Kagome sat on a stump in the clearing, watching Shin dash about through the falling leaves. His gusts of youki sent them swirling in all directions—riotous confetti-bursts of crimson and gold. He darted and leapt, snapped and spun. At times he gathered enough ethereal steam beneath his paws to go briefly airborne, but even Kagome could tell he was still a long way off from flying.

Bored with the leaf hunt, he slanted a red eye toward her before loping off into the woods. Kagome tugged her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. Even though she could still sense him, she didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable with him straying out of sight. It was a human hang-up of hers, she knew. She tried to remind herself that Shin was demon as much as he was human. She remembered what Sesshoumaru had said about trusting to him. In this youkai form of his, Shin wasn’t exactly defenseless, after all. 

In fact, he’d probably defended her more times now than she’d defended him. Kagome breezed out a sigh.

In no time at all, it seemed, Shin came trotting back toward her through the trees with his lush white tail held high. He had a fox clamped in his virulent fangs. Having never caught one before, he seemed particularly proud of himself. When he dropped the broken corpse at Kagome’s feet, she mustered a smile and praised him for it, though the sight of the poor fox lying there so coppery and sleek and pointlessly dead was far from cheering. Visibly puffed-up and pleased, Shin took off toward the trees again, slipping like a ghost through the shadows.

He fetched her back a rabbit next, then a dove, then a squirrel. He was getting better at killing, she had to admit, even as it turned her stomach to witness. Whether from the chill in the air or not, she shivered. Propping her elbow on her knee, she rested her chin in her hand. A feeling of dread assailed her. One that couldn’t be entirely attributed to the change in the season or even to the growing assortment of dead animals at her feet.

Things were strained again between her and Inuyasha. It was a pattern she was starting to recognize—things would be okay for a while, then they’d start to sour until one or both of them finally blew up at the other. In the guilty aftermath, the cycle would reset. Stuck in the souring phase at the moment, Kagome was already grimly anticipating the falling out to come. 

She knew it was imminent. Only the night before, Inuyasha had come back home from a particularly tedious but lucrative mission with a jeweled necklace for her. It was a bit gaudy for her tastes, but she’d fawned over it nevertheless, knowing how valuable it was and how hard he’d worked for it. What she hadn’t handled so well was how hard he’d come on to her afterward, apparently expecting some sort of repayment in kind.

“…Fucking thankless,” he’d growled when she’d rebuffed his advances, “that’s what you are.”

“Sorry,” she’d snapped back, wounded and insulted, “I didn’t realize your ‘gifts’ came with a price!” Ripping off the necklace, she’d thrust it back at him. “You must have a pretty low opinion of me if you think I’m the sort of woman who can be bought with something like this.”

Rubies had pinged across the floorboards as the necklace had crushed in Inuyasha’s clenching fist. “How much do I have to pay for you to stop being such a bitch to me?”

They’d gone to bed without speaking after that, but Kagome wasn’t under any illusions that this was the last of it. Worst of all, she felt powerless to prevent it.

Shin padded back into the clearing with another silvery rabbit dangling from his jaws. Since he’d already brought her a rabbit before, he kept this one to himself and settled down onto his belly a short distance from her. Bracing the kill between his forepaws, he started tearing into it with grisly relish. Kagome kept her eyes averted, but she could still hear the sound of gnashing fangs, ripping flesh and slurping gore. 

When she felt that familiar dark presence graze across her senses, she was grateful for the distraction. Soundlessly, Sesshoumaru drew up beside her. Across from them, Shin bristled warily. But by some subtle exchange Kagome couldn’t begin to fathom, he relaxed after a moment and lowered his bloody muzzle back to the bones he’d been crunching. Kagome glanced to Sesshoumaru, and found that he was looking sidelong at her.

“You seem out of sorts.”

“It’s nothing,” she replied automatically. “I’m fine.”

Sesshoumaru nodded, though she doubted he was convinced. Kagome picked at a tiny hole in her shawl, trying not to let her disquiet show. She’d made it a point over the years to keep her marital troubles to herself. They weren’t anyone else’s business, or concern. 

“You have too much pride by far,” Sesshoumaru remarked, as if commenting on the weather. 

Kagome’s hackles rose. “You’re one to talk.”

Sesshoumaru’s golden eyes fell from the heavens to her, glinting. “All the more reason for you to heed what I say.”

Shifting a little on the stump, Kagome frowned away from him. “Sometimes,” she admitted, “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. I think if I can just get back to that point, then I can find my way forward from there. I feel like I’m stuck in the mud, spinning my wheels, getting nowhere. I keep trying to get myself out and get back on track, but I haven’t figured it out yet. How to do that.”

Sesshoumaru sighed—actually sighed. Kagome looked to him in surprise.

“How can you still not know, after all this time?” The look he leveled back at her was exasperated and pitying all at once. “It was when you fell in love with me.”

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 10/23/23