Suspended in a strange mixture of lethargy and agitation, Kagome endured her days of ‘solace’ in the locked palace room. Grudgingly, she assumed the mindset she’d been forced to adopt countless times during her adventures to collect the fragments of the Shikon Jewel: namely, the mindset of the kidnappé. It had been a long time, however, and the ‘helpless victim’ muscle in her was lax from disuse.

How different she felt from the naïve middle-schooler who’d first fallen through the well, some seven years ago. Inuyasha was not coming to save her. Her once-faithful friends were scattered and self-absorbed. And Sesshoumaru was not even worth mentioning.

Were he to bother showing up, he’d do nothing more than smirk at her predicament, perhaps make her an offer of rescue with terms equally unbearable to her, or simply take what he wanted from her and leave her as fettered as he’d found her. What difference did it make to him, so long as she wasn’t being deprived or otherwise abused? And Ren was careful to make sure she had every material comfort in her imprisonment.

As she stewed here now in this most gilded of cages, the impotent rage Kagome felt assaulted her in waves.

At times, she would pace about, seething and wrecking shit while her taciturn guards loomed ever-silently on. At other times, she would cocoon herself in her futon and dwell upon her miseries, both past and present. Periodically, Ren would visit her and ask her if she had yet changed her mind, to which Kagome would respond by either throwing something at him or remaining sullenly silent herself.

That Kanako was her only real company struck the miko as some sort of cosmic joke.

“Oh, Kagome-sama,” the waif would commiserate, “would that we could be free of them all.”

“Free of whom?” Kagome would mutter, exasperated.

“All these wretched men,” Kanako said with a scowl. “How I hate them so.”

Repeatedly, Kagome asked after Rin, to which the waif responded evasively, much to the miko’s irritation.

“Where is she? Tell her to come here—and before you start spluttering that you already have, go and tell her again. I need to see her. I need to know for myself that she’s okay. Without seeing her with my own two eyes, I can’t help but imagine the worst.”

“…Hai, Kagome-sama, yet since Kohaku-dono’s departure, she has shut herself up in that gloomy hut of hers. She will not see me. I must shout at her through the walls.”

The miko fell back against the silk pillows with a groan, her brows knitted in consternation. “It’s important, Kanako-chan; be convincing. Get her here, however you can. I’m worried about her. Grease Ren’s ears for me on that account, if you have to—he has a soft spot for her too, you know.”

“That he does, Kagome-sama,” the waif murmured, as if to herself. “That he does…”

Only relieved in the moment that Kanako seemed to be taking her request seriously for once, Kagome let her thoughts race ahead, to what she would say to Rin when next she saw her.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi