The corner grocery store was a whole new world of wonders to Shin. His eyes went so comically wide at all the lights and colors (and scents and sounds) that his own bright irises practically disappeared into his pupils. Whether he was human or not, this was probably for the best, since his eyes were such a uncanny hue regardless. The dog-eared cap her mother had knitted for him hid his pointed ears perfectly in his hanyou form, and Kagome gave him plenty of snacks to sink his little claws and fangs into. Much as she hated to keep him confined to the stroller, this was almost certainly for the best. Judging by the way he was wriggling around and sniffing like crazy, he’d have been rampaging through the store in his beast form in an instant if she’d let him.

As it was, he seemed content enough to bounce in place and exclaim in delight over each exciting new discovery. Kagome couldn’t help but to laugh along with him. His enthusiasm was simply contagious. As they rambled around the store, even the most mundane of things—like the canned goods aisle or the freezer section—was its own mini-adventure, with Shin making his best effort to gibber out the names of each item Kagome pointed out to him or placed into his little hands.

Of course, as usual, all this excitement eventually tuckered him out. Under the shade of the stroller awning, he slept like a log all the way home, only letting out the occasional snuffling snore.

Beaming over at them from the kitchen sink as they returned, Mrs. Higurashi said, “Looks like someone had a bit too much fun.”

“I’ll say,” Kagome replied, smiling tiredly herself as she picked up her conked-out son.

Drying off her hands, Mrs. Higurashi came over to them. Tenderly, she smoothed Shin’s tousled black hair back from his brow. Even in his sleep, he turned toward her and nuzzled into her touch.

“Such a good, sweet boy,” Mrs. Higurashi praised him, though Kagome suspected she’d have said the same even if he were a living terror. 

For that matter, though, so would she. 

“Thank you for picking up these groceries for me,” her mother said, retrieving the shopping bags from the back of the stroller. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Kagome replied.

She didn’t mention to her mother that she’d stopped by Tachiyama Pharmacy. Just as she’d never mentioned the worst details of that drug-deal-gone-wrong to her, either—not to Mrs. Higurashi, not to Inuyasha. Not to anyone.

The gut-wrenching unpleasantness of recounting the assault aside, Kagome felt a certain steely defiance about it. If she gave voice to what had been done to her against her will, it would forever change how others thought of her. It wasn’t right or fair, but it was true. She didn’t want to be thought of in this way, not simply because she’d fought her attacker off, but on principle: she didn’t want to be viewed as a victim. Because she didn’t view herself that way. She never had, and she never would.

Smiling to her mother, she said only, “It was good to be out and about again.”

Mrs. Higurashi smiled back. Kagome put Shin to bed upstairs and then helped her mother to put away the groceries and prep for dinner. She was just setting the table when a tell-tale chipper knock came from the kitchen outside door.

“Oh,” her mother fussed, bustling over to answer it, “that Aoki Yasuji has the worst timing!”

“Tell me about it,” Souta said, sharing a knowing glance with Kagome as he sauntered into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. “You gonna ask him to stay for dinner, Mom?”

Hand on the doorknob, Mrs. Higurashi rounded upon him, flushing. “Of course not! He’s only dropped by to give me melons from his garden, or some such thing.”

With a warm greeting, she turned back and opened the door. Beyond it in a steepled straw umbrella hat stood their longtime neighbor, Mr. Aoki Yasuji, a spry kindly old widower who’d been valiantly but vainly courting Mrs. Higurashi for years. He was infamous among the family for having mistakenly assumed that she and her husband had separated years before they actually had, when Mr. Higurashi had simply been gone on an extended business trip. Valiantly but vainly, Mrs. Higurashi had been struggling to forgive Aoki Yasuji for the offense of it ever since—the offense of being both wrong and right. 

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi