The next few weeks passed in a blur. Kagome threw herself into caring for Shin with renewed fervor. Since Inuyasha had started picking up more mercenary work, she stuck close to the house, which felt much less stifling to her now that he wasn’t constantly breathing down her neck. When she wasn’t attending to her miko duties, she kept Rin or Sango or one of the other village women around for company as much as she could. Her paranoia regarding Sesshoumaru was back in full swing. She didn’t want to be caught alone—even in her own home—if she could help it.

There was a wall in her mind where Sesshoumaru was concerned. She wouldn’t think about him—couldn’t think about him. Because if she thought about him, then she would have to think about what she’d done with him, and that was a path she refused to tread.

No, she had to keep her mind on the baby. Just the baby. She thanked the gods for her baby, because she thought she would’ve certainly gone off the rails without him.

It was amazing to her, how much Shin seemed to grow and change with each passing day. Uncanny, really—but Kagome tried not to overanalyze him. From all outward appearances, Shin was still very much human, even though multiple moon cycles had passed. Neither she nor Inuyasha had detected anything positively demonic about him. Kagome thought she’d seen a glimmer of something that day with Sesshoumaru—but she didn’t trust what she’d glimpsed, and she couldn’t begin to discuss it with Inuyasha or anyone else, for that matter.

With difficulty, she repressed her nagging curiosity. Because quite frankly it was confounding to her how frequently she’d sensed Shin’s youki in the womb, only not to feel a trace of it now. Then she thought of Inuyasha, Naraku, Jinenji—and all the other strange and varied half-demons she’d encountered over the years. If her travels had taught her anything, it was to expect the unexpected where the human and demon worlds collided. Before she’d glimpsed that strange glimmer, Kagome had theorized that perhaps Shin had settled upon a human form. Hadn’t Sesshoumaru said before that her son was ‘fully human’ as well as ‘fully demon’? To her that seemed to imply a choice. 

Recalling how Sesshoumaru had also said that Shin was ‘perfect’, Kagome felt her face heat despite herself. Ruefully, she smiled.

“Perfectly human?” she mused aloud, brushing her fingers through Shin’s soft, darkly waving hair.

Sighing, Kagome shook her head to clear it, reminding herself to steer her thoughts well clear of Sesshoumaru and his cryptic remarks. Whatever Shin was or wasn’t, he’d reveal himself in due course.

It was only a few days later when his peculiarities reached new and unprecedented heights.

She’d been napping that sultry afternoon, though she hadn’t meant to. She’d only meant to rest her aching back for a few minutes after making her morning miko rounds. But the heat must have gotten to her, because when she woke with a start she was dry-mouthed and groggy—

And the pit viper’s spade-shaped head was less than a foot from her own.

Kagome’s breath froze in her lungs. Though her mind was screaming, she forced herself to remain dead still. The snake’s dark, slit-pupiled eyes were fixed upon her where it lay tightly coiled, poised to strike. Its forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air—tasting her fear on the air.

This was no demon serpent. Her reiki was useless to nullify its deadly venom.

All she could do was lie there, and pray that it wouldn’t strike.

Kagome’s heart thudded in her ears, deafeningly loud. After what seemed like a lifetime, the viper relaxed. Uncoiling, it slid away from her, down the tatami platform—

Straight toward her sleeping son.

Kagome sat up, wide-eyed with horror as she watched the snake’s slithering course. Shin was silent in his crib, though Kagome sensed he was awake now. Would he whimper—would he stir? As though in a nightmare, Kagome slowly stood. The huge snake halted, coiling once more as it reared toward her—positioned perfectly between Kagome and her defenseless son.

Carefully, she stepped down from the platform, edging around it. She tried to keep the viper’s baleful gaze on her, though Shin still hadn’t made so much as a sound. She wanted nothing more than to dart for her baby—but she knew the cornered snake would strike for sure. No, she needed to stay calm, to keep a safe distance—to keep it away from her baby—until she could get outside and grab something she could use to behead it. 

She was nearly to the door when she noticed that not only was Shin awake in his crib, but that he’d pushed himself up to peer out at the angry snake below. Raw terror slammed into Kagome’s throat. The snake hissed after her as she bolted outside, leapt down the porch steps and made for the woodshed. Ripping open its tottering door, she grabbed the first sharp implement she could find. 

No more than a minute could have passed in the interim, but when Kagome returned to the hut, the scene of bloody horror that met her eyes made her drop the hoe with a scream. 

“Shin!”

Her baby turned toward her where he was half sitting up—not in his crib, but bewilderingly in the middle of the room, in the midst of what looked like a small massacre. His blue eyes were disturbingly serene, for all that the walls and floor were spattered with blood. Next to him the dead snake lay limply, its scaly throat shredded and broken, as though it’d been whipped about for sport. Its shiny tail was clutched toy-like in Shin’s chubby little fist. Blood smeared his toothless mouth and tiny chin—giving Kagome the fright of her life until she’d snatched him up, wiped him clean and found not so much as a single scratch on him. 

In her arms, Shin burbled happily—a self-satisfied, chuckling sound that had every hair on her body standing on end.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 8/18/23