Chapter Text
In Tokyo, the night sky was a half-forgotten myth. The city’s fluorescent sprawl muted everything above it, leaving behind only a pale, humming haze. Even in the quietest hours, the skyline never dimmed, never slept. But in the Feudal Era, the darkness was vast and untouched — a velvet abyss pricked with stars so dense they bled into each other like spilled salt across obsidian silk. No man-made glow dulled their brilliance.
A hush clung to the forest, deepened by the murmur of water nearby — the river curling its way along the rocks with slow, unbothered grace. The breeze that moved through the underbrush was cool and sweet, carrying the scent of damp earth, river mist, and faint jasmine blooming wild along the banks. It slipped past her like a ghost, brushing her cheeks. Kagome shivered and tucked deeper into her sleeping bag, welcoming the press of warmth against the cool breath of night.
It had been months since her return. And life had inevitably rearranged itself in her absence. Sango and Miroku’s house burst at the seams with laughter, the thunder of tiny feet. Shippō had begun his training travels. Kohaku wore responsibility like armor, teaching the next generation of slayers with a confidence he’d once lacked.
Everything had moved so fast, like the world had shifted gears the moment she disappeared from it. Being back had its challenges, time had passed without her - as if she'd awoken from a dream only to find the seasons had skipped. The rush of it sometimes left her breathless, as if she were always one step behind.
Still, despite the dizzying pace, this place was home. The ache that once pulled at her chest, that hollow uncertainty about where she belonged, had softened into something gentler. Her mornings began with Kaede, brewing poultices or grinding roots into powder. The scent of crushed herbs and woodsmoke persistent in her palms. Her spiritual power, once unfocused, had begun to sharpen with each lesson. It was all far more clear than any subject she’d struggled through in modern classrooms. Even if anatomy, herbalism, and history had relevance now. Everything else she’d once studied felt insignificant.
Tonight marked their last evening on the road for a while, a quiet luxury Kagome didn’t take for granted. No urgent errands to run, no restless children tugging at sleeves. Just the few of them, the lull of the forest, and the hush of firelight. It felt rightfully nostalgic, like slipping into a memory, back to the days when everything was simpler, even if the world had been far more dangerous.
Still, her thoughts drifted now and then to Kaede, who had stayed behind to manage the chaos — a household bursting with toddlers and an infant all under one roof. Kagome didn’t envy her in the slightest. At least the villagers didn’t mind pitching in while Rin was away. But, the thought of all that chaos alone made her grateful for the stillness around her. Kaede was a force of nature, grounded and immovable. If anyone could weather that particular storm, it was Kaede.
She exhaled slowly, the breath thin and soundless. Shifting within the confines of her sleeping bag, she rolled onto her side, the fabric whispering beneath her. Her gaze found the firepit, now sagging into its last breath of warmth. The logs had collapsed inward, their blackened skeletons crumbling into ash. A final snap and hiss stirred the quiet — one reluctant ember flared briefly before sinking into a steady pulse of smoldering coal. The forest had begun its deep-night chorus. Insects chirred with a rhythmic hush, blending with the occasional creak of swaying branches. Somewhere nearby, the river murmured its lullaby — a gentle current gliding over stones.
“You okay?”
Inuyasha’s voice came low, barely louder than the breeze. Softened around the edges, careful not to disturb the ones already asleep. Still, it reached her like a stone in still water, sending a ripple straight through her chest. She turned her head slightly, eyes flicking past the fire to where he sat beneath the arching roots of a gnarled tree. His posture was relaxed, but not unguarded — arms folded loosely, Tessaiga resting against his shoulder like a second spine. Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, brushing silver across the lines of his face and catching faint gold in his eyes. Always watching.
Her fingers tightened subtly on the hem of her sleeping bag, nails brushing the worn fabric in a quiet, unconscious rhythm. “Just can’t sleep,” she murmured, the words escaping in a hush too soft to echo. She offered a shrug, though she knew he likely couldn’t see it through the fire’s dwindling light. It wasn’t a lie — but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
When she’d stepped back through the well and returned to this life — his life — she thought things would fall into place. That everything they’d fought for, all they’d survived, would smooth the path ahead. In her mind, it would be easy. Natural. The hard part was supposed to be over.
But these last few months had shown her otherwise.
They were close, intimately so... closer than most would consider proper for the time. The comfort between them was unspoken, instinctual, woven into the way they shared space, glances, kisses. His presence had always settled her, steady and grounding. And yet… just when it felt like that closeness might deepen, when it felt like they were finally ready to name what they were, he would retreat. As if something invisible reared up between them that only he could see. She didn’t understand it.
She didn’t want everything right away. She didn’t need a declarations, or a promise carved into stone. But the way he held back and hesitated made her feel like she was waiting for a door to open that he kept locked from the inside. Like he was standing just out of reach, and every time she stepped closer, the space between them stretched again. And she didn’t know why.
Was he afraid? Was he unsure? Was it guilt, or doubt, or something deeper neither of them could name? She didn’t know. And not knowing was beginning to feel like a weight against her heart. The kind that you only notice when it starts to ache. She didn’t want to make him feel cornered, but she was tired of pretending not to notice. Tired of pretending it didn’t sting.
Across the fire, his golden eyes flickered in the emberlight. They glowed faintly beneath the sweep of his bangs, like twin embers tucked behind a veil of restraint. In the hush of the night, they shimmered with something he wouldn’t voice, something too heavy to name. And even though his body was still and even relaxed, it wasn't from peace of mind.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked at last, his voice low — gentler than she expected.
Kagome didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze wandered past the firelight, drawn to the shadowed trees above him, where silver starlight threaded through the barest cracks in the canopy. It was easier to look there than at him. Easier to let her thoughts drift skyward than risk watching his face stiffen at her words.
With a soft rustle of fabric, she slipped out of the sleeping bag and pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapping around them. She leaned back until her spine met the trunk behind her — the bark cool and rough against her skin, anchoring her in place.
“You tell me,” she said quietly, the edge of fatigue sharpening her tone more than she intended. His ears twitched, but she didn’t stop. “We promised we’d be honest with each other. That we wouldn’t keep things bottled up.” Her voice softened, almost fragile now. “But lately… I don’t know. It feels like you’re holding something back. Like you’re keeping me at a distance and just hoping I won’t say anything.”
Her head tilted toward him slightly, searching for his eyes through the dark. He was silent, the firelight casting faint gold across the planes of his face. His mouth was drawn tight, jaw twitching once before he looked away. “I wanted you to have a chance to… acquaint yourself with everything, when you came back,” he said finally, though his voice lacked its usual edge. An excuse offered with no confidence behind it.
Kagome blinked, brow furrowing. “It’s been months,” she sighed.
He shifted, the gravel beneath him crunching faintly under his weight. His gaze remained averted. “I just thought maybe you needed time to get used to it again. Without me breathing down your neck.”
Just as she was about to reply, Inuyasha’s ears twitched sharply, the fine silver hairs flicking with sudden alertness. His golden eyes snapped toward the impenetrable darkness of the forest. Whatever peace had lingered in the hush of night shattered in an instant — tension rippling through the clearing like a lightning bolt. In a blink, his hand was on Tessaiga’s hilt, fingers white-knuckled around the sheath.
A sharp rustle swept through the treetops, followed by a burst of motion, a panicked flock of birds erupted from the branches, wings slicing through the starlit sky, silhouetted for the briefest moment before scattering. Miroku and Sango stirred immediately. Kirara’s fur bristled, the twin-tails of flame at her back flickering to life as she growled low in her throat.
“You sense it too then, Inuyasha,” Miroku said grimly, already shifting his staff into a defensive grip.
Inuyasha stood in a flash, jaw tight. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t before!”
Kagome’s body tensed. A suffocating chill crept across her skin — a tangible, unnatural presence, sharp and seething, like a blizzard rolling in from nowhere. Her breath caught, eyes wide as the air thickened around her. She scrambled to reach her bow, heart slamming against her ribs and just as her fingers closed around it—
A violent burst of energy cleaved through the campsite.
The impact struck her like a wall of stone. She was thrown violently backward, her body ragdolling through the air before colliding with a tree. A sickening crack of bark and flesh rang out as her shoulder slammed hard against the trunk, breath ripped from her lungs. The coarse bark scraped her back raw, and the wind was knocked clean from her chest.
“Kagome!” Inuyasha’s voice was a sharp cry of panic, but it reverberated through the ringing in her ears like a distant echo. Her fingers twitched around her bow, chest rising with short, shallow breaths as she tried to blink the stars from her vision. She was still trying to get herself up right as a wicked chuckle oscillated against her eardrums.
It was soaked in a perverse satisfaction that slithered through the trees. It didn’t echo so much as sink, bleeding into the underbrush and coiling beneath the skin. There was something ancient in its cadence, not merely amused but indulgent — as if it had watched countless lives unravel and found delight in each.
“Here I thought you would have noticed my presence sooner.” The voice dripped from the shadows, like velvet soaked in embalming fluid—luxurious on the surface, but clinging with the promise of something long dead. Her blood ran cold, his essence causing a sinking feeling to coil low in her gut. The weight of it dragged her breath shallow. Every instinct screamed before her mind could shape a single thought. There was a wrongness to him. Like the voice of a man who knew how to mimic warmth, but didn’t understand it. A voice that practiced humanity as a ploy.
She blinked against the dark, struggling to focus, until a pair of blood-red eyes flared open. Vivid and cruel orbs cut back at them through the void, like twin coals in a dying hearth. The figure emerged like smoke given shape, tall and narrow with movement that felt too fluid to be human. Darkness clung to his form like it obeyed him. Before Kagome could reach for an arrow, another surge of twisted energy exploded outward.
She cried out, her body still sluggish, but before the blast could reach her, Inuyasha was there — arms locking tightly around her, lifting her off the ground with practiced strength. He dove clear across the campsite and hurled her toward the riverbank with more force than she’d ever felt from him. She hit the damp soil with a splash, arrows tumbling free from her quiver and scattering around her like fallen reeds.
“Get behind something!” he barked, already springing back toward the monster.
Her limbs trembled. She gritted her teeth and forced herself upright, fingers fumbling until they closed around an arrow shaft slick with dew. Drawing it back with shaking hands, she aimed and released — a streak of sacred light blazing through the dark and illuminating their attacker in stark relief.
The sight turned her stomach.
He scarcely mirrored that of a human. Skin like bone-white marble stretched over sinew — tight and cold and veined with pulsing black lines, like roots infected with poison. His limbs were long, his posture lazily poised, and his grin… petrifying. The arrow whistled past, missing its mark and embedding with a thunk into a nearby tree.
“Who the hell are you?” Inuyasha snarled, each muscle locked in defiance as he braced himself between her and the creature. In an instant, he drew Tessaiga — its steel roaring to life in a flash of molten silver light, illuminating the glade in a ghostly glow.
But Kagome couldn’t take her eyes off the monster.
A gasp broke free as she clutched another arrow. There was something fundamentally wrong about this being — more than just his appearance. His aura clawed at her senses. The smell of him, overwhelming - like rancid flesh in stagnant water.
The creature tilted his head, as if bemused. “Ah… So you must be Inuyasha,” he said, voice gliding from his throat like oil over silk. His long, talon-tipped fingers flexed, the sharp nails dragging faint lines across his palms. “It’s been sometime since someone asked for my name,” he grinned his neck sounding a gnarly crack as his carmine gaze locked on Inuyasha.
Chills crawled up her arms as she hoisted herself from the forest floor. The creature must have caught the subtle sound, it's unnerving attention swayed in her direction without waiver. His eyes morphed as he fixated, his eyes swimming with a vile bottomless black that made Kagome’s heart thunder with dread. They didn’t just look at her; they reached into her like a hook buried beneath her ribs. Her breath hitched, and her hands — slick with sweat and shaking — refused to obey her command to move.
A mauve tongue slid slowly between the specter's cracked lips, dragging lazily across them as if tasting the air itself. His gaze darkened further with fascination — the kind that made her stomach churn. His lips curled upward, revealing jagged teeth, yellowed and uneven, like broken tombstones.
“That thing! Its aura is warped!” Shippo’s voice cracked across the clearing, shrill with panic. Kagome’s eyes snapped toward the kit clinging to Miroku’s shoulder, the boy’s fur bristling as his claws dug into the monk’s robes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat like a splinter.
“Here I thought you were a man of action, hanyō,” the creature mocked, his voice a velvet dagger. The weight of his stare never left her — he stared as though she were the only thing that existed in the world. “Such a risk leaving something so precious… unprotected.”
Inuyasha growled. A low, guttural sound vibrated from deep in his chest as his muscles tensed and the blood beneath his skin surged with heat. His hands gripped Tessaiga’s hilt so tightly his knuckles went pale. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he snapped, his voice trembling with fury.
“I-… I don’t feel a yōkai aura at all,” she whispered, horror dawning slowly. "I- I don't understand..." It wasn’t just that the creature was powerful he was a black hole in the world. A wound in the air itself. He exuded nothing like a normal yōkai. There was no trace of demonic aura. No primal rhythm. Just a void. A consuming silence where there should have been presence. Shippo was on the right track but, the aura wasn't warped — it was absent. It was like staring at something from a place that shouldn’t exist.
The creature watched her realization unfurl with open pleasure, drinking in every flicker of thought that crossed her face like wine. “I will save you the trouble, my Lady,” he crooned. His voice wrapped around her like a serpent — slow, possessive, uninvited. Every syllable slithered into her mind and tightened. Kagome’s breath seized. Her body locked. “My name I will give only to you…”
Ankoku .
The voice rang clear in her mind, the name pierced directly into her consciousness. She gasped sharply, staggering back a step. Her fingers lost their grip, and the arrow slipped from her grasp, clattering against a rock. Her knees buckled, hitting the earth with a dull thud as her hand flew to her forehead. It felt like his voice had torn a path straight through her soul. A searing cold settled in her chest.
“You bastard!” Inuyasha’s roar shattered the stillness, his voice a thunder of fury. His golden eyes burned like wildfire, and with one powerful surge of muscle, he lunged forward. Tessaiga howled as it sliced through the night and cleaved straight through the creature’s center. It split him cleanly, the blade passing through with a hiss of pressure. But instead of flesh and blood — there was mist.
The body peeled apart like black smoke caught in a gust, unraveling into a thousand tendrils… and then reknitting, whole and untouched, as if time had simply reversed itself. Ankoku stood there once more, unbothered. Smiling. Inuyasha skidded back, Tessaiga still humming in his hands, disbelief rippling across his face.
“No resistance.” Miroku murmured, his voice barely audible over the tension hanging like static in the air. His eyes were wide, pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he stared at the impossible scene. “It’s like he isn’t even here—” Then his breath caught. “—Wait, Inuyasha! His shadow—in the moonlight, it’s reversed!” Miroku cried, stumbling a step forward, his staff rattling in his grip. “That’s not him!”
But the warning came too late. Before Kagome could process what he meant, the stench hit her — an overwhelming wave of rot and mildew that had culminated over centuries. It poured around her like smoke, coiling at her ankles and spiraling upward in choking tendrils. Her mouth opened in alarm, breath caught between inhalation and scream. She dove for her bow but a boot crashed down, pinning her hand into the soft loam of the forest floor. There was a sickening crack — unmistakable. Agony exploded from her palm, shooting up her arm like lightning. Her scream tore through the air, hoarse and raw.
“Kagome?!” Inuyasha’s voice shattered around her, a visceral sound of helplessness and fury.
She couldn’t move. Could barely think. Her vision shook as a hand snatched her by the collar and dragged her upright. Ankoku’s sickly form pressed against her like a shroud. His presence was void. An absence of life that made her skin crawl and her stomach turn.
“Such careless guard,” he hissed into the curve of her throat, his breath foul and damp, thick with something older than death. His arms locked around her like chains, each breath he took deliberate and revolting.
“Kagome!” Sango’s cry cracked with desperation.
She thrashed within his grip, heart slamming against her ribs. But the hold he had on her didn’t budge — it tightened, muscles locking her in place like iron. Her vision pulsed black at the edges, her breathing shallow and clipped as panic overtook her.
“What a gorgeous specimen,” Ankoku purred. His lips brushed her skin, the voice curling around her eardrum like the trickle of venom. “When I bind you to me, it won’t be the pain that ruins him. It’ll be knowing — that every piece of you is beyond his reach.” His tongue carried a texture of sandpaper as it slithered along the line of her neck.
Kagome flinched violently, bile rising in her throat. Her gaze caught Inuyasha’s — his face carved in anguish, terror, in rage so sharp it bordered on madness. Inuyasha was already moving like lightning bottled in flesh — but not fast enough.
Something sharp grazed her throat, a hair’s breadth from puncturing skin. Her nerves screamed in panic. The pressure was subtle, precise, a warning kiss from a fang. Kagome couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her limbs locked up, paralyzed by fear so deep it turned her bones to ice. Her vision tunneled, the edges hazing in and out of black, the world narrowing to the breath on her neck, the weight of Ankoku’s hold, and the sickening proximity of his mouth to her skin.
“Let her go!” Sango’s voice rang sharp as a bell, cutting through the darkness like a lifeline. The hiss of Hiraikotsu followed — a deadly whisper through the air. Kagome saw the flash of bone-white in her peripheral vision as the massive boomerang sliced past. Ankoku shifted lazily, inhumanly, letting the weapon pass just close enough to flay bark from a cedar tree. Splinters rained down around them like shrapnel. He still held her fast, dragging her like a broken marionette through the underbrush, her feet scraping helplessly against the dirt.
She saw Inuyasha’s eyes. Barefoot steps, fast and feral, thudded against the moss-slick riverbank as he circumvented the apparition. His golden gaze burned from across the battlefield, glowing like twin embers in the starlit dark. Wild. Terrified. Helpless. It was that look—
That one look. That shattered the capture on her limbs.
Her elbow surged backward, slamming with every ounce of her strength into Ankoku’s gut. Instead of a solid thud, there was a sickening give — like driving her arm into a rotten log. Something hollow caved beneath the impact, wet and unnatural. A rancid, syrupy warmth gushed over her elbow and soaked into the sleeve of her robe, thick with the stink of decayed flesh. Ankoku let out a guttural roar — a beastly, rasping shriek that rattled the air itself. The sound clawed at the night as he recoiled.
With a vicious flick, Ankoku violently hurled her aside. His arm coiled and snapped like a whip, launching her through the air with terrifying ease as he sprung into the canopy. The world somersaulted. Sky, branches, and river blurred into a nauseating carousel. Wind howled past her ears; leaves tore at her skin and just as she braced for bone-breaking impact, arms caught her.
Inuyasha’s grip wrapped around her in midair, shaking with adrenaline. His feet hit the riverbank hard, the gritty stones skidding beneath him as he planted himself like a wall between her and the void. They crashed into the earth in a controlled slide, his robe fanning behind him as his knees bent and body twisted to shield her from every angle.
“Kagome!” Inuyasha’s voice cracked, raw with a panic. He dropped to his knees in a blur, arms sweeping around her frame. He pulled her into him with desperation. Her limbs trembled in his hold, her body slack with shock, breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. She could barely process the warmth of him against her, the way the rough fabric of his fire-rat robe scratched lightly against her cheek. Her vision was still spotting, the edges dark, but the moment she felt the steadiness of his heartbeat pounding against her side, her own began to sync with his.
He cupped her face with both hands, bracketing her cheeks. His thumbs brushed over her skin, calloused but trembling, tracing along the lines of her jaw and the column of her throat, searching — for blood, for bruises, for proof that she was still whole. His wide golden eyes were filled with so much fear, so much fury and unspoken grief, that it twisted something deep in her chest.
“Kagome…” he whispered again, his voice fraying at the edges.
A breath of raw relief finally escaped him when he found no wounds, the beast's teeth never nicked her skin. His shoulders sagged for half a heartbeat and then his arms wrapped tight around her again, claws digging into the fabric of her robes.
“Inuyasha!” Miroku called out, his voice tight with urgency as he darted across the churned soil, staff clinking faintly at his side. His breath hitched when he saw them — the way Inuyasha cradled Kagome like something fragile and sacred. “Kagome, are you alright?”
The monk’s gaze lingered, flicking between the trembling girl and the raw intensity in Inuyasha’s posture. The hanyō’s bare feet were braced against the river stones, his body hunched protectively around her, silver hair veiling them both like a barrier of moonlight.
“I—I’m okay, but my hand…” Kagome’s voice was barely audible, a whisper threaded with pain. Her fingers curled weakly as she spoke, each movement sending a wave of white-hot agony crawling up her arm.
Inuyasha pulled back just enough to see, brows drawing low in concentration as he scanned the swelling. His lips parted, but he said nothing — just clenched his jaw and turned slightly to block her view of the mangled bow lying nearby. The weapon that had always been an extension of her — now splintered in defeat, its arc snapped in two like a fallen branch.
Sango moved up beside Miroku, her breath catching as she surveyed the wreckage of the clearing. “It seems he fled,” she murmured, her hand tightening on Hiraikotsu as her gaze scanned the shadows beyond the trees.
The hanyō’s body quaked as he exhaled sharply, voice rough and bitter. “Of course he fucking ran.” The words left him like a growl, low and dripping with malice. He held Kagome tighter, arms curling under her legs and around her back as he gathered her against his chest again.
As he rose, her body shifted slightly, and the scent hit her full force — rot, blood, and the clinging stench of corrupted flesh. Her stomach lurched.
“I need a shower,” Kagome managed to choke out, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. But the nausea rose swift and unrelenting. She turned her head as much as she could and vomited, barely managing to miss his robes. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, her voice cracking.
“Don’t say that — how many times have I told you,” he murmured, but his voice had softened, smoothing into something just short of tender. Still, she felt his arms tense around her — not in anger, but in helplessness. He couldn’t shield her from what she’d been through, and it burned him from the inside.
Everything felt wrong. Her head thumped dully against his shoulder, the pounding rhythm of it echoing the chaos still spinning in her gut. Her vision swam. Her skin was slick with sweat and grime, and the grotesque stench on her arm made her want to crawl out of it.
“Can you… take me to the river?” she whispered, swallowing hard against the knot in her throat.
Inuyasha didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. With a shift of his weight and a subtle tightening of his grip, he was already moving — gliding through the trees with fluid urgency. His bare feet barely made a sound as they pounded the earth, his breath steady even though she could feel the fury still simmering in his muscles.
When they reached the water's edge, the world felt quiet again — but it was a hollow kind of stillness. The moon hung above, casting silver reflections across the dark water like fractured glass. Inuyasha crouched, carefully kneeling at the edge, ready to lower her to the stones.
But Kagome shook her head, exhaustion and revulsion weighing on her like chains.
A dry, humorless laugh slipped out of her. “Just… set me in the water, Inuyasha,” she said. For a heartbeat, he only looked at her — golden eyes scanning her face like he was memorizing it, searching for any sign of real damage. Then, without hesitation, he stood and stepped into the river, wading through the shallows.
The moment her body broke the surface, the river coiled around her like an icy serpent. A gasp tore through her lips at the shock. It was late summer — the water had no business being so cold. The current curled hungrily around her limbs, gliding past her ribs, stealing warmth and breath in equal measure.
She clung instinctively to his shoulders at first, but her eyes were drawn downward — to the black smear clinging to her clothes and skin. The slime oozed across her arm, pulsing faintly, as though it were still alive. It didn’t slide off in the current. It clung. Almost… possessively.
She plunged her hand beneath the surface, scrubbing with frantic, splashing motions. It wasn’t enough. The slime slithered like oil over her skin, catching in the fabric of her robes, stretching in stringy, sickening strands that stuck like cobwebs from her elbow to her wrist.
“Disgusting,” she muttered, teeth gritted. Her patience cracked.
In one sharp, furious motion, she peeled the outer layer of her robes from her shoulders, casting them aside. The sodden fabric hit the water with a slap and began to drift, heavy and limp like a dead thing.
The cold bit deeper into her now-exposed skin, but she didn’t flinch. She reached back down and scrubbed harder, the river’s current finally beginning to strip the remnants away. Her fingers trembled, purging the filth away.
Inuyasha held her close. His hands steady, arms wrapped around her back and knees, holding her weight against him. He said nothing, but she could feel it — the way his jaw clenched above her shoulder. The way his breath shuddered every time she scrubbed her skin raw. The way his claws dug faintly against the skin above her ribs. He shifted his stance, subtly angling her away from the riverbank and the lingering eyes behind them. His presence formed a silent barrier but he allowed his own gaze to wonder. Her pearl-pale skin, usually unmarred, was now stained with angry bruises that deepened with every passing breath.
His ears twitched, flattening tightly against his skull. The tendons in his neck stood rigid, jaw clenched.
“I should have never let him—” he began, the words thick with guilt.
“You couldn’t have known,” she cut in gently, her voice hoarse but steady. She didn’t look at him when she said it, but the words wrapped around him like a balm—one he didn’t feel he deserved. “I think that’s the best I can do for now… I need my bag. This water is freezing.”
Her shiver wasn’t subtle. Without waiting another second, Inuyasha cradled her close, the sleeve of his robe shielding her decency as he stepped from the river with powerful, fluid strides. Water streamed from his clothes as he set her down carefully on the soft mossy bank. The moment she was steady, her unscathed hand reached for her satchel, fingers trembling from more than just the cold. She rustled through it with clumsy urgency, fishing out a fresh hakama and kosode. Inuyasha averted his eyes the best he could as he remained a wall of warmth between her and the rest of the world.
The wet garments clung to her like second skin, peeling away with resistance. She hissed softly as the fabric tore away from bruises she hadn’t even realized were there—sprawling across her thighs, curling along her ribs. The chill of the night clung to her damp skin, making her breath fog in the air. She dressed slowly, each movement deliberate, her hand still aching and awkward.
Then she felt it—Inuyasha’s claws brushing softly against one of the worst bruises on her shoulder, light enough to be reverent.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and his voice was barely more than a breath.
Kagome shifted, suppressing a wince as she accidentally pinched her injured hand between the folds of her bag. Her teeth clenched. The pain radiated upward, flaring hot and sharp, but she said nothing.
She realized then that he hadn’t moved. Not when she began to change. Not when she finished tying the last knot of her dry kosode. He remained there, unmoving, his silhouette tense in the moonlight—watching over her like a silent sentry. The others lingered in the distance, hushed. She could feel their concern hanging in the air, but none dared intrude.
And then after a few more moments, soft footsteps crunched over the stones.
Miroku approached cautiously, the tip of his staff dragging lightly across the earth. Kagome turned just in time to see Inuyasha bristle. His shoulders stiffened, golden eyes narrowing like daggers in the monk’s direction.
Miroku hesitated mid-step, sensing it immediately.
“Inuyasha,” he said, his voice measured now, “We must get her back to the village. Her hand may be broken—and Kaede’s the only one who’d know how to set it properly.”
The words hung in the still air, weighted with quiet urgency. Kagome glanced sideways and caught the faint twitch in Inuyasha’s jaw. Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes—resentment, perhaps, or something more complex. Possessiveness? Regret?
A frown tugged at her lips. Then he exhaled. Shoulders sagging slightly, he nodded once.
“Yeah, absolutely,” he muttered, voice rough but willing. The agreement sounded simple enough, but there was something about it—something caught just beneath the surface. Miroku’s brows knit slightly, confusion washing over his face. He stared a moment longer, as if trying to decipher what had passed unspoken between them.
Without a word, Inuyasha unfastened his outer robe, whatever remaining water rolled off with ease, leaving it dry. He gently wrapped it around Kagome’s trembling frame, careful not to brush her injured hand. The fabric, thick and warm with his scent, folded around her like a cocoon. She blinked at him sluggishly, her lashes sticking together from the moisture clinging to them. Her eyes, round and glistening in the moonlight, found his and held. His chest ached, sorrow tugging the corners of his mouth as reached and gently tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered for just a breath, then soft movement, he bent slightly and cradled her against his chest. Adjusting her carefully, he was mindful as to not jostle her hand or press against her bruises. Her breath ghosted warmly against his collarbone as she tucked her face close, her skin still clammy with chill. With a single exhale, Inuyasha turned and began walking.
His bare feet moved with instinctive quiet through the mud-slick path, toes spreading for balance as the earth softened beneath him. Behind them, the others followed—Miroku and Sango quiet as shadows, their gazes dark with exhaustion and thoughts they hadn’t yet voiced. Even Kirara padded silently, her flame markings dulled under the gloom.
The first drops of rain fell with hesitant taps against the leaves above. They broke like whispers on the tree canopy—cool, featherlight. Then, the skies surrendered fully. Clouds churned in from the east, low and heavy, cloaking the stars behind a silvery shroud. The night was swallowed whole. Only the rain came harder—no longer gentle but insistent. It sheeted around them, weaving itself into the fabric of the night like a mourning veil. Their footsteps became muffled under the hiss of water, the smell of wet bark and churned soil rising thick into the air.
Kagome had slipped into a fragile sleep, her chest rising in a gentle rhythm, lips slightly parted. She pressed unconsciously against the warmth of Inuyasha’s chest, her face nestled in the hollow between his collarbone and jaw. Damp bangs clung to her forehead, dark and fine. The fire-rat robe did its part, swathing the rest of her in dry, insulating warmth. His body curled a little tighter around hers to shield her not just from the elements, but also from everything that had touched her that night. When dawn began to stir somewhere behind the curtain of rain, its light could not break through. The world remained gray and dim, wrapped in the hush of aftermath.