Chapter Text
“What do you think of the tributes this year, Kikyo?” Panem’s president purred from behind his obnoxiously large, wooden desk. He twirled the tip of his finger on the arm of his seat, leaning over to one side and glancing at her with a sort of coquettish amusement. “A rather interesting bunch, I find.”
Kikyo resisted the urge to fidget in her seat, to ask him to dismiss her. It was well into the middle of the night, and Naraku managed to pull her aside at the first of many parties their government held in celebration of the Games and all who bring it to light. Tributes excluded, of course.
“A standout group a year ahead of the Quarter Quell, which is interesting on principle,” she nodded coolly. “We’ve been lucky.”
“Not luck, my dear,” he tutted good-naturedly, in a way that communicated, oh, what a soft little head you have, I could just kiss it, which Kikyo hated. “Panem is a ship to be steered. We do not rely on luck. The Games are an iceberg on the horizon that every citizen holds their breaths for, and we count on their exhaled sigh of relief when they aren’t chosen. It creates the most loyal subject. Only they’d foolishly think of luck, when it’s just a name in a bowl, in the middle of a city, in the expanse of a great country. Everyone is expected to pay their dues.”
“Except the Capitol,” Kikyo remarked, legs and arms crossing in front of her. Naraku’s eyes became slits, momentarily. “I only mean that these tributes will draw a crowd, which means profit.”
“Indeed, I did not mean to disparage your inherent prescience. It’d be quite foolish of me.”
“There are quite a few half-demons this year.”
“Even one in your camp, no?” Kikyo nodded. “How is…?” His head dipped in curiosity, inviting her response.
She felt the ice she trod on, how perilous it felt sometimes, to talk to this man. But she also clearly understood that Naraku hung on her every word. It was obvious.
“He’s well built. I suspect he’ll die a little later than the others.”
Inuyasha rubbed at his eyes when a sunbeam crept in through the window of Kagome’s room. He blinked away the final vestiges of sleep to see the sky was pink; dawn had only just arrived. He rolled his head against the pillow, experimenting with the feeling of no hair weighing him down, the silky pillowcase gliding against cropped hair.
He turned to see Kagome, who has somehow managed to capture his attention more than she already had in Twelve. Inuyasha always kept an eye on her, often noting where she was relative to him if they were near one another.
It was like a part of him growled in her presence, like his stomach used to, a conditioned response from being fed her lunch for years.
However, yesterday, when she appeared in that dress, he tried not to acknowledge how the gnawing feeling found further purchase. He thought he looked at her too much before, knew how to recognize her in a crowd, but it wasn’t true. When she approached in the gown with Koga’s hand in hers, he began to study her shapes. He intentionally imprinted her scent in his memory right then.
Her face is so delicate. Her lips curve just so, and it bothers him that he only noticed now. He sees her, he hears her in vibrant clarity now and death is at their door. The impending nothingness beats inside his ears, the idea of no breath ever again if you fuck this up you fucking worthless piece of shit repeating like a mantra.
Still sound asleep next to him, Kagome was taking quiet, steady breaths, puffing from her parted lips. Her small hands rested beneath her cheek. She curled up in a ball to get comfortable, her knees had pressed into the base of his back all night and the pressure felt good, in its own way—
Temporary. It’s all temporary.
Inuyasha sighed, soaking in his frustration. Why was she being so nice to him? It shocked him and made him angry. It made him so dumb that he grabbed her and tried to keep her close on the train. Kagome made it so much harder because she kept reminding him of his childhood, of the savage little gremlin that he was, who stared at the back of her head every day until it was time to go home.
He wished she didn’t treat him so earnestly. He believed she could protect herself, knows he should also probably worry about himself because she’d be proud of him if he did. But he wanted to protect her instead because she kept his stomach full.
Not able to stay in her bed much longer, he sat up abruptly. The expensive bed hardly even shifts her, but there is a gust of wind in his wake that makes her stir and crinkle her nose. Before Kagome could even start to stretch, he was up and out of the door. He closed it with a clumsy tenderness, willing the world to be quiet so that she may sleep a little longer.
“Hmm,” a soft voice curled into his ear. Inuyasha turned to find Kikyo in her customary finery. He thinks the pajamas are silk. She was sipping some tea, his nose told him.
Shit, I wasn’t looking for anyone, he lamented in his head. As the Games loomed near, he’s started to question his reflexes. A little bit of luxury, and already he’s gone soft. Kikyo doesn’t move; her body is perched on a large windowsill where she was watching the sky fade to blue.
“That’s not your room.” Her tone, constantly blunt, cut into him. He anticipates that she’s going to tell him how very stupid it is for him to attach himself to someone now.
“No, it isn’t.” He said softly, almost secretive.
“I won’t begrudge you, Inu,” she sighed, “there is only so much you can control right now. If you want to lay with her to create some agency then so be it. I just don’t recommend you go dying for her.”
What’s wrong with that? His mind asked. But he already knew what was wrong with that. “Yeah, I’ll just die for the Capitol, instead.”
Kikyo sat up from her lounging position and sets her tea down. The glass clinked firmly against the black marble, just like a gavel.
“You fool.” Her inflection betrayed nothing, but her words promise his shame. Kikyo may not be his mother or anyone who holds authority over him, but only a day in her charge made Inuyasha more comfortable with her than Miroku or Sango. “You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you? You think she’s a meek little thing, right?”
She sneered, head shaking in disappointment. Her arms cross. “Don’t go throwing yourself away for a wet cunt.”
“I haven't fucked anyone,” he hissed, “and don’t talk about her like that.”
She stood up and narrowed her eyes, reading him. Kikyo’s honesty and confident words left him star struck yesterday, the way she talked at him at times leaving him feeling winded, yet cared for.
“Being a hero won’t make you feel better about yourself.” Inuyasha reared back in offense, brows tacking together. “The Capitol can’t change you unless you let it.”
“I hate this damn place,” he growled suddenly, “It will hold no part of me.”
“Good,” she said with clenched teeth, coming towards him and pointing at him for emphasis. “Take that feeling and win. Don’t lose sight of that.”
Do this, do that, every lesson his mentors imparted to him repeats over and over in his head ad nauseum.
“How about I just do what I want instead?”
“You want to die, Inuyasha?”
“No—I’m—” He begged his brain for words, wondering how he could tell Kikyo how long he’s already been fighting. How it’s tiring. How he doesn’t want to learn a new fight all over again. Death and exhaustion looked so similar. “I don’t want to fake it.”
Her head tilted in interest.
“I don’t want to be a piece in their games.”
Kikyo’s face slacks, and suddenly she’s smiling at him. It’s a beautiful one, no teeth, it makes the apples of her cheeks so round and high, and admittedly he is warmed by this subtle sign of praise. “Living is the way you stop being a pawn and become a player.”
Inuyasha stared at her and absorbed her wisdom. He cannot tell the difference between the pawn and the player at all.
“Inu,” she whispered. “Do what you want and you’ve already won.”
He doesn’t know how to take that either.
Kikyo doesn’t deign to talk to him any longer. She sits back down on the windowsill, turning to the sky again. Light shined around her, an oracle in front of his tired eyes.
He swallowed the thick emotions down his throat. He sighed through his nostrils and retreated to his room where he can grumble in peace.
She was too scared to open her eyes. He was probably still on the other side of the bed, but how could she look at him? Her heart may very well burst, she’d never slept with any boy who wasn’t Sota in her life.
Kagome inhaled deeply and turned on her pillow as if she was just waking up. She stretched, sat up, even yawned for effect, before she looked down beside her.
The bed was empty. There was no evidence of Inuyasha being there except for the dent in the pillow. Her hand smoothed over the cold side of the bed and she laughed at how pathetic she felt, putting her hands over her face and falling back on the bed with a grunt.
Kagome took her hands away from her face and stared up at the ceiling.
There was no denying that Inuyasha was a major distraction.
She got up and found her clothes for the day, some dark matching outfit with slippery fabric. Now that she was dressed, she knew where she was headed next.
As soon as he stepped into his fancy bedroom, he finds the mess of glitter from yesterday scattered across the room. Specks catch the light from the window, glinting faintly. He tried shaking them off, washing them off, picking them off one by one, but it became so much that he wasn’t willing to deal with it by himself any longer. He went to Kagome because he knew she wouldn’t mock him.
Wasn’t that always why he looked to her? Because she didn’t make him feel ashamed. She was starting to now, making him feel like an embarrassed boy each time she asserts herself into his space. He knew Kagome better now than he ever did in Twelve, speaking to her doing so much more for their relationship than staring at her whenever she walked by.
He's searching the room for whatever clothes he needed to wear that day. Different from the train, his new room had tall ceilings and gigantic windows that he couldn’t see the use for. His bed is untouched and the dresser in the room looks identical to the one he had before. Sango might scoff at that and tell him it isn’t mahogany like the last one but some other fancy pine he’d never heard of before anyway.
He opens the dresser drawer and finds some black clothes in a fabric he could tell wasn’t cotton. He picked it up and felt the clothes slide against his palms, feather-light. It was thin, but opaque, with a slight shine.
Inuyasha sighs heavily as his only protest and strips himself down to his underwear. He looks down at his stomach; he’d gained so much weight on the train. Where boniness used to be prominent on his torso and hips, he instead filled out; he wasn’t unsettled by the sight of his own ribs anymore.
Inhaling deeply, he swings the shirt over his body and smooths it down. No sleeves again, like yesterday, but he doesn’t dwell. He’s never worn cropped pants before, so when he pulls on the shorts, he feels weird about seeing his bare knees.
Before he could mourn the sorry sight, hurried knocks broke Inuyasha from his thoughts.
“Come—” he starts, but the door opening cuts him off.
“You left!” Kagome griped, wearing an identical outfit to his own.
“Could I have changed in there?” Inuyasha asked, knowing it would stop her and make her think.
“Alright, no,” she sighed, arms going up in surrender. “I don’t know. I’d like a warning.”
“Why?”
“So I know I didn’t piss you off.”
“That matters to you?”
“Yes?” Kagome’s head tilts.
Biting his lower lip and letting the flesh roll against the edge of his teeth, Inuyasha found himself agreeing with her. He doesn’t want to upset her either, not really. "Fair."
Kikyo’s words echoed in his head. Don’t you go dying for her.
His nostrils flare at the thought, forcefully exhaling. He is doing what he wants. Kikyo’s immediate assumption that he was trying to be a hero bothered him.
“So, we training today?” He asked her, ushering his thoughts far away from the moment. He doesn’t want strategy to hold a single ounce of his thoughts.
Kagome shrugged, incredulous. “Something like that.”
They walk out of his room and are greeted by Twelve’s crew. Koga and Kikyo are looking over some drawings and Kagome whispers to him that they are fashion designs. Miroku and Sango hold a refreshing aura about them.
“Look at you two,” Miroku cooed, “you certainly look the part of athletes.”
“Are they comfortable?” Sango looked them over, but she faced Kagome, eyes concerned. Inuyasha notes how Kagome pointedly ignores the warmth Sango attempts to radiate and simply mumbles that everything is fine.
“Unfortunately,” Koga cut in, “We had no say in these outfits. Standard shit, here.”
Kagome looked at Koga instead, fiddling with the hem of her top shyly while she nods. Inuyasha’s eyes dart to Kikyo’s and she gives him a knowing look and a smirk. He rolls his eyes.
“Keh!”
“Your standards are leagues above Twelve’s,” Miroku shrugs, “We’re not frivolous. If it fits, it fits.”
Inuyasha sees that Kagome is slightly awed by Miroku’s comment, which seemed more thoughtful than usual.
Koga sniffed the air absently. “No booze this morning?”
Miroku winks. “Not yet.”
The lot of them grab a bite to eat, during which Inuyasha finds Kagome staring at an apple a little too sadly as he eats his bowl of ramen. To the right of him is Kikyo, who efficiently cuts into a rare steak and tells him what to expect during practice. Miroku nods along to her wisdom, stirring a spiked mug of coffee.
“You have to make a mark, but don’t reveal all of your cards.” She chews thoughtfully. “Look too confident and someone will make you slip. Be nonchalant.”
“Kikyo’s got a point, you don’t want people to guess your every move.” Miroku snapped his fingers with an idea, pointing at Inuyasha. “It adds to that mystery I mentioned.”
“Ugh,” Kagome scoffed from across the table with a vivid grimace on her face. Her eyes flit away when he catches her look. Koga nudged her with his shoulder and he whispers in her ear. Obviously, it is something she likes because her face solidifies with an enlightened expression.
Koga got up and grabbed her hair at the table. Kikyo groaned.
“We eat here,” she deadpanned.
“Shh, partner.” He didn’t even provide her a moment of his attention, eyes downturn as he pulled Kagome’s hair up in a high ponytail, much like his own. “Just sprucing my tribute up.” Koga dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “Carry on.”
Kikyo was patting her mouth free of mess. She sets down the cloth napkin gently and leans towards Inuyasha. “He’s lucky our ideas mesh so well.”
“I heard that,” Koga snickered as he fluffs Kagome’s hairstyle. He held the crown of her head in his hands. “I guess I am lucky.”
Kagome’s eyes fluttered in a way Inuyasha’s never seen before and he tries not to think about it too much until Sango clears her throat for everyone to listen.
“You will be meeting your fellow tributes for the first time today,” She stood up and pushed in her chair. “Keep an eye on them but don’t forget to focus on honing your skills.”
Koga’s hands drop from Kagome’s head and any whimsy is gone. Kikyo leaned away from Inuyasha as well, sitting at attention. Miroku kept his cool.
“You both—” Sango's voice choked off, shaky with hesitance. “You both have potential.”
In his periphery, Inuyasha could see Kagome roll her eyes. It was the first time he was able to see himself in her.
As their entire entourage stood from their seats, Kagome lingered at the table, staring at the leftover food strewn across the table, wondering where it will go after everyone left. She could see Sango break away from the group and walk back to the table in her periphery.
“Something the matter?”
Kagome looked away from the table and up at her mentor, deciding not to mince words. “Can I be counseled separately from Inuyasha?”
Her face pinched at that. “Why?”
She had a plethora of reasons. Miroku sucked, and it was getting hard to cope with him blatantly favoring Inuyasha. At least it looked like Sango cared more about her, and Koga fostered her confidence. It was getting too hard to think about things like strategy and survival next to any of the peers she grew up with, but it had to be Inuyasha who shared their mutually assured destruction. “I just think it would be easier for the both of us.”
Sango brought her hand up to Kagome’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Okay, that’s doable. Just me and Koga next time.”
“Thanks,” she said softly.
The gym is packed with tools for activities that Inuyasha can’t even recognize. Weapons for all kinds of melee and ranged combat are in front of him, but he could hardly tell the difference between some of them.
Upon the tall walls is one secluded area with an entirely transparent barrier, separating the important people from the tributes. One man stands proudly in the middle, a red flower Inuyasha couldn’t name in the pocket on his chest. He had a thin line for a smile; if his skin was more flexible Inuyasha felt the corners of his mouth would completely curl with smug satisfaction.
A door from behind the man opened and Inuyasha watches Miroku and Sango step in with a group of people he didn’t recognize: more mentors, more handlers. His eyes skirt down to Kagome.
“Ah,” Kagome looks around the room from beside him. "These things…with them watching..."
"I have no fucking clue, don't look at me," he spat vehemently, wondering what teenager would know what they're looking at in this instance.
On the other side of the floor stands a young man with a wild grin on his face, looking nearly catlike. His eyes were pointy, hair in a braid to his ankles.
Swallowing the resentment that this kid got to keep his hair, Inuyasha refocuses his attention on the man ahead of him.
"Greetings," a strumming speaker echoed. Inuyasha looks in the window and sees the man he saw previously with a microphone in his hand. He looks excited to speak. "What you all have in front of you is what any tribute would need to sharpen themselves before entering the arena. Use your time wisely."
“Who’s that?” Inuyasha leaned in to ask Kagome.
“That’s the freakin’ President, Inuyasha!” she whispered harshly.
As soon as the announcement cut off, all of the kids spread out across the gym like pests. Everyone who didn't come from a career district grabbed the first thing they could reach, staring at the items in puzzlement.
"I guess I'll find some arrows," Kagome mumbled. Around her index finger was a ring he hadn't noticed before, dull and old, but snug. "Nothing else to do."
She leaves him and he's reminded again that he is alone in this. The arena only has one winner.
He scanned the room, finding that little girl from Eleven again. She looks like she could be his sister if it weren't for her eyes. She clings to the gargantuan half-demon next to her; the picture of people's prejudice. Bulging neon eyes, a misshapen face, a hulking hunchback, and a towering figure.
Half demons are mutts. Half demons were only found in lower districts.
"Shiori," the giant said, voice deep, a reflection of his height. He pets the girl's head soothingly.
Inuyasha looks away, not willing to unpack the baggage of his heritage by looking too long at two people who might understand him.
He found an assortment of swords and knives. He'd only used his fists in a fight, or whatever large blunt object he could pick up and swing. Drunkards would purposely find his home at night after his mother died, hoping to feel a lick of accomplishment beating the "traitor whore's son."
It was God's will, the smelly overconfident men would slur, and Inuyasha would slice at them before any sleaze would touch him.
When they called upon God, when they used a figure in the sky as a lame excuse to be awful, Inuyasha's young mind immediately drew up the image of Kagome standing over him as he ate and cried.
A specific dagger caught his attention. The grip is decorated with a dog. Inuyasha picked it up, staring at the craftsmanship.
Inuyasha could tell that he has to stick people with the pointy end, but he possessed no skill or finesse. His thumb whisked across the sharp edge of a blade and he bled instantly.
"Ow," he said bluntly, expressing pain as an afterthought. All of the other demons in the room shoot him a look, like the smell of his ichor offending them.
"You!" The boy with the braid sneers, stalking over with glee. All of the other tributes stop and stare. He appeared far too excited for the Games, like an animal let loose from a cage. Inuyasha felt a zap when the kid flicked his wrist. A thunder demon. “I’m Hiten. Nice to meet you.”
“You ain’t scarin’ anyone,” he drawled, “Hiten." Inuyasha spits on his name.
They stare at one another. Hiten looks like a pixie, all angles and slightly girlish. Stray hairs are peeking around his forehead and ears. Three scars decorate his brow.
“You don’t say?” Hiten growled, his hand curling in, harvesting the electricity that flowed through him.
“I’ve been through worse,” Inuyasha rumbled back. “you’re the same as anyone.”
“I’ll show you worse!”
Hiten doesn’t get the chance to hurtle anything toward him. Kagome ran between both of them and jerked Hiten’s wrist away. His face was dumbfounded, his hand trembling with his wrist in her grip.
All of them together formed an enclosed circle that held the sum of their anger. Kagome panted in exertion and looked back and forth between Inuyasha and Hiten.
The scent of burning skin wafted into Inuyasha’s nose and he finally broke his glare to look down. Hiten immediately snatched himself away from Kagome, flesh turning a necrotic black where she had held him. He stares at it in wonder. It was slightly oozing, rank even, a slick glossy fluid covering it all.
“What the fuck! You’ve got purification powers, bitch?”
Inuyasha looked up at the adults in the room, who were all gathered against the clear window, watching what might happen. He turned back to Hiten who is shaking away some shriveling skin from his wrist, it sloughs off and drops to the floor with a wet slap. The room is silent. Kagome, looking surprised at her strength, was analyzing her hand—he sniffed the air, and the lengths of her fingers undeniably smelled of blood.
"We’re not in the arena yet. We can behave, right?” Kagome spoke steadily, looking up and closing the offending hand into a fist.
Hiten dropped his ugly injury down from view. Raw skin, angry and pink, was starting to grow over the edges of the wound. “Where are you from?”
The crowd of teens began to murmur, playing process of elimination once it became obvious that Kagome won’t respond to his question.
“Twelve!”
“Yeah, she’s from Twelve all right.”
“No class there.”
“Of course she helped him!”
Inuyasha watched Kagome’s jaw clench. Her eyes glitter, a sudden flicker of hard determination beaming from within her.
“I’m not ashamed that I come from Twelve,” she said loudly, clearly. “I didn’t help him because he’s from Twelve too. I helped him because you were being an ass.”
“Twelve...” Hiten ruminated. He bit his lip at the idea and lets his eyes wander around the ceiling as he pretends to consider that her status gave her greater odds than him. He sighs contently like he remembered the opposite was true. “You guys never fucking win anyways.”
“What’s it to you?” she snarked.
“Just taking satisfaction in your future demise,” he shrugged. “Nothing much.”
Hiten reared into Kagome with a speed that no human could ever hope to anticipate. Inuyasha instantly swooped in front of her, instinctively going for her waist and scooping her close in the short second it took for Hiten to reach them.
Hiten smashed into a barrier that looked like a translucent purple film upon contact, bouncing backward like a ball hitting a fence.
Inuyasha felt woozy at the lack of impact. He had braced himself for his breath to be knocked from him, but he looked down and saw an infuriated Kagome, staring right through Hiten and standing like a straight angry rod as she measured the demon boy with a scowl down her nose.
Everyone tittered with glee, glad for a show. Hiten’s propped himself on the arm she decimated, already mostly healed.
"You," she sneered, "won't survive the second time."
Hiten stood, brushing his clothes off. "Neither will you, brat."
Inuyasha's stomach churned. How the hell is he going to keep track of these two?
"There won't be a second time. Not here." A voice boomed over the speakers again. The man with the red flower holds a stern expression, but Inuyasha can tell he was holding back his true amusement, a quirk on one side of his lip. It was creepy, to say the least. He sees Kikyo put her hand on the man's shoulder, whispering to him. After a brief pause, he speaks again. "Carry on."
The tension in the entire room is flushed away.
“C’mon,” Kagome managed a grunt as she pulls Inuyasha away from the mess, sidestepping the pile of goop she made of Hiten’s forearm not 2 minutes ago. He jumped in her grip. She looks up at him sadly and lets him go. “We should get away from this area for a bit, is all.”
“You’re actin’ like we’re a team or something. Which I thought you didn’t want.” Foot, meet mouth.
“We—” she stopped in her tracks and mulled for a second. “We are.” Before the silence could go on too long and his mind could go on even longer, she continued. “For now, at least.”
“Yeah,” he retorted sarcastically. He doesn’t get her at all.
Kagome walked over to the targets that he hadn’t even noticed when he first scanned the room. Another woman is using them with a severe look on her face, arrows splitting one another on the bullseye. Her hair is somehow blacker than Kagome’s, a void spilling all the way to her waist.
Kagome picks up a full quiver and bow and sets herself to practice.
She hits the target every time, but it’s inconsistent. The arrowhead was always reaching an inch or two away from the center, piling up on one side as she frustratedly adjusts herself over and over for a few minutes.
“Ugh!” Kagome groans, dropping the whole setup to the ground. It clatters, the quiver rolling away with some feathery arrows poking out. “I need a second.”
“You okay?” He asks, only being polite.
She finally looks at him with her hands on her hips. She’s tapping her foot impatiently. Her bottom lip poked out to one side and she looks so—
Inuyasha glanced away. He heard some rolling and turns back to see her pull the quiver back from its strap and hoist the bow again. She readies herself to try once more.
“I’m just…” her eyes narrow, lips pursing. “Pissed off.” The arrow is released and hits closer to the middle. She sets herself up to shoot again.
“Why?”
“Well! I could write you a list, but right now,” she growled, “that stupid boy.”
She let go of the other arrow on “boy.” It streams off in a blinding light, hitting the center of the target and creating a sizzling, gaping hole that destroyed the target board.
Kagome’s jaw dropped and then she smiled brightly, extremely pleased with herself.
The other girl practicing rolled her eyes at Kagome, “First time?”
She turned to her and Inuyasha remains where he is, watching. His nose was burning due to remnants of Kagome’s powers lingering in the air. He soon noticed the small half-demon girl hiding in the corner not too far off, looking at him. When she realized she was found, she hid again.
“In the Capitol,” Kagome coughed awkwardly, straightening her back and notching another arrow. “That’s all.”
Kagome shifts down the line of targets and finds an untouched one. She shoots again, jaw clenching firmly. A controlled force lights the arrow’s sharp edge this time.
"Sure," the girl condescended. "Whatever you say."
The next arrow Kagome shot was blinding, and he has enough sense to squint.
After a weird day of training where he mainly watched Kagome practice her archery, everyone is sitting down to eat dinner together again.
"I'd expect you to ally yourself with a career," Miroku commented frankly in between bites, "Not piss them off."
"I expected them to leave us alone," Kagome shot back.
"Well, they won't now, will they?"
“He was trying to instigate,” Koga growled as he cracked open a lobster claw with his bare hands. “Fucker just didn’t expect to be challenged.” After freeing his prey, Koga sucks on the open part of the shell to retrieve the flesh.
“That fucker is named Hiten,” Kikyo corrected him dryly. She must not mind the nickname at all. “Don’t let Naraku hear you calling him that.”
Koga nodded thoughtfully as he chewed. He swallowed and clears his throat. “Thanks. But he only listens to you, anyway.”
“Don’t want to commit treason on such a lovely day, Koga. You should watch your tone.”
The wolf grumbled.
“Either way.” Miroku turned away from the stylists and touched base with Inuyasha and Kagome. “It seems you two spent your day painting a target on your back.”
“I shot targets,” Kagome sat up straighter after she gathered her courage to speak. “I didn’t paint any.”
“I saw that,” Sango pipes up. “Good job.”
“Bad job,” Miroku interrupted. “Now they know.”
Kagome withered under Miroku’s scrutiny.
“Come on,” Koga groaned at length. He dropped the shell and it landed on the plate with a dull thump. His fingers were glossy with butter. “She scared the shit out of that boy. If Kagome held his wrist any longer it would have detached from his arm and he'd go into the arena with a nubby baby hand."
“I just think they won’t confront her directly anymore,” Miroku sighed. “They might try something far more insidious.”
“Yeah, I guess they won’t try to decapitate me anymore when they see me.” Kagome scoffed in a very Inuyasha-like manner, “My loss.”
“Which could you defend yourself from, Kagome? An attack you knew was coming or something you step into by accident?”
“Both!”
Miroku conceded with a shrug. The rest of the meal is eaten in silence.
Inuyasha sighs when he sits on one of the cushy sofas, Miroku and Kikyo settling into the one opposite of him.
"You need to do something," Kikyo started unceremoniously. “At least before the end of training. Show that you’re more.”
"I agree." Miroku nods thoughtfully and looks at Inuyasha for further suggestions.
Feeling flustered under the gaze of two adults who speak faster than he'd ever like to, Inuyasha's eyes go wide and he shrugs. "I don't know why you're looking at me for ideas."
It still bothered Inuyasha how much every person expected him to have planned for this, like maybe he was trained to fight bloody battles for glory the way Careers are. He hasn't understood the point of any strategy that has been presented to him.
Unless it was Kagome telling him to hold her hand.
"You're agile, strong, and resilient," Miroku explained. "Anything you can do to show your opponents that--the Capitol that?"
"I'll just flip 'em off, that'll show 'em."
Kikyo snorted at the suggestion, and he felt happy that she saw eye to eye with him on something regarding the Games for once.
Miroku was unaffected by the comment, merely slumping back into the couch seat the way Inuyasha was. "Sango is better at looking at combat constructively…"
"Where is she?" Sango would have been a breath of fresh air right then, her awareness of their situation never failing to permeate her professional demeanor. At least he could tell how she was feeling.
"Kagome wants to be counseled separately from you, and Sango is accompanying Koga."
Inuyasha's head jerked back slightly at the knowledge. So much for being a team. "Oh, okay."
“You should wield a sword.” Miroku pointed at him with a gasp, not skipping a beat.
“A sword.” Inuyasha and Kikyo repeated together.
“It suits you,” Miroku maintained. “Only intense, mysterious men wield swords.”
“I’m not intense or mysterious.”
If he were outside, he would hear crickets.
“Create a persona with me,” Miroku’s tone was almost begging. “Work with me. Create a hero Capitol people can relate to.”
Kikyo scoffed and sucks her teeth. “That’s an oxymoron.”
He couldn’t bring himself to care any longer. He huffed and stood up, turning around and making his way to his room. After his back is to them, Inuyasha weaved into the hall where he and Kagome claimed their rooms.
The lockless door clicks when he turns the knob, dead air in the room escaping with a whoosh. His eyes immediately adjust to the darkness as if the space was bathed in a warmer light. He flicks on the light anyways for convenience’s sake.
The untouched bedroom ahead of him was cold, but he stepped in anyway. No bed he slept in had ever truly felt welcoming. The room seems barren despite the grand furniture and he sighed at the loneliness that came over him. He should be used to it by now, but somehow the Games made him feel even more isolated. He clings to that reason, it gave ground to why he did anything as crazy as sleeping in bed with Kagome.
His door echoed with the knocks he can tell were from Kagome’s fist.
He opened the door for her himself. Inuyasha lingered in the doorjamb, looking down to see Kagome in her Capitol pajamas.
“Ready for bed?” He pushed away the thought that assumed she’d come to sleep with him like the previous night.
Kagome’s face scrunched in puzzlement. “Why aren’t you?”
“Was talkin’ to Miroku and Kikyo,” his head crooked in their direction beyond the door. “But I left.”
“I finished talking to Koga way before.”
Setting the idea aside that she was only mentioning Koga, Inuyasha couldn’t help but wonder why her session was so much quicker than his. He is compelled to ask, stepping aside to let her into his room before he did. “Didn’t talk to Sango?”
Kagome bit her lip before dropping onto his bed. “I... got mad at her.”
He merely nodded.
“I want to apologize to her tomorrow...and ask for her help again,” she sighed at the prospect. “I need it wherever I can get it, anyways.”
Her fists clenched at her sides and he easily recalled when she rotted Hiten’s wrist earlier that day, or when she shot a beaming arrow. Or when she gave him food with the very same hand all those years ago.
She was splayed across the middle of the mattress, hair fanned around her like some kind of halo.
“They want me to show my strength.”
Kagome’s head turned to where he stood before her and she smiles at him widely, puffs of air coming from her nostrils as she withholds her laughter. “What a vague idea.”
“I know!” He laughed back in disbelief, eased into the sense of comfort of being around the closest person to him in their bleak world. He sat right next to her, arms on either side of him so he may lean back and stare at the ceiling.
“Maybe you could lift something.”
“Yeah, I’ll just move some furniture around,” he agreed sarcastically, hand gesturing to the room they were in. “I might rearrange this place as practice.”
He heard a small huffing noise beside him and he turns around to see Kagome with a frown plastered on her features. He smiled at her discontent.
“I was only making a suggestion,” she stuck her tongue out at him.
“More than those numbnuts gave me.”
“Um…”
“Yeah?”
“I can shoot an arrow at you…” she whispered, knowing the risk that comes with such a suggestion. “And you could dodge it or something. Show how fast you are.”
Inuyasha's brows shot up. Her idea made sense, but once again she’s offering to help him when she won’t accept any from him. It was starting to get annoying.
"What'd you say to me? ‘Worry about yourself,’ right?"
"I never said I take my own advice."
He looked at her again and she seems determined enough that he thinks she's already decided to attack him tomorrow.
"You should. It’s credible."
"Tell me how to stop worrying about you, then," she snapped, sitting up and becoming eye level with him. "Because I don't know."
Inuyasha wondered if the two of them were always thinking the same thing.
"You just do."
Her lower lip puckered out and he realizes she is choking back tears. "I... want you to live, too."
"It doesn't happen like that."
"I know!"
He saw her stricken expression and he wanted to hold her like he did on the train again. If he brought her closer to him, would she allow it?
Inuyasha fully sat up next to her and his hand treads to her cheek, thumb wiping a tear at the same time as it fell. She looks at him with disbelief, glossy eyes moving about his face to study him.
He leaned down and lingered, lips hovering over her forehead for a precarious moment before thinking better of it and pulling away.
"We should go to sleep, Kagome." His gym outfit was as comfortable as any.
"Y-yeah," she mumbled, stiffly moving away from him as she scoops up a pillow and curled into it. He got up and shut off the light.
When he settled down into the bed again after chucking off his pants, Kagome turned to face him while hugging her pillow. He was about to ask her what was on her mind but then she leaned in and kissed his forehead.
"Oh."
And then they went to sleep.
Kagome was pushing him weakly. His shoulder moves at the pressure like a limp noodle and he screws his eyes shut, trying to summon sleep again.
Inuyasha turned away from her completely, hoping that his back might speak for him. Kagome gasped incredulously.
"I'm trying to wake you up," her was voice scratchy with sleep. "So... wake up!"
"No."
There was a blissful silence before she spoke again.
"But I have an idea."
Unfortunately, his ear twitched at that, giving him away.
"See!"
Inuyasha rolled over with all the passive aggression he could muster, glowering at a hovering Kagome. She gave him a once over and subsequently covered her mouth in shock.
She snorted. And she started to laugh without a care in the world.
"Your hair! Is this why you left so early yesterday?!"
He flinched under her gaze, not sure what she meant. He was starting to feel like the butt of a joke.
"What's wrong with my hair?!"
He sat up fully then and crossed his arms over his chest for the full effect. Kagome, with a mischievous look on her face, brought her free hand closer to his cheek and he orders every cell in his body to refrain from reacting. Her hand then moves to the side of his head and she flicks a short stray hair that was jutting out from his temple. He felt his hair being played with and swatted her hand down. She laughed some more.
"You think I give a crap about how my hair looks? Feh!"
Kagome's hands went up in surrender, but amusement colored her expression.
"Don't change a thing for training, they'll all fear you, Inuyasha the Ridiculous."
Inuyasha leaned his messy head towards her as a weapon and Kagome flopped back onto the bed with gales of laughter.
The doorknob clicked and turned, Inuyasha's head whipping back to see who invited themselves in.
He should’ve known it was Kikyo.
"Here are our tributes," she said in her deep, clear voice. "I can see you two are entrenched in strategy. Should we leave?"
The heavy sarcasm doesn't leave him awestruck this time; he was only embarrassed, as if he'd been caught by his mom.
Kikyo did warn him not to make friends. Inuyasha took a risky glance at Kagome to find her clenching her jaw.
"Kagome! Having a sleepover?" Koga appeared in the corner behind Kikyo, his difference in height giving him the edge he needed to interrupt the conversation.
"Good morning!" The girl in question bounds off the bed and over to where their stylists stood.
"Kagome," Kikyo piped in, "Congratulations on your target practice yesterday."
The monotonous way his mentor spoke made Inuyasha wonder if it was a true compliment. But if it wasn't, she wouldn't have bothered to say it.
"Thank you," Kagome crooned, fingers colliding to fidget with the ring she'd been wearing since they got to the Capitol. "I think it's because my ring fits me now."
"Koga's done a good job," she commented idly, "That's why we’re partners."
Kagome smiled at that, an approving nod coming second.
"Let's talk business, 'Gome." Koga's hand shot out from the doorjamb, clawed black fingers motioning for her to follow. Kagome looked back and mouthed "good luck" before slipping past Kikyo.
After a minute passed the two of them let their eyes wander around the room. Kikyo elegantly ended the silence, her voice resonant instead of harsh with the short time of disuse.
"She's juvenile. I overestimated the situation."
Juvenile. Inuyasha let the word burn him instead of his friend, resisting the urge to correct the adult in front of him.
"Come here," Kikyo called after him as she waltzed straight into his bathroom. While Inuyasha shuffles off the bed, Kikyo continued her commentary. "That's a lot of glitter everywhere."
"You put it on me!"
He walked into the threshold to see Kikyo standing behind a chair by the mirror. She motioned for him to sit and he obeys.
"I could have given you oil for the glitter." Inuyasha's nose scrunched at the thought of being greasy on top of everything.
Kikyo's deft fingers began picking through his hair, swiftly detangling the shorter tresses. She pulls away from him for a moment and looks in the bathroom cabinet he never touched, pulling out a spray bottle.
"What's that--" he winced when sprinkles of water chill the back of his neck and his head. "Hey!"
"Shush," she's biting her lip, cool concentration on the line of her brow. Suddenly, scissors appear in her free hand and she's trimming. "I'm making you gorgeous again."
"You just cut it."
"And it grew an inch. I can't tidy you in the arena, but I'm a perfectionist."
"And that means?" He grumbled.
"It means you're getting a fucking haircut, Inuyasha."
"Right."
After the rest of his haircut was completed in silence, Kikyo let out a big sigh and rests her experienced hands on his shoulders. Their eyes meet in the mirror in front of them.
"I can't do this for you."
"I didn't ask you to—"
"I know. What I'm saying is that you're going to do whatever you want no matter what I tell you. Just do it well, Inuyasha."
There was a nearly imperceptible softness that she held in her face. Kikyo believes in him.
He smiled at her. She squeezed his shoulders and smiled back.
“I know you don’t want to listen to him, Kagome,” Sango said gently. “But Miroku was right to an extent. You should spend the rest of training laying low.”
“I hate to give the jerk any authority on the subject, but he did win in the arena the largest pool of tributes in history,” Koga shrugged placatingly. “They know you know how to shoot now. Maybe focus on the other stuff.”
Kagome walked into training with her mentors’ words ringing in her head, heaving a great sigh. She made a breakthrough in archery yesterday and she can’t even hone in on it. Her eyes traveled over to her fellow tribute, but Inuyasha was decidedly looking away from her, walking to a section with what looked like melee combat weapons.
Okay, I’m on my own here, she steels herself. Can’t be mad when what I wanted to happen happens, now can I?
She walked over to the nearest station that carried no weaponry. The sign read “camouflage.” In front of her was a selection of paint pots filled with natural elements. Tree sap, moss, shards of bark.
After a little while, Kagome had turned the back of her hand into what looked like a believable pile of leaf litter.
“Wow,” a gentle voice awed from somewhere behind her. She jumped a little but played it off as she turned around. The girl was in the same training outfit as her, and a ponytail too, but hers was low and at her side. “You’re not so bad at that.”
Kagome shrugged and looked back down at her work. “The books are pretty helpful.”
“I can help, too,” the girl came toward the table. “I’m Kasumi. District 10.”
“Kagome, District 12.”
“Oh, everybody knows that now.”
She reined in her urge to blush at that. “So, how can you help?”
“I decorate cakes a lot at home.”
“Oh.” Kagome could count on one hand how many times she’d had cake in her lifetime.
“I have siblings and my father to look after,” she smiled, looking very matronly. “many birthdays. You make do.”
Kagome wondered what they must be thinking now.
As soon as he made it to the training area, he did his damnedest to avoid Kagome. He could easily spend the day acting as her shitty guard dog again. To deter this, Inuyasha escorted himself to the place furthest from the target practice as possible.
His mission led him to an array of human-shaped dummies.
I'll just kick this thing's ass.
Before he could think about how to approach his target, he sensed something headed his way and ducked to safety. Whatever it was, it pierced the foam body in front of him rather easily. Inuyasha leaned in to get a closer look. Several roughly carved spears were bound in some fishing twine to make a jagged star.
"Sorry," a hand appeared in his vision and disengages the weapon. "I'm just testing my fabrication skills with more limited materials."
Inuyasha finally looked at the boy and saw glasses bigger than his face. His free hand came up to adjust its placement on his nose.
"I'm Moose."
"Inuyasha," he nodded at him.
"Yeah, I know. I saw the action yesterday."
He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to concentrate his frustration towards Hiten into his fists to use during training.
"You probably can take a lot of hits," Moose offered, looking him up and down. "You were about to let Hiten barrel through you yesterday."
"I've had my fair share of punches."
Moose sighed, looking at the weapon in his hand. "So you’ve trained already, too."
Inuyasha barely hid his contempt. He would correct him, but he doesn’t care that much about what Moose thinks.
"I want to be able to take a punch." Moose pulled down his glasses and exhaled his worry. He rubs his frames clean with the hem of his shirt. Beneath the fogged spectacles were a rather sleepy looking pair of blue eyes.
"No amount of prep is gonna prepare you for a wallop," Inuyasha turned away from him to grab a weapon from the rack. It was a sword with a threatening, long blade.
He’s standing with a hunch, gripping the hilt and aiming the edge at the dummy. To test its sharpness, he stretched it outward. The soft noise of the foam giving under the curved edge reached his sharp ears. Inuyasha took a deep breath, gathering air in his lungs, and then he swings at the mannequin with full force. Moose jumped.
Inuyasha managed to decapitate the dummy cleanly. The head with no face (only a nose, Inuyasha noted) smacked the ground and rolls towards his acquaintance. At the place of injury was the exposed material of the mannequin, air bubbles gathering in the center of the neck. His skin crawled at the sight.
"I need something that effective," Moose whispered while staring at the weapon he made in his palm. He turns and walks away towards a desk full of supplies.
Rather satisfied with his beheading, he looked around to see if anyone saw. No eyes were on him except Kikyo's. A smile came on her face when he noticed her. She nods, approving his choice.
Any leftover breath leaves his lungs right then. Finally, for fuck's sake!
Miroku and Kikyo have been pacing around him the entire meeting, and he's starting to become annoyed.
"Could ya please sit?" Inuyasha begged.
Miroku turned to him first. He is holding his chin thoughtfully, eyes concentrating. "They've seen you kill a mannequin."
Kikyo gains a proud smirk on her face. She pointed from her side of the room at Miroku, and it grabs his attention easily. "In one cut."
He’s nodding again. "Yes, this is perfectly average."
Inuyasha's hand clenched by his side, then releases. Invisible tension dripped off his fingertips. He sighs. "You can't use perfect and average together. It doesn't make sense!"
"You showed off just enough," Kikyo's hand came up to stop his train of thought. "That's what he means. You've proven yourself to your peers."
"Next is the evaluation." Miroku exhaled. "We're almost done."
Inuyasha's eyes travel down to stare at his lap. He’ll be in the arena soon.
"Be equally competent for the evaluation, but slightly more overachieving," Kikyo added.
"Easy for you to say," he groaned in reply. Will they ever make sense?
Inuyasha watched tribute after tribute pass through a pair of tall, ominous doors. They close without a creak, but a gust of wind hits his face and makes him shiver twenty-three times. The last person to push them open is Kagome, which she did with unwavering bravery. Kagome, whose hands were shaking like leaves until she presses them onto the bench they sat on to stop it. Once she is called over, she stood up stiffly, sighing, and glancing back at him.
When their eyes met, he nodded immediately without thought.
Go on, I’ll see you when you get back.
She breathed deeply and turned with an assertion in her step, and then the doors swallow her up.
Minutes are trailed away and Inuyasha found himself bored. The room was empty save for him and some cold benches. He looked around the sterile room, complete with hard edges along every surface. The light bulbs in the ceiling hum loudly, sparking a ring in his brain. Inuyasha held the bridge of his nose, hoping to shake off whatever sick set of nerves he’s caught. This was the only room he’d been in where the Capitol didn’t try to lure him into a false sense of comfort. The utter hopelessness made the muscles in his body throb anxiously.
The sound wave of quickening footsteps caught his attention and it was as if Inuyasha was shaken free of his misery. His eyes swiftly find the bleak set of doors to see them open with a livid Kagome just in the archway. Slightly behind her, he can see a bow forgotten on the floor.
She stormed right by him and Inuyasha feels a second blast of discomfort, his name being called over a speaker at the same moment. He got up anyway, grabbing the knob before the door closes fully. The door is unexpectedly heavy, and his arm strained in shock momentarily. He walked through it to find an audience of nearly 30 people, all loudly dressed, laughing at a gaping hole in the wall behind them.
No one noticed him except Kikyo, who is reliably wearing red. She stood next to the President, who isn’t paying attention to her at the moment.
As he walked to the center of the spacious gym, he eyes the equipment around him. Immediately he is searching for a sword to repeat his demonstration from earlier that day. He could toss in a stab, the cherry on top that Kikyo wanted. When he walked up the rack of sharp things, he zeroes in on something bigger: a boomerang, the off-white color reminding him of bone.
The sword was right next to it. He could take it.
But the boomerang is bigger.
The blade looked like the exact same one from the training room, so he knows how to hold it.
But the boomerang is probably heavier, too.
Inuyasha’s hands reached out to grab both weapons, gaze zipping from one to the other; he was torn.
“Please—begin.” The voice surrounds him and it hurts his sensitive ears. He looked up into the mezzanine and resists the urge to roll his eyes or else it’d hurt his score, and then Kikyo wouldn't shut up about it.
He grabbed the bigger, heavier thing first.
Inuyasha is again surprised by the weight of something else today, but it was nothing he couldn’t carry. Quite effortlessly, Inuyasha was able to have it swishing above his head. With a suspenseful breath, he threw it and he felt the tendons under his skin flex against the weight. The boomerang undulated out at first and then comes back around. He thought he was ready to catch it, but it veered downward and reams into his stomach. He’s wiped out, the wind knocked out of him as he sits on his ass, watching the whole crowd turn to look at him.
The boomerang clamors onto the floor on either side of him and he notices the bow Kagome used only a few feet away. He smells blood.
Inuyasha shifted backward and pushes off the weight on his stomach to find a fresh wound, a gift from the crook of the boomerang. It’s shallow, but it bleeds freely, as he does nothing but stare at it. His hand touched the injury and he winces slightly when his fingers scoop up some of the blood. He saw some trail off his fingers the same way he felt his anger leave him in his session with Miroku and Kikyo. But as blood traveled down his fingertip, the adrenaline and power built inside of him calcified the liquid before his eyes.
“Call a medic.” The screeching audio cut in and out abruptly. Inuyasha’s ears fold back.
Experimentally, Inuyasha shook off his soiled hand to see a resulting shatter against the white tile. No droplets, but something sharp. Straining, Inuyasha stood up, clutching his abdomen with his other hand. He meanders towards another practice mannequin. In the same motion as if he were to claw it, the torso was shredded by his blood, each lesion gory with it. The grisly gouges gave the impression the foam was alive.
He panted over the prone figure, finding himself satisfied with the display. The aggression he’s built since he’s been called to the Capitol lies in pieces at his feet. He fucking hates all of this.
“That is all.” Inuyasha looked up again at the crowd to see the President had taken the center to speak.
Inuyasha moved towards the window watching over him. He salutes them all, walking off with a lighter tread than Kagome had. His wound stitched itself together on its own.
The first thing a person saw the moment they open the door to the District 12 suite is a huge living room with couches and an enormous television. He zeroed in on Kagome based on the ponytail Koga keeps giving her, and his nose confirms it. Kagome then turned around instinctively, calling him over silently with a panicked wave of her hand.
“Why are you bleeding?!” Kagome tried to ask in her quietest voice, to no avail.
At that point, he was actually no longer bleeding. There is only blood and a hole in his shirt left. He skipped that explanation. “My evaluation didn’t go well.”
She pulled him down on the sofa next to her and he tries to grab the armrest for a steady descent. “Neither did mine, but I’m not bleeding!”
“Both of you are quite the pair, aren’t you?” Kikyo chimed in from behind them. “You blew the last two evaluations out of the water. We can’t remember the ones before them.”
Kagome was eyeing Kikyo incredulously. Inuyasha listened intently.
“I don’t know how this is going to go…” She sighed, standing above them with a confused expression. “But you’ve made your mark. Donorship will come simply for the absurdity.”
Sango came from somewhere in the apartment and looks over her tributes. “Why is he bleeding!”
Kagome turned to him.
“He made President Naraku smirk,” Kikyo’s words gave Sango pause, and she looks back and forth between the people in front of her.
“Hey, Inuyasha.” Sango said.
“Yeah?” He squirmed under her and Kagome’s imploring gaze.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Sango nodded and goes to turn on the TV. After she’s done, she faces the three of them. “Scores are in. I would appreciate it if no one is injured between now and tomorrow.”
Kikyo scoffed under her breath and Sango moves to sit down, completely unaffected. Miroku waltzed in and takes the seat next to her. Koga sat right next to Inuyasha, which feels awkward to him.
Tributes flash by: a name, photo, and number displayed on the screen. Twelve was the highest score a tribute could earn. He recognizes Hiten (11), Moose (8), and Shiori (7). He names some familiar faces—the girl that was rude to Kagome is named Tsubaki (8). The half-demon that towers over Shiori is named Jinenji (10).
After Jinenji came up, Kagome’s face fades in. Next to her picture is her score: 9.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Koga leaned over and sandwiches Inuyasha between him and her for a moment, all to simply pat her on the back. “Nice job.”
Kagome smiled and supports Inuyasha enough with her side so he could sit up without being covered in wolf.
When he glanced at the TV again, he sees his score: 11.
“Holy shit,” Kikyo gawped, her hands coming down to rest on the back of the couch. “Amazing.”
“Kids,” Miroku was clapping. “Your future is looking up.”
His mentors hardly prepared him for his interview. They just buzzed around him like bees, throwing pieces of advice at him while they fixed his tie. Kikyo was sewing purple pleats that flared across his front.
"Nevermind, Miroku," Kikyo stopped, taking his tie in hand. "This thing is gonna come off."
She unfurled the knot and pulled it off of him by the long end. After, she unbuttons his collar.
"Perfect," Miroku grinned. "I love the violet suit."
"It's minimal, but I prefer it." She nodded smugly. "Inuyasha."
"Mm?" He almost grumbled, but reins in his tone. He was zoning out.
"Don't forget to shake your interviewer’s hand. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure." He nodded absently.
Kagome watched as Koga floated around her with an expression of deep concentration on his face. Behind him, Ginta was anticipating his every need, passing him pins and pigments with just a gesture of his index finger while Hakkaku worked on the final touches of her makeup (they promised).
She peered down her nose at the gown she was to wear to her interview. The fabric was so unbelievably sheer, but it was layered strategically that nothing showed that Koga (or, more importantly, Kagome) didn’t want to show. The neckline fanned out and hugged her arms, turning into off the shoulder sleeves. Truthfully, the dress didn’t look like it followed the Capitol dress code. It was dyed a warm, blushing yellow that seemed to make her skin glow without cosmetics. It could honestly pass as tasteful.
Koga put a finger on her jaw and pushed her head right side up. “Chin up. Hakkaku might smudge your eyeliner and he’ll cry.”
The man in question nodded. “He’s right. I will.”
Kagome shrugged and Koga cringed at the unfinished ensemble being jostled. “Aren’t you almost finished? Looks done to me.”
The entire glam squad stopped and stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Then, they burst into frenetic laughter.
“Finished?” Koga said disbelievingly.
“In District 12, maybe!” Ginta sputtered on.
“If we send you out like this, we’d lose our jobs,” Hakkaku stated matter of factly.
“Sometimes the garment isn’t finished until it is on a person,” her mentor told her, walking over to an unopened chest in the dressing room and fishing something out of it. “Allow me to execute my vision.”
He was holding something that looked uncannily like a bundle of freshly bloomed vines. “You guys start pinning some of these on the skirt. I trust your judgment.”
Koga took up the responsibility of her bodice, fanning the fabric vines and delicate flowers over her shoulders and securing them with a bit of lash glue. He placed some on her back and trailed them into the hair on her nape, plucking flowers off and placing a couple into the tousled-up hairstyle he gave her.
“There you go.”
“She’s an angel,” Ginta crooned. “Even better than your drawing.”
Koga’s eyes snapped to Ginta and narrowed into a glare, which caused his assistant to flinch. “You’re right,” He visibly exhaled. “I’ve outdone myself.”
“Kagome?”
She stiffened, nodding intently. “Yes?”
“Now you’re finished. And you’re perfect.” She grinned widely and Koga returned it.
“Oh, and don’t forget to spin.”
Kagome was sitting on stage with him, and this time her dress was yellow. The deep gauzy fabric faded into a pink shade that almost blended with her skin near the top. It fluffed out more than the one she wore in the parade, and she was covered in foliage that wrapped around her shoulders and neck. Other than that, they were completely exposed, a precarious neckline that was the demarcation of his dignity.
He turned away from her figure bashfully, afraid he stared for too long. Kagome looked his way the same moment he chose to dart his eyes. The curtains opened before she could ask him about it and he is given the little blessing of her silence.
The host saunters on stage at the same time the audience is revealed--his every step clacking on the shellac flooring. The crowd looks more like a void that he could only stare into. Bright, hot lights made him squint.
“Whoa,” Kagome whispered so quietly that the only reason he hears it is that they were seated together. He merely gulped.
The man performing the interview was unlike anyone Inuyasha had met in the Capitol, and that was saying something. His name was Jakotsu and he wore a suit covered in glitter. He had a sleazy smile and wore his long hair up, graphic makeup on his cheekbones, and red lipstick to match. The chair he’s sat in was luxurious and throne-like.
He didn't pay any mind to anyone's interviews, but he peeked over to see Kagome listening rapturously. She's had her eyes straight ahead and her lips are in a serious line.
Being the last District meant that Inuyasha could probably take a nap before his turn came. He doesn’t, but he knew he could.
After a while, Shiori is dismissed by Jakotsu and she subsequently makes her way up the stairs. Jinenji pats the seat next to him when she returns.
"Next up is Inuyasha Taisho, from District Twelve!" At his vantage point, Inuyasha could see the theatrical way Jakotsu gestures with his hands. Even though all the production made everyone else think otherwise, he couldn’t help but feel he was walking into an interrogation. Miroku’s constant ideas on how he could fool the Capitol public into paying his way through the arena made him positively nauseous.
The lights burned brighter inside his irises the closer he got to center stage; he could practically feel his pupils shrinking. But once Inuyasha was seated next to Jakotsu and facing slightly away from them, it wasn’t unbearable.
“Inuyasha, you are absolutely dashing,” Jakotsu flirted. “How do you keep your hair so shiny? Your eyes, so sparkly?”
Inuyasha is blinking in disbelief. How should he answer this?
“Um…” he looked around at the audience in front of him, who he can finally see. Everyone’s outfits are so extravagant that Inuyasha notices that some people had parts of their ensemble shoved underneath them, and some who didn’t dare to do such a thing stood up in the back of the room.
A thousand or so blank faces.
“I …bathe.”
Laughter roared from the crowd and Jakotsu is so tickled that he was wiping a tear from his eye. Quickly, he composed himself and takes a sip of water from the glass on the desk between them.
“We appreciate humility here in the Capitol, Inuyasha. We also appreciate naivety.”
The audience hummed in agreement.
“Where do you fall?”
“I don’t.” He spat in disgust.
Again, everyone is laughing, completely pleased.
“You’re just as pleasant as I thought you’d be, Inuyasha!” Jakotsu clapped. “People may frown upon it, but beauty is my judge of character.”
He only nodded, unsure how to continue.
"So, tell me," Jakotsu leaned in conspiratorially. "When you got called onstage at the reaping, did you want to run the other way home to mommy?"
But mom is gone.
"Ugh." He responded flippantly, crossing his arms in front of him. "Of course not." He won’t tell them the rest.
"Mm, what a brave young man everyone!" Jakotsu turned to the crowd gleefully, making the people in the seats clap. "He knows his duty to Panem! A model citizen."
Inuyasha inched away from the audience suspiciously, retreating further into his chair.
“How is the Capitol treating you? Do you like it here?”
He had to stomp down the snarky response he had at the ready. The Capitol was stuffy, overcompensating, and shallow. It was too busy for his senses and he preferred his shitty little house in Twelve.
“I like your soap. And your ramen.”
“Ramen!” He exclaimed, “Delightful. I am partial to a spicy shrimp bowl myself. What’s your favorite?”
“Yakisoba.”
“A man of culture! Wouldn’t you say, everyone?” The audience agreed in a murmur, the synchronicity alarming Inuyasha.
"So, Inuyasha, let's imagine you win the games. What's the first thing you do?"
He stared at the crowd again, eyes running along the faces until he landed on Kikyo, who is in the dead center of the audience (of course she is, he thinks). She stares at him with such intensity that it looked like she was hoping he read her mind. He smiled at her and she gave one back, a smirk creeping on her face. It appears to be an encouraging smile, but Inuyasha knew the difference. She was awaiting his move.
He leveled Jakotsu with a stare of contemplation. A slight blush crept upon the older man's cheeks at this, and Inuyasha forced back a cringe. "I'd probably take a nap, I guess."
"Bravo!" Jakotsu clapped in pleasure, standing and walking toward the front of the stage. Everyone applauded vigorously along with him. "Inuyasha Taisho of District 12, everyone! Remember that you may donate to his cause while he is in the arena—so he can take that luxurious nap!"
Inuyasha stood and walked to Jakotsu to shake his hand as Kikyo instructed. He wasn't one for manners, but it was either do it or get an earful and Inuyasha prefers the former.
Jakotsu met him with an outstretched hand and Inuyasha does the same. When he held Jakotsu’s baby soft hand, sparkling flames came from his cuff and concentrated there, flaring out like a bright beacon. He stared at his wrist and saw that the opposite one was also alight, so he imitated the same obnoxious bow he did in front of Naraku and company. The host gasped.
"My, my! Another wonderful innovation from your designer, Kikyo Hidaka!"
Jakotsu shook his hand enthusiastically. When they let go, he briefly ghosted his fingers along the end of Inuyasha’s sleeve. Jakotsu's hand remained unburnt; he coos in astonishment.
Before anything more could happen, Inuyasha promptly turned around and made his way to where Kagome is sitting.
She's smiling brightly and clapping for him. He can't help but smile back at her, and her eyes and nose crinkle a bit when her grin gets wider. She mouths some words to him again and he tried to read her lips.
"Good job, Inuyasha."
He dipped his chin curtly and sat down next to her.
After a few brief minutes of Jakotsu talking to the audience, he welcomed Kagome onstage. She stood elegantly, the same way she did when he watched her deliver book reports in school. Her shoulders were squared firmly, ready to be hit with anything. As she walked over he sees a slight tremble in her gait and his anxiety starts to rise.
Something is off.
Kagome casually placed her hand on the broad chair Inuyasha was sitting in moments before. He watched her fingers squeeze the velvety cushion beneath her fingers, lights casting a glowing shadow onto the whole scene. She curtsies to Jakotsu, who grins and gestures for her to sit.
Once she is seated, she disappears. All he can see is the bottom of her dress, fluttering out and poking from the side of the chair’s feet.
“Kagome, Kagome, Kagome,” Jakotsu hummed, “the last lady on the hot seat today. How’s that feel?”
His trained ears can hear her soft laugh in response to his question. “Feels like I’d better make a good impression.”
“Are you a girl who rises to that kind of challenge, Kagome?”
A pause. Inuyasha wished he could see what was going on, but he can hear her inhale deeply.
“It won’t be a challenge, Jakotsu.”
“Oh, why’s that? Panem is dying to know.”
She abruptly stands and does a spinning turn, landing center stage. He can hear the crackling sparks of the same flame that lit his suit whooshing out and twinkling by her feet. The crowd thundered and cheered at the display and Kagome’s arms come outstretched, like a bird ready to fly.
“Point taken!” Jakotsu squealed. “District 12’s very own canary is here to make an entrance! She rises from Twelve’s coal mines pristine!”
The crowd is still lively with mirth when she sat back down again, and in the short second that she faced the other tributes, Inuyasha can see a large smile on her face.
“Honestly, Kagome. You’ve had a remarkable journey here. While our audience hasn’t seen you in action yet, I think you’ve got a chance to blow away the competition.”
“R-really?” Her voice shook, whatever facade she held breaking at the compliment. Inuyasha imagined she’d slouch in relief, but he cannot see her.
“Don’t take my eye for potential lightly, Kagome,” Inuyasha refrained from cackling loudly in front of the entire country. “But on to more pressing matters. Are there any special boys at home? Who is going to get your coveted victory kiss?”
“Ah...no one.”
“Really? I’d hardly believe that. Does everyone else?” Jakotsu beckoned the audience.
The crowd bellows a unanimous “no” and Inuyasha’s face heats up for Kagome, the beaming lights having nothing to do with the red in his cheeks at the moment.
“No one here believes that for a second! Come on, dish.”
“Well…” Kagome sighs, longing echoing from her mouth that hits him in his bones. “I guess I have a crush on this one guy, but it would never happen.”
He bristles, anticipation running through him as he slides his palms over his knees and squeezes.
“You win this thing and get your man, Kagome!” Jakotsu encouraged. Capitol citizens cheer once more, thriving in the drama. Again, Inuyasha hated that he couldn’t see Kagome's and Jakotsu’s faces.
“That will never work.” Kagome’s voice became wistful.
“And why not? It seems like a foolproof plan to me.” Whoops and hollers were thrown their way.
She sighed and spoke softly. “That’s because he came here with me.” If she hadn’t had a mic clipped to her, he actually might have missed it.
He punctured his slacks with the sharpened edge of his claws, the pricks centering him in the middle of a spinning room. This is not happening. Inuyasha released his pant leg to clench his hands into fists and then released, but the seized muscles remained.
“How unlucky,” Jakotsu sighed.
“Yeah...it is unlucky, isn’t it?”
He looked down at his feet, eyes flitting over to the marble flooring. It reflects the disgruntled bend in his brow and the blunt line his mouth had formed since Kagome’s inconvenient confession. He inhaled his frustration through his nostrils and attempts to swallow it, like all the other shit shoveled at him since he was picked. Inuyasha loathes the Games now more than ever before.
Jakotsu’s showboat personality allowed him to pick up the slack and cast a shadow over the awkwardness that has come over the entire theater. He arose in a sweeping motion and casts his arm out flagrantly. “Let us all wish Kagome Higurashi of District 12 the best of luck!”
Simultaneous to Jakotsu’s announcement, Kagome got up and turned toward all of the other tributes. He can hear them all begin to whisper about her, but he doesn’t pay attention to it. Kagome’s taking breaths so shallow that he watched her collarbone rise and fall with every stuttering gasp. Her eyes were wide as she walked right past him, moving backstage.
He lingered for a second before anger boils within his stomach. Who gives a crap if I stay now? Inuyasha rose and stormed in the direction that Kagome went, revving up to give her a piece of his mind. He couldn’t catch a trace of anything; the Capitol is a smelly wasteland and the stage the show was produced on had too many whirring lights, not to mention the thick wooly curtains that served as an effective cloak to hide her.
When he made it behind the curtains, a crowded nook with a few crew members greeted him. He turned his head to a flight of stairs she might have gone up, or the door right beside him labeled “EXIT.”
Where did she go?
Inuyasha paused to focus and listen and soon he starts to hear the prattle of her impractical footwear as it rhythmically hit every step in the stairway above.
He wastes no time and pushes past the people dressed in black; they didn’t try to stop him. He conquers multiple steps at a time with his inhuman speed.
“Kagome!” He called, and the resonating noise of her walking stops. He followed even more urgently, scaling the third landing to find a pair of heels thrown about indiscriminately by a doorway. The stairs go up higher, but Inuyasha gambles that she didn’t go further and he swings the door open.
He recognized the lobby area once he steps in. Inuyasha discovers her walking quickly down the hallway to the elevators they’ve taken to their rooms the past few nights. The dress is hiked up to her ankles and he sees her bare feet. He followed her into the bank and she turns around to stun him with her stare before he gets a chance to speak.
“Can you stop following me?!” Kagome stomped her foot and crosses her arms.
“Following you? Conveniently ignoring something, aren’t you?” He came in closer, cornering her by an elevator door. “What the fuck were you thinking, Kagome?”
“It just came out.”
“I don’t know why I even cared to ask,” he growled, leaning to tower over her. The expression on her face was filled with absolute defiance and he wants to wipe it away. “You didn’t think. You don’t give a shit; you just go ahead and announce to the world that—!”
“Say it,” Kagome dared through clenched teeth.
“You just did whatever you wanted. That’s what you always do!” He bellows and is swung backward by his shirt collar. Inuyasha cranes his neck up to see an infuriated Koga holding him like some puppy.
“Back off, kid.”
“That was so stupid—“
“Listen.” Koga hissed, face leaning in towards his own which forced him to stare into the man’s piercing blue eyes. His pupils have drawn to slits and Inuyasha felt his hackles rise. He readied himself to shove forward into the demon holding him captive, but Koga’s hand stays firm. “She made you interesting. She made both of you worth watching in one move.”
Koga’s grip loosened and Inuyasha forcefully pushed himself free even though he didn’t have to. The wolf stands firm, arms crossed.
“This isn’t just some game,” Inuyasha grumbled and immediately realizes how naive he sounds.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Kikyo weighed in from behind him. He turns around to find his mentor with Miroku and Sango as they all crowd at the entrance of the elevator bank.
“Shut up. No one fucking talk to me.”
“She discussed it with me first,” Koga offered casually, walking towards his tribute. Kagome had gone off to the side, she was hugging her body, looking miserable. His eyes follow, the world in front of him coated in a surreal aura. “I encouraged her to reveal it if she got the chance.”
Inuyasha sighs heavily and walks over to his only escape. The elevator dings open after he pressed the button. He steps inside by himself, glaring at the aimless group of adults (plus Kagome) looking at him with such pity that he is sickened.
“It was effective, Inuyasha,” Miroku called and he doesn’t even look back.
His fingers urgently press the floor that their camp was staying in, hoping to rush the door closed so he wouldn’t have to stare at Kagome’s contrite expression.
“Inuyasha!” She exclaimed when the elevator finally closes him in, away from her.
Inuyasha made it into his bedroom when he tore off the purple (it’s not plum, it’s not violet, not grape, it is purple) suit jacket off of his body in a frustrated huff. The quick motion caused the cuffs to blaze to life. Its ornate buttons pop off and disperse in the wretched room, to be found when whoever prepares the place for the unlucky tribute to be cursed after him.
He hadn’t turned on the lights, anger simmering within him and making his head pound. The corner of the room where he threw the coat was brightened by the smoldering sleeves.
Inuyasha sat on the bed and put his head in his hands and fights the urge to scream. It’s unlike him, to be vexed to the point of grousing silence. As he breathed harshly through his nostrils, he has a realization. What coursed inside him at that moment was pure bitterness, the same thing that has infected him since he’d been reaped. He loathed it all, he hates that Kagome was there, but he can’t imagine coming here with anyone else.
She had a crush on him, he’s stared at her for years like a lost puppy, all this time he probably could have just talked to her and they’d be actual friends for more than just a handful of days—
He wouldn’t have been so lonely.
Inuyasha’s chest tightened considerably and he let out a shuddering breath. His fingers grip his hair by the root unforgivingly. His throat stung with unshed tears.
He finally let himself cry about it all, just once.