InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ You Are My Shelter ❯ Scent ( Chapter 3 )

Kagome spent that evening alone. After their dinner of millet and vegetables, Kaede left to monitor the Kawaguchi newborn, a frown deepening the lines around her eyes and mouth as she left the hut. After examining the child—Shinju, she'd been named—earlier that afternoon, Kaede suspected the baby simply suffered from colic, though her persistent cough and mild fever troubled the old healer enough that she wanted to further observe Shinju. Kagome didn't know how long Kaede would be gone, but she was grateful for the solitude. It gave her a chance to think without interruption.

 

As she sat staring into the hearth fire, her mind would not stop churning over her conversation with Inuyasha. He hadn't really answered her questions—had, in fact, evaded every one and left her with far more questions—and yet something about that strange confrontation in the forest had set her at ease, loosened the knot of anxiety she'd felt from the moment she first sensed his presence at the river.

 

He'd said he wasn't here for her... which presumably meant he wasn't here for retribution, wasn't here to pay her back for their altercation of a month ago. She hadn't realized just how much that possibility worried her—how much her suspicion had festered the past several weeks, an omnipresent niggling fear in her belly—until she'd been left utterly alone with him in the forest. Utterly vulnerable. The longer she'd stood there, pretending he wasn't in the trees watching her, the stronger she felt his presence: a tangible, pulsing, overwhelming sensation, like a river's current rushing down the length of her spine. Something inside her gave way to that rushing onslaught, and before she could think about it she was calling out to him, challenging him.

 

She wasn't exactly sure what she'd expected from him, but his response surprised her. The whole encounter still surprised her. He'd ignored her, he'd laughed, he'd taunted... but he hadn't done anything else. No attacks. No attempts at intimidation. No real aggression. Not even real heat behind his insults. She'd screamed at him, pelted him with her month-long anxiety, called him a coward—much worse than what she'd done a month ago—and he'd simply thrown the words right back, all while hidden from sight. Not once did he show himself. That was a power play on his part—she'd demanded he come down, and he'd flaunted his control by denying her even the tiniest glimpse—and yet it had been oddly reassuring.

 

Then he'd just left, the pulse of his presence disappearing into the forest.

 

The whole thing had been frustrating, and aggravating, and... a huge relief. If he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd had the perfect opportunity and he'd just left.

 

Whatever his purpose here—whatever his strange, prolonged interest in the village—it didn't seem to involve her. He'd made that pretty clear.

 

Frowning, Kagome fed another log to the fire.

 

But then, why had he followed her whenever she left the village? Why watch her at the river, or practicing archery? She certainly hadn't imagined his presence. He claimed he was not here for her, yet he watched her. What interest could he possibly have in her? Unless... unless maybe it wasn't her. Perhaps he'd tracked all the villagers who left the walls, watched all their movements?

 

No, that seemed even more far-fetched. It was reasonable, maybe, to keep track of someone who had shown unnatural and potentially threatening powers; but she could see no point in his watching the entire village.

 

Kagome sighed deeply, frustration settling over her shoulders like a garment. Too many questions and uncertainties. Too much doubt. She didn't know what to make of the hanyou and his persistent presence. Suddenly the familiar, reliable figure of her childhood was entirely unfamiliar; a new and unpredictable entity that deeply unsettled her. And this irked her more than anything else.

 

For most of her life, the hanyou had been a distant story, an imaginary symbol of protection who had populated her childhood fantasies. She'd recited the village story of the hanyou—guardian spirit of the forest—to herself over and over through the years. A charm, a protective spell, a cloak she could wrap herself in like a warm blanket on a cold night. Those stories had helped her survive in an inexplicable but very real way.

 

And then one day, years ago—that day, she thought with an inward jolt, a searing chill in her bones that had her edging closer to the fire—she'd seen him. Briefly, no more than a quick flash of silver and red, a flicker of golden eyes disappearing into the trees. But she'd seen him, and she'd immediately recognized him for who he was. With that recognition came a sharp thrill, a stab of excitement. He was real. Not just a shadowy figure in a story, but alive and tangible and here.

 

And if she could see him, maybe she could talk to him, too.

 

So, in the years that followed, she'd watched for him. Not always, not consistently. But sometimes, when she found herself alone in the forest—gathering herbs, firewood, water, or just stealing away for a moment's reprieve—she looked for that flash of red and dart of silver. Usually she did not find it. In fact, months and entire seasons went by with no sign of him, long enough that she began to doubt herself... but then, without warning, he appeared again. Several times her persistence had been rewarded by a sight of him darting through foliage or standing in the shadows. And that's what it felt like, a reward, a shivering thrill rushing through her body. Each sighting brought her back to the forest, his forest, eager for another glimpse.

 

Until a month ago. Until the menacing glint in his eyes, the claws digging into her throat, the sneering disdain with which he'd watched her struggle for air. He was not the man from the stories, no longer the familiar guardian of her childhood fantasies. He was something else entirely, nothing like she'd imagined. Powerful, yes. But also volatile and tenebrous. Certainly not safe.

 

And yet, he didn't seem malicious either. Or at least his intentions weren't. Today had proven that, hadn't it?

 

With a helpless shake of her head, Kagome stood up and moved towards her pallet.

 

She didn't know what to make of his intentions, didn't know how to work him out. But she knew how to start trying.

 

 

 

_______________

 

 

Early the next morning, as the first fingers of dawn were just beginning to glow on the horizon and Kaede slept soundly on her pallet, Kagome slipped quietly out of the hut. The village was entirely still, hushed with sleep. Early-morning fog drifted in the air, muting everything around her. Only the occasional trill of a bird broke the pre-dawn silence. Kagome paused for a moment, shifted the cloth-covered basket she held in the crook of her elbow, and allowed her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Scanning the area around her and seeing that nothing stirred, she took a deep, bracing breath. Then, lifting her chin, she walked as silently as she could—in the opposite direction of the village gate.

 

The gate—twice as thick as the wall and just wide enough for two horse-carts to pass abreast of each other—was the only entrance built in the village wall. But it was not the only way into and out of the village. Kagome knew of at least two other ways, though there were likely more than that.

 

The village walls were still sturdy, but old, and each generation of village children made it their business to learn exactly where the wood had cracked or rotted away enough for small nimble bodies to wiggle through the logs. Most of these gaps were too narrow even for the smallest child; but some of them could be squeezed through, if you were thin and determined enough. And Kagome knew of just such a gap.

 

There were two ground wells on opposite ends of the village, both sheltered by three-walled wooden shacks to protect them from the weather. The wells were rarely used because of the river's proximity—the villagers preferred fresh water to the mineral tang of ground water—but they'd been built in the days of the demon sieges, and the headman insisted they be maintained. The well house nearest Kaede's hut was built close to the village wall: roughly five feet of open space lay between the wall and the back of the well house. And it was here, hidden from view behind the well, where wood rot had caused a split that widened the gap between two logs. The gap was low in the wall, close to the ground, easy to miss if you weren't looking for it.

 

But Kagome (and probably a handful of village children) knew it was there. If she laid down on her side, sucked in her stomach, and wiggled just so, she could get through it. Not without discomfort and a splinter or two, but she could make it—she'd done it before. And now that she was expressly forbidden to leave the village without Kaede, this was her only means out. The only way to freedom.

 

She had no (well, not much) fear of getting caught: no one ever used the wells. Besides, she had about an hour before the villagers began stirring from their beds. Plenty of time to accomplish her task.

 

The trip took longer than usual—she kept stopping to listen, making sure no one was near—but Kagome finally saw the dark shadow of the well house looming before her out of the fog, nearly lost in the larger shadow cast by the village wall. She crept into the narrow alley behind the well and located the gap between the logs. First, she carefully pushed her basket through, scooting it off to the side so she wouldn't accidentally overturn it. Then she lowered herself until she was lying on her right side, sucked in her stomach muscles as far as they'd go, and slowly began to crawl through the hole.

 

A few stinging scrapes, near-splinters, and well-placed shimmies later and she was on the other side, basket in hand and grin across her face. The forest spread out before her, dark and deep. Without hesitation she strode into the trees.

 

It was much darker under the roof of the forest than it had been in the village. It took several minutes before her eyes adjusted enough to help her navigate around tree trunks. She didn't need to rely much on eyesight, though. She could already feel it, that familiar pulsing awareness up and down her spine, the one she'd been feeling for a month. All she had to do was follow it. So she did.

 

It didn't take long to find him, lounging in a tall tree close to the village. She couldn't see much, but she could discern the pale gleam of his hair among the shadows, the lazy drape of his body along a wide, low-hanging branch.

 

She stood at the base of the tree, between two great spurs of its roots, gazing up at him, eyes lingering on the pale hair almost shining in the dark. Then she glanced down at the basket cradled by her arm. Moving aside its white cloth-covering, she reached inside and pulled out a single, plump persimmon. Lifting her arm above her head, she hurled the persimmon up into the shadows of the tree.

 

The faintest smack—a palm connecting with soft flesh—echoed through the dim air. A moment of silence.

 

"What the hell is this?"

 

He sounded gruff, mildly curious, but not in the least surprised. He'd no doubt heard—and maybe even smelled—her approach long before she'd reached him.

 

She shrugged, not even sure if he was looking in her direction. "Some fruit. I thought you might be hungry."

 

A pause. Then a soft snort. "And why would you care about that?"

 

He didn't toss the fruit back down, though.

 

She shrugged again, a slight smile playing about the edges of her mouth despite herself. "It can't be easy foraging in the woods for all your meals. Surely even hanyou need to eat a decent breakfast?"

 

There was a long pause, and Kagome would have thought him gone if she couldn't still sense him. She hesitated. "Hello? You still there?"

 

His voice cut through the fog. "'Even hanyou,' huh?"

 

There was a sour note in his tone, a hard edge to the words that surprised her. He shifted, the rustle of his robes audible in the quiet morning. "You got a problem with half-breeds, human?"

 

The bitterness in his voice was palpable. Something quick and tremulous—remorse, maybe—constricted her chest for a moment, and she frowned. "Don't call yourself that. And of course I don't have a problem with hanyou. Why on earth should I?"

 

"Why should..." He growled, "Idiot. Nobody needs a reason—being hanyou's reason enough."

 

"Not for me."

 

"Keh. Sure. Whatever you say."

 

Her eyes narrowed, irritation prickling in her belly. "Hanyou are fine. Rude, arrogant, antagonistic stalkers, on the other hand..."

 

Another growl, this one lower and harsher. "Wench! 'Antagonistic' my ass. You're the one who sought me out." He paused. "What the hell do you want, anyway?"

 

Here goes nothing. "I want to talk to you."

 

"... talk?" He spoke slowly, his tone a mixture of sneering disbelief and suspicion.

 

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Why don't you come down here and help me eat the rest of this?" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and sat down, leaning her back against the tree trunk and curling her legs comfortably beneath her. She set her basket on the ground next to her hip, took out another persimmon, and bit into it with exaggerated gusto. Reinforcing the invitation to join her.

 

Before she could take a second bite, she heard an unintelligible mutter, the rustling murmur of cloth, a soft thump—and there he was, mere feet away, hunkered on the ground next to her and glaring into her eyes with acute distrust. She noticed that he still held the persimmon she'd thrown to him, gripped loosely in an upturned palm.

 

"Just what are you up to?" His voice was a growl, a rumble. The dark slashes of his eyebrows slanted in a frown, hardening his features.

 

She twisted slightly, turning head and shoulders to face him more fully. "'Up to'? I don't know what you mean."

 

"Bull." He thrust his persimmon in her face. She startled and pulled back, her eyes briefly crossing as they tried to focus around the bright orange sphere overwhelming her field of vision.

 

"What in all the hells is this about?" He twirled the fruit between his fingers. Her eyes were drawn to the quick flex of his wrist, how the sharp points of his claws looked almost graceful. "If you expect me to believe that you just wanted to feed me, you really are an idiot."

 

There was that prickling irritation again, slicing right through her preoccupation. With a loud sigh, she pushed at his wrist, knocking his hand away from her face. She glowered at him. "I told you, I just want to talk to you."

 

He pulled his arm back, golden eyes narrowing. "About?"

 

To blurt it out or sidle up to it sideways? She wasn't sure which tack to take with him. She could see either approach backfiring badly.

 

Apparently she'd hesitated too long. After a muttered "tch," he growled, "Spit it out already, will ya?"

 

Bluntness it was, then.

 

With a tiny moue of annoyance, she said, "You dislike me, right?"

 

Bewilderment flashed across his face, frown disappearing as his eyebrows rose. "What?"

 

"Me. You don't like me." As if triggered by her own words, a whisper of memory ghosted through her thoughts. I can't stand the smell of you.

 

His bewilderment shifted to wariness as he replied, "Not even a little."

 

Her shoulders stiffened, and she felt a twinge of... something in her stomach. "But that doesn't mean... you're not here to..."

 

"To what?"

 

"Well, I..." Before she could think to restrain it, her hand drifted to her throat, fingertips grazing across the pale skin where claws had once cut. "You're not here because of me, right?"

 

For a moment, he seemed utterly lost. His brow wrinkled. His mouth opened in the same moment that his gaze dropped to her throat, eyes focusing on the protective stroking motions of her fingers. Awareness kindled his eyes, and his mouth abruptly closed. He stared at her for another moment—gaze flitting from her throat to her face—then jerked his head to the side with a scowl.

 

"That again?" he asked, voice brusque. "We've gone over this already. Weren't you listening? I'm not here for you." He watched her from the corner of his eye. "Believe me, if I wanted to hurt you, I'd have done it and been long gone by now."

 

Her fingers stilled against her neck. "You—you mean it?"

 

"Keh! Calling me a liar?"

 

For a long moment, she simply stared at him. She felt another strange twisting in her stomach—the sensation oddly pleasant, this time—and her body loosened, the tension seeping out of her shoulders.

 

She believed him. She didn't really understand why, didn't have much reason to, and yet she did.

 

Suddenly, she felt unequal to holding his gaze. "Hmm," she hummed, nodding once and turning her attention back to her fruit. She could feel his stare on the side of her face as she began eating.

 

A long stretch of silence and half her persimmon later, she finally dared a sidelong peek at him. He still just crouched there, brows contracted in a puzzled frown, staring at her. The gold of his eyes seemed oddly bright in the pre-dawn dark, and when she met his gaze, her breath caught and held.

 

She cleared her throat, tried to compose herself. "Aren't you going to eat?"

 

"Not hungry."

 

He still didn't put down the fruit.

 

“You sure? It's ripe. Nice and juicy.”

 

If she could get him to stay a little longer—keep him talking—maybe she could start to make sense of him, begin to understand his presence here. And judging by his expression, he knew exactly what she was doing. His intent stare had shifted back into a suspicious glower at the faintly wheedling quality to her tone.

 

“What else do you want?” he asked.

 

Blinking at him, she tried to keep her expression as pleasantly blank as possible. "Else? I don't want anything el—"

 

His disdainful snort cut her off. "Don't even bother. Anyone ever tell you that you can't lie worth a damn?"

 

Blink, blink. "I'm not lying."

 

Golden eyes narrowed, sparking with skepticism. Amazing, Kagome thought, how they caught and reflected what little light there was. "Right. You really just wanted to chat. And feed me."

 

"That's right."

 

"Uh-huh." His fingers twirled the persimmon again, as if suggesting she was full of more than just fruit. "Then I guess we're done here, aren't we? You talked, you gave me the food. If you don't got anything else to say then beat it, will ya?” He stood in a single fluid motion and turned away from her, clearly ready to retreat back into the forest canopy.

 

Consternation shot through her—he'd successfully called her bluff, dammit—and she scrambled to her feet, nearly overturning her basket in her hurry. “Wait!”

 

He'd stopped before she even spoke. He cast an appraising look at her over his shoulder. “That's what I thought. What do you really want?”

 

She sighed, vaguely disgusted with herself, but lifted her chin and met his gaze directly. “Yesterday, you said this was your forest, that it belonged to you. The village is built right on its edges. Does that mean the village belongs to you too?”

 

Surprise filtered into his expression. “What the hell makes you ask that?”

 

“And if it does,” she continued, refusing to be deterred by his non-answer, “is that why you're here, why you've been hanging around the village? Are you here to protect it?”

 

For just the briefest moment, his expression completely changed, suspicion forgotten as some other emotion overwhelmed it. But before she could even attempt to interpret the new expression, his features smoothed out, went as carefully blank as she'd tried to keep hers. Only he's actually succeeding.

 

He half-turned towards her, shuttered and unreadable save for his eyes—they were sharp and penetrating as they locked with hers.

 

“Hn,” he muttered quietly. “You could say that." He paused for a long moment, then turned away, putting his back to her. "Yeah. I'm here to protect what's mine."

 

"Protect it from what?"

 

He didn't turn around. "If you're lucky, you'll never find out." He walked a few steps away, then leapt into a different tree, disappearing from view. "Get back to your village, girl. It's dangerous to wander through the forest alone."

 

She stared at the spot where he'd been standing, feeling both frustrated and pleased by the course of the conversation. He was as evasive as ever, but all things considered, she'd accomplished more than she'd anticipated: he'd answered her two biggest questions. And incited several more in the process, but still...

 

Bending down to retrieve her basket, she tossed out, "My name's Kagome, not 'girl'. And besides, I'm not alone. You're here."

 

The silence that followed was heavy with surprise. She heard the faintest whisper of rustling cloth and then, "Feh. Whatever."

 

She smiled and turned towards the village. "Goodbye, Inuyasha."

 

Though she didn't hear anything other than birdcalls as she made her way back to the village, she felt him trailing behind her, following until she was safely inside the walls.

 

She wondered if he'd eaten the fruit.

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

Every morning for the next week, she brought him food—bowls of millet, rice porridge, miso soup with dried fish, sometimes fresh fruits and vegetables. And she didn't just bring the food and leave: she sat and ate with him. Some mornings she ate in silence, and some mornings she pestered him with questions.

 

Many, many questions.

 

And as the days wore on, Inuyasha had to make a point of reminding himself—because with each shared meal and each peaceful conversation, it was getting harder and harder to remember—that the woman probably had ulterior motives. He wouldn't let himself be stupid enough to believe that she just wanted to be friends. She had to have some other agenda. And he was only humoring her to find out exactly what that agenda was. Besides, it was a good opportunity to observe her up close, perhaps even earn enough trust to position himself as a confidant, someone to whom she could comfortably divulge information. Then maybe he could learn more about the extent of her powers.

 

That was the only reason he indulged her strange insistence on spending time together.

 

He'd hardly finished the thought before he was snorting in disgust. There were few things he hated more than deceit, and self-deception was no better. Inuyasha knew himself well enough to know that he didn't spend time with the miko just for the sake of his orders. If he'd merely wanted to observe her, he could have done so without speaking to her, let alone eating breakfast with her every morning. It wasn't necessary that he participate in this weird little ritual they'd formed. He could have ignored her, could have spurned her repeated invitations—could have, in other words, soundly disabused her of the idea that he would have anything to do with her—and still carried out his orders. In fact, he'd bet one of his arms that The Asshole would be less than pleased if he learned just how much direct contact Inuyasha had had with the girl. The Asshole would see it as weakness, dirtying his hands with something that should've been beneath him.

 

Inuyasha didn't have two fucks to rub together when it came to The Asshole's opinion, but he did like to be certain of himself. So why was it that every morning, without fail, all the miko had to do was smile up at him and gesture at her basket of food, and before he knew it she had him sitting next to her, eating and sometimes even talking with her? And why was it that he found himself almost looking forward to it each morning?

 

Well, her meals are better than anything I could scrounge in the forest. And she smells so—

 

He ruthlessly smothered that thought. He'd spent more time than he cared to admit parsing her scent, sifting through its nuances and undertones, trying to pin down what made it so intriguing. All he'd come up with so far was that she smelled incredibly alive: fresh and clean, vibrant and soothing. Her scent was somehow both exuberant and serene at the same time.

 

Green, he decided. She smells like green.

 

For the most part, he'd done a decent job of reminding himself not to be taken in by her; not to be fooled by the gentleness of her eyes, or the way she smiled when she spoke to him, or the way she relaxed in his presence, as if he wasn't a yokai threat, a half-breed blight.

 

He clenched his teeth and forced his thoughts away.

 

For the most part he'd kept his mouth shut, kept up a solid mental, if not physical, distance. But once or twice now, he'd forgotten himself, unconsciously dropped his guard—lulled into lazy incaution by that stupidly soothing scent. Just this morning her scent had so distracted him that his tongue loosened completely.

 

She'd brought rice balls stuffed with sweet bean paste, a rare treat. As they ate together under the shadows of a tree, swathed in grey darkness—almost the same grey as her eyes—she turned to him and said, “Have you heard any of the stories about you?”

 

He had just opened his mouth to bite into another rice ball. At her words, he stopped and blinked at her. “Stories? What stories?”

 

An amused smile lit her face. At the same moment, her scent shifted, took on brighter undertones. His nose twitched reflexively in response.

 

“The villagers," she said, "they've told tales about you for as long as I can remember. The first time I heard one, my mo—” she stopped suddenly. For a brief moment, her smile stiffened, and her eyes drifted to the ground between them. “That is,” she continued, “the elders, they like to tell the stories at celebrations. And sometimes the older children will tell them too, working in the fields or doing chores around the village.”

 

Her scent had changed again when she'd hesitated, lost some of the bright notes briefly animating it. The rapid changes in both her demeanor and scent confused him, and that confusion grated his nerves, made his voice gruff. "You're talking in circles, woman. What stories?"

 

Seemingly unfazed by his attitude, she lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. "Stories about how you saved the village from being decimated by demons. How you established a pact with the very first headman. How you still dwell deep in the forest, protecting everything within it."

 

She raised her gaze, met his eyes. The corner of her mouth lifted. "The guardian spirit of the forest, they call you."

 

His eyes widened, eyebrows lifting high beneath his bangs. He could almost feel the internal cough and stutter of his thoughts slowing to a crawl. "They think I'm some guardian spirit?"

 

“That's what the stories say.” She paused, eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. “But truthfully? I don't think most of the villagers really believe you exist.”

 

That shouldn't have surprised him, given how long it had been since his last rounds through the province. Irritation shot through him nonetheless. “Tch. Seems your village has forgotten its history.” He often forgot just how short-lived humans really were—maybe it was about time to pay the headman a little visit.

 

A tiny, puzzled line formed between her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

 

“Maybe they need reminding of that `pact'.”

 

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "And like hell I'm a guardian spirit. You make it sound like I'm some damn shishi stuck to the side of a temple."

 

She watched him with that puzzled little frown for a while longer, obviously not satisfied with his deflection. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then with a sigh and a shake of her head, her frown cleared, and that impish tilt returned to her mouth. "Well, you do seem awfully stuck to the trees around here. I never see you away from one. You sure you're not the forest shishi?"

 

He scoffed and lifted his chin. "Keh. That's because you only see me when I allow you to. Puny human senses. You don't know the first thing about how to pay real attention."

 

"You're leaning against a tree right now."

 

Faster than a blink, he scowled and bolted up from his indolent slouch against the trunk of the tree.

 

Grinning, she pulled her legs up against her chest and circled them with her arms. "Please don't take offense, O great Shishi-sama. Maybe if you reveal yourself, the villagers will start bringing you offerings."

 

This was the first time he'd heard such a teasing quality in her voice. He blinked, then snorted and poked a claw at the basket full of rice balls sitting on the ground between them. "S'at what this is supposed to be?"

 

"No, that's just breakfast. I'm talking real offerings: fine saké, livestock..."

 

"If you don't stop yakking, I'm liable to treat you as their offering and lose you somewhere in the middle of the forest."

 

Her brow crinkled in an exaggerated frown as she pretended to think that over. "Hmm. I don't think you could handle me as an offering."

 

He knew she was trying to bait him, but damn him if it didn't work. He narrowed his eyes at her. "I could handle you, all right—I'd handle you right over a cliff."

 

"You say that now, but you'd regret it tomorrow when you didn't get any breakfast."

 

"Keh. Trust me, your breakfasts aren't good enough to inspire regret. Indigestion, maybe…"

 

That got her. Her grin slipped. A gratifying spark of annoyance glinted in her eyes, cutting through the amusement. "Oh? Well then. Maybe I shouldn't bother bringing them anymore."

 

The subtlest shift in her scent—a tiny acidic spike—had his nostrils flaring. The bitch can dish it out, but she can't take it, huh? Trying not to smirk, he shrugged and affected a bored tone. “Maybe you shouldn't.”

 

“Maybe I won't.”

 

“All right with me.”

 

“Fine then. You're on your own, dog-man.”

 

“… dog-man?”

 

She glanced significantly at his ears. “Okay, dog-boy,” she corrected.

 

His eyebrow twitched. He opened his mouth to deliver a suitably scathing retort, but before he could, she'd reached out a hand and grasped one of his ears between her fingers.

 

He froze in the same instant that she started rubbing the captured ear, her forefinger moving in slow circles over the back while her thumb stroked along its inner edge. His other ear gave a violent flick as a shiver rippled up and down his spine.

 

She only managed a few strokes, but it was long enough for heat to rise and spread along the bridge of his nose. Despite the distracting shivering sensation tingling along his spine, he was well aware what that heat meant: he was blushing.

 

Blushing! Like a little girl!

 

With a fierce growl (and still blushing, godsdammit), he yanked his head away from her, ears flattening against his hair. Lips pulling back in what he hoped was an intimidating snarl, he rounded on her and—

 

And she was laughing. His brain stuttered to another halt as the snarl gradually slid off his face.

 

Lighthearted and genuine, filled with enjoyment rather than mockery, her short burst of laughter rang across the short space between them, made her eyes sparkle in the dim morning. The phantom sensation of her fingers still lingered on his ear: an innocent touch, one without malice or contempt. The most prominent mark of his half-breed lineage, and she'd touched it with curiosity—even a little delight—but not disgust. That touch seared its way down to his chest and settled there.

 

Weaving through her scent were those bright undertones from before—verdant, vaguely floral, almost like fruit—and that calmed his temper more than anything else could have, a balm to his strongest sense. He tried to hold onto his irritation, but it became an afterthought as he lifted his nose just slightly, trying to get a better whiff.

 

She was grinning again, eyes crinkled at the corners. "You're right, you can't be a shishi—no shishi has ears that cute.”

 

Cute?! His upper lip pulled back in another, though milder, snarl. She waved her hand in a placating gesture, but her grin didn't seem particularly contrite. “Then again, you did say you were here to protect what's yours, didn't you? So maybe you are a guardian spirit in the making."

 

What was that other fragrance flirting along the edges of her scent, mingling with the floral? It nagged at the back of his mind even as he tried to focus on what she was saying. "More like a fucking exile in the making."

 

Her eyebrows raised. “Exile?”

 

“It ain't like I'm here by choice.” Deep, dark and loamy, like soil, like rocks and roots and hidden places—tendrils of that other fragrance mixed with the green of her predominant scent. But it was so minute, so peripheral, he almost thought he was imagining it. Could just be the residual scent of medicinal herbs.

 

“You… aren't?”

 

“Hell no. But The Asshole can't stand to admit he needs my help, even if that means risking fifty years of work.” Something about that darker tint in her scent struck him as… odd.

 

“The—who?” He vaguely registered that she sounded lost, even a little startled. “Someone needs your help? For what?”

 

Its traces were so faint, though, nearly overwhelmed by her primary scent signatures. It niggled at him, like an itch he couldn't quite reach. “For the old man. The mission.” His ear flicked again. “To destroy—”

 

He stopped. Sucked in a breath. Stared at her.

 

She stared back, confusion written into every line of her face, from the oblique set of her brows to her downturned mouth.

 

Holy fuck. What in the all the hells was he doing?! He deserved to be hung for an idiot. She was supposed to be confiding in him, not the other way around! Just because he had no evidence of her being an enemy—or the pawn of one—didn't mean she wasn't. And yet here he was, spilling his guts to someone he'd only been on speaking terms with for a week. Someone with every indication of strong spiritual power. That alone made her suspicious.

 

A slip of the tongue to the wrong person could give Naraku all the advantage he'd need.

 

FUCK.

 

Inuyasha shot to his feet, the movement surprising the miko enough that her whole body jerked in reaction. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead of him when he barked, “Enough. Go back to your village. I've got better things to do than babysit a human.”

 

He hadn't given her a chance to respond before darting away through the trees.

 

He'd spent the remainder of the morning sweeping through the forest, sniffing out and eliminating yokai, checking for anything suspicious. He stayed close enough to the village to be alerted if anything strange happened, but far enough away to give him some reprieve from nosy mikos and their damn scents.

 

But the distance gave his thoughts no such reprieve.

 

 

_______________

 

 

The sun had risen over the horizon by the time Kagome returned to the village. A nervous thrill shot through her as she crawled back through the gap in the wall. She hadn't meant to be out in the forest so long—she'd surely be noticed this late in the morning. Pausing for a moment behind the well house, she listened for any nearby movement; when she heard nothing, she took a deep breath and strode away from the well as casually as she could manage. She passed a couple villagers on her way to Kaede's hut, and she was sure they watched her, though they didn't appear to pay her any heed. She quickened her pace. Cutting it a little too close, I think.

 

Once at the hut, she pushed aside the reed mat at the doorway and took a step inside—and came to an immediate halt.

 

Kaede knelt before the hearth in the center of the room, just beginning to start the fire for breakfast. The percussive crack of rock against rock as she attempted to spark the tinder seemed particularly abrasive after the quiet of the forest.

 

"You've had an early start to the day," Kaede commented without looking up. Crack. Crack. "Usually I cannot wake you until well after breakfast."

 

Cutting it very, very close, Kagome amended with an internal wince. All week, she'd been careful to return to the village before Kaede woke up. Better that Kaede knew nothing about her early-morning absences. There was just no plausible justification for them, and even if Kagome hadn't been leaving to meet a strange half-demon alone in the forest, Kaede would not approve of Kagome's leaving the village unescorted. The old woman may have thought the headman's restrictions too severe, but she expected Kagome to abide by them nonetheless. Kagome knew this, and also knew she could not lie to Kaede, at least not for very long. Omitting the truth seemed a much better option than bald-faced deception.

 

But she'd been careless this morning—completely distracted by Inuyasha and their surprisingly forthcoming conversation—and now bald-faced lying seemed her only recourse.

 

Schooling her features as best she could, Kagome smiled stiffly and moved to sit opposite Kaede at the fire. "Yes, it was startling to see the village before the sun rose. Who knew there was a dusk in the morning too?"

 

Kaede did not smile, though her eyes glinted with amusement when she said, "And what inspired your early rising?"

 

"Nothing really. I must have slept well last night."

 

"I am glad to hear it." Crack. Crack. "Where have you been off to?"

 

"Oh, nowhere. Heeding nature's call." A pause. "I also went by the well to wash my face."

 

Crack. Crack. Kagome tried not to flinch at the grating sound, which was beginning to seem almost like an accusation. Liar. Liar.

 

"Indeed? And why, if I may ask, did these errands require that?" Kaede finally looked up and nodded towards the basket Kagome held in her lap, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

 

 

"Um," Kagome faltered, "oh, this?" She surreptitiously tilted the basket towards her body so Kaede wouldn't see the few rice balls it still held. "Just some, uh, cloths. To wash my face."

 

Crack. Crack. Fshh. The tinder finally caught a spark, and tiny flames began curling around the firewood. Kaede picked up the hand bellows they kept near the hearth and pumped air into the tinder, building up the flame. Once the fire had started in earnest, she set the hand bellows down and slowly eased herself off her knees, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position.

 

Once settled, Kaede eyed Kagome thoughtfully across the hearth. Her glance was keen, and Kagome wondered if this was truly the first morning Kaede had noticed her absence. The old woman's expression was probing in a way that made Kagome nervous.

 

Another moment's pause, and Kaede offered the girl a small smile. "Well then, child. Since you have had a restful night, I hope you are prepared for an industrious day."

 

Kagome nearly sighed with relief at the change in subject.

 

"We will continue your archery training this afternoon. Before that, however, I require your assistance in the village."

 

Kagome tilted her head in question.

 

"You heard of Hayashi-san's injury in the fields yesterday?" Surprised, Kagome gave a negative shake of her head, brows lowering in a concerned frown. She was further surprised when the normally-empathetic Kaede rolled her good eye: an exasperated appeal to the heavens for patience she clearly did not feel. "The boy was roughhousing with his friends in the vegetable fields and spooked a carthorse. It nearly trampled him."

 

At Kagome's gasp, Kaede simply clucked her tongue. "He is lucky under the circumstances. The horse broke the boy's foot and left some memorable bruises—I certainly hope he will remember them—but that is the extent of the damage."

 

Kagome understood Kaede's exasperation—Hayashi-san was only a few years younger than her, and he should've known better than to behave so recklessly—but she couldn't help grimacing in sympathy. A broken foot was a serious injury; it would lay him up for weeks, maybe even a few months depending on which bone was broken and how bad the break.

 

"I wrapped the foot with a poultice to control the swelling," Kaede continued, "but today I need to determine how severe the break is, and set the bone as best I can. Foot fractures are difficult. I pray it will heal properly." A moment of grim silence followed, in which both women offered up silent prayers. "I will likely be with Hayashi-san for most of the morning."

 

Kagome nodded, then asked, "What can I do to help?"

 

"I can handle Hayashi-san, but his injury comes at a bad time. The Kawaguchi infant's fever has spread to other children in the village. I had planned to see to them myself, but Hayashi-san needs me more." The old healer sighed. "I know this could be uncomfortable for you, Kagome, but..."

 

The girl was already shaking her head. "Don't worry about that. I want to help. What do you need?"

 

Some of the tenseness around Kaede's mouth eased. She seemed reassured by Kagome's quick acquiescence. "I do not think the fevers are severe, but the children should not go untreated. I need you to grind willow bark and fennel paste, enough to bring a bowl each to Kawaguchi-san, Miyamoto-san, Ueda-san, and Ishikawa-san."

 

Kagome grimaced again. "So many?"

 

Kaede nodded tiredly. "Aye. All their younglings have taken ill, and the mothers are troubled. When you bring them the remedy, be sure to explain its proper use—I told them yesterday evening to expect you today." Kagome hummed her agreement, and Kaede smiled her thanks. "It is surprising indeed," she said. "We do not normally see such sickness at this time of year."

 

The two women contemplated this for a moment. Then the old woman lumbered to her feet, arthritic joints audibly creaking. She released a soft groan under her breath as she moved to one side of the room to get the rice for their breakfast. Kagome took this as her cue to retrieve water for cooking. Unable to visit the river without Kaede, her only option was to trek back to the well for their cooking water, knowing this morning's rice would taste of its mineral tang.

 

After their meal, Kaede left to treat Hayashi-san's foot, and Kagome began preparing the fever remedy. It was a simple mixture used specifically for children, one which she'd learned to make long ago. Willow bark to reduce fever, fennel to ease colic symptoms, and sometimes a few hyssop blossoms to alleviate the chest congestion or shortness of breath that often attended fever.

 

Kagome spent over an hour grinding enough paste for all four families. Thankfully Kaede had all the necessary ingredients either drying in the hut or growing in the garden.

 

She set out from the hut at mid-morning, carrying four wooden bowls of fever remedy stacked and tied up in a cloth sack. As she trotted through the village and got closer to the first family's hut, butterflies—no, more like an angry flock of crows—flapped and scraped against her insides. Without any more busy work to preoccupy her, she belatedly realized that she was anxious. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she had no idea what to expect. She had not spoken more than a passing word to any of these women—or for that matter, anyone in their families—since she'd been put on "probation" by the headman. Like most of the villagers, they had chosen to ignore her whenever possible.

 

Surely this won't be too disagreeable, she reasoned with herself as she approached the Ueda's hut. I'm bringing medicine for their children. And Kaede already told them to expect me, so it's not like it'll be a surprise.

 

When she was a few yards away from the door of the Ueda's hut—intending to rap her knuckles against the doorframe to announce her arrival—a tall, broad figure stepped through it and stopped directly in her path.

 

She halted in surprise. Ueda Kumiko's husband stood before her, strong legs spread apart and arms crossed over his chest, expression blank as he stared just over her head. He looked for all the world like a guardsman preparing to face an invading army.

 

“Ah, Ueda-san,” she said, fighting the urge to fidget. She bowed politely. “I'm here to deliver medicine.”

 

He did not return her bow or look her in the eyes, continuing to stare at a point above her head. “And where is Kaede-sama?”

 

“She needed to attend to Hayashi-san's injury. She sent me in her stead.”

 

Ueda-san frowned but said nothing.

 

Kagome hesitated, eying the stiff set of his shoulders and his tightening grip on his forearms. “If you'll allow me, Ueda-san, I will show you how to administer the fever remedy. Is it your daughters who—?”

 

“That will not be necessary.”

 

Kagome shifted on her feet. “Oh? Is… have your daughters improved?”

 

“Your assistance is not necessary.”

 

Her fingers clenched around the sack she carried. She forced herself to speak calmly. “Are your daughters still ill?”

 

His frown deepened, but he gave a curt nod.

 

“Then let me pass and I will treat them.”

 

He stepped forward—such a small movement, yet so rife with hostility—and finally met her eyes. She nearly stepped back at what she saw in his. “I cannot allow you near my daughters. I must insist that you leave now.”

 

Anger flared and mixed with the traces of fear licking up her spine. “Please, Ueda-san, your daughters are sick. You must think of their welfare. If left untreated—”

 

“I am thinking of them,” he cut in, “and that is why I'm telling you to leave.”

 

“Please, think about this. Don't be shortsighted. I only want—”

 

“You will not see my daughters. You must leave.”

 

They stood, locked in place, staring at each other for what seemed a small eternity. Despite their proximity, it felt as though a great distance stretched between them, unfolding and growing before her very eyes. And with a pang that shot straight through her chest, Kagome suddenly understood what spurred that distance: more than simply Ueda-san's distrust of her, it was his genuine belief that Kagome was more dangerous to his family than the sickness that could threaten their lives. In his eyes, she was the greater risk. The greater menace.

 

A cold, leaden weight settled in her stomach. Her lips pressed together in a tight line. The anger and fear warring inside of her were suddenly overwhelmed by something far worse. It tasted bitter and stung like grief.

 

Finally, Kagome simply nodded. “All right. I'll go.” Reaching inside the cloth sack, she withdrew a bowl of fever remedy. Knowing better than to try handing it to Ueda-san, she set it on the ground between them.

 

“Medicine,” she said, “for their fevers. Dissolve the paste in boiling water to make a tea. Have them drink it twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening. If they don't improve in a few days, come speak to Kaede.”

 

She turned to go, then paused and said over her shoulder, “Kaede mixed the remedy herself, so you need not worry about using it.”

 

This time she found lying easy.

 

After that, Kagome was not surprised by the other families' reception of her. She found Miyamoto-san weeding in her garden, and with a quick frowning glance at Kagome, the woman told her to leave the medicine by the garden fence and be gone. Kagome woodenly repeated the medicinal instructions and left without another word. At the Ishikawa's hut, the mother claimed that her son was no longer even sick and refused the medicine when Kagome tried to give it to her. With a sigh, Kagome listed the instructions anyway and left the bowl at their door, praying Ishikawa-san would overcome her stubbornness.

 

Only the Kawaguchi's, though not friendly by any means, were even willing to let her see their child. The mother, Ayako, clutched the baby close to her chest as though she was ready to run at any moment; but she allowed Kagome to check the infant's fever, and demonstrate how to make the medicinal tea. Kagome suspected this courtesy was given her only because of Kawaguchi-san's respect for Kaede—and perhaps because Kagome had helped in delivering the child all those weeks ago—but whatever the reason, she was grateful for it.

 

It was nearly noon by the time all the medicine had been delivered. Kagome began walking back to Kaede's hut, the leaden weight in her stomach expanding with every step, reaching throughout her body, dragging down her limbs. She felt more tired than she could ever remember being, and her throat ached with the tears she'd been restraining since her confrontation with Ueda-san.

 

Was it really just this morning—just mere hours ago—that she'd sat next to Inuyasha, eating, talking, feeling a strange camaraderie building between them in the dark? Yes, he had insulted her. He had walked off with no explanation. But he had still eaten with her. He had still talked with her, shared with her in a way that had obviously startled even him. He had even allowed her to touch him. And naïve though it might be, she could not deny the ease she had felt with him. An ease she had not felt with anyone since Kaede.

 

Ueda-san's hostility, Miyamoto-san's dismissal, the distrust she saw in every face… they began to fade in the memory of golden eyes that looked directly at her, and a gruff voice that spoke to her with no trace of fear.

 

The desire to see Inuyasha—to speak with him again, to look him in the eye—welled up in her chest, cutting loose some of the heaviness tugging at her. She wanted to see him, she needed to see him. Picking up her pace, impelled by the fluttering anticipation in her chest and heedless of anything else, Kagome bypassed Kaede's hut and headed for the well house.

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

Inuyasha found nothing of particular interest during his sweep of the forest. A couple of boar yokai travelling in the direction of the village, a snake yokai with a slightly wicked aura—he dispatched all three easily enough. He'd patrolled for another couple hours before deciding to hunt down some food. The wench's rice balls had long since been digested and he was ready to eat.

 

In short order he sniffed out a couple rabbits in the forest undergrowth and made swift work of them. Laying their bodies on the ground, he dropped to a crouch and began to skin and butcher the meat.

 

All the while, hovering in the back of his mind, he could not stop thinking over the wench's scent, the odd tinge he'd noticed in it this morning. He'd never encountered anything like it before, and it unsettled him. It had not been the scent of sickness, not disease or injury. It had not been the scent of pregnancy, nor of a woman's monthly fertility. He'd never spent any significant amount of time around women, but he'd known enough of them to recognize those scents—that's not what he'd picked up from the miko.

 

Then again, could he even be sure he hadn't imagined it? It had been so faint, so miniscule... it could have been nothing, a mere shift in the wind, the residual odor of some other villager's scent clinging to hers.

 

With a grunt, Inuyasha finished cutting up the first rabbit and moved onto the second.

 

But in the moments when he'd smelled it, it had seemed... strange. Cloying, intrusive, other. It was somehow at odds with the rest of her scent.

 

Her scent. Fresh. Alive. Innocent. Thinking about it almost had his ear tingling in remembrance of her touch. That scent was so... so...

 

So close.

 

Inuyasha froze, nose automatically lifting into the air.

 

What the hell? He inhaled slowly, and sure enough, there it was. The freshness of her scent, though still a ways off, was coming towards him. Beckoning to him through the trees. He scowled. "What's that damn bitch doing out here again? I just got rid of her."

 

He dropped the rabbit and stood up, body taut with sudden anticipation. Was she out here looking for him, or did she have some other purpose? What could she possibly be doing this deep in the forest? He sniffed the air again and his scowl grew darker. Alone. She was wandering out here alone. What—

 

A scream rent through the woods.

 

His entire body tensed, and then another scream—this one more desperate—rang out, pierced through him.

 

"Kagome!"

 

He was sprinting through the trees before he'd finished uttering her name, legs pumping frantically, thoughts a confused whir.

 

He could smell her, but he couldn't hear her. With every passing second, his heart climbed further up his throat. He didn't know whether to be worried or relieved that she hadn't screamed again—she could be out of danger or she could be unconscious... or dead.

 

His gut clenched at the last thought. He tried to focus all his senses outward, towards the direction of her scent, as a growl ripped from his throat. Fuck that. That bitch had no right to die on him. Not after all the shit she'd put him through. He'd be pissed as hell if she died now.

 

He caught movement in his peripheral vision. He turned his head and his lungs suddenly constricted. There! There she was!

 

Relief, nearly staggering in its intensity, washed over him as he finally spotted her: the pale green and white stripes of her kimono flashed between tree trunks, dark hair streaming behind her as she ran. She was some distance ahead of him, far off to his right, weaving quickly through the trees. And following her, just on her tail, scuttled a spider yokai the size of a grizzly bear.

 

What the fuck?! How had he not scented that thing earlier? It was massive, hairy, colored a dark, glut purple, and much quicker than it should be given its size. He couldn't smell it, not even this close to—

 

The spider made a low screeching sound, followed by a series of clicks. Kagome shrieked.

 

With a ferocious snarl, Inuyasha raced even faster, determined to reach Kagome before the yokai that was fast gaining on her. But he realized with a blaze of panic that he wouldn't make it—she was too slow and the spider too fast.

 

"Kagome! You can't outrun it! Turn around and blast it!"

 

Either she hadn't heard him or she was too scared to listen, because she just kept running, and the yokai kept getting closer.

 

"Fuck!" He urged his body forward, pushed it to move even faster. "Use your godsdamned power and destroy it!"

 

Still running, she turned her head and threw a terrified glance at him over her shoulder. Grey eyes locked with his for the briefest moment. Then she was skidding to a halt and swinging around to face the spider, both arms thrown straight out in front of her. Her hands began to glow, a white light emanating from her very skin, and—

 

Her hands flinched violently, then balled into fists. Her arms drew halfway back towards her body as the white glow disappeared as if it had never been. He heard her faint whimper and saw her eyes shutter.

 

"What are you doing?! Kill it!!"

 

Even as he screamed at her, the spider yokai was upon her. It reared up onto its hind-ward legs, and with bone-rattling force heaved its body down on her, knocking her to the ground. It hovered over her while she lay directly underneath it, caged between all eight of its legs. Even from a distance, Inuyasha could see the flash of the spider's sharp mandibles, dripping with venom. In the next instant, it was raising its bloated abdomen, readying its stinger for one swift stab.

 

The breath left Inuyasha's lungs. His blood drummed in his ears so loudly it drowned out all sound.

 

There was a sharp, resonant pulse at his left hip. Then another. Without conscious thought, quicker than his indrawn breath, his hand gripped his sword hilt. It pulsed in his hand, crackled beneath his fingers, and by his next exhale, he'd drawn the sword.

 

A quick flash of light. A heavy weight that his arms had to fight against as he lifted the sword above his head and threw it with all his strength.

 

A metallic shing sounded as the blade soared through the air. Then a sound like a cleaver slicing through meat. A sickening wet squish.

 

With a high-pitched keen, the spider slumped down, its legs jerking violently before collapsing. But the giant steel fang impaled lengthwise through its abdomen—sword tip imbedded into the ground on its other side—kept the spider's body from crushing the girl lying beneath it.

 

 

Inuyasha flew the remaining distance between them. The spider's legs were still twitching when he slid to a stop beside it. He reached beneath the corpse and pulled Kagome up. Angling her away from the spider—putting his own body between them—he gripped her upper arms and held her directly in front of him, her feet dangling off the ground. He stared into her face.

 

Wide grey eyes stared back at him. Alive, alive, his mind chanted, and he nearly dropped her in relief. His eyes raked over her body, checking for signs of injury; at the same time his nostrils flared, scenting for any hidden wounds. He detected some of her blood, but it was faint enough that it didn't immediately worry him—likely a scrape or shallow cut. No deep-blood smell, no scent of venom, no obvious signs of pain.

 

 

The adrenaline that had fueled his body for the last several minutes crashed, hard. His shoulders slumped, his head bowing forward as he released a gusty sigh.

 

He gradually became aware that she was speaking to him.

 

"—don't know where it came from! It was just there, and it was rushing right at me, and I—"

 

His fingers tightened around her arms.

 

"—didn't know what to do. It was... it kept clicking, non-stop. It was almost like it was speaking—"

 

He felt the beginnings of a growl deep in his chest.

 

"I sensed you nearby and I tried to make for your direction but—"

 

"You idiot!"

 

His throat felt raw from the force of his shout. He raised his head to meet her gaze and had to resist the urge to shake her.

 

"You slow-as-shit, brain-addled dolt! Why the fuck didn't you blast that thing when you had the chance?! You were almost killed!"

 

She flinched back. Her lips trembled before her mouth opened, but she didn't say anything.

 

"I've watched you take out a yokai three times that size with a single godsdamned hand! I saw your power, I saw you start to fight it—why didn't you finish it?!"

 

He set her down on her feet and then gave into his earlier impulse, shaking her briefly but sharply, sending her hair flying around her face. "Just what were you playing at, bitch?"

 

She tried to step away from him, but he kept his grip firm around her arms. The shock in her features was fast replaced by indignation. Her eyes sparked and narrowed before she yelled, "I couldn't, okay? I couldn't!"

 

"Just what does that mean?"

 

"It means that I couldn't do it." She turned her head away, eyes dropping to the ground, but her voice was still raised. "I couldn't use my power."

 

"Why the fuck not?"

 

Her lips pressed together.

 

He nearly shook her again. She must have sensed his rising anger, because she glanced back at him and said, "If I'd used my power, they'd find out. They always find out."

 

His lip curled. "What the hell are you talking about? You're not making any sense! Just tell me why the fuck you didn't have enough brains to save your own hide!"

 

"It's not like I was looking to die, you jerk!" She lurched forward, grabbed two fistfuls of silver hair hanging by his face, and tugged. He grit his teeth and bit back a wince. "But when I felt my power, I remembered—and I..." She shook her head. "I couldn't risk it! I've seen what happens when I use it, when I can't control it. And if the others found out, they'd hate me. They'd—I might as well—"

 

"You might as well what? Be dead? Because that's what you almost were! Stupid, stupid!"

 

"I told you! I can't use my powers!"

 

"Why not?!"

"Because they'll destroy my life!"

 

She stopped abruptly. Her grip on his hair loosened.

 

At her continued silence, his eyes narrowed. She stared at him with a stricken expression, eyes wide and sorrowful, and he was fairly certain that look had little to do with her near death-by-spider experience.

 

Finally, she whispered, "You don't understand. I just... couldn't do it."

 

Fury, muted only by that stricken look in her eyes, bubbled beneath his skin. Hands still gripping her arms, he pulled her closer and dropped his head down so that his eyes were level with hers. She flinched back at the sharp anger simmering there.

 

"You idiot." His voice was hushed, a subdued rumble, but she shrank from him in a way she hadn't when he'd been shouting. "Damn right I don't understand. I don't care what your reason is, it isn't good enough. When your life is threatened, you do everything you can to save it, you hear me?" He uttered a low snarl to emphasize his point. "Next time you're attacked, don't waste your time thinking—do what it takes to survive."

 

He held her gaze a moment longer, then released her arms. She didn't step back as he expected her to, though her fingers fell away from his hair.

 

She was looking at him as if she was seeing him for the very first time. "You... Inuyasha, were you... worried?"

 

"What kind of stupid question is that? You were one fucking second away from death! Stupid bitch. If it hadn't been for—"

 

Realization, a jolt in his gut like a flash of lightening, pierced him. He sucked in a shallow breath. Slowly, turning marginally on his heel, he craned his head back towards the spider demon—more precisely, towards the steel fang pinning the demon's corpse to the ground.

 

 

The sword. His sword.

 

Tetsusaiga had transformed.

 

He realized only vaguely that Kagome was speaking again.

 

"Inuyasha?" She sounded flustered, a little hesitant. "Thank you. For saving me, I mean. You didn't have to, and... thank you."

 

Even as he watched, Tetsusaiga pulsed again—once, twice, thrice—and with each pulse it shrank, slowly dwindling back into the average-sized, battered, useless sword he was familiar with. He reached out, gripped its hilt, and yanked it out of the demon's corpse—an easy task now that the blade was small again. The spider dropped to the ground with a crashing whump.

 

He looked at the decrepit sword in his hand, and his mind kept circling around the same thought, the same words repeating themselves in an endless loop. Tetsusaiga transformed.

 

Briefly, to be sure, but it had still transformed. The sword hadn't transformed in decades. Not since his mother was alive.

 

"Inuyasha? Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?"

 

His gaze shifted back to Kagome—absently took in the mess of dark hair around her face, the wide eyes, the lowered brows, her teeth digging into her bottom lip—but his thoughts never strayed from the sword.

 

What had caused Tetsusaiga to transform? It hadn't done so since his mother's death. Before that, Tetsusaiga had transformed whenever he needed it. He couldn't think of a time back then when it had failed him. But after his mother's death, after he'd left the castle… it was like Tetsusaiga had died, too. It wouldn't become the fang of legend, no matter what he did. It refused to be anything other than a weak excuse for a blade—as if it, too, had given up on him. He'd tried everything under the sun, twice over, to make Tetsusaiga respond to him again, but nothing had ever succeeded.

 

So why had it worked now? What the hell had he done that was so special? It couldn't have been the danger posed by the spider yokai. No way that was it. He'd wielded Tetsusaiga against much greater threats, when his life had been threatened by far stronger yokai, and it had never—

 

His thoughts came to a sudden halt. For a moment, both his body and his mind were perfectly and utterly still.

 

And then, pinning him down as ruthlessly as he'd pinned that spider, one thought: it wasn't his life that had been threatened this time, was it? He hadn't been fighting for himself. It had been for—

 

His eyes met Kagome's as the air left his lungs.

 

No. Fuck no. That makes no sense. That can't be it.

 

But even as he tried to deny it, something inside him snapped into place, like a key sliding into its lock. The tiniest corresponding pulse throbbed from the blade in his hand.

 

His fingers tightened around Tetsusaiga's hilt before he slid it back into its sheath at his side. He felt a dull ache in his mouth, and realized he'd been grinding his teeth. He took a deep breath and forced his jaw to relax.

 

It makes no sense. Why—why would she—

 

A small hand reached out, clutched his sleeve. “Inuyasha, are you okay?”

 

His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, eyes glancing down at the fingers delicately clasping his suikan before rising again to connect with hers. Soft, concerned, insistent—her eyes were just as expressive as her scent. But they didn't tell him what he most needed to know.

 

Who the hell are you, woman?

 

She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head at her. “M'fine,” he said, and his voice sounded rough even to his ears. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You all right? That yokai knocked you down pretty hard.”

 

She continued to watch him carefully, as though trying to read his thoughts. “I'm fine. A little bruised and achy, but nothing serious.”

 

He grunted, finding words—and any further thought—extremely difficult. He wanted to ask her what the hell she'd been thinking when she left her village (again); he wanted to ask her why she couldn't leave him the hell alone; he wanted to tell her to keep her damn gentle eyes and soothing scent and innocent touch to herself.

 

He wanted to ask her what she'd done to his sword.

 

But more than anything else, he felt the visceral urge to find a secluded place and absorb its quiet, to calm the clamor and confusion of his thoughts. But he couldn't calm himself when she was standing there looking at him like that.

 

“C'mon,” he said, and then—to their mutual astonishment—he picked her up off her feet and gathered her against his chest. Turning in the direction of the village, he set off at a sprint. “You're going back to your village, where it's safe. For fuck's sake, Kagome, didn't I warn you not to run around the forest alone? Next time I'm letting the yokai eat you.”

 

She inhaled, but instead of hollering at him as he expected her to, she whispered softly, “You said my name.”

 

He glanced down at her. “What?”

 

Her cheeks pinked under his gaze, eyes intent on his. “You've just… you've never said my name before.”

 

Heat spread across his nose, and something stirred in his gut. He ignored it and, scowling, looked straight ahead as they approached the village. “Yeah, and what of it?”

 

He may not have been looking at her, but he heard the smile in her voice. “Nothing. Thank you, Inuyasha.”

 

And despite himself, he had to admit—he liked hearing her say his name, too.

 

 

_______________

 

 

After dropping Kagome off just outside the village—and waiting until she was back inside the wall—he returned to the spot where the spider corpse lay. Because as much as he craved the quiet of foliage and the distance of a tall tree, he needed to examine the spider yokai first.

 

He needed to figure out why the hell it didn't have a scent.

 

It only took him a few minutes to locate the spot. He crouched next to the spider's hulking, hirsute body, its legs curling in on themselves. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and slowly.

 

Nothing. He smelled pine trees, and river water, and soil, and the faint traces of blood from the rabbits he'd killed; he smelled crows nesting in the foliage above, and squirrels scurrying a few miles away, and gophers digging below him; he smelled Kagome's lingering scent, along with his own; but he could smell nothing from the yokai. He was mere feet away from it—he could reach out and touch it—but he couldn't scent it. Like it wasn't even there.

 

Like it was a living void.

 

Opening his eyes, he stood up and took a closer look at its body. He reached out to lift one of its legs—

 

A grating, high-pitched “Ahem!” sounded behind him.

 

He whirled, crouching low and claws at the ready.

 

Pale, bulbous eyes glared at him.

 

“Report, half-breed!”

 

 

_______________

 

 

 

 

Shishi: translated as "lion," it can also refer to a deer or dog with magical properties and the power to repel evil spirits. A pair of shishi traditionally stand guard outside the gates of Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples.

 

This chapter was even harder to write than the last one (my only consolation is that it's longer). It's a little rough, and I may have to come back and edit a few scenes, but I hope it was fun to read. It's laying the groundwork for some important developments later on. I hope you all enjoyed! Let me know what you think.