Chapter Text
Inuyasha was woken up by the sound of hundreds of shuffling feet and loud voices. Fuck, he thought, Reaping day.
He was up late last night. A last minute job transporting contraband items into the black market. He was paid a lot in rations to do it, but he didn’t go to bed until the sun rose. In the end, Inuyasha hardly regretted it; the people in power did their best to limit lower districts like Twelve in almost every aspect: even minor conveniences like cheap, reheatable food. His eyes found the bowls of instant ramen he got to keep from last night’s haul.
The rotting wood that made up the roof of his shitty house allowed the sun to peek through in jagged lines across the floor. The beam of light hit him right in his eyes and he cowered away from it like the nocturnal creature that he was.
He looked at the dingy digital clock in the corner of his room. It told him that it was fifteen minutes before eleven in the morning. If he didn’t get to the town square soon, some Peacekeepers were sure to come and drag him out by the hair. A sad excuse for law enforcement indeed, the Peacekeepers were a warped group of assholes that relished in carrying out their duties in the cruelest way. Bastards, he thought spitefully.
Kagome threaded the thick locks of Rin’s jet black hair into a neat braid that hugged her hairline. Earlier, Kagome was sitting in front of her mother in the same scenario, eyes closed as she got lost in the feeling of her mother’s experienced hands plaiting her hair in a bunch at the crown of her head. The light of dawn had been streamed through the windows and onto their faces, giving the moment a serene quality that she cherished. She needed to wake up earlier than her younger siblings so that she could focus her attention on getting them ready for the day ahead.
Even if Rin could have asked their mom to braid her hair, she always requested that Kagome do it instead.
Her adoptive sister was silent beneath her hands this time, which was abnormal. Rin was a natural chatterbox, ready to talk about the most innocuous subjects just to keep herself busy. Kagome knew why Rin was so quiet this morning—she turned 12 years old a couple of months ago, and it was the first year she had to worry about having her name drawn as a tribute for the Hunger Games. Ironically, it was the final day Kagome ever had to worry about being called herself since she was eighteen already, and she was ready to thank her lucky stars if she exited the town plaza unscathed.
“Beyond the flowered meadow,” Kagome began to sing in a soft legato, hoping to coax her sister’s spirits up, “I see my parents’ homes…”
She could feel Rin begin to sway her feet below her, shoulders bunching up in excitement. It was usually a challenge to weave her sister’s hair whenever she asked because Rin was so naturally radiant, unable to sit still. As Kagome struggled to finish the last of the braided halo, she smiled despite herself.
“Your body’s cloaked in petals,” Rin sang after her, giggles bubbling up on her lips. “Fall asleep—”
“And you’ll wake up safe and warm. We get it,” Sota cut them off, arms crossed defiantly as he leaned against the doorway. “Don’t you know what today is?”
Kagome tried to stifle her answering scowl; she knew her brother meant no harm, not truly. He was scared too. She leaned down and kissed Rin’s head instead. “I think we all know what today is.”
Inuyasha left his house in the clothes he slept in and threw on some shoes haphazardly. Everyone dressed in their Sunday best for Reaping Day (which he thinks is a stupid idea on principle), but he didn’t even have a weekday best, so whatever he could wear that wasn’t in tatters had to do. His shoes didn’t look too fucked up. He jogged through the deserted town to reach the bulky crowd, age groups lined up in rows and attendance being taken by officers with bug-like helmets sitting behind dinky picnic tables.
He hated reaping day. He has enough to be concerned with without being picked for the annual death match between 24 shit-scared teens. He could smell the perspiration and anxiety coming off of everyone in a musky cloud, it was the kind of putrid scent that would throw someone’s nerves into a frenzy and trigger a fight or flight response. Inuyasha had to push down the feelings of unease as a Peacekeeper roughly grabbed his hand and smeared his thumb in ink. All of these tedious steps to prove that yes, he was here, doubly confirmed by a fingerprint that they could compare to the 6 other prints he’s given since he’s been old enough to become a tribute.
As soon as Inuyasha was released to the sea of people, he didn’t bother going to his age group. He could see and hear everything just fine where he was. The sooner everything was over with, the sooner he could get back to sleep. Or, he could be carted away to his death. It was a 50/50 chance.
If he pretended that the situation isn’t as dire, he doesn’t have to face the fact that he can die if his name is picked. Although Inuyasha has nothing to live for, he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t want to die, especially not at the Capitol’s hands.
The number of conversations happening around him started to irritate his senses. Inuyasha didn’t have anyone to talk to that would drown out the noise. Not sure where to put his attention, he just looked at the stage in front of him.
A woman was standing at the podium in the middle of the stage. She was wearing the same high ponytail she sported every year, complemented by an expensive looking outfit. Her collar had some kind of flourishing floral embroidery, with elaborate beadwork that must have taken a poor tailor hours to do. She might look delicate at first glance, but Inuyasha could tell she was the furthest thing from gentle; the set in her jaw spoke for itself.
Based on what he’s seen of the Capitol on television, her outfit could be considered subtle.
Sango, as everyone was allowed to call her, was feared by children of ages 12-18 ever since she was first enlisted to manage District 12’s elects. She escorted tributes to the Capital and took care of them until they—without fail—died weeks later.
Sango’s presence was effectively an omen. Inuyasha couldn’t wait for her to leave, because he wouldn’t have to face her again after this.
“Excuse me,” her voice boomed from several speakers surrounding the area. His ears pulled back at the loud noise. The crowd piped down almost immediately. “The time has come for the 74th Hunger Games,” she declared, and he watched her eyes squint critically at the children District 12 had to offer. There was a twitch in her otherwise iron-clad appearance, which probably meant they looked terrible. As they always did. He already knew what she was going to say next. Sango said it every year with an emotionless drawl, looking sincerely tired of the phrase herself. Inuyasha assumed it was something the Capital forced her to say.
“And may the odds be…” a loud sob came from the crowd, making her stop and clear her throat awkwardly. “...ever in your favor.”
Everyone was quieted by the irony of that expression, even Sango. Her face was hardened like stone.
The lack of noise made Inuyasha incredibly anxious. He wanted to go home, go to sleep, and forget the bullshit. This could just be just another morning for him if he doesn’t get picked. If he is picked…he doesn’t want to think about it because he knows. He lives a meaningless life now, if he dies it wouldn’t change anything.
Why was she waiting so long to speak again?
A resounding burp broke the silence. The reintroduction of sound sapped the tension from the plaza and replaced it with the erratic feelings of fear that was so obvious before. Slumped on a chair was the only mentor their humble district had to offer, Miroku. A man who won 15 years ago was now seen as the town drunk. Inuyasha was pretty sure Miroku was never sober enough to be useful. Miroku might even look worse than Inuyasha: disheveled hair mussed about his shoulders, his shirt completely wrinkled and half untucked, and the laces of his dress shoes untied to boot.
Inuyasha watched as Miroku glanced over to Sango at the podium, statuesque and unimpressed. She met his gaze and pointedly looked at his feet. He glanced down at them with a confused frown, his brows shooting up when he saw his laces. He crouched to fix them.
“Ahem,” Sango turned away and coughed again, “Let’s get on with it.”
Subtle cries were heard across the crowd. Scared children, probably, who had just become eligible for the games. They cry the most.
“Shhhh, Sota,” His ears could pick up anything, but he was most attuned to familiar voices. “It's okay, you survived 3 years already…”
He looked over and noticed Kagome Higurashi a ways away, the eldest granddaughter of the town minister. She didn’t seem keen on staying with her age group, either. She was kneeling and soothing not only her 15-year-old squirt of a brother but an even younger sibling that Inuyasha couldn't recognize. She was small, and cried silently, which was fucking eerie.
Inuyasha only knew Kagome because they were the same age and went to school together, that is until he was allowed to drop out. It was their last year that either of their names could be pulled, by next summer both of them would be nineteen. He’ll never have to deal with this shit again unless he has kids in the future. Highly unlikely.
Kagome has always been extremely nice to him, even though he was a dick for a great deal of their childhood. Nearly everyone else was a dick to him, though, so—fair’s fair.
He was trying to get by on his own the best way he could as a kid. His mother died when he was eight, his father died even earlier than that. Putting on a show of strength and violence when he was probably 60 pounds when wet was an effective redirection. Some shittier, more perceptive people called him on it; he got his ass handed to him a lot when he was younger.
Inuyasha secretly hoped Kagome didn't get picked, maybe afterward he could actually speak with her for real for once in his life (he may or may not have tried multiple times) without imploding.
“Ladies first,” Sango called into the crowd of cowering families.
She stuck her hand into a large bowl, which was a pool full of names of every eligible candidate. As residents age, another slip with their name on it is added to the bowl. If they got government assistance, their name would be added more times. Inuyasha thinks his name was in the boys’ bowl at least 100 times. He's not sure.
There was the shuffling of paper. Sango unraveled the tiny scroll and read the name. “Rin Noto.”
Sango had spent her morning dry heaving over a toilet while dawn started its trek over the horizon. The last few days commuting to District Twelve went by in a flurry, as they often do in her experience as a tribute escort. Even as the years continue to roll on, she still gets queasy every Reaping, and she thinks it’s because she’ll be seeing Miroku again after an entire year. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s plucking two fresh kids from a lineup and bringing them into an intimidating arena when she hasn’t managed to get even one of her past tributes to win yet.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
Better than four kids per district, like Miroku’s Quarter Quell—Sango remembered being in high school, crumpling her homework in her hands on her living room rug as she watched someone from her own district spear the direct center of his palm with a knife. She rose to her knees right at the moment that Two’s final tribute met their end with the very same knife.
Meeting Miroku was supposed to be fun, but what her fresh-faced self had hoped to be a winning combination for the kids of Twelve turned out to be this dark, swirling relationship. It was the perfect distraction frankly, what keeps her on hinge during a time when she comes to expect disappointment by default. He still makes her get up on her knees, somehow.
So, she gussied up, wore a nice suit, tied her hair back in something elaborate, and did some makeup for the Reaping. Maybe it’ll be different this year.
Maybe it won’t be, the thought arrived unbidden.
So of course, the first person she calls today is a child. Sango can find her almost immediately because she has siblings and they’re swarming her in a frenzy. Her stomach roiled inside of her and uncovers that familiar, defeated feeling her job gives her creeping up. How could she save this one?
Kagome gasped as soon as Sango spoke the words. Inuyasha looked at her, and then he looked at the Peacekeepers. The armed guards walked down from the stage, and masses of relieved people parted the way for them to take the child that wasn’t them.
“No,” Kagome whispered, and Inuyasha kept staring, he watched her grasp the little girl’s shoulders, bent at the knees beside her. “Rin, I will figure this out. I promise.”
Inuyasha balked. Figure this out? There was no changing it. Rin was called.
Kagome swiftly stood, turning to the guards who had approached. Funnily enough, Rin’s face was dry of any tears, and she didn’t even utter a plea for her life before she just began to walk with them.
“Rin, no!” Sota called.
“Uh,” Kagome began to stammer, hands fidgeting in front of her. Then she locked eyes with Sango, and she was already moving toward the stage. She didn't look at her brother, but she called out to him as she seemed to contemplate chasing after Rin. “I love you Sota, I'm sorry—”
The guards and Rin got closer to Sango; her face impassive.
Kagome ran forward with urgency, pushing through the crowd and bravely putting a hand on the man who held Rin’s arm.
She made a choice.
“I volunteer!” She practically screamed at Sango, shoving her other hand out as if the woman was going to take it. Everyone burst into conversation, gossiping about a situation that was happening before their very eyes. Inuyasha’s body tensed up like a rod.
Kagome is going into the arena. Kagome will die.
Sango’s brows raised, her face softening with what Inuyasha interpreted as admiration. He was still completely frozen. Her voice poured out slowly over the microphone, Kagome’s sudden sacrifice causing the entire crowd to quiet down once again. “Take the girl back, we have a volunteer.”
Rin, who was complacent the whole time, ran from between the large men and hugged Kagome’s legs.
“No, please!” she cried in a shrill voice, “I don’t want you to do that!”
Kagome leaned over, cradling the crown of her head. The loving gesture was distantly familiar to him, like a hazy dream. “I want to do this for you.”
“Promise you’ll come back.”
“...I promise,” It was a small whisper.
“Time’s up,” The man gripped Kagome by the collar and began to pull her away. In response, Kagome shoved her shoulder into the guard’s torso, dislodging herself.
“Excuse me, sir. I can walk by myself.”
“Little bitch.” Inuyasha heard the man say under his breath, but he did not touch her again. Everyone pretended it was never uttered.
Kagome took her place beside Sango, a single tear running down her face. He watched her attempt to blink it away. Sango looked over at the girl and nodded a little awkwardly.
“That was a nice thing you did.” Kagome traded her own life for a young girl’s—it wasn’t just an act of decorum.
Kagome looked over pointedly, brows knitting together. Sango quickly looked away and walked over to the boy’s pot.
Watching Sango move to pick a male tribute felt like déjà vu. Inuyasha could remember every time in his life when he watched her do this. He was eighteen, self-sufficient now—but he still reacted the same way he did when he was twelve and it was his first Reaping.
His heart was beating like a hammer, panging in his chest and adding to the tingling, all-encompassing nervousness in his body. His throat was tight. He balled up his fists to calm the nerves he was ashamed to possess. He tried to stamp down on his overactive imagination, conjuring up the many ways things could end if he was picked—
“Time for the boys,” she announced and reached in. The chattering crowd hushed once more, awaiting their fate.
Her hand rustled in the pile of names, digging into the papers.
“Alright,” she mumbled. “This is it.”
He closed his eyes again. He knows it. He feels it.
She unraveled the piece of paper, reading the words before her. “Inuyasha Taisho.”
Every face turned to him because everyone in this gods forsaken place knew he was the town tramp. He inhaled and exhaled deeply in frustration, staring coldly at the nosy people around him. Before he was forcefully taken by the menacing guards ahead of him, Inuyasha walked to the stage in silence and stood next to Sango. His mind was blank as he scanned the view from the stage. The crowd was huge, but they looked so small, packed together tightly. He glanced critically at Miroku, then Sango, then...
He turned his head to look at Kagome, and she met his gaze. He felt his ear twitch in recognition; he was slightly startled but stared back. The slight pout on her face turned into a full-on frown, and two more tears came down. She shook her head and looked away.
“There you have it, your tributes.”
The crowd cleared quickly to the beat of everyone’s murmured relief; entire families comforted their successors will live to see another year.
Inuyasha was shoved into a room by some grumpy Peacekeepers. He only had five minutes before they came back to get him.
This meant that he had a few moments of utter silence before he was shipped off to the Capital with Kagome. The complete stillness in the room he was forced to be in was awkward and oppressive.
The space was completely bare, save for a chair to sit on and a desk beside it. False comforts. Inuyasha chose to stand out of spite.
He could hear Kagome and her family in the opposite room, her grandfather seemed to be praying in a harsh whisper. Everybody else in the room was weeping. Feeling like a creep for listening in on a private moment like that, Inuyasha began to pace within the cramped space. He resorted to pushing out the sad energy coming from Kagome and her family with his morbidity.
Objectively, Inuyasha could have a good chance. Weighing his strengths, he was pretty resilient and he’s heard from some of the shady guys he works with that he has a pretty thick skull. That means he can take a beating, right? He was a half-demon, so of course, he can. A shallow cut on his arm is healed within minutes, if not seconds. But, no one likes half-demons. So, he’ll probably get targeted more than anyone else (unless there were plenty of half-demons to go around, which was a fucking impossibility).
Fuck.
His memory jogged itself and he recalls the problem of the arena. The Capital changed the scenery every year. Inuyasha hoped, even considered praying, for a woodsy arena. It would be perfect for him. There was no tree that he couldn’t climb, his sense of smell would be top-notch…
If there were woods he could live.
In the middle of his daydream, there were approaching stomps coming closer to the door.
A guard came into Inuyasha’s room, voice ready to scold. “Get ready to leave—oh. You’re alone.”
Inuyasha, who had become tense for a second, deflated completely. This man wasn’t anyone to be afraid of. He couldn’t help the exasperated expression he directed at the Peacekeeper.
No shit.
“Don’ worry, I’m not tryna stay in this tiny shithole.” Inuyasha crossed his arms and kicked the leg of the table beside him for good measure.
“Yeah, you’re all big and grand. Come on, asshole.” He was grabbed by the shoulder by the clumsy guard and pushed forward.
Across from him, another officer was escorting Kagome’s family out with a bit more reverence. Her mother and grandfather were despondent, Rin in between them. Sota stayed at the edge of the door, calling out for his sister, gripping the frame.
"I’m going to be waiting for you, Kagome.”
Kagome’s face was wretched. Her hand was placed over her heart in an effort to calm herself as she took in what was probably her final sight of her brother. The visible pressure of her hand on her chest is seen in the wrinkles she created on her shirt, it looked like she was trying to untangle a knot in her heart. “I love you, Sota. Take care of everyone.”
She was holding back her sob, but it came through in her voice anyway. Inuyasha thought he would look away, he hated seeing people so helpless, but there he was stock still, watching the rawness of the moment in sick fascination.
One of the men grabbed Sota by the arm and started to drag him away. “Kagome, you have to come back, no matter what!” Sota’s flare of confidence almost made it seem like he wasn’t sniveling at the reaping less than an hour ago. Inuyasha was impressed by his swift turnaround.
Kagome looked up at Inuyasha, a desperate expression on her face, as if he were going to give her an answer to a question she hasn’t even asked yet. She got out of her daze within seconds. Her eyes closed. Her hand dropped.
Time almost felt like it was slowing down; the world as he and Kagome knew it was experiencing an apocalypse. They were irrevocably anchored to each other now. Either one of them or neither of them will come back.
Kagome’s family was now gone, and so were the Peacekeepers. It was just the two of them in the stretching hallway, surrounded by old wood floors and the chipping paint on the walls. Even though she seems like the type to fill the silence on principle, Kagome remained quiet. Her eyes were still closed. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, fingers clenched in her skirt. Her body was crumpling in on itself, her shoulders hunching to assist.
Inuyasha noticed that he was looking to her for guidance. If she talked he can nod or grunt in response, and forget what’s happening. He doesn’t feel like grasping his heart in his hands right now like her. His body tingles, panicking, searching for something to feel and hold onto like Kagome does so earnestly, but he is numb. How long are they going to wait there? Neither of them knows.
Time floats on carelessly, an ominous ticking clock going in the background. He doesn't know how many minutes pass.
“Let’s go, kids.” Miroku appeared in the hallway to fetch them. The sound broke through the persistent hiss that shut down his brain.
“Okay,” Kagome whispered, straightening to look at their mentor.
As Miroku began to lead them, Inuyasha yelled at himself. Why would you get so fucking lost like that? Of course you’re going to die.
He zoned out because he was scared. But he can’t be scared. But he’s really scared.
The weathered hallway goes on forever until a door seemingly appears out of nowhere, an unsatisfying oasis. Kagome voiced his reluctant relief with her sigh.
They walked side by side and out of the back doors of the town’s justice building. They were close enough for her shoulder to brush against him, which shook him. Looking at her to judge distance, he put a respectable amount of space between them. She was wearing a very modest outfit, a turtleneck with long sleeves and a skirt that reached her ankles. Her clothes were neat and colored in matching shades of brown and Inuyasha felt a moment of shame, quickly turning his head. His outfit was wrinkled and old, something his father used to own but it billowed on him. He had to roll up the sleeves to his elbows to look halfway decent. He shoved it from his mind—why the fuck does he care how he looks now?
Down the path was the bullet train, chromatic and sleek.
“This is going to be the ride of your life,” Miroku commented with his arm fanning out in a sweeping gesture as he faced them and walked backward, “Get ready for culture shock.” He was surprised the man was so agile while inebriated.
Sango was standing at the threshold of the train. There was a pristine clipboard in her hands and a sympathetic look on her face. “Sorry that was such a short encounter, but hopefully one of you will be seeing your family again.”
Kagome looked at him quickly, and then down at her feet in shame.
“C’mon.” Miroku gestured. “This train travels straight through all the districts and into the Capital.”
Everyone stepped into the first car and Inuyasha was shocked by the interior. It was luxurious, way better than anything they’d find in town.
“Your rooms are right next to each other, in the next car,” Sango guided everyone forward. She walked and pointed at doors and gestured at areas of the train to give a brief description of what would be their home for around 4 days. “This is the dining room.”
“Living room.” Cushy sofas were placed underneath the car windows with a TV directly across them.
“My room.” A plain door.
“Miroku’s room.” Yet another door, close to Sango’s.
“Fitness center.” An open space with weight training equipment.
“Bathroom.” One of many.
“Sunroom.” It was the very edge of the train, with large windows that allowed light to cover the room in a comforting, almost nap-inducing way. A curved sofa, a kind which Inuyasha had never seen before, was against the wall with a small table near it.
Sango turned and looked at her troops, a slight frown on her face. “We have a little while on this train, so get comfortable. There are chefs and other amenities at your disposal because the capital wants you to be at your healthiest when you reach the arena.”
“So pig out,” Miroku said plainly.
“Pig out?” Kagome repeated slowly. Inuyasha turned to see her expression and felt her anger when her eyes narrowed.
“Yes, of course. You would be at a disadvantage if we let you two go into battle malnourished,” Sango replied with a nod.
Inuyasha resented that statement. They’re from one of the poorest districts, with only one previous victor who was a lush. They weren’t exactly at the top tier of the competition.
“Oh, I think we’re already at a disadvantage,” he spat. “It’s not like we’re from District 2, where they eat shit like nails for breakfast.”
Sango shifted uncomfortably, a hand coming up to rub her side.
Miroku snorted and agreed wholeheartedly, “It comes with the territory of a military district.”
“It’s bullshit!” he replied.
“Can either of you give us any techniques for survival?” Kagome asked seriously, cutting the atmosphere.
The late morning sun bathed the room in a warm light that did not fit the heated conversation taking place. Inuyasha had an inkling that he wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy any of the luxuries the Capitol offered on principle.
“There will be plenty of time for that; you guys can just rest for tonight.” Sango soothed, trying to change the topic.
“Well, the other people who were chosen to go in the games…” she paused. “They never came back. I just want to know if you two have genuine advice.”
Miroku spoke for Sango, bringing up a hushing finger to stop her retort which made her roll her eyes. He put up a hand to calm Kagome, which made her roll her eyes too.
“Listen, enjoy yourself. Eat ‘til you pass out. Watch television. Take baths. Fuck each other or something.” Kagome’s face began transforming into a scowl, but her cheeks flushed and so did Inuyasha’s. “It’s going to be tough. You either hide ‘til the show is over, which is almost impossible, or you die because the other kids are well fed and trained for this crap.”
“We need your help!” Kagome shot back. “You’re supposed to train us and tell us how to survive, not tell us to pig out because death is around the corner!”
“Sweetheart,” Miroku placated, “If anything, you might want to depend on this guy,” he gestured in Inuyasha’s direction. “He has a fighting chance, he’s a demon.”
Half-demon.
“This is not fair,” she argued, “You’re leaving us by ourselves. This is why all of Twelve’s tributes die.”
“I had to go alone,” he offered in consolation, shrugging.
“That is no excuse!”
Miroku stared back at her. “And?”
Kagome groaned and abruptly walked through the door behind them, presumably to her room. Her stomps echoed until she was too far away to be heard.
Sango sighed, “How many times have I told you that your idiotic anti-pep talk never works?”
“You’ve been telling me for 5 straight years.” His voice was devoid of emotion. Inuyasha expected to hear malice in his tone, but the man just seemed resigned.
“My point was made, again.”
“We can’t coddle them like this is their first day of school.”
They were speaking as if Inuyasha wasn’t in the room. Were he and Kagome so interchangeable that they don’t care to distinguish their presence?
“Fine,” she shook her head, “but not everyone wants the rug pulled from under them, even those who know they’re going to die.”
Did Kagome know she was going to die? He didn’t think much about that. He didn’t even entertain the thought of her surviving instead of him. Would he be okay with that? He looked away from the two adults and out the window. What prospects did she have to win? Barely any training in fighting, extremely kind almost to a fault. But her family wants her back. So she was trying.
Nowhere to look, Inuyasha stared at the carpet under his feet.
“Hey,” Miroku called him.
Inuyasha looked up. “Yeah?”
“Go after her,” Sango advised, “She’s technically your partner until you reach the arena. Everything would be a lot easier if you two got along and she wasn’t in a sour mood thanks to this guy,” she pointed at Miroku and he crossed his arms.
“Easy for who?” He asked resentfully. Sango opened her mouth and Miroku rolled his eyes. “She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at you.”
Inuyasha immediately left. He wasn't sure how long he could stay in a room with those two sizing him up constantly. His main goal was to make it to his room instead of consoling Kagome. While he didn't feel any animosity towards her, he's simply not comfortable with crying of any sort.
Sango glared at him with a ferocity he’s gotten used to. Her self-righteousness was endearing to him, although it was frustrating at first. Growing up so close to the Capitol’s clutches left her naïve, and he saw her spirit get chipped away every time they lost another tribute to the arena. But they’ve gotten pretty good at finding comfort in one another.
“Trust me,” he tried to console her somewhat, an arm coming up to her shoulder, “it’s better that they know immediately.”
The frustration on her face was clear as day, even as liquor acted as a steady burning ember in his stomach, blurring the edges of everything around him. And yet he still found her beautiful when she was mad at him.
“They already know, Miroku,” she walked away from his grip and turned to face him completely. “There’s literally no way they don’t know their lives hang in the balance.”
“I was completely resigned to my fate.” He recalled having a mentor on loan from another district, how she barely made eye contact with him and told him nothing. The escort he had was no better, some salt-haired aspiring politician that also appeared to be too preoccupied to share any meaningful advice. Miroku made it out through pure luck. And that was the most depressing thing of all.
Just like every mention of his time as a tribute, Sango’s beautiful face softened considerably. “Isn’t it in our power to make things better for them now? Better than you had it?”
He smiled at her bitterly. “It will never be better, not in this world.”
Inuyasha had been in his room for a while. When he first got there, he ransacked the entire place just because it looked so nice. After that, he watched some TV, but he felt so disconnected from the content that he just turned it off. He had also left his room to check out the athletics section of the train, just for the fuck of it. In the end, he decided on a nap because he barely slept the night before anyway.
Now that he has woken up, he was trying to think of the most exotic and extravagant food to order from the kitchen. His eating habits are sporadic at best and seldom expensive. Right now, the food was not only fancy but free, and Inuyasha was going to take full advantage.
There was a knocking at the door. Maybe if he ignored it...
Inuyasha resumed counting the tiles on the ceiling that he started earlier. 75, 76, 77...
Another knock.
78, 79—a fourth knock, he’d been keeping track of those too.
At this point, four knocks are just pitiful. Deciding to have mercy, he listened closely and tried to decipher who it is. He already had a feeling, though. The ear nearest to the door twisted and twitched her way as he began to listen intently.
Behind the door, there was soft breathing. The person’s clothes were rustling; a sign they were fidgeting.
“Okay,” he heard her whisper to herself. There was a small tremor in her voice. “One more time.”
He couldn’t bring himself to be very irritated at his intruder. It was Kagome.
“Come in,” he called before she could knock again.
Clumsily, her hand accidentally jiggled the knob before she opened the door. He watched her enter. She had been crying before. Her eyes were puffy and the tip of her nose was slightly reddened.
“Hi, Inuyasha,” she smiled at him. “I'm sorry for interrupting you. I know we haven't talked in a while, and now we're basically being shipped off to die, but…”
Inuyasha didn't move and just held her gaze. He didn't want to frighten her and stop her rambling.
“I don't know.” She sighed and put a weary hand on her forehead. She paused for a minute, continuing to look back at him. She made herself speak. “Can I...hang out with you?”
She said it very quickly, very nervously. He could see her lean from one foot to the other, obviously itching to do something.
There was no reason why Kagome would cry if he told her no, but he didn’t want to risk it.
“...Okay,” he agreed. It wouldn’t hurt. Maybe she’ll have valuable opinions on food.
She finally stepped into his room and sat down on a chair adjacent to his bed. She was wringing her hands together.
“How are you?” He decided to ask.
“Um.” Her eyes welled up immediately. He felt tricked. He thought she was done crying!
“I'm just nervous, that's all. I wish I was more experienced. In everything.”
He tilted his head in confusion. She chuckled ruefully.
“I don't know anything about defending myself. I know herbal remedies but I'm not used to fighting off people. And that means...that I could die as soon as we get in there, you know?”
He nodded, and her eyes closed tightly. He often ran on pure instinct, and would probably continue to do so in the arena. But if he knew more, if he was taught more, he would do better.
“And the thought of losing out on everything...I haven't even done the important things. I haven't fallen in love,” she paused and looked up at him like a spooked deer, even though he hadn’t said a word or even reacted. She soldiered on. “I-I haven't been able to see my brother graduate…”
“But you have your family.” And I don't.
She searched his stare. She knew already what he'd been implying. It seemed even since they were children, she understood what she had and he didn't.
“Yeah…” she looked down, “you're right. I know...and now I will never get to see them again, probably. I want to fight but I also just can’t forget what would have to be done if I want to win the entire thing. Can I kill someone? Would I even be the same person if I did?”
Inuyasha hadn't thought that far at all.
“No one will be the same,” he said bluntly.
Kagome went silent. She bit her lip.
“It doesn't matter to me,” he continued with a shrug, “If I come back...I guess I did what I had to do.”
“If you come back,” she asserted, “you can live comfortably. More comfortably than anyone else in town; except Miroku, probably.”
He would be paid a lump sum every month. He would be given a giant house to live in.
But it would be empty, save for him. So, he told her this.
“You could fill it, Inuyasha. With anyone you consider family.”
He was close to no one in Twelve. The house would remain empty. But he decided not to press the issue. If he comes back maybe he'll just be another Miroku. Drunk and sad over his empty house and full pockets.
“Are you scared, Inuyasha?”
He knew what she was asking in the first place, but he didn’t want to face it. “Scared of what?”
“Going in there. Dying.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore, it looked like her eyes strayed to the wall behind him. Kagome was deep inside her head.
“I ain’t scared of death. But I don’t wanna die,” He could withstand all kinds of pain, so that wasn’t a problem. But he fought too hard for his shitty life for it to slip between his fingers. Inuyasha wanted to live, he can’t imagine dying now. “I won’t let the Capitol fucking kill me,” he spat, “Not now. They’ve been trying to kill me for years.”
“Me neither. The Capitol doesn't care about the districts beyond Two,” she stated with confidence, “But...I’m still scared.” her words turned into a whisper, voice watery. Kagome’s reluctance was like a wet blanket. He was more than ready to fight for his own sake, because who else would, but she was quivering in front of him.
“You want to see your family again, right? Who cares what Miroku says, then!” The words just came out, his anger and frustration hard to contain. It wasn’t only her that Miroku seemed to doubt, it was both of them. He told them to enjoy themselves before they die. Fuck Miroku, Inuyasha swore to himself.
She swallowed and blinked at him. Her eyes were shining with threatening tears, to no avail. He watched her in return, anxiously listening for her response.
Inuyasha couldn’t keep quiet in the end. “You hungry?” He said quickly, trying to move on.
“I could eat something,” her voice remained quiet.
“Good, ‘cause I’m hungry.” Being given the reins of the room wasn’t as hard as he thought. If they got food, their moods wouldn’t be so low.
“Could we eat together?” Her face was slightly rosy.
“Sure, not like I'd wanna eat with those two.” Inuyasha gestured at his door and Kagome laughed, which was much better than tears.
“I second that. Miroku’s like a zombie.”
“Sango’s a robot!” he added.
“Maybe you have to become reserved like that,” Kagome leaned back into the cushy chair she sat in, finally looking comfortable in his room, “or else all of this would just hurt too much.”
It was a moment of enlightenment for Inuyasha because he didn’t think of their side of the coin. It was probably true, but he still can’t forgive their attitude. “Feh.”
“I'd better not get on your bad side, huh?” She had a smirk on her face.
Arrogance came over him and he snorted. “Probably. Not sure about you, though.”
“And what does that mean?” Her brows knitted; she looked a little insulted. Maybe Inuyasha was mistaken. “You should be scared of my bad side.”
He remembered the fight at the end of the train.
“I just think you forgive too easily,” he corrected. “Just a hunch.”
“Well,” she sighed, “You might be right about that.”
They just looked at each other, silently studying. Inuyasha felt like she was trying to pull him apart at the seams, hoping to reveal parts of him and learn more. He knew because he was doing the exact same thing, but he’s finding he can discover very little.
“It's a lot easier to forgive sometimes,” Kagome broke the silence with that tender voice she had earlier. Her eyes narrowed slightly and it seemed like she went to another place in her head again. “My grandfather taught me that.”
“Let’s order some noodles, Kagome.” He wanted it to stop. She didn't protest.
“Okay.”
“Oh, I'm so sleepy.” Kagome slurped the last bit of broth in her bowl. “I’m not even sure if I'm going to be hungry tomorrow.”
“It's your weak human stomach,” he berated, pointing a claw in her direction. “So tiny.” She had one bowl, he was already on his third.
She giggled, sinking deeper into the chair cushions and flopping her hands on her tummy. “My inferior stomach has had enough.”
He nodded, taking a scrumptious bite of a boiled egg. “I've had instant ramen before, but this stuff is better by a long shot.”
Instant meals flowed like water in his house (if he had any), and he bought them off the black market. The capital had something called ramen and he swore he ate it every day.
Kagome sat up, intrigued. She had the completely satisfied look of someone who just ate their fill and more—her eyes weren’t even puffy anymore, and he found it reassuring for some reason. “You've had instant ramen?”
“Yeah, I buy it by the box and then just eat it all the time ‘cause it's quick and I ain't going to learn how to cook.” He was trying to grasp an elusive slice of pork in the bowl with uncooperative chopsticks. It was hiding in his broth.
“That's cool,” she awed, “I've never had an instant meal before. My mom makes everything from scratch.” He refrained from saying that he’d love a home cooked meal.
“Bigwigs in the Capital don't seem to have time to make shit fresh either,” he said between chews, gesturing dismissively with his utensils. “The black market sells a bunch, I'll show you.”
It just slipped out of his mouth without his consent. His mind automatically assumed they'd be going home together and he glanced away in embarrassment. Kagome paused but ignored it for his sake. A wide grin replaced her previously startled expression.
“I have a strategy for you. You might be able to swallow your enemies whole, Inuyasha.”
Inuyasha looked at her, and he smiled a little; a tweak at the corner of his mouth, really. Kagome shrugged at him with feigned innocence, as if to say ‘it's entirely plausible.’ He chuckled. She smiled from ear to ear because of his reaction.
“You've got a pretty cute smile, Inuyasha.”
He actually blushed at that. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” She laughed airily, shuffling in her seat a bit. Now she wouldn’t look him in the eye again.
After a little bit of silence and a couple of embarrassingly loud soup slurps from him (why on earth did he keep eating why why why), Kagome looked at the digital clock at his bedside and gasped. “It's so late!”
She stood up and walked toward the door briskly. Inuyasha was startled by the quickness of her movements so much so that he didn't even get to glance at the clock to see if it truly was late. Her hand turned the knob and she stepped out halfway. Mid-step, she turned to him with a small smile.
“Thank you Inuyasha,” her fist squeezed the doorknob and her knuckles went white, “I feel a lot better.”
His mouth opened to say something back, but nothing came out and he closed it again. A huff of air came out of her nostrils and she grinned wider than before. “Goodnight.”
“‘Night, Kagome.”
The door closed and he listened to her soft stride as she walked to her room beside his. He moved as soon as the door to her room clicked closed and checked the time. It was only 22:00. He peered down at his ramen and noticed he was suddenly full.
After Kagome left, it seemed his room was sapped of its liveliness. He didn’t have the magnetism she seemed to carry with her like a glimmering token. He had nowhere to place his attention again.
Inuyasha remembered how many friends she had in school; they followed in waves behind her.
When she first approached him when they were children, he was nothing short of shocked. They were 8, and she called over to him brightly, much to his dismay.
“Inuyasha!”
He tensed. Even then, Inuyasha swam in the clothes his family had for him. His mom was on the brink of death and he despised going to school and leaving her. But if he never went, the government would come and find her sick and remove him from her care. He sat in his classes in a state of unrest, tapping his foot anxiously as he looked at the clock. Inuyasha didn’t want to go home and find his mother dead.
During lunch, he sat at the edge of the schoolyard fence, staring at the trees. There was nothing for him to eat. For such a long time, he watched the seasons change as the days went by. The leaves were red, then they fell. They grew back green and flowers sprouted. The cycle repeated.
His small body pressed into the fence beside him. No one bothered him at school because he was a brat on purpose. He kept everyone away and he liked it.
But no, not Kagome. Her footsteps approached him eagerly.
“Want some?” When she was little, her hair was extremely short. It curled up at the edges ever so slightly, wishing to be long and wavy once again. 2 months before that moment, a boy in their class grabbed her ponytail and cut it off right at the crown of her head. Inuyasha remembered her sobs and how the teachers crowded around her, shushing her and rubbing her back as if she’d received a grave injury. Even adults loved her.
He remembered the vicious glare he gave her. His small hands dug into the dirt, getting ready to throw it at her; everything seemed like a trap to him then. Inuyasha couldn’t say whether or not that was the case for him now.
She swung her bright yellow backpack in front of her and he jumped at the movement. She crouched and opened the bag with a loud zipping noise. Since it was taking a while, she looked up and shrugged sheepishly in his direction. He grunted, staring suspiciously at her knapsack.
“Okay, here,” She pulled out a boxed lunch and opened it. In there was what he believed to be a tuna sandwich, but he wasn’t very sure. He sniffed it to confirm.
Inuyasha’s recollection took on a surreal atmosphere as he watched her break the food in half and hold out a piece for him. “This is for you.”
She had broken it unevenly. The larger half became his without any hesitation from her.
“S’it poison?” He spat.
“No, it’s just a yummy sandwich my mommy made,” she smiled. “I thought you might want some.”
“O-okay,” he looked down at the fluffy bread that held tuna and lettuce. Before his stomach could even grumble, he took a bite. His body sang in rejoice at the nutrition since it had been around an entire two days since he last ate. Being a half-demon helps, but it doesn’t stop pangs of hunger.
“I hope you like it,” she giggled and feasted.
His mom cried sometimes because their fridge was empty and she was bedridden. To soothe her, he swiped some one day from a shop that had food on display outside. He lied and told her he ate his portion on the way over.
It occurred to the young Inuyasha that Kagome had somehow become aware of his situation, and that realization was a painful one.
He squashed the sandwich in his hands and it became a messy clump. He remembered the embarrassment he felt, a festering feeling that gnawed at his subconscious. Inuyasha was not like other kids. He had no food. He didn’t celebrate his birthday. No new school supplies for the new year. No treats for good behavior.
“Go away!” He snapped.
Kagome looked at him with her cheeks full. She was chewing.
“You heard me, girl? Get away from me!”
She swallowed and her expression suddenly changed. “Why?!”
“Because!”
“Eat the sandwich!” She stood up from her spot on the ground and stomped one of her feet. “I know you’re hungry so eat it! And my name is not girl, it’s Kagome! Ka-go-me!”
“I’m not hungry!”
“You never have food!”
His stomach betrayed him, letting out a pitiful growl. He squashed the malleable bread further in his palm. Kagome stared at him, unconvinced. He met her eyes and his face flushed in embarrassment when her pointed gaze moved to his balled-up fist. He looked at it as well.
When his hands opened to look down at the crumpled food in his palm, he savagely bit the whole piece without savoring it. He was ashamed to have to need help; he was ashamed that he wanted it. For the first time since his dad had died, tears spilled over from his eyes. His cheeks were full as he sniffled and whimpered. His eyes closed tightly in shame.
Even if his eyes were closed, he could feel the sudden overcast as Kagome stepped in front of him.
“I’m real sorry, Inuyasha,” he recalled her whisper, “I won’t let them see you. I’m sorry, I won’t tell anybody, I promise.”
He finished chewing and continued to cry. It was unreal. Kagome was right in front of him, she watched in silence, why did he allow himself to cry more?
Inuyasha shook away his thoughts as he fell back on the bed with a long-suffering sigh. He remembered his first real encounter with Kagome so well. After that intense moment, she’d split some of her lunch with him every day without his permission. But she never sat down to eat with him again.
He rolled over and looked at the door that she left from. Why was she always so helpful? He pushed his face into the blankets and groaned. They were doomed. This wasn’t any chance to get to know her, if anything it was even worse if he got to know her now—they were probably going to die. Everyone was fucking betting on it.
He rose and paced his room, looking around at the luxuries that they were given before being sent to a battlefield. His eyes glanced at the table and looked at the spread that they had been given. Like the last meal for people on death row.
He dropped into the chair. His body squishing into the cushions made her scent waft into his nose. His eyes closed tightly, and he noticed the chair was still slightly warm with her body heat. He sank in and covered his face with his hands. This morning he thought he’d wake up tomorrow in his house, free from the Games for good.
If only that were true.
He slept restlessly that night.
Inuyasha was rudely woken up by a violent knocking on his door. He grabbed one of his fluffy pillows and placed it over his head to muffle the noise.
“Rise and shine, kids!” Sango’s voice boomed and she knocked on both doors. “We’ve got a lot of things to sort out today!”
He lifted the pillow away from his head to look at the door, offended. If looks could kill the stupid door would be toast.
The one time he gets to sleep in a comfortable bed and he’s got to wake up at...what time was it? He scooched over to the edge of the mattress and blinked his eyes into focus. The clock said 10 AM. He doesn’t even feel like he slept for as many hours as he did.
In the other room, Inuyasha heard Kagome groan. He felt a kinship.
He pulled the covers over his face and closed his eyes momentarily. Okay, he told himself. Just get up and-
The door opened without his permission.
Inuyasha burst from the blankets to give a vicious glare at anyone who dared to come in so abruptly. But there was Miroku, marginally soberer than yesterday. There was still the touch of alcohol on his breath, but his clothes were neat this time.
“Whoa, son, I didn't mean to interrupt your, well…” This man was sly, Inuyasha decided. He knew damn well that he wasn't masturbating! He was just trying to get the best of him, to trip him up, ruffle his feathers—
Consider Inuyasha’s feathers ruffled.
“It’s so early! I was still fucking sleeping,” he growled in irritation. Miroku grinned. “Why didn't you wait a damn second?”
“I respect your right to privacy, but I'm asserting my right as your mentor by coming in anyway.” He said with mock-sternness, hands on the hips.
“Miroku!” Sango yelled from Kagome’s room.
“Yes, my love?” He called back. The two of them had no sense of consideration. Not that Inuyasha did either. But he just woke up.
“That is never funny in the morning!” She reprimanded. Miroku shrugged in response, not in the least bit remorseful.
“I'm just bored. And we've got a couple of conversations to have.”
Inuyasha almost whispered a forlorn goodbye to the comforting warmth of his blankets as he started to get up. Miroku had left to speak with Sango in the doorway for a brief period, saying “I'll take care of him, you got her, right?”
He stopped listening. Whatever, they were cattle. He’ll accept it. He stood in the middle of his room and realized he didn't have any clothes for this journey. He looked around, opening a few bedside drawers and even a minifridge in a last ditch effort for something, but there were no clothes to be seen. Suddenly, Inuyasha felt very naked in his boxers and t-shirt.
He barely registered the soft closing of his door. “Your actual clothes will be here in a few minutes,” Miroku commented. “We had to guess your sizes because the pair of you decided to storm off yesterday afternoon.”
Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “Like you didn't say something stupid to Kagome.”
He shrugged in response. “It wasn't stupid, it was true. You two have all the odds against you. Her more than you, though.”
He stayed silent at that.
“Now, don’t be like that,” Miroku pouted. “I want to be your friend instead of your enemy.”
“You're already our enemy,” he asserted. “You refused to help.”
“Our enemy?” Miroku smirked knowingly. “Maybe Kagome’s, based on that criteria. Take off that scowl and listen to me carefully.”
“Keh,” he spat, turning his head and looking at the wall.
“While I am certain Kagome is the more likable one out of the two of you…”
Inuyasha was okay with that. He didn’t strive to be considered likable.
“I’m not looking to be your enemy, Inuyasha.” Miroku pointedly walked around the room and into his line of vision, forcing Inuyasha to look back at him.
Oh. Oh. He chose him. He's not even considering Kagome as competition. The unforgiving reality of the situation made him uncomfortable. Miroku’s expression was poised, amused even, but it held no promise. If Inuyasha were to humor him...it’d make no difference in Miroku’s life.
“So you want to be my friend.” The word friend meant almost nothing to Inuyasha, but Miroku’s proposition transformed the word from something maybe he could hope for one day into something dirty and underhanded.
“Yes.” He took a seat on the bed.
“But what good is a friend that you assume will be dead in the next 2 months?”
He shrugged, again. “This is assuming you'll be killed. But. Very bittersweet, yes.”
“Bittersweet, my ass.” Inuyasha just grunted and sat down in Kagome’s chair. Well, it wasn’t really hers, but...
“You can snort and sigh at every little thing I tell you, but I think we both know why I'm betting on you.”
“‘Cause I’m a half-demon.” He has claws. He can smell much better than the average human. He can see well at night. He heals incredibly quickly.
“Oh, more than that,” Miroku shrugged. “I’m no stranger to what you’ve done for everyone in our little town.”
“How?” Since he’s a victor, he’s wealthy—there’s absolutely no reason why Miroku would ever need his services.
“I listen, which is a very valuable trait that I suggest you acquire,” Miroku had an annoying smirk on his face.
“You can listen when you’re drunk out of your mind?” He hoped the smirk would disappear.
“I’m not inept.” It didn’t.
“Coulda fooled me.” Inuyasha rolled his eyes.
“I get my good alcohol illegally; I hear the whispers of your name. I know you’re somewhat of an emissary…”
“Emissary?” He didn’t know every word under the sun.
“Doing whatever people are paying you to do, no specific specialty.”
Okay, he got that. He looked at Miroku expectantly.
“...Well, you’re a hunter, I guess. I’ve seen you protect multiple people, too.”
Inuyasha bit his lip, refraining from mentioning that he protected those people for free.
“Either way, you've got a good resume,” Miroku shrugged, “and I'm hoping you could take the cake.”
“You're going to ignore Kagome?”
“Not exactly. We're going to still help her present herself in the best possible light.”
“Kagome doesn't need help with that,” he grumbled.
“Probably. But she still needs polishing nonetheless. We're going to be coaching her as much as we can, but when it comes to sponsorships…”
“What are sponsorships?” He sort of knew but wasn't sure.
“People pay to help you win. You need medication because of an infection? John Doe just might cover the cost for one to be sent to you immediately because you said something he liked.”
“But you just said Kagome is more likable!”
“And that's still true,” he sighed, “She's strikingly pretty. Comes from a humble family that is known for giving to the community.”
He nodded in agreement.
“But I've decided to focus my energy on you. So, when I advocate for you, I might get money to dedicate to you.”
Immediately, he thought of Kagome in the arena. Sick, crying. Bloody, maybe. Alone and no help to be found.
“This is all if Sango agrees with my plans. I'm sure she likes Kagome more already just based on the fact that she volunteered in place of a young girl. Thankfully Sango is a realist, and will probably come to agree with me that focusing on you will be best.”
“I don't want it,” he barked. “I refuse.”
There was a knock at the door and Miroku moved to answer it. Once it opened, he took a pile of clothes from a person’s hands and turned to Inuyasha.
“I think you're a medium. You're sort of lean, but not skinny enough for a small. I got the same size for your joggers.”
Miroku’s pile looked like a white and grey mass. He placed it on the bed. Why wasn't he answering his demands?
“You’re under the illusion that this, in some way, involves choice. A system like this wouldn't be in place if there was a choice.
You can deny the sponsored items. You could ignore my advice. But in the end, what you're doing is pushing away something that Kagome probably won't even have the opportunity to utilize in the first place. What a waste that would be. Take your time in the shower. Come out for breakfast when you're done because we're all eating together.”
With that, Miroku shut the door with a firm hand as he left the room.
Sluggishly, he got up and opened his drawers for a towel. Once he found one, he loaded his arms with the outfit Miroku picked out for him and headed off to the bathroom.
As he exited his room, another door opened and steam curled out from the edges of the cherry colored wood. He could smell the expensive oils and fragrant soap without even trying. The smells were a little strong for his sensitive nose, causing him to sniffle and sneeze, his eyes screwing tightly shut.
“Oh, Inuyasha. Good morning.”
He should have known Kagome was the one getting out of the shower. Who else was in their car but her? Her talk with Sango must have been much shorter than his and Miroku’s, probably filled with awkward pleasantries instead of palpable hostility.
Her hair was wet, the shiny black tendrils flat against her head waving at the ends. She had a white t-shirt like him, the same sweatpants completing the look as well. Her smile was sheepish at best.
“I think you'll like the shower,” she smiled genuinely this time, “the water is hot. I had to keep changing the temperature back and forth because I wasn't used to it.”
“Okay,” he mumbled.
“See you at breakfast!”
He walked into the bathroom, she walked into her room.
The white walls were still covered in cloudy steam, distorting his vision momentarily. Inuyasha walked by the mirror and wiped the fog from it.
His blurry silhouette vanished, a clear reflection replacing it. He doesn’t do much for his appearance, it was a useless effort. His hair looked unkempt; there were some bags under his eyes that will soon disappear. His encounter with Miroku appeared evident in his expression. It was like his eyebrows were permanently bent.
Maybe if he gets clean, he’ll feel better. After some embarrassing struggles, he’s able to get the temperature on the side of bearable and gets in the shower.
In the middle of his shower, Inuyasha realized he was washing the remnants of District 12 from his body.
“Kagome, you like pancakes?” Is the first thing Inuyasha hears Sango say with a much kinder tone than yesterday or even this morning.
“Mm,” she nodded with a smile, chewing. She swallowed with a satisfied ‘ah’ and politely addressed Sango’s question fully. “I like a lot of sweet things.”
“I prefer saltier things,” Sango’s face screwed up a little at the mention of sweets. “Pancakes are good, though. With less syrup.”
Kagome laughed.
He’d just walked into the dining room, finding a seat open for him at the table next to Kagome. He sat down. The breakfast spread was unimaginable, each bit of food looking delicious and fresh: tamagoyaki, fresh fruit, white rice, salmon, natto, miso soup...there was no way that three humans could finish the giant meal.
Kagome cut into her stack of pancakes cleanly and swiped the bite in some syrup. The molasses was glistening on the fluffy morsel, aching to be eaten.
“Want some?” The bite was for him. “They taste really good.”
Kagome had graduated from sharing her food with him to offering her fork, which she had used, to his mouth. His face flushed. She noticed and opened her mouth in a noiseless gasp.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a clean fork so you can try it.”
Kagome did the same as before with a fresh utensil, presenting it to him. Never one to deny food, he took the fork and let the buttery pancake melt on his tongue. The sugary syrup delighted his taste buds.
“You like it,” she laughed when he nodded heartily, “want to share my plate?”
There were no other pancakes on the table for him to have his own stack.
“U-uh.” He frantically scanned the table for something to stuff in his mouth. Rice! He grabbed the small dish in what he hoped was a composed manner. “No thanks, I’m going to have this.”
She seemed to remember herself as her hand slowly moved down near her plate and let out an embarrassed laugh.
She sliced herself a new bite and he ate the plain rice, which made any sweet taste Kagome had just shared with him disappear.
“Ahem,” Miroku broke the silence. “I’m going to give the two of you some very basic advice before we continue on this journey.”
“Miroku…” Sango warned in an exasperated tone, rightfully anticipating a callous remark.
“It’s good advice,” he offered her and she rolled her eyes.
“You two have watched the games, right? Well, of course you have at some point or another.”
He continued.
“Do not go to the cornucopia. It seems like a good idea because there are provisions and weapons there, but it’s a hotspot to get killed in the first five minutes of the games.”
Inuyasha had no real reason to go to the cornucopia because of his strengths, so he began to tune him out and take in the surrounding room. Sango’s facial expression turned from frustrated to impressed. Kagome was listening with wide eyes, her lower lip being half-bitten into her mouth. She nodded occasionally, as well.
Miroku was staring straight at him the whole time not giving attention to Kagome. Really? How obvious, how fucking rude, how dare he—
Inuyasha pointedly looked away from his mentor and at his food. He grabbed a bit of fish.
“You could make allies but you already know that if you’re going to win then they’ll have to die. And I guarantee that the tributes from the lower districts are ready to burn bridges without question.”
In the first 4 Districts, winning the hunger games was a token of glory. People actively volunteered for the role of tribute every year in Two. Most of those kids are formally trained and comfortable with violence already so they may take home the honor of being a victor.
“Also, the work you do on the outside is almost, if not more, important than your actions in the arena. If you impress people, they will use their loads of cash to help you.”
“Yeah,” Kagome spoke, too drawn in to notice Miroku’s blatant disregard of her, “Sango told me about that.”
“Since you’re going to be training in the Capital,” Sango continued for Miroku, “Miroku and I will be meeting with the both of you one on one daily to work on how we will present your image. Everybody fits a role.”
“Strategy is your best friend here,” he finished.
“Do either one of you have any talents that will help you in the arena?” Sango asked.
Everyone exchanged awkward gazes, not wanting to break the taboo of mentioning the lack of experience in the room.
“Inuyasha is good at hunting,” words rushed out of Kagome. Miroku’s expression was all-knowing, while Sango appeared enlightened and nodded in interest. It seems Sango didn’t know that going out of bounds of District 12 and hunting was illegal. “Everyone in town buys from him, even the richer areas. He’s also really strong.”
“You knew this, Miroku?”
“Yeah. Inuyasha always catches the best fish, too.”
“Hmmm,” she pondered, “This is good for you.”
“Can’t believe you weren’t going to mention that,” Kagome commented, waving her fork in his direction. “A lot of the people in the District rely on you, you know.”
His mouth gaped for a moment. It was his choice not to comment! He never asked her to vouch for him. It was supposed to be a free-for-all, anyway. It’s like she was plotting against herself!
“This is good to hear. Maybe we could spin it so he’s somewhat of a Robin Hood.”
“Who’s Robin Hood?” Kagome asked.
“A folk character who robs from the rich and steals for the poor.” Inuyasha was just trying to live his life.
“You believe the Capital would take kindly to a tribute that disobeys the law? You’d better think again,” Miroku shook his head.
Why, again, is everyone speaking like he’s not even there? Even Kagome was in on it!
“What about you?” Inuyasha barked.
It was Kagome’s turn to open her mouth dumbly. Her lips closed in a thin line, and her brows bent in concentration. She shook her head. “I know how to work with plants,” she trailed off with a shrug, “so I could protect myself that way...”
“Keh,” he spat. Why is she talking about leaves?
“What do you mean ‘keh’?!” Her frustrated face was, for some reason, cute. Her cheeks flushed and her lips looked even poutier when she sneered.
“Kagome knows how to use a bow and arrow,” he stared at their poor excuses for mentors as he spoon-fed them information, “she’s been in the archery club since we were young. She’s good at speakin’ to people, too. And that herbal healing bullshit.”
Kagome squawked in indignation.
“See, wench,” he hissed in her direction, “you’re not gonna be the only one throwin’ me under the bus.”
“I’m just trying to make sure everybody knows what you can do!”
“Well, same!”
“Throwing under the bus?” Sango’s voice yelled in exasperation, “You two are practically fighting one another over compliments!”
He and Kagome shot a look at Sango, trying to do the math in their heads about her claim. Kagome disregarded it first to continue her tirade.
“And how did you know I was in the archery club?”
“I remember it!” he defended quickly, “The quiver stuck out of your stupid backpack every day!”
Her mouth clamped shut and she continued to stare in his direction. Her eyes were vividly scanning all of his features, irises flickering to different parts of his face. Abruptly, he saw her face redden even more, and she looked away quickly.
“Well. Oh.” She said dryly.
“Oh?” He echoed.
“You two are going to give me indigestion,” Sango sighed into her hands. Kagome stayed quiet, so he followed suit. “I can feel it. You don’t think Miroku isn’t already enough?”
Miroku gave a real chuckle, nothing like the condescending tones he’d been using all day. His hand pulled Sango closer by the waist and he rested his head on her shoulder. “My dear,” the deep voice of his purred, “I don’t wish to stress you out.”
The hands on her face slid up and trailed into the fringe of her bangs. “You’re a good liar most of the time, Miroku.”
And he just laughed when she shoved him away from her.
Kagome and Inuyasha shared a look of confusion. She then rolled her eyes and smiled softly.
“C’mon, we have some talking to do,” Miroku gestured to Kagome. She got up, and they started to walk out of the room.
He needed to know what was happening.
He moved to get up himself, but Sango called out to him.
“Inuyasha, stay. Miroku will go speak with Kagome for a bit.”
“Goodbye, my loves,” the man in question stood up and waved at them. Inuyasha made a gagging noise and Sango shooed him away. “Hopefully Kagome accepts my love before I wither away in anguish.”
“Keep dreaming,” he found himself muttering after Miroku already closed the door behind him.
The door opened again and Inuyasha jumped. Did he hear him?
“Forgot this,” Miroku kneeled down and opened the mini-fridge. He pulled out a flask and left right after.
Kagome stared at Miroku wearily as he led her to the sunlit sitting room at the end of the train. He walked ahead of her in silence, the only noise being the cap spinning off of his icy flask after motioning her through the doorway. She sat on the couch and looked at him.
Miroku took a swig and smacked his lips. “So how much do you know how these things work?”
She blinked at him and then gave his question some thought. What was there to say? The whole thing was broadcasted every year.
He sat down a way off from her with a heaving sigh, the way she’d hear her grandfather hunker down for some tea. “Outline what we’ll be doing in the Capitol, if you’re familiar with the whole process.”
“We introduce ourselves, we train, and we get interviewed…?”
Her supposed mentor nodded sagely. “The first step and the last step will be crucial for you especially. If the Capitol loves you, you have a better chance of staying on longer. Helps them run ads if the city folk is very invested in you.”
“But what about, you know, surviving when someone is trying to cut my head off?”
Miroku looked at her pointedly and laughed. “Duck?”
“You have no good advice at all?” Kagome exclaimed in exasperation.
“I’m giving good advice right now if you’d just listen to that. Butter them up. Make them cry about your sister. What was her name?”
“Rin,” she hissed, clenching her fists.
“Tell them about Rin. Shed a tear, even. Can you do that?”
Her face started to heat up with indignation. “You think I’d have trouble crying over my sister that I might never see again? My brother, my entire family?” She could feel the bubbling in her throat, the painful grip on her words that happened when she held tears back. But the last thing Kagome wanted to do was cry in front of him.
A softness flickered into Miroku’s expression, hardly noticeable, especially not for Kagome. However, it was there: his eyelids dipped down a fraction and he no longer had a smirk pulling his lips up.
“I’m saying you’re likable and that you need to use that to your advantage, because wherever the arena is, and whoever you encounter…” he trailed off and looked down at the floor. A beat passed and he looked up again. “You won’t be the one with the advantage.”
There it was. Miroku confirmed her suspicions and Kagome was left with an incomprehensible feeling of hopelessness within her. She rested her hand under her chin and looked out the window in anguishing silence.
A minute or two passes. If she spoke, she’d cry.
“Kagome?”
She won’t cry. More time goes by, and she watches the scenery outside the window blur into some kind of painting, all smudges and half-formed shapes.
“…Alright. I will see you at dinner.”
And then he left.
“I hate when he drinks,” Sango sighed. “He's sloppy.”
“Seen it 365 days of the year,” he shrugged.
“Well, we better focus on something more productive, like basic manners.”
Inuyasha was leaning back on the chair, making it teeter on its hind legs while he supported his dangling weight with his feet.
“First of all,” she pointed at the wooden chair, “stop that. It's mahogany. Also, it's impolite.”
He allowed the chair to fall forward ungracefully, so the sound of the front legs hitting the ground made a loud thunk which caused the porcelain dishes and silverware to rattle on the table. He watched her face twitch in frustration. “Why do I need manners anyway? ‘M only gonna be in the Capital for a week and a half.”
“It's like insurance. If I teach you now, I might not have to teach you if you win. It would impress potential sponsors if you were courteous as well. And you have that interview with Jakotsu.”
Sango watched him scowl. “Oh no, you have to do well for the interview. It's on TV!”
“They took everything from me,” he growled, “I’m not gonna kiss their ass and be proper.”
“You have to survive, some ass-kissing is necessary! Quit being so obstinate!” she fired back.
Inuyasha didn't expect Sango to yell at him for some reason. “Who’s being proper now?” He felt validated at her affronted expression. Good, he thought.
“Kagome’s much nicer than you, you know that?”
“I suppose your training with her s’going to be a fucking breeze!” He stood up. He didn't want the advice!
“I'm helping you right now, so stop complaining and try listening to me!”
“I’m not giving them what they want.” His voice was soft, barely a protest.
“Tough luck, Inuyasha,” Sango spat. “Take the lesson. Stop acting childish.”
“Fine,” he groaned and crossed his arms childishly before he sat down in the chair again. He thought about storming out and ignoring everybody until it was all over, but he imagined the disappointed look Kagome might give him.
“You don't need to change how you act completely; you just need to behave with a semblance of decency. That means no random cursing at the interview, that means no fidgeting in your chair, and that definitely means less yelling.”
“I don’t yell,” he defended, “I just talk loudly.”
Sango opened the door behind her quietly, but she could see a transparent reflection of her in the train’s windowpane. Kagome could just barely make out the concern in her expression, but she didn’t want to see it. She just looked down and watched gravel bracketing the train tracks become one shade of mottled grey.
“Kagome, do you want to talk?” She had walked up behind her, hovering but not encroaching.
She bit her lip, blinking away some of her tears. “…No, not really.”
“Okay.”
After a little taste of hell with Sango, it was time to meet with Miroku again. Inuyasha wondered what that would be like, but soon he realized that he was better off not trying to picture it.
“Sit down,” Miroku insisted, already sitting, already speaking with a bit of a slur. “We’ve got a lot of awkward things to get over.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he said honestly as he sat down.
“To put it bluntly, we need to talk about how you’ll be presented to the media. How can we make a guy like you win hearts?”
“You better give that shit up; I’m not charmin’ anybody.” Miroku rolled his eyes, and Inuyasha pressed on. “I already told Sango. It’s gonna go bad.”
“Your bravado is wearing me out,” he sighed theatrically, “I already know you’re not the charmer.”
He said nothing in response to that. If he knows, then why push it?
“Maybe we can project you as an alpha male.” Inuyasha’s face screwed up like he ate something sour. Miroku smiled. “Make you cliché, people will eat it up.”
“How?”
“Can you be sexy?” Miroku asked as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
“Sexy?” Inuyasha gaped. He said no to being charming so now he has to be sexy? “Yes, maybe growl a little bit, rock the dog thing...” Miroku started to talk with his hands as well, obviously getting into the one-sided brainstorming session he’s created.
“No, no,” he hated every second of this, “I’m not rocking the dog thing. That’s fucking idiotic. I’m not doing anything, especially for you or those brain-dead Capitol citizens!”
“I could rely on that kind of anger for this, you know.” Miroku scolded, “You can’t escape it.”
“Ugh.” He put his face in his hands.
“You’re the broody type,” he nodded to himself. “All grunts, perpetual scowl…”
“Feh!” Inuyasha removed his hands and stared at Miroku angrily. Just because he was right doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“Your past is shrouded in mystery; all we know is that you’re a hurting soul that can be healed...” He said in a wondrous voice.
The resentful feelings he felt towards the officials in the Capital bubbled up again. He was denied by the nation of Panem all of his life, left to starve and die. Treated like shit by its residents because he was a half-demon. And now here he was, being told by Miroku that he had to cater to the place that cultivated the system he despises. Being exploited feels ugly.
“You won’t have to do a thing, Inuyasha,” the tilt of his smile promised something sinister, “I can do all the work for you if you’re not going to cooperate.”
“I’m leaving,” he said emphatically as he got up, letting the chair he was sitting on scrape violently against the floor. “Fuck you, fuck this—Bye.”
“See you tomorrow, bright and early!” Miroku called out as he slammed the door behind him.
Sango watched Inuyasha storm out from the room he was meeting Miroku in, and once the boy shoved past her and walked toward the other side of the train, she burst through the door herself.
“You’ve come back, have you? I’m glad you’ve seen the error in your ways—” Miroku turned the swiveling stool that was seated at a crystal bar. “Oh, Sango! Honestly, this is preferable.”
“How could you absolutely wreck two tributes separately in the span of 2 hours?”
He just gave her an awkward smile and shrugged. “My award-winning charm?”
She plucked a plastic grape from the decorative fruit bowl in the middle of the coffee table in the lounge and pelted it right at his forehead. “This is serious!”
Miroku didn’t give way to her ammunition and his face hardened. “I am taking this seriously. You want that I should coddle them all the way to the cornucopia? That I shouldn’t tell them that everything is skewed and manipulated based on many factors they have no say in?”
He turned away and looked down at the bar top. She took it as a cue to sit next to him.
“I know you have it in you to be gentle,” she said softly, putting her hand on his arm.
He met her glance. “There’s nothing gentle about this. I can’t pretend every year as you do.”
Sango looked down at the hand on his arm, suddenly feeling disingenuous, like an outsider. Miroku put his other hand on her cheek and brought her into a kiss, which she returned.
Inuyasha didn’t want to go to his room. People would be able to find him there. He began to walk down the hallways of each car, gunning for the end—far away from most people.
Belatedly, he realized that his crazy mentors could find him anywhere because they were all stuck inside one long-ass train that was growing to feel more like a prison with each passing minute. It was annoying, he was beyond irritated. He was sure to yell at any person he came across.
When he threw open the door to the scenic cabin at the end of the train, Kagome was there. She jumped when he entered and her startled expression softened immediately when she saw who he was.
Stop it, he was jarred; his mind was racing, don’t look at me like we can be friends.
“What are you doing here?” His voice came out accusing, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“I can’t be here?” She countered with a raised brow. He watched the line of her posture stiffen, ready for a fight. His mouth stayed shut and she continued. “What are you doing here?”
He sat down in a huff. “Just tryna find a place to be alone.”
“I’m not leaving,” she insisted.
“I wasn’t asking you to,” he defended sharply. She simply looked away, a cry from the friendly demeanor she carried yesterday. “I’m not leaving either.”
They sat in silence. He saw her shift in her seat through his peripheral vision. Her hands were gripping the fabric of her sweatpants at her knee. Was that just something she did when she was upset? Inuyasha looked away, sighing audibly as he leaned back into the couch cushions. His eyes scanned the bleak coloring of the walls around him, moving up to the ceiling of the car. Since it was the end of the train, the room was dome-like, coming to a point with a hanging chrome light in the middle. It was all industrial, minimal, stylish—probably.
“Are you…” Kagome started. He looked at her, but she wasn’t looking back. Her gaze was down at her knees, to her fidgeting hands. “Are you okay?”
She was looking at him now; it was a piercing, almost hopeful kind of gaze—as if she was expecting something. Every time she did that, he felt weary.
Was Inuyasha okay? Sango and Miroku wanted him to play nice. Well, Miroku wanted him to attract people, as if he understands how to do that. All he’s done in eighteen years was repel the general public.
In less than a month, he and Kagome, the only person he can sort of consider a friend, will enter an arena with 22 other tributes. 23 are going to die; only one will live.
Inuyasha is not okay. But he never was.
“I’m okay,” he lied.
Her hands released her pants. Her eyes left his. “Me too.”
She wasn’t. It was obvious in her demeanor, but he will gladly let the elephant in the room stay for as long as it wants if she’s willing to.
Kagome sighed and adjusted herself in her seat. There was silence again.
“I’m going to go to my room.” She rose lethargically, as if the energy in her body had been sucked out for the day. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Inuyasha.”
He thought of the time when they were little again, at school. When she cried because someone cut her hair off. The teachers and kids began to surround her like disciples.
Kagome, always, vibrated energy. If she was happy, a piece of her happiness was given to everyone. If she was sad...everyone felt it. Now, Inuyasha can tell, Kagome was visibly uncomfortable, probably upset with how her conversations went with Sango and Miroku—and he’s about to let her walk away without doing something about it.
“Kagome!” He called abruptly.
She turned and looked at him, a perplexed expression on her face. All of her attention was on him. It was a chance.
“Yeah?” The tone of her voice was gentle.
“Are you really…um,” he hesitated because he was nervous to ask. If she were to tell him how she was feeling, would he even be able to comfort her? “Are you really okay?”
Her smile was bittersweet. “Yeah, Inuyasha. I'm okay. Don't worry about me.”
His mouth opened to protest but nothing came out.
“Make sure you worry about yourself.”
His face twisted into a frown, and Kagome was already walking out of the room. He knew she was evading. In fact, he was angry that she threw his circumstances in his face.
He still regretted not saying anything at all.