, slowly. “My name's Kagome. What's yo—” He moved quickly. She stopped speaking with a gasp. His grip around her neck made it impossible for her to breathe.

 

She hadn't even seen him move. Now there was a deadly glint in the narrowed golden eyes watching her as she struggled to get oxygen around the fingers squeezing her windpipe. Her hands clutched and scrabbled at his forearm, desperately trying to yank off his hold, but there was no way she could match his strength. To drive this point home, he squeezed her neck just a little more tightly, the muscles in his forearm flexing under her hands, the tips of his claws digging into her skin. An ugly smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

 

“If it's a question of owing,” he growled lowly, “then consider this my payment.” He jerked her closer, brought her face up to his. “I can't stand the smell of you. Don't cross me again.”

 

He shoved her away from him, letting his claws scrape across her neck as he did. She hit the ground hard enough to raise dust where she landed. She lay on her back, gasping and coughing, chest heaving as she gulped in all the air she could hold. Her hands flew to her aching throat, and her fingertips caught the warm moisture of blood trickling down her neck.

 

Then she heard his voice, moving away from her. “Consider us even. Oh,” now his voice took on a hard edge, “the name's Inuyasha. You better pray you never hear it again.”

 

He was gone.

 

She lay there, gasping, unable to regulate her breathing, for what seemed to be hours. She could feel her throat swelling, could almost feel it bruising as she lay there. Her fingers felt along the cuts on her neck—the bleeding was fairly heavy, but the cuts were shallow, more like scratches than real cuts. Yet he'd seemed so capable, so willing to do her real harm.

 

She knew she should get up, return to the village. But she couldn't muster the willpower to do anything other than lay there and breathe. Shadows began to lengthen, the gloom of dusk gathering around the trunks of the trees.

 

The sun was just setting when the villagers—returning home from the rice fields—found her there, lying along the path not ten yards away from the skeleton of the mantis yokai, its dark empty eyes staring straight at them.

 

 

_______________

 

 

She'd always had this power, from the beginning of her memory. When she was small, barely yet walking, it had manifested in moments of joy or upset: when a particularly beautiful bird or flower delighted her, or when the village children teased her. A muted white-pink glow would emanate from her, sparkle in the air around her; depending on the intensity of any given feeling, it would come with a warm, tingling sensation that would grow or fade, lending intensity to the light. Her parents, concerned and unsure of this strange phenomenon, had consulted the village healer, Kaede, but did not receive any satisfactory explanations. She was simply exhibiting signs of “spiritual inclinations.” They would have to watch and wait.

 

Before long, the power grew beyond the confines of her emotions—there were times she could be calm, bored, or even sleeping, and the light would appear nonetheless, bringing with it a rushing, pulsing heat. Not painful, but present. The heat, like the light, seemed to radiate from her very skin, and like the light, it grew stronger. When she was eight, she began to experience new symptoms: cramping, burning muscle—as though from extreme physical exertion—and a throbbing ache in her bones. And by ten, when the power came, people in close proximity to her could feel the heat, the odd push and pressure of it, as though the air around her condensed, grew heavy. This was about the time the village children stopped playing with her.

 

Eventually, Kagome found that when she concentrated hard enough, she could manipulate the light and its heat. If she focused her attention on any given point, she could make the light appear there. Sometimes it would appear in a bright, sudden flash; at other times, it would slowly begin to grow there, like the morning sun rising above the hills. Her mother caught her at this game once. She must have been eleven, maybe twelve years old. She'd been at the river, collecting water for washing. As she filled the water buckets, she stared intently at a spot near the opposing river bank. Slowly, a ball of light began to grow, hovering in the air above the water. It grew brighter and brighter, until it was flashing out waves of light, like a tiny sun. She let out a giggle right as she heard a stern "Kagome!" behind her. Instantly the light disappeared, and Kagome whipped around to face her infuriated mother. That bright summer afternoon, she promised her mother never to manipulate the light again. And she did her best to keep that promise.

 

And then…

 

Then it had happened. And she was alone. She'd wanted to die, had felt as though she was dying, when Kaede took her in. And over time, with Kaede's coaching, she learned to push the power down, hide it away. Kaede taught her what controlling techniques she could, but Kagome would always remember what Kaede told her that night: “I will do all I can to help you, child, but my help will be limited. This is unlike any spiritual ability I have yet seen. It is possible that the power you show is the raw power of an untrained miko, but I do not believe that to be the case. This is not a miko's power, it is something else altogether… and so a miko's techniques may only go so far.”

 

Kagome hadn't lied: she was no miko.

 

She was a monster.

 

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

Kagome knew from the moment the villagers found her that it wouldn't be good.

 

After a lengthy, shocked pause, and many outcries from people in the crowd—nearly everyone in the village had been planting the rice and vegetable crops, meaning nearly everyone in the village was standing there now—two men had picked her up and helped her stand. Between them, they walked her back to the village. The rest of the villagers trailed after them, muttering to each other in harsh whispers. Kagome could hear their collective voices rising and falling, exclaiming and shushing with sharp hisses. Their voices weaved together into one voice, an amalgamation of disapproval. She could not hear the words, but she did not need to.

 

When they reached the village gates, two young boys ran ahead into the dark, one to fetch Kaede, the other to report to the headman. Kagome was struck by the orchestration of it all, the smooth efficiency. Everyone seemed to know what to do, as though she were planned for, or around, the way one might plan for a flood or a famine.

 

Kagome was walked directly to Kaede's hut. She arrived just as Kaede was exiting it with one of the village runner's who'd gone ahead—they passed abreast of each other, Kagome ushered inside while Kaede went in the direction of the headman's hut. As they passed, Kaede nodded briefly, almost resignedly. The look on her face was one of long-suffering patience. Kagome knew this look—I understand, it seemed to say, but again? I wish you hadn't. This was not unexpected for her, either.

 

Once inside, the village men set her down on her pallet, and then left the hut. Kagome, however, didn't hear them walk away. She heard a pronounced cough near the door, and then silence. She pictured them standing on either side of the doorway, as though on guard duty.

 

They probably were.

 

Kagome sighed, and then flinched. Her throat felt raw and ravaged, and her skin was just beginning to feel the itch from the dry, crusted blood streaked across her neck. Looking around the hut she spotted, against the wall, a wooden bucket of water with a small white cloth hanging on its edge. Kagome got up, retrieved the bucket, and began washing away the dried blood. Once the majority of it was cleaned off, she began to more thoroughly clean the scratches along the side of her neck. It took some time to accomplish this, and by the time she was done, Kaede had still not returned. Kagome, throat aching and stomach roiling from everything that had happened, stretched out on her pallet and waited. A man's cough sounded from the doorway again, and the other man muttered, "Quiet."

Despite her anxiety, Kagome was beginning to doze when Kaede finally returned, shuffling in a slow, aged gait. As she entered the hut, Kagome heard two sets of feet walking away from the door, and the low baritone rumble of men's whispering faded into the night.

 

Kaede stood in the doorway a moment, a solemn look on her face. Her kind, grave eye surveyed Kagome sadly.

 

"Are you much hurt, child?"

 

Kagome sat up, shaking her head.

 

"I'm fine." The rough-edged croak in her voice belied this statement. Kagome reached a hand up to rub her neck. "What's... what's going on, Kaede?"

 

Kaede sighed softly and moved towards the wooden platform in the center of the room. She hunkered down into a kneeling position—joints audibly creaking—and said, "Perhaps I should be asking you that. What happened, child?"

 

Kagome flinched at the underlying disappointment in Kaede's voice—disappointment was not much better than suspicion. "I was attacked. By a yokai."

 

When Kagome did not offer any further information, Kaede said, "As it happens, I already knew that. The headman mentioned... a carcass. Some men from the village are clearing it away as we speak." Kaede paused. "I do not think it will surprise you to hear that the appearance of the yokai is what distresses the headman and the villagers."

 

Kagome dropped her gaze to the floor and nodded.

 

"Yokai do not usually come this near the village. There has not been a yokai attack like this in many years. It... disturbs the headman that one has happened now."

 

"But that's not all that's disturbing him, is it?"

 

Kagome looked up in time to see Kaede's keen glance, and she knew there would be no dancing around the subject. "Kagome, you know what has disturbed the villagers. Can you offer no further explanation? What happened in the forest?"

 

Kagome couldn't help the frustrated noise that erupted from her throat. "I told you, I was attacked by a yokai. I reacted." Kagome, for reasons she left unexamined, did not want to bring up Inuyasha. He had always been her secret, the silver-red blur in the trees that somehow made her feel less lonely. And she intended to keep it that way. Even if she did mention him, no one would believe her. "What exactly am I being accused of, Kaede? Why were you taken to the headman? What's going on?"

 

After a moment's pause, the old woman sighed—a sad, almost pained sound—and closed her eye. When she opened it again, she looked wearied. "You know better than I how the villagers have always feared your power. Since you were a small child, you have baffled and confounded their understanding. But your parents were respected, and so the villagers tolerated it. They accepted you as best they could. This is why your parents' death—the manner of their death—"

 

Kagome, bowing her head, turned her face away.

 

"—pushed the limits of that acceptance. I never told you this, but after I took you in, it was made clear to me by the headman and the rest of the villagers that I was to contain this power in you. I was to keep you from using it ever again. If I could not, they would take their own action." Kagome's head whipped up and she stared at Kaede. "You must forgive me for keeping it from you," Kaede said, more wearied than ever. "I wanted to give you as normal a life as I could. You were so young." Kaede paused, frowned. These memories did not please her. "I did my best to protect you from their suspicion. I told them you were but a child, that you needed training in order to contain the power. They yielded to me, and I've had the care of you ever since. But that does not mean they were not taking their own precautions."

 

Kagome continued to stare at Kaede, unable to speak.

 

"I knew they had made such plans, of course. Plans in the event that you lost control of your power; I suspect that is what we have seen tonight. What I did not know—what I have just found out tonight," Kaede's frown deepened, her expression grew darker, "is that their intolerance is only matched by their ignorance."

 

She said this so angrily that a knot formed in Kagome's stomach. If Kaede—imperturbable, unflappable Kaede—was this worked up, nothing good had happened in her meeting with the headman.

 

"The headman has informed me that he, and most of the villagers, believe your power to be... attracting demonic activity somehow. He is convinced that you used your power while in the forest, and that doing so drew the yokai here."

 

Kagome's jaw dropped open. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, unable to voice her own outrage. "I—that's—I never—I would never! I didn't use my power! I mean, I did, but not until after I'd been attacked! I was only defending myself!"

"I told the headman that was likely the case," Kaede said, "that you are no more eager than he to use your power. I do not think, however, that I much convinced him."

 

There was a long silence. Anger fed by bitterness brewed in Kagome's mind. Years of fighting herself, her own power, flashed behind her eyes; years of the villager's sharp glances, their whispers and turned heads. "So that's why all this production?" she said finally, an acrid tang of resentment in her tone. "That's why the mob, and the guards, the secret meetings? What are they going to do with me now? Lock me up? Throw me to the forest yokai?"

 

Kaede did not like hearing such bitterness in the normally-happy girl's voice, and did not validate it with her notice. She swept it aside with the same authoritative look that had made Kagome jump out of bed that morning. "The headman fears your power, but he is not without decency—especially after I reminded him that even if your power somehow attracted the yokai, it also killed it. He has asked that you remain inside the hut for a day or two, to give the villagers time to settle and him time to consider how best to proceed."

 

"Stay inside? Won't that make the villagers think I'm guilty? That I'm hiding from them?"

 

"I shall do my best to discourage that attitude, but that is unfortunately a possibility."

 

"And after I've stayed out of sight for a few days, what then?" Kagome tried to hold onto her anger—it was so much more palatable than fear—but it was rapidly deflating with the realization that this incident would not be soon or easily forgotten.

 

Kaede's mouth formed a flat, grim line. "I do not know. I do not think even the headman knows. I warn you, Kagome: this could go either way. The headman may choose to let you continue living your life as you have these past years, or he may choose to take action as he promised he would the night your parents died. I cannot guess how this will end."

 

Kagome and Kaede watched each other in silence for awhile. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Kaede heaved herself up into a standing position and walked towards her pallet. As she passed by Kagome, she laid a gentle hand on the ball of her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Unable to smile for the old woman as she normally would, Kagome laid her own hand on Kaede's and nodded. After a moment, Kaede let go and moved to her pallet. Once she was settled, Kagome laid down on her own pallet and stared at the thatched ceiling of the hut.

 

For the second night in a row, Kagome did not sleep.

 

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

 

 

She must have summoned the yokai. She did it!

 

It's happened before. Do you remember two years ago? She was there the day the field hands were attacked by the boar yokai. They say it went straight towards her. Didn't go for anyone else. Just her.

 

I heard that when the yokai approached, she glowed pink. Glowed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

It was decided—after several more meetings between Kaede and the headman—that Kagome would remain with Kaede, but under vigilant supervision. She was not to leave the village without permission, and only then with an escort. She was to spend her time training with Kaede, learning new techniques and improving old ones to better control her power. She was not to take part in any important village activity—such as planting, harvesting, or assisting the midwife—until she'd demonstrated real control for an undetermined (but probably extraordinarily long) stretch of time. And most importantly, she was not to show even the slightest sign of white-pink light, external heat, supernatural power, or anything else that might be construed as abnormal. The smallest hint of any intentional—or unintentional—power would bring "consequences," though the headman was vague on what those "consequences" entailed.

 

In essence, Kagome was on probation. Even if these demands had not been made of her, she would still know she was on probation—the villagers made it abundantly clear that a single misstep was all they needed to turn her out of the village. The atmosphere, at least around her, was like kindling ready to ignite. Every eye seemed to be watching her and yet ignoring her at the same time. Everyone seemed so aware of her and yet so unwilling to acknowledge her.

 

A week went by this way, and each day Kagome was resentful, hopeful, and disheartened by turns. When she was angry she had wild fantasies about running away, leaving the village and their condemnation behind, starting over somewhere new. This fantasy was always brought up short by the dull ache it produced in her chest. This was the village she had been born in, the village her parents had been born in. This was the village where Kaede had given her a new life. For better or worse, she was not ready to leave it.

 

When another two weeks went by with no incidents, the headman allowed Kaede to be Kagome's permanent escort when she had to leave the confines of the village wall. One morning the two women were walking to the river to collect water when Kagome felt a strange, tingling awareness run down her spine. She stopped in the middle of the forest path, her senses suddenly on high alert.

 

"Kagome?" Kaede inquired curiously. "Is something wrong?"

 

"No," Kagome said calmly. "Everything's fine." Her ears strained to pick up the sound of rustling cloth, running feet. But she did not hear anything.

 

They resumed walking.

 

And then that tingling awareness again, and Kagome knew for sure—knew he was there before she turned her head to the right and caught a flash of red underneath the shadows of the trees. She inhaled sharply, but did not stop walking. From the corner of her eye, Kagome kept watch on the tree line. There was another flash of red, and when they got further down the path, another. It followed them all the way to the river, and if the tingling in Kagome's spine was any indication, he stayed just behind the trees the entire time they were at the river. When Kagome bent over to fill a bucket, she cast her glance behind her and—gods—there he was, just for a moment, his entire frame visible against the trunk of a tree. Had he shown himself intentionally? Even from that distance, she caught the flash of his eyes and was startled to see they were locked onto her. Her spine went rigid. She abruptly turned her gaze back to the river and kept it there. When the water buckets were full, Kagome followed Kaede back down the path, her eyes glued to the ground in front of her feet.

 

She did not see any more red flashes, but she knew he was still there. He followed them all the way back to the village. And when Kagome went to sleep that night, she was sure she still felt him out there, watching.

 

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

Quick note on translation: you may have noticed that I'm using "yokai" and "demon" somewhat interchangeably. Much as I'd like to use one term consistently, I will probably continue to use the words interchangeably throughout the story. For the most part, I like to use "yokai” because I don't think English has a word equivalent to it ("demon" is a decent enough translation, but it's somewhat limited, and has such religious connotation that it doesn't always feel adequate). But, sometimes "demon" just sounds better to me (for example, "half-demon" versus "half-yokai"), so I use it.

 

Reviews are always appreciated, especially when they contain concrit. Thanks for reading!