By the shores of a secluded lake, Kagome tied her horse.

Peering up the rocky slopes that lay beyond, she could just see the temple from here. The golden top of the pagoda crested above the trees. Its wide eaves swept out like wingtips, their keen points sparking in the late afternoon sun. At the base of the slopes, Kagome spied the beginnings of a narrow, winding stair.

Sure enough, she could sense the presence of a barrier surrounding the temple from on high—a mute glimmering against her senses. But this of course was no deterrent to her. Taking her bow and quiver down from her shoulders, she bound them to the saddle, close to where Tessaiga hung, bundled up in the Robe of the Fire-Rat.

Unburdened, Kagome began her climb up the carved stone steps.

A red torii arch marked the final ascent. Winded, Kagome braced herself against it briefly before passing through. A swept stone courtyard sprawled before her. Tufts of flowering weeds peeked through the cracks. A few smaller outbuildings lay scattered at the fringes. Kagome paid these only a cursory glance. Steeling herself, she advanced toward the main hall of the temple, the gold-capped pagoda she’d glimpsed from before.

The heavy doors stood open. Squeezing through the gap between them, Kagome squinted in the dim, smoky interior. A few priestesses, both old and young, were gathered here, lighting the altars of the gilded shrine at the rear of the room. Seeing Kagome, they paused in surprise.

“Nazumi-sama,” Kagome asked without preamble, “is this the temple where she resides?”

The priestesses glanced uncertainly between themselves. The youngest frowned and paled outright. It was the eldest of the group who answered—

“Hai, it is.”

At this close response, Kagome frowned herself. She’d been expecting one of the group to introduce themselves as Nazumi. But clearly from their manner, this wasn’t the case.

“I’d like to speak with her,” she tried again. “Can you tell me where she is?”

Now even the eldest priestess blanched. “Nazumi-sama, she is…unwell.”

“Unwell?” Kagome blinked. “What do you mean?” Her gaze sharpened upon the old shrine maiden. “Take me to her.”

“No,” the youngest exclaimed, “she is mad!”

The eldest shot her a sharp, reproving look. “Yoshiko!”

Yoshiko flinched back, cradling sticks of incense to her chest. The eldest shrine maiden bowed her head.

“Forgive me, Miko-sama, but it is true that Nazumi-sama is in no condition to hold audience. Some nine years ago, she suffered an attack which left her disoriented—unable, at times, to recognize friend from foe. I’m afraid her condition has only deteriorated since then. For the safety of all, we have been forced to detain her.”

Nine years ago…

Kagome would have been seventeen years old.

The age she was at when the well sealed shut. When they defeated Naraku and destroyed the Shikon no Tama.

The age she was at when she married Inuyasha.

Realizing belatedly that her nails had been cutting crescents into her palms, Kagome forced her trembling fists to unclench. The faint glow beneath her sleeves subsided. Levelly, she looked to the priestesses who had been staring at her in silent unease.

“Nazumi-sama,” Kagome demanded again, “where is she?”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi