As the water began to cool, so too did Kagome’s thoughts. Gone was the heady warmth of the sake, the false fire it lit in her veins. Clammy and obscure, her doubts condensed to weigh upon her. She felt the heaviness settle in her limbs. She felt the sluggish pump and slide of her blood. Even her soul seemed burdensome to her—dense with lifetimes of regret, its unchecked depths straining against the mortal shell that encaged it.

Rising from the tub, Kagome stared down at the radiance that ghosted her pale dripping hands, and felt more than ever like a stranger in her own skin.

Through Kikyou’s eyes, she recognized Inuyasha as the shadow of the man she’d been pursuing through eternity. She’d dreamed to make him mortal to match his soul, but he’d slipped from her grasp just like he’d always had—just as she’d slipped from the grasp of the demon who’d been pursuing her. In another life, this pattern had repeated. And again, in another life before that. Only through death had she managed to find him again. Only through death had she managed to elude her immortal foe.

Always through death…

“Kagome-sama…?”

At the sound of her name, the miko blinked. She was standing naked and shivering in the center of the house. Beneath her curling toes, the floorboards were damp and cold.

“Kanako-chan,” she said, looking slowly toward the girl who hovered beside her, “fetch me a towel, will you?”

Kanako fetched two. “Let me dry your hair for you,” she said, keeping one to herself as she handed Kagome the other.

Sitting cross-legged before the smoldering coals, she continued to brood while Kanako toweled her off. By a strange twist of fate, a window had been opened in her soul. If she died, it would close again. She would forget her past lives, and the cycle would continue. Even now, she felt the pull of her flesh toward the grave.

To long for anything else was unnatural. Yet her very existence had become unnatural, from the moment her soul had been ripped from her only to be returned. She had gone on to choose Inuyasha, immortal though he was. Before she’d even realized it, she had broken from the mold in a way that Kikyou never could.

Kagome frowned, her brows furrowing. What was she striving for, now? What did it all mean? Was the pattern of her past lives a rut to escape from, or the gods’ guiding path through a wilderness of horror and depravity?

Either way, she had strayed from it. Inuyasha was dead, and the Beast was at her heels. For the first time since the beginning, her soul was awake, and she was in full possession of it. Remembering the lonesome chill of a thousand deaths, all Kagome knew for certain was that she wanted to live—to forge her own path, for good or for ill.

To free herself from the tyranny of fate, of which Sesshoumaru was the chief oppressor.

She couldn’t kill him, and she refused to sacrifice herself. To this end she’d enlisted Kanako…but if Sesshoumaru wouldn’t have her, what then would she do?

A sudden sting to her scalp had Kagome whirling with a start. Her eyes flashed as she snapped out, “Can’t you do anything right?”

Kanako shrank back from her, abashed. “Forgive me, Kagome-sama,” she stammered, her large grey eyes wet and trembling. “I-I know I’ve disappointed you, but I will keep trying, I promise…”

Kagome shook her head as she lowered her gaze to the floor. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s mine.”

“I…Kagome-sama, please…”

“Just go.” When Kanako continued to waver, Kagome’s voice sharpened. “Leave me alone.”

Swallowing fretfully, the waif stood and stumbled toward the front of the hut. Near her old haunt, she hesitated, but from the pile of blankets, Ikiryou rose and bore his fangs, and with a yelp of distress, Kanako fled through the door and out into the night.

Alone in the silence thereafter, Kagome stared hard at the swaying curtain, as the dog padded over and licked at her cheek. Her fingers buried themselves in his thick white fur, as if clinging for purchase against the fears that churned within her.

If this hellish plan of hers came to nothing…

How would she live with herself?

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi