That night, Kagome couldn’t sleep. As Inuyasha snored on untroubled, she tossed and turned in bed beside him, unable to get that damning look of Kirara’s out of her mind. Somehow, Kirara knew. Somehow, though there was nothing Kagome nor anyone else could apparently detect, Kirara had discovered what Kagome wished most desperately to hide—

The truth about Shin, and his paternity.

But how had Kirara realized it? How had she known? By all appearances, Shin was human. Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru resembled each other greatly. But the only resemblance Shin seemed to bear was to Kagome herself.

The more Kagome racked her brain over this, the more frustrated and lost she felt. In the end she was forced to concede that Kirara must possess some sixth sense that she and the others did not. It wasn’t a reassuring thought. What were the odds, after all, that Kirara was alone in possessing that sort of awareness?

Who else, Kagome fretted, might yet stumble across this secret of hers?

She doubted very sincerely that the next being who did would be as uncommunicative about it as Kirara had—voluntarily or otherwise. Kagome still feared what Kirara might say. Just like Shippou, Inuyasha understood beast-speak. He could converse with Kirara easily enough. It was possible, Kagome thought anxiously, that Kirara might still tell him what she suspected. Maybe she’d only remained quiet initially out of sheer shock, or simple discretion…

Over the next few days, Kagome’s anxieties intensified. If she hadn’t had Shin’s care to occupy her thoughts and energy, she was certain she’d have been crippled by dread. As it was, the shadow of her fears loomed over her like an ominous dark cloud.

She avoided Kirara, dismayed at the thought of having those astute red eyes fixed upon her again. With Inuyasha by her side night and day, there was no chance of him crossing paths with Kirara, either. Ultimately, though, Kagome knew it was pointless. There was no putting off this encounter forever. Kagome’s worries were eating her up so much inside that she knew it would better, sooner rather than later, just to get it over with and face the music. Either she’d be reassured of Kirara’s silence, or know for sure that her doom was at hand.

But it seemed, once Kagome was finally resolved on this point, that Kirara had been avoiding her just as much as she had. When she and Inuyasha finally saw Kirara again, at Miroku and Sango’s home, the nekomata promptly turned tail and left the room the moment Kagome crossed the threshold. It was an unmistakable snubbing, as Kagome saw it.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one.

Frowning after Kirara, Sango said, “She’s been a bit temperamental lately.”

“I’ll go and talk to her,” Inuyasha said, heading toward the window through which Kirara had leapt.

It was all Kagome could do not to put out a hand after him, to try to stop him. With great difficulty, she restrained herself, knowing just how much worse it would look. If Kirara was determined to tell Inuyasha what she knew, there was really nothing Kagome could do to prevent it.

A hundred-pound weight seemed to settle in her stomach as Inuyasha left the house. All while he was outside, Kagome kept glancing to the window. Nervously, she rocked Shin in her arms, only half-aware of any friendly questions put to her, let alone her mechanical responses to them.

After what seemed an eternity, Inuyasha returned. Kagome’s heart was in her throat as he drew back the curtain. Kirara was at his side. When the nekomata still didn’t meet Kagome’s panicked glance, her eyes flicked to Inuyasha. Except for the metallic glint of his gaze, his face was still cast in shadow by the doorway.

“Well,” he boomed out as he entered the room, “are we having dinner or what? I’m starving.”

From where he was teasing the twins with his kitsune tricks, Shippou rolled his eyes. Boneless with relief, Kagome sagged, hugging Shin so tightly to her that he wriggled in protest.

“We were waiting for you,” Miroku replied dryly to Inuyasha, as Sango hastened off to start dishing out stew and rice. 

When Rin rose to help her, Kagome was glad. She was faintly trembling now, and figured she’d have sloshed stew everywhere if she’d tried. Sitting down beside her in a cross of legs, Inuyasha plucked Shin from her bloodless arms. When Kagome’s eyes darted to him, she saw that he was grinning down into Shin’s cranky face. The remaining tension in her abated at the sight.

She looked toward a far corner of the room, where Kirara had curled into a kittenish ball. Her crimson eyes were shut, though Kagome didn’t think for a second she was truly sleeping. Still, she’d had her chance—and as far as Kagome could tell, she hadn’t told Inuyasha anything. 

Though Kagome’s immediate distress had lifted, that heavy weight inside her was still there. She wondered at it only briefly. That leaden weight was her guilt, and it was ever-present. In resignation, she accepted this as a fixture of her existence. Only sometimes could she distract herself enough to forget it was always there.

Side-eyeing Inuyasha, she asked him as they walked back home, “Kirara-chan…is she okay?”

“Oh yeah, she’s fine,” Inuyasha said, dandling Shin out ahead of him in a way Kagome wouldn’t normally have abided. “She just said she’s had a lot on her mind.”

“Oh—oh, really? Like what?”

“She didn’t say, and it’s none of my business. But I told her she couldn’t keep sulking like she’s been, making Sango and the rest of us worry over her. I told her to either share her burdens, or buck up and be a good friend.”

“And what did she say to that?”

“Well, you saw—she came back with me, didn’t she? She got right up after I said that to her, and she told me I was right.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 7/4/23