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Summary:

“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.

(this fic has been given a fresh coat of paint as of June 2022)

Chapter 1: beyond the flowered meadow

Notes:

Hey hi hello! I am writing this note in June 2022 to let you know that this chapter has received a thorough revision on my part, along with the rest of this story.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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. 

 

Notes:

My very good friend Ashley helped me extensively to edit this chapter, so kudos to her for being the greatest. The Hunger Games is one of my all time favorite book series, so it's safe to say I enjoyed writing this! Contact me on tumblr at @doginabirdcage if you want to chat!

6/27/22 - I can't even believe I posted this so long ago, I'm sorry I take forever. However, this story will get finished no matter how long it takes me. Thank you for sticking with me, and please let me know what you think of the added perspectives! I get a bit shy responding to reviews, but I will do my best this time around. :) Re: the overhaul, I always felt like something wasn't working when I wrote this story, no matter how much I loved it, and when I finally gave in and wrote multiple perspectives for each chapter it felt like everything clicked. Exploring the dynamics of each character in this context made it that much more exciting.

Chapter 2: flickering in time

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Kagome! Wake up!” Small hands pounded away on her back, quickly bringing her back to life from sleep. She didn’t want to get up.

 

“Sshhh, Rin,” Kagome whined, pressing her face into the pillow as she tried to adjust her position on the cot with Rin sitting at the edge. She gave her real bed to Sota when he started high school, while her sister shared with her. “Let me sleep a little longer.” 

 

“Aw, but it’s a surprise!” Rin said everything was a surprise. 

 

Please,” she implored. “I’m tired.”

 

Swift footsteps approached before the door to the room was swung open. “Can’t wake her up, Rin?”

 

Sota’s voice was deeper, and it was unnerving. Her brother is getting older in front of her face. She wishes for the cracking noise she used to hear when he spoke.

 

“Kagome!” His voice was excited. “You gotta wake up, it’s a surprise.”

 

“Not you, too!”

 

“Seriously. This is real.” 

 

Reluctantly, she rolled out of bed and followed her siblings. She left the bed messy so she can settle back in later.

 

They walked into the warmth of her kitchen, sunlight brightening the entire room. Although they had little, her mother never failed to make it feel like home. Sota walked ahead of her and opened up their icebox, revealing a basket of fruits. 

 

“Oh my goodness!” Much more awake now, Kagome ran over and looked at the glossy delicacies. There was a red apple that looked so crisp that Kagome’s mouth watered at the thought of sinking her teeth into it.

 

“Gramps got these from a family he helped out last week. He just gave some away to people in the neighborhood, so these are all ours.” His tone was filled with wonder and laced with the same amount of anticipation that Kagome felt. She ached to eat that apple.

 

“I told you it was a surprise, Kagome!” Rin reached between them and grabbed herself a pear. Sota chuckled and swiped an orange from the pile. 

 

She reached her hand down into the box, letting the cool air soothe her fingers. She grasped the smooth apple and ran her thumb across its vibrant crimson skin, taking pleasure in its simplicity. Its reassuring, real weight felt like gold in her hands.

 

As soon as she brought it to her lips, she bared her teeth and bit.

 

And then her eyes opened. 


Kagome woke up with a start, bleary eyes staring at the dark ceiling of her room inside the train. Her hands gripped the blanket fiercely as she got used to breathing again, trying to readjust to the reality before her.

 

The dream felt so tangible. She can still feel the foamy texture of the apple in her mouth, the juice on her tongue.

 

She closed her eyes with a sigh of relief, letting the tension leave her body before dropping back onto the luxurious bed she’d been sleeping on for the past week and a half. She’s finally gotten used to the abundance of comfort. The first night she couldn’t get to sleep until four in the morning because she was used to the firmness her cot provided and the limp pillow she had been using since her childhood.

 

Kagome tried her hardest not to act cranky the next day. But in the end, she went and slept the rest of the day away by noon.

 

Her eyes wandered around her temporary room. She was disquieted by how the room was so fine yet crude. It was well decorated and its furniture looked expensive, but it was also devoid of life or character. A blank slate for any helpless tribute to walk into. The overcompensation for her mortal fate tugged her heart relentlessly. 

 

Her eyes honed in on the shape of her family’s archery ring that sat on the dresser. Pointed up, the dull silver has muddied with generations of use. Her grandfather hugged her tightly and slipped the ring into the pocket of her skirt on the day of the Reaping and told her that nothing was impossible.

Kagome did not know the ring she knew so well was on her person. It sat in her pocket until the firm metal pressed against her thigh uncomfortably when she threw herself on the horribly soft bed to cry.

 

She felt it and hastily retrieved the sign of home. She pressed its pointed edge in the middle of her palm, squeezing it tightly in both hands as tears fell. 

 

Nothing is impossible, she had recalled then. Now she looked at it every day before she faced everyone else on the train.

 

Not sure if she could fall back asleep tonight, Kagome rose from her bed and found her slippers. 

 

I’ll go to the kitchen and get some water to calm myself down, she thought rationally, and maybe an apple. 

 

Opening her door as quietly as she could to not bother Inuyasha with the noise, she strolled out of her room with a silent gait. This included a rather silly looking maneuver on her tiptoes. One of her hands skimmed the wall as she walked, to which she found not a ridge of texture where the builders might have failed in creating the monster of a train. No dust came off on her palms, either. Everything perfect for the Capitol. 

 

There were lights along the floor as she walked, very dim but bright enough for anyone to be able to find their way. Kagome found it funny, as the train is vertical in the first place—no hallways to get lost in. She approached the kitchen door, which had a helpful plaque that depicted some utensils. Merely pushing the free-swinging door to get inside, she scanned the room.

 

Fluorescent lights turned on because of her movement. It scared her the first time she went looking for snacks, but now the technology seemed commonplace to her. The whole room was a wash of metallic silver, with accents of whatever accessories were on the stone counters. It was the coldest place on the train, always causing Kagome to hug her body for scraps of warmth. 

 

She walked around and looked for her craving, forgetting the water. “Fruits, fruits, fruits…” Kagome whispered a chant, speaking the food into existence. In the very corner of the area was a tall, woven basket that held the treasure she sought and more.

 

There was an apple at the top of the pile, calling her. There was one of every type: green, yellow, candy red, dark red, and mixtures of these colors. Apples have names, she learned that in first grade. She doesn’t remember them now. Kagome wanted a red one, the same kind that she tasted in her dream. 

 

But she wouldn’t eat more than one, although there was an array of choices. She had learned her lesson the first time she ate food on the train. She felt nauseated that night, and not only because she called Inuyasha cute. Her stomach was heavy with more food than she had ever consumed in her seventeen years of living, and it was a lot to adjust to. When she told Sango the next day, the woman implored her that she took her time when she ate.

 

She wanted to enjoy the finer things despite an expiration date on the opulence she had been introduced to, but her mind still constantly recalls the starving people in Twelve while her body put on more weight. 

 

Kagome closed her eyes and breathed deeply. 

 

She picked up her food and took note of the white shine the overhead lights gave to the apple. For the second time, she bites down, closing her eyes and chewing slowly. 

 

When her lids lifted, the gloomy atmosphere of the kitchen settled into her skin like grease. It was unwanted. The nectar in her mouth tastes sickly sweet, similar to the cheap candies she’d buy with Sota whenever she found a coin on the ground. Kagome missed her family more than anything; she missed her siblings most of all.

 

Imagining Sota and Rin without her was the kind of reality she didn’t want to bear. Sota was two years younger but he was Kagome’s best friend. They developed side by side, experienced the same hardships, and agreed on almost everything. No matter how many connections she could make in Twelve, they all paled in comparison to the kind of ease that came with hanging out with her family. Rin was always sweet and talkative, bringing soothing light into the worst of times in the Higurashi household. Kagome didn’t want to see that light go out, let alone in a death match. 

 

Sighing, she began the walk back to her quarters. She munched on the snack in her hand as she walked, letting her mind wander to the Games, which were never very far.

 

She’d have to practice her archery like mad once they’re in the training center. It was no contest. Her mother always told her that she can shoot halfway decent, but her aim is always a little off. Kagome had also been trying to meditate regularly during her time on the train to help her channel her spiritual energy when the time comes. The results were nonexistent.

 

She entered her room and flopped back onto her bed. The apple rolled from her hand, only mostly eaten. She looked at her ceiling, which was finely decorated with a swirling pattern she couldn’t identify. I know I have it, she has blessed more houses and exorcised more spirits in Twelve than she can count, but how can I use it? Her powerful aura mocked her mercilessly each time she tried to utilize it. The fact that she can’t call upon her own energy was proof of incompetence.

 

Even if she polished her archery skills, Kagome would have to face going to the cornucopia once the Games began. Miroku strictly advised her not to, but she already wasn’t sure about trusting Miroku ever since his patronizing speech. Even during “strategy” meetings with him, Kagome noticed how little he cared about her. She was almost completely alone. Her stomach lurched in fear. She knew that more than half the tributes can die in those first moments, all over much needed supplies. But arrows were a necessity. 

 

She was scared. Imagine what it’s like to die in the first five minutes, disappointing everyone, Kagome wondered morbidly. It was the moment when the herd was thinned out to show the Games’ real competitors. Was she a real competitor? Could she grab a quiver filled with arrows and a bow when another person is trying to put a knife in her back? Could she kill to get what she needed?

 

Her grandpa had tried to get her used to death; it was the life of the only minister in town, it was her parish to inherit. Praying over sickly people and the recently deceased was routine—but Kagome has never been able to shake her conscience whenever she sees an ailing person. People are malleable creatures who can be stomped out rather easily. She’s seen people die in the middle of a psalm, holding her grandfather’s hand. She would always stop in moments like that, but her grandfather would harshly whisper that they must keep going

 

The verdict was that Kagome is probably going to have to kill someone, but how can I live with myself after? 

 

She bets Inuyasha doesn’t have to worry about the cornucopia at all. He has claws. Probably good eyesight for the dark, too. And sharp ears… 

 

Kagome’s mind conjures up his twitching ears and bright eyes unbidden. Her face reddens immediately, her heart swelling in her chest. She wipes the image from her mind without preamble. She cannot do that anymore.

 

If she didn’t win, she hopes Inuyasha does. He’ll be reluctant, but if anybody deserved to live with an absurd amount of wealth after a life of poverty, it would be him.

 

Death haunting her every thought, Kagome closed her eyes tightly to banish her feelings. She is going to fight until her dying breath. She will see Sota again. She will see Rin again. She will see her mother and grandfather and…

 

Kagome missed them so much. A trembling gasp burst from her lips; tears poured from her sealed lids despite her best efforts. They drip back past her temple and into her hair. Her chest was unreasonably tight, keeping her from breathing properly. Her mouth opened to bring air into her body, but her lungs felt plugged up. Her hand rested on her chest to prove to herself she was functioning. The best way to calm herself was to take note of her ribs rising and falling like normal even though her face was hot and rosy from anxiety.

 

It’s okay, she soothed herself. 

 

Rolling over into the downy quilt beneath her, she sobbed piteously. Her shoulders hunched as she pressed herself further into her bed, trying to hide from what was to come. Her small cries made her body quake. 

 

“I don’t want this,” she whispered. Her mind reached a sudden blankness with her statement, and she kept her face in the bedding, allowing all of her parts to catch up with one another. After a few minutes of relaxation, Kagome felt tired.

 

That’s one way to get yourself back to bed, her face smushed into the fabric to wipe the wetness from her cheeks, uncontrollable sobbing. Good, Kagome. You’ll win the Games just yet!

 

Kagome sat up groggily and her body felt weighted with cement. Shaking her head vigorously, the lethargy left her somewhat. The dip in the bed that her hips created made her apple roll towards her thigh, sticky and moist against her.

 

“Oh,” she said curiously before she picked it up. The flesh of the apple had turned a light muddy brown; oxygen had taken its course. It looked completely unappealing now, useless. 

 

When did she start to relate to apples?

 

Languidly, she rose up and threw away the apple in her trash, the fruit reaching the bottom with a thud. She sat back down on the mattress and tucked herself in. Once her head hit the pillow, her eyelids immediately weighed on her, leading her into sleep. 

 

Nothing will ever be the same, she thinks halfheartedly. 


Her dreamless sleep was rudely interrupted by firm knocks on her door. Each time Sango’s fist made contact with the wood the pound resonated in Kagome’s head. 

 

“Come in,” she said meekly, falsely. She wanted to tell her to leave.

 

“Time to get up, Kagome,” Sango says as she walked into the room. “It's a big day.”

 

Kagome sat up in a slouch and then glanced at Sango. Remembering who she was with, she made herself sit up straight. “Yes, I remember.”

 

She eyed her up and down, and Kagome felt a little exposed. She must have looked tired, or worse, like she'd been crying. Sango’s expression said it all. Her face held a waning smile, growing into something forced, something to cheer her up. 

 

She must have looked absolutely like she had cried last night, and probably much more. 

 

“We will have a good time today,” Sango offers in a tender tone. “The song isn't over just yet.”

 

She pondered Sango’s words—the song isn't over. It hurt her, mostly. Kagome had noticed a couple of days ago that Sango placed her bets on Inuyasha as a potential winner. It was a poorly kept secret. Kagome could tell that Sango was a genuine woman and had a hard time masking her true emotions, especially guilt. 

 

Right before she walked into dinner, she saw Miroku and Sango whispering harshly at the dining table. Her face was twisted with grief, fist clenched on the tabletop. Miroku was picturesque, calm as stone. Seconds after she stepped in, Sango’s eyes darted over to hers. Kagome smiled awkwardly, and Sango’s expression turned somber. Watching her turn to Miroku and whisper an affirmation made everything obvious. 

 

She wished they’d be smarter about it. At least try a little harder to pretend you’re rooting for me too, she almost said to them bitterly. She was being forgotten, losing the small amount of favor she garnered in the beginning.

 

Kagome realized quickly that she cannot hold hands with Miroku and Sango to the finish line. The odds are not in her favor. 

 

“We will have a good time today,” she repeated to her mentor incredulously. She lifted her crinkled quilt and moved it out of the way. It was so soft that no sound was heard as it fell back on the bed. Kagome’s feet met a downy beige carpet. The fibers tickled between her toes, providing grip and a false sense of security, much like the entire train they stayed in. “I wonder what we’ll be doing.”

 

That was a lie. She knows that she’s going to spend her first day in the Capitol being groomed to perfection. Kagome had always followed the games closely, not just because she was forced to. Every time a resident of Twelve was taken to the games, Kagome had to watch their journey. Morbid curiosity would infect her, and she could not bring herself to look away. Each year, the hope was the same: maybe they’ll win.

 

In the last couple of Games, the tributes from Twelve were some of her closest friends. Last year, it was Ayumi. Before, it was Eri. Kagome had wished so badly that they would win and come home. She felt rather selfish for that, because both were given little to no attention once the games began and even during the promotional period. It was like their fate was decided before they stepped into the arena.

 

That will be me. No one will notice.

 

Her heart clenched in fear and empathy for her beloved friends who met their demise so harshly. Eri took an axe to the neck, someone told her the next morning. Kagome had covered her eyes instinctively when it happened the night before, and she was a little ashamed at her cowardice. It was disrespectful not to pay attention to Eri’s final seconds. But Kagome told herself it was all disrespectful. It was sick to watch murders on a television screen. To be recording it with a camera and doing nothing.

 

Ayumi’s death was too slow for Kagome to shield herself from—she died sick, stashed away from her competitors, and rotting by the day. It was the wintry terrain she got placed in without a source of warmth, sending her to her deathbed with hypothermia. Tributes from the career districts found her frozen body a couple days later (hovercrafts couldn’t reach inside a cave), gawking and laughing at the pained expression on her huddled corpse. Kagome vomited when she saw them poke Ayumi’s icy flesh with twigs, burying her under snow, with just her head out. It was supposed to be funny. When a couple of those kids died, she felt no remorse.

 

Eri and Ayumi’s deaths should have been a warning for Kagome. She was next in line. 

 

Kagome sighed, her heart heavy. The carpeted floor was still cuddling her feet. Her toes dug into the strands and pulled them slightly as she steadied herself. 

 

“It’ll be okay, Kagome,” Sango reassured awkwardly, hovering beside her and patting her clammy hand on her bare shoulder. Kagome looked up at her and couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her again. None of her tributes have ever survived the games. Inuyasha could be the one for her and Miroku. 

 

She cannot be jealous of Inuyasha’s predisposed advantages in the arena without feeling abashed by it shortly after. His appearance only brought him prejudice until now. Kagome just desperately wished it were her to break the losing streak. 

 

It could be her.

 

“What if you put your faith in me?” She said aloud. Her eyes widened when she said it, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being a little delusional.

 

Sango’s hand lifted from her shoulder quickly, like Kagome burned to touch. “What?”

 

Kagome couldn’t believe she said it. It seemed dirty to campaign against Inuyasha, somebody she didn’t hate at all, in fact, she liked him a lot—but she loved her family much more. 

 

“I can win too,” she continued, standing up. “I’m not a demon, but I was raised by a priest and have worked with the church my whole life. I have skills. I know herbs. I can shoot.” 

 

It’s not too late, she told herself. We haven’t left the train. It’s only over once we’re in the arena. She can’t sway Miroku and Sango once she’s gone.

 

If the only thing she could get was pity points, she could live with that. If it got her food in the arena when she needed it desperately, that was all that mattered. Anything that might work in her favor to help her win. Winning felt like Kagome’s wildest dream, something imaginary and impossible, but if she did not try, she didn’t even have a slim chance.

 

“Kagome, I know this!” Sango chuckled awkwardly and tilted her head in mock confusion. Her smile was thin and unsure. “We’ve gone over this extensively together, you have skills. It’s all about what you do in the arena.”

 

Kagome’s eyes narrowed and she stared at her mentor.

 

Attempting to change the subject, she reached for the door. “You should take a shower and get ready for the day,” the knob turned under her grip. “This is your last couple hours of privacy before the Capitol tries to swallow you whole, you should relax a little more. We have some clothes for you to wear in the bathroom.”

 

As she was stepping out of the room, Kagome shouted and stood up. “Wait!”

 

“It’s not only that,” she insisted with a soft voice. “There’s more to it. I know you know.”


Sango paused and looked at Kagome with a shameful expression. Her eyes turned down and her shoulders dropped slightly, pretty hands clutching the doorframe and knob. Sango swallowed her visible apprehension and stood straight, taking her fringe and brushing it behind her ear. 

 

Kagome was unsure if she said the wrong thing. Am I making it worse? Looking at the shuffling woman, her doubt dissipated slightly. She remembered the repeated times when Sango had apologized to her for their situation, offering the only consolation she could possibly give within the structure of Panem. Her mentor had sentimentality. Kagome’s appeal to her could work.

 

“People will like me. I can make them like me. It will work,” she implored, fists squeezing in urgency. “I won’t let the Capitol forget me like they did Eri and Ayumi.”

 

Sango winced at the mention of her friends’ names. She had to get to know both girls. She probably had to come to terms that the Capitol had been the death of them.

 

“Not me,” she implored.

 

Sango swallowed and looked at her with a softer expression.

 

They stared at one another again. Kagome’s toes dug into the carpet again, and she thought she might tip forward and fall into the abyss between them. 

 

“I strongly advise you to make the best of these last couple of hours,” her voice became firmer by the word, starting hesitant but ending with a strict finish. The aura of a no-nonsense woman who stood at the podium the day she was called had resumed itself. “Trust that the time we spent together is valuable once you enter the arena.”

 

Avoiding any type of response, Sango left without preamble. Kagome sighed loudly, tiredness escaping in a drawn-out puff from her chest as if someone had squeezed the air out of her themselves. 

 

She gawked at the closed door. It was inanimate but insulting. The wood was glossy and the knob was glass. Each time she saw that knob turn her heart sped up. Kagome wanted Sango to enter the room again and say she was right, and that she can win.

 

But now, only stillness. Staring at the wood grain and the shining glass would not make it open.

 

“Fuck,” she whispered. Tears came to her eyes again, and she felt angry. “No,” she spoke to herself, louder than before.

 

Kagome has been made to shoot arrows since childhood. She’s not a genius at it, but her grandfather always told her that she is competent. At least.

 

Her fingers are not soft everywhere. She has formed callouses by practicing archery for so long now. To remind herself of this, Kagome runs her thumb along her index finger and feels the evidence of her training. She only had the too-loose thumb ring to protect her hand from the bowstring, not always effective.

 

Now trapped in nostalgia, Kagome remembered when she realized that her hands were adapting to the stress of her everyday routines and becoming harder in certain places. Not a delicate little thing any longer, she cried at the thought of being roughened over time.

 

Her mother had laughed at her and smiled a warm smile. “Sweet girl, nothing as insignificant as a callous would do anything to dull your charms,” Kagome remembered hugging her tightly as she cried a little longer, holding onto her vanity for only a few minutes more.

 

Her mother then taught her how to make a balm out of the plants she grew in the garden. Kagome made batches for herself and put it over as much as she could—scrapes, irritated skin, and of course, her hands. 

 

It smelled earthy and it soothed her. There were specks of green scattered in the salve no matter how much she ground the herbs. 

 

Kagome hoped she can find the right ingredients for the ointment in the arena, hopes for an amiable climate.

 

She takes the ring to the bathroom with her, afraid to leave it unguarded so close to the end of the train ride.


Finished with her shower, Kagome stepped into her room and gave everything a final glance. Coziness can be seen from every corner. The vision in front of her was overlapped by a memory—the overused cot that rested next to Sota’s bed. 

 

So much for that, she thought with a sigh.

 

Since she felt so ambivalent about her bedroom, Kagome’s attention went to her clothing. The clothes weren’t hers; they were standard issue and straight from the Capitol. They smelled like bleached linen. She’d be lying to herself if they didn’t make her feel even more despondent.

 

What will they do with my clothes? Kagome wondered.

 

Throw them away. Burn them. Send them back home with her ashes, maybe.

 

She isn’t ready to leave Twelve behind.

 

Underneath her fingers, Kagome felt the slick wood of the dresser. Her hand skimmed to the center and pulled the ornate handle to reveal the clothes she forced herself to put away that first day. 

 

They were folded with care, but not perfectly. This was a comforting sight; the uncanny perfection of the Capitol had not reached the parts of her that made her who she was.

 

Kagome decided she’d be entering the Capitol with clothes her mother had sewn for her instead of an outfit that was chosen in some meeting where they were debating how to best make people feel insignificant. She was lucky to have something her mother made for her, her family’s ring, and the thoughts of her siblings keeping her going. 


Kagome was feeling extra defiant and thought about skipping breakfast with Miroku and Sango. Inuyasha did it every day after their first, so why couldn’t she?

 

In the back of her head, Kagome saw her mother wagging her finger at her, that’s why. The overwhelming urge to be courteous is what brings Kagome to the breakfast table that morning.

 

“Hey, Kagome!” Miroku chirped, sipping on a coffee that she was sure had been spiked with liquor. “Glad you made it again today. I promised Inuyasha a bouquet of roses if he came to breakfast this morning, but he was unamused.”

 

She gave an awkward nod and sat in her usual spot, surveying the spread. After days of indulging in sweets and decadent foods, Kagome had begun to yearn for the cozy breakfast made by her mother: eggs and plain rice. 

 

While she prepared her plate, Miroku’s mouth opened again, ready to comment. Kagome braced herself.


“It’s your last day on the train and that is what you want?”

 

Kagome looked up at him and gave him an honest answer. “It reminds me of my mom. It makes me feel stronger.”

 

He stopped and stayed still, the hand holding the sloshing coffee steadying as Miroku absorbed what she said. He blinked and his taunting smirk smoothed into what looked like a genuine smile. “I miss my father sometimes.”

 

Kagome couldn’t fight the warmth she felt. This was a moment. With Miroku, of all people.

 

Miroku cleared his throat and sipped his drink. “But when I miss my dad, I drink sake.” 

 

“Oh,” Kagome said as she deflated. “I guess.” 

 

“You’re depressing her,” Sango huffed and sat down. “You’re supposed to support your tributes.”

 

Miroku’s eyes gleamed when he turned to her. The coy reflection in his irises reminded Kagome of a stray cat. “I am supporting Kagome. Right?” 

 

The playful expression was turned to her and she couldn’t stop the reflexive roll of her eyes. He remained undeterred as his eyes glossed back to Sango.

 

“I’m sharing my own story, that’s appealing from a mentor, isn’t it?”

 

Miroku calling himself a mentor made Kagome’s skin crawl with anger. Of course, it was a simple word, a role he is filling. It’s absurd, she thought viciously. 

 

“You’re doing a poor job at mentoring me, so I wouldn’t say you were appealing, either,” she stated bluntly.

 

Miroku chuckled, appearing unfazed. “I do mentor you. You don’t want to take my advice. Is that my fault?” His free hand rested on his chest to feign offense.

 

She quickly glanced down at her bowl of rice and suddenly she realized she could not eat with Miroku at the table.

 

“I would take your advice if it would work. But what you’ve said to me sounds like ‘be quiet and die.’” The chopsticks in her hand were a grounding point that kept her from crying in front of this man again. She clutched them so tight they were almost one rod, a sword maybe. Or an arrow.

 

“I told you to be sweet, so people would like you...”

 

“The only person I’m not sweet to is you!”

 

Miroku’s palm went up between them and Kagome scoffed loudly.

 

His hand dropped. “Be pitiful, Kagome. Talk about how you couldn’t stand to see your sister die in the arena so you took her place. Say your family isn’t whole without you.” 

 

The chopsticks didn’t help at that moment. If it was a sword, she was holding it by the blade and it was cutting her palm. 

 

“I have to be pitiful? While the career districts get to be what, intimidating? Am I supposed to be a lamb?” She thought that she could take pity, she hoped she could. But she was so much more than pitiful. Her voice wavered, dropping and showing the two mentors in front of her how humiliating it all was. 

 

“That would help, yes. You play the sympathy card and get assistance in the arena because people like you and don’t want you to be savagely torn apart by your peers.”

 

“Miroku is exaggerating it, Kagome. You don’t need to be milquetoast.”

 

Milquetoast. What does that mean? Her heart was racing. It was all too much. How can she win when she has to act defenseless?

 

“I don’t trust either of you,” she stated.

 

The look on Sango’s face was stricken. Miroku took a sip of his drink again.

 

“If people know how much you love your sister, they will love you for it,” Sango said softly.

 

“It’s your best angle, Kagome.” Miroku reassured her.

 

She didn’t want to continue talking to them, so she stood up and left.


While she was heading to her room as fast as her feet would take her, she bumped into a wall gracelessly, nearly tipping over.

 

This wall had arms, and they grabbed her wrists. “Kagome?”

 

Inuyasha’s big hands enveloped her arm with ease and she shivered at the feel of the blunt ends of his claws skimming her pulse points.

 

Whenever Inuyasha spoke to her his voice was gravelly but somehow resonant. Whenever he said her name, it was coming straight from deep inside him. She’s wondered if it’s her imagination.

 

“Sorry,” she started, trying to weave away from him. “Um, just trying to get to my room.” 

 

His hands held her steadfast, but didn’t grip her; a soft cage around her skin. 

 

“Wait,” he whispered. 

 

She looked up at him and they stopped, staring. Kagome’s throat was stinging terribly, anger and frustration knotting her thoughts together. “What?” Her words were a question, her tone a plea. She nearly begged him to let her go. She didn’t want to play the pity game, especially not in front of him. 

 

Inuyasha continued to stare, eyes flitting madly across her entire person. Was he doing a wellness check? Was he trying to find her weaknesses? The latter would at least make sense.

 

His eyes scrolled up from her mouth and she pursed it tersely. When his eyes met hers again, she couldn’t keep the flow of emotions at bay anymore. Her head turned away and she blinked. Her face was so warm, burning with shame as two tears trickled down her cheek and came off her chin. 

 

Kagome tore herself away. Everything inside her was coming to a rolling boil. Inuyasha’s claws scraped her wrists with the motion, the red trail left on her skin like bracelets. Again, they found themselves at a pause. She looked at her wrist and looked at him. The movement was so fast that she hadn’t noticed a crackle of spiritual energy slip through her skin when she withdrew. She looked at his fingers, the tips of his nails were singed black. 

 

Her cheeks were still wet, but the shell-shocked look on Inuyasha’s face gave her pause and yanked her feelings back into her stomach for a moment.

 

“I can’t control it,” she said. Her hands came up in surrender, an attempt to placate him. “I know you didn’t mean to scrape me…”

 

Inuyasha’s face twisted up and he looked like the child she saw in school every day growing up. His brows pinched, the afflicted expression communicating so much anger and confusion.

 

“Why won’t you just let me fucking protect you?” He said harshly, venomously. 

 

Kagome’s eyes narrowed. “And that tone is supposed to convince me?”

 

He growled and forced an exasperated sigh from deep in his chest. She watched his nostrils flare as he pouted. “Do you even care, Kagome?” 

 

Kagome was shocked. Her head jerked back with his words, almost like he struck her. Does she care? Does she care?

 

“How could you even suggest—!” She clenched her fists at her sides and stepped into his space, her nose almost meeting his if it weren’t for their slight height difference. “You’re not allowed to ask me that, Inuyasha.” Her voice came out in a hiss.

 

She watched his face twitch. His jaw clenched so tightly in response to her that his throat bobbed tensely, a harsh reply coming forth, but filtered through his clenched teeth. “Fine.”

 

Inuyasha pushed past her and stormed off and into the dining room. As the door opened, she heard Miroku’s delighted gasp begin and Inuyasha telling him to shut up before the door swung closed. 

 

She couldn’t find it in her to cry some more, she was too offended. Not caring? When Inuyasha refused to acknowledge he was the one who had the most potential to win out of the two of them. How awful. 

 

Kagome wanted to shriek in anger but refused to give anyone the satisfaction. She cast away the pitiful girl, and burns her in a fire pit for extra warmth. If she must look fragile, it will only be a false skin. The fire lights inside of her stomach, calcifying her resolve. 


Once Kagome had taken an hour to herself, she made her way into the parlor part of the train with heavy feet. She wore the clothes she came in on with pride.

 

Sango balked. “Kagome, are you sure you want to enter the Capitol in that? We have something new—” 

 

“Yes,” she replied, reminding herself to straighten her back. “I like this more.”

 

“At least they fit you properly,” Miroku commented dryly, not meeting anyone’s gaze. His eyes were trained on the outside, where paved sidewalks and boutiques replaced the forestry that they were all used to. The expansive windows were there for everyone to look through and enjoy the spectacle as they approached. Many people waved to Miroku, who gave a curt nod in return. “Sunshine’s clothes were baggy as shit. He had no choice.”

 

Kagome looked at Inuyasha, who rolled his eyes and fidgeted with his Capitol attire, stiffly pulling down to smooth out wrinkles that didn’t exist.

 

Faintly, Kagome could hear people shouting their greetings for her and Inuyasha. At the moment, they were just a plural: “Hello, District 12!”

 

This is where she could gain admirers. Kagome bit her lip and started to think of making these people remember her name.

 

People were screaming and waving with huge smiles beside the train. Everyone was outlandishly dressed, colors everywhere and styled in ways she’d never seen before. As she peered further, she could see each building looked pleasant with their manicured front yards. No wear and tear, no livestock lingering around. She suddenly remembered Rin’s goat, Ah-Un, leaving cloven tracks all over.

 

It was as if she entered another universe.

 

Kagome was slightly perplexed by the excitement displayed by the crowd. She almost wondered if everyone was conscious of the fact that the Games were a battle royale. But that was impossible.

 

She put the bubbling resentment she felt into a fake smile, which felt outside of herself. It was so big it hurt after a while and was hopefully radiant. She waved enthusiastically out the windows while Inuyasha watched her in sullen silence, tight-lipped at the same crowd that called out to him as well. Kagome knew Miroku wasn’t going to question her fervent participation, not when this was what he wanted. Her eyes traveled to her other mentor briefly. Sango looked like she was greeting the fellow Capitol residents out of obligation, an awkward smile as her eyes routinely flickered between her tributes and the people outside.

 

The train stuttered to a stop, heaving a great sigh once it settled into the station. People were held back by gates, and there was a clear way set for the District 12 entourage to step outside the train. The slight brush with celebrity had Kagome’s stomach in knots, but she turned to a part in the cabin where no one could see her breathe deeply and soothe herself.


The beast of a train had finally come to a halt, and all of Inuyasha’s instincts were screaming at him not to get off. People were screaming just outside the train door and it was all getting to be too much. He looked around the room and found Kagome, finally away from the window and facing a wall, probably coaching herself, he thinks.

 

Something told him that the world won’t be their own once they step out. It was the Capitol, and he wasn’t an idiot. He had to talk to her before everything changed for the final time. Inuyasha walked up to her huddled form, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. Not very promising for things to come.

 

Lightly, he brushed his fingers on her back. She turned with a confused look on her face, mouth hanging open a little more once she registers who she was looking at.

 

What was he supposed to even say? He gulped audibly, a fierce sigh leaving him. “I know you care.” He wasn’t sorry for asking her, though, making her think about how pitiful she was starting to look. It wasn’t the Kagome he knew.

 

The train doors opened and released a gush of wind that blew her hair away from her neck, making her shiver. He looked down at the shell of her ear, briefly, but he brought his eyes back forward to her questing face. Kagome still looked skeptical of him, but softer. “Do you care, Inuyasha?”

 

He frowned at that, not even considering his answer before he spoke. “No, I don’t.”

 

At that, her face fell completely for a moment, and then a flicker of something Inuyasha couldn’t identify passed in her expression. Her hand came up between them.

 

Inuyasha can feel his face bunch up while he looked at the offending hand. Damn him, he checked if his nails left scars. He took her hand, fingers skirting under her sleeve to peek at her wrist.

 

Miroku snapped his fingers impatiently behind him, the screams of the Capitol citizens reaching a crescendo. Inuyasha, sated and ready to get this over with, turned some and tried to slide away—

 

Kagome held him fast, even tugged him. So, he listened.

 

The smile she gave him was blinding.

 

“May the best one win,” she shook their hands for him. He coughed involuntarily, all of it just a bit too much.

 

He didn’t know when she showed up, but Sango appeared behind them and began to push them towards the door, which broke their hands apart. Kagome looked up at him with bewilderment, and Inuyasha could do nothing but look at her briefly, mouth agape before he turned away to squint at the bright sun that assaulted his eyes from overhead. The sidewalk beneath his feet was so fresh and unblemished that it glittered. The citizens clamoring to catch a glimpse of him down the aisle could hardly be registered by him as their entire crew rushed across to the private building where Tributes were held every year.

 

There were twelve clusters in the lobby, and they appeared to be the last to arrive. Miroku and Sango seemed to be looking for someone, Kagome was hugging herself sheepishly. Inuyasha scanned the room, trying to size people up. He caught a rather rakish-looking boy grinning straight at him, licking his teeth in a similar appraisal.

 

Inuyasha looked away. What about him drew fuckers like that in? Like a grimy little fly to shit.

 

In his line of sight was an unfamiliar face. A woman: tall, slender, elegant. Her hair was so dark it looked like an abyss, her brown eyes looking bright in comparison. Without missing a beat, she brought her hands up to cradle his face, turning it side to side and examining him thoroughly. The audacity left him speechless. Her hands were soft.

 

“We got lucky, didn’t we?” She said.

 

“Wuh?” He managed to produce.

 

“We did,” Miroku said from behind her. “I agree.”

 

Her hands slipped down and she turned to Kagome. “Koga’s going to kick himself for missing her arrival.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll make up for it plenty,” Sango groaned which made Inuyasha’s eyes narrow.

 

“Let’s get you two parade-ready.” Miroku declared ushering Kagome off with Sango and Inuyasha off with the strange woman.


Kagome found herself separated from her company. Suddenly she was in a room filled with 11 other young girls, each of them being shuffled around from station to station being fixed up to Capitol standards. Even though Miroku and Sango could hardly be considered comforting, losing their familiar faces made her fearful. She imagined Inuyasha being plucked at and scrubbed like she was. 

 

A man with a smoke grey mohawk gasped dramatically when he lifted up her armpit. She was splayed on a table, already thoroughly cleaned. Underneath his eyes were a sharp black line that extended past his lashes and into his temples. “Ginta, look at this!”

 

He brushed his index against her armpit hair and she stifled a snort before she snatched her arm away. “Hey!”

 

“I always forget they’re au naturale in the lower districts,” the man named Ginta huffed good-naturedly, like she was primitive. His eyeliner emphasized his animal gaze. He had a streak of black at his hairline and the rest of it matched the other man that was torturing her. 

 

“If we don’t remove it, Koga will tell us to,” the other one sighed. “Everyone hates being waxed.”

 

“Waxed?” Kagome’s head jerked in disbelief. “Please, don’t, um…” His name would be helpful in her pleading.

 

“I’m Hakkaku,” he retorted as he slowly smoothed her arm back upward on the table. She didn’t want to disobey and get in trouble, so she let him. “It’ll be quick, twelve girl. I promise.”

 

“I’m Kagome,” she corrected.

 

“Kagome,” Ginta smiled placatingly. Each tooth of his was sharpened into points, two accenting gems on his canines. “Waxing isn’t so bad. Let me do your eyebrows first, and you’ll see.”

 

She swallowed and closed her eyes tight. Both men got to work on her, removing every extra bit of fuzz on her body that was deemed abnormal by them. She didn’t know how they decided this, but after all of it, she felt tender and raw, even though they treated her fresh skin afterward with lotion.


Finally, he was told the woman’s name was Kikyo and that she was the appointed stylist for twelve’s male tributes. A sorry job indeed.

 

A sorry job that Kikyo apparently took very, very seriously.

 

“I can already tell you’re not the cooperative type,” she said as she struts ahead of him, heels beating down on the floor like pistol shots. She never looked back. “Neither am I. But we’re going to have to commiserate.”

 

Her hand waved him to follow her into a huge gymnasium with a series of booths. Two identical girls scurried up to meet her. “Hello, girls,” they preened under her subtle smile, “get Inuyasha here to beauty base zero.” The two nodded.

 

She walked away without a word. “Where are you going?”

 

Again, she did not look back. “I will meet you in the dressing room.”


Her skin was smoother than she had ever felt, gliding against the plain cotton shift she’d been put into like satin on a stone. Ginta and Hakkaku ushered her into a different room and sat her down in a chair next to a flustered Inuyasha, who was looking at his hands in disdain. She glanced at them herself and saw that someone had buffed and shined his claws to a beautiful sharpness. 

 

“I didn’t know so many people would be touchin’ me,” he grumbled in her direction when they were left alone. “I hate it.”

 

Kagome thought of the two strange men lifting her limbs in outrageous positions and ripping off the strips of hot wax. She noticed Inuyasha’s eyes glance over to her legs.

 

“I don’t want to imagine what they’ll do to us next,” she sighed in exasperation, tucking them aside. Her skin felt raw and tender, despite the many lotions.  

 

“Keh. You don’t have to,” Inuyasha turned to her fully. “They’re going to put us in one big bowl and watch us kill each other.”

 

“One step at a time, Inuyasha,” a voice came through the room before the face. Kagome and Inuyasha’s eyes scanned the woman who appeared, the woman who held his face gingerly. She looked too regal to be standing in the cluttered dressing room, which suddenly looked dingy in comparison to her. Her silhouette was curved, highly emphasized by her flowing red pants and the white sleeveless turtleneck hugging her neck. Feathered earrings dangled along her collarbone. “You two have a few public appearances to make first.”

 

“Unfortunately, Kikyo.”

 

She strolled over and scooped Inuyasha’s flowing silver hair up from his neck and pulled it away from his person. He visibly bristled. Kikyo turned to stare at Kagome, obviously analyzing her. Had she come to the same conclusion as everyone else she’d met? This gave Kagome reason to stare back. Her jaw clenched and she refused to be the first to look away.

 

“Koga’s going to love you.” Her eyelids lowered a fraction and there was a small upturn of her lip. She brought her attention back to Inuyasha’s hair.

 

Kagome blinked owlishly, looking around for this fabled Koga. In the open doorframe stood a tall man with piercing blue eyes, covered in tones of deep brown and sporting an ornate fur pouch along the line of his hip. Kagome looked to the corner of the room for a second, staring at a pile of shoes to reel herself in, a futile attempt not to blush in front of such a stately figure. 

 

“Hello, you,” Koga spoke again, with a raspy voice. “I hope Ginta and Hakkaku weren’t too rough. I just always prefer beauty base zero.”

 

Beauty base zero? She almost asked what that was, but he circled her with a pointed gaze, and she stared back. She searched his crystal irises, but he wasn’t truly looking at her like a person. He was looking at her wholly, an image. 

 

“You’re quite beautiful, Kagome,” he stopped. “It’s not always this easy.”

 

She swallowed nervously. In her periphery, she could see Kikyo tying Inuyasha’s hair into a low ponytail.

 

Koga moves behind her seat and speaks to her reflection in the mirror with a grin. “Beauty, Kagome—that’s currency. Especially here.”

 

His words had Kagome studying her features with intent. She looked at the shape of her face, its contours, and its plushes. Maybe she was desensitized to what Koga saw. What was in front of her is the face she’s been acquainted with for 17 years. For all of those years, when her mind thought of beautiful, she thought of majesty, of rawness. 

 

She thought of Inuyasha. 

 

Automatically, the ghost of habit possesses her and she turns her head to look at the half-demon. He was stony and silent. On the floor shining silver lengths of hair were spread around Kikyo’s feet. Her heart leaped.

 

“He’s beautiful, yes,” Koga leaned in close to her ear, moving her hair out of the way so that he may whisper unencumbered. “But I’m focused on you. Can you focus on yourself for me, too?”

 

Once Koga got to work on her, she knew she found a friend. Amongst the spill of compliments was someone genuinely interested in her. She told him about her life, forgetting that it might be lost to her. He nodded as he curled her hair, smoothing fragrant oil through it and nursing the wispy curls he gave her with careful hands.

 

Kagome was looking at herself differently because of his efforts. Did everyone feel like this when they were made up in such fine detail? Her skin looked smooth. Her cheeks were blushed. A few delicate ringlets framed her face. 

 

“You’re powerful, Kagome.” This time, when Koga grinned at her, she gave him one back, swept up in the glittering world he created for her.

 

Koga offered her his hand and she took it, stepping down from the high chair. Kagome was reminded of the storybook tales of princes and chivalry before the world changed.  

 

As he led her to a new part of the dressing room, he told her the plans for her and Inuyasha’s first appearance to the public: The Tribute Parade. 

 

She had completely forgotten about Inuyasha. She turned to look behind her, his seat was empty. Kagome faced forward again and saw a rack bursting with clothes. 

 

“Kikyo and I agreed easily that dressing you two up like miners was dumb and unoriginal. We want you both to cause a stir.” Koga stopped and turned to Kagome again as if he might have forgotten something. Kagome looked back at him, and he nodded to himself. “Red was the right choice. Kikyo and I took a long time to land on fire rat.”

 

“Fire rat?” She asked. 

 

“A fabric. You’ll see.”

 

He stepped away and started carding through all of the clothes, hand slipping in to grab the only red dress hanging there. It was long and decadent, the vivid fabric bunched in some places, the bodice twisted and asymmetrical, one side coming up to hug her shoulder. It was busy, but not overly so, somehow it all looked pleasantly clean. The back was completely open and she’d never shown so much skin besides when the summer days were at their hottest and her family hung out on their dilapidated, concrete terrace behind their house. Koga handed it to her.

 

“Put it on,” he nods and his eyes trail to look at the clumsy way she’s holding the gown to her body. She clutched it tighter to her, worried she might lose it in the few seconds she needed to walk behind the ornate screen he pointed her to. 

 

“How,” she said incredulously.

 

Koga laughed, loudly, like a bark. “Unzip it, you step in it, and I’ll zip it up. Sound good?”

 

Kagome stepped behind the screen and undressed out of her shift. Where did they put her actual clothes? She kept her ring on her finger. The fabric pooled around her feet before she stepped out of it and put the dress over her head. It slinked down, everything reassuringly hugging her. 

 

She stepped out from behind the divider, the length of the dress bumping against her bare feet. She held up the top over her chest and shuffled awkwardly to get Koga to zip the dress, snickering all the way. The gleam in Koga’s eyes and the smirk on his lips when she turned around again told her he was pleased.

 

“You’re going to blow them out of the fucking water, Kagome,” he turned away and bent down, opening a nearby box. Inside were shiny red heels, like syrupy candy. Like the apple. He set them down in front of her feet. “These aren’t too high. You should be fine.” 

 

Kagome bunched up the dress around her knees, looking awkward and inexperienced. Koga didn’t appear to mind. She stepped into the shoes tentatively. Her hands freed the dress. She bobbed in place for a moment, coming to terms with her new sense of gravity. She was afraid to walk. 

 

“Stand straight,” Koga instructed her. “I want to look you over.” 

 

Kagome slowly stood to her full height. He huffed out a breath of air through his mouth, stifling his laugh. 

 

“Hey,” she accused. 

 

“Don’t worry,” he shook his head and shushed her, a finger on his lips. She had noticed the armor-like ring that was on his index finger when he used it to part her hair while he dressed it. Now it was pressed to his mouth. “I’m just in awe of my brilliance, but clothes are only as good as the wearer. Walk to me.”

 

She stepped carefully, invading his space. Her arms splayed out, hoping to balance herself. 

 

“The ring,” he commented. “It’s too big, and it doesn’t match. Give it to me.”

 

Kagome immediately fisted her hand to her chest, trying to hide her treasure from him. “I need it.”

 

He studied her carefully and she tried not to cower or shrink at his gaze. He spent all this time fostering her confidence and here he was, rearing over to crush it. Koga’s hands came up to hold her biceps, giving a comforting squeeze. Her arm sank. He held her away from him, scanning her fully. She tried not to blush under the attention. “They are going to love you.”

 

Water pricked at her eyes again. She resisted it with all of her might, dipping her head back to drain the tears back into her body. “I want them to,” she whispered uneasily. It was okay to tell Koga what she wanted, right? He was on her side, for all intents and purposes. “I want to win.”

 

Koga’s metal adornment poked her jawline as he pulled it down to face him. “I’m betting on you, Kagome. I will keep the ring safe.” 

 

She tentatively handed it to him, and he slipped it on his finger. It fit just fine. “My clothes, too? My mom made them.”

 

He nodded reassuringly. Kagome pressed her lips together in thought, wondering how to stand out next to someone like Inuyasha, who garnered attention without trying. 

 

“Come on,” he took her hand and guided her out to where the parade will begin. “You and Inuyasha are the finale. We are going to use that to our advantage.” 

 

As a final touch, Koga adorned her shoulders with broad swipes of gold leaf, a little on her cheekbones, too—and coated her hands in shining gold paint. He used a makeup brush to apply it over the bones of her wrists, the adornment ending with visible strokes right there.


“You cut my hair,” Inuyasha said disbelievingly as they walked. “Almost all of it.”

 

Kikyo had led him out of the room in that way of hers, even though everything in him wanted to disobey her, to make her job harder because she just ripped a big chunk of him clean off. But he didn’t want to watch Koga butter up Kagome anymore and that won.

 

“I did you a favor,” Kikyo shrugged and brought him into a different dressing room, with another rack of clothes. “You looked wild. Untamed.”

 

“Miroku said that was appealing.” He can’t believe he’s using Mioku as a point in his argument.

 

“Miroku only knows how to make a decent fucking cocktail,” Kikyo spat. “It’s a waste of your potential. Your hair will also grow back before you know it anyway, you’re a demon.”

 

“Half-demon.”

 

“They will read demon.” Kikyo shrugged and pulled an outfit for him off the rack.

 

The red matched her pants, it was so brilliant and bright that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

“Hair grows back. But you only get one chance to make an impression. You’re going to knock them out, with my help.”


Once Kagome stepped outside, there was the sound of thunderous applause trailing into the space as the Capitol residents awaited the procession of tributes. Ahead of District 12’s chariot were all of the other

districts, each extravagantly decorated. None of the other tributes faced their direction, and this disappointed her. She wanted to see them. Directly in front of their chariot were the tributes for Eleven. A boy that looked like a mountain towered over the little girl next to him, who only came up to his legs. The little girl had silver hair like Inuyasha’s but mixed with a tinge of ash. The backs of their heads told her nothing. She looked at her chariot.

 

Standing there in the same vibrant red that she wore was Inuyasha, bright golden eyes standing out against the fabric. Compared to her, he had no sleeves, a cuff hugging his arm and a gold ring decorating his neck, and no hair hanging around his shoulders to cover it. 

 

Kagome blinked away her disbelief, staring at Inuyasha. His hair was cropped and shaven, left with a longer princely section across the crown of his head. He looked back at her, obviously still disgruntled with this drastic change. 

 

Koga patted her, his hand on her bare back shocking her skin a bit. She wobbled slightly to get onto the chariot, holding onto her stylist’s hand for balance as she stepped in next to Inuyasha. Instead of being at his shoulder, she was near his jaw in height because of the heels she wore.

 

“You kept your hair,” he grunted at her. “Lucky.”

 

“I-it looks good on you, honestly,” she said nervously. He didn’t look so young anymore. He looked brutish, conquering, a serious brow and a sharp jawline softened with his feminine eyes framed with long black lashes. He pursed his full lips and her stomach swooped before she spoke again. “I never thought I would see you with so little hair.”

 

“My neck is cold,” he said frankly.

 

“Get over yourself,” Kikyo leaned on the opposite side of their ride, arm slung over. Her bracelets clinked against the wood frame. “Remember what we talked about?”

 

“Yes,” he nodded curtly.

 

“Trust me, Inuyasha.” Her voice was soothing, and Kagome felt she was the exact type of person that could weather him into some submission, like Koga placating her into wearing heels and letting him hold the ring.

 

“Sure,” Inuyasha said sarcastically. “My neck is still cold.”

 

“Good enough,” Kikyo sighed before she met Kagome’s gaze. “I want you both to know that this entire thing is going to catch fire.”

 

“W-what?” Kagome stuttered in surprise. “I know we want to stand out, but...”

 

“Don’t worry,” Koga said. “You both are wearing fire rat leather. It won’t even burn you, just sit on top of your clothes. We both made sure you guys are wearing lotions that will protect you just in case, too.”

 

She fought the urge to gawk in disbelief at them, lest she reveals just how far she was out of her depth. 

 

Kikyo handed Inuyasha the button, which was a probably smart choice, in Kagome’s opinion. “Press this when you think it’s a perfect time.”

 

Koga and Kikyo left them alone. She tried to quell her jitters, the provincial side of her sending goosebumps along her skin at the idea of the fire licking her flesh.

 

Inuyasha turned to her and held out his hand. “I’ll squeeze you when it’s time.”

 

“Are you sure? My hand is painted.”

 

“Keh. Like that matters. Give it here.”

 

Kagome nodded, hoping to absorb his bravery into her palm after she took it. She threaded their fingers. He looked at her with slight shock in his expression, but gave her hand a brief but comforting squeeze anyway.

 

The tributes ahead of them had started their ceremonious procession, the crowd clearly and vibrantly reacting to each pair in the waves that they appeared. When she and Inuyasha started moving, Kagome hoped she didn’t falter on her feet, placing her weight firmly on the points of her heels to hold her steady.

 

Once they came into the golden afternoon light, Inuyasha waited a few seconds. Kagome’s skin was creeping with anticipation, wanting to be wowed just as much as the crowd surrounding them. Inuyasha pressed their hands together tightly and she braced herself, breath seized inside her chest.

 

Suddenly they were alight, and she couldn’t feel a thing. Screens were floating in the air around them, projecting their image and Kagome saw her reflection. She and Inuyasha looked like two pieces in one whole. They looked like royalty. She noticed that Kikyo put glitter in his hair, to match his eyes, to match her.

 

A triumphant smile overcame her. I want them to love me, her desires rang inside her mind loudly. The cheers grew. Kagome looked down at her intertwined hand with Inuyasha’s and noticed an opportunity.

 

Kagome had lifted their arms in the air like they had already won. Inuyasha almost didn’t let her do it, but he released the tension that was limiting her and reciprocated her vigor. She turned her gaze to him with mirth pouring from her. He gave pause and steadied their locked eyes, face softening and the tension melting. He gave a slight smirk, looking back at the crowd with a certain hope in his gaze. A complementary pair. As if—maybe, they could win as a team.

 

She didn’t care to remember how impossible that was at the moment.

 

Roses and all kinds of flowers she didn’t recognize flew to their feet. Inuyasha caught one with his other hand and the citizens wailed in delight.

 

After they had made their rounds and all of the people had seen them, the horses slowed to a trot and they approached a lot bustling with other tributes and their teams. She and Inuyasha disengaged, her hand slightly wet with the sweat their heated palms created. She stretched her lonesome fingers experimentally, some of the gold being lifted away. It stuck to Inuyasha. Kagome was lost for breath; every atom of her energy was eaten by the crowd behind them and she panted heedlessly. 

 

“Our prince and princess,” Miroku cooed at them when they approached. Sango was standing in silent awe right beside him. Next to Kagome, she heard Inuyasha suck his teeth. “You’ve outshone the entire history of Twelve’s tributes. This is a good start.”

 

Koga came up to her side and held his hand out to aid her descent again. She took it and stepped down, heels clicking against the marble floors underneath.

 

“It was good, Inuyasha,” Kikyo commended him, patting his shoulder after he has gotten down in front of her. He nodded curtly, a smattering of blush on his cheeks at the acknowledgment. “I’ll relieve you of your jewelry, for now, soldier.” 

 

He took it all off himself readily, tearing it from his skin like it stung to wear it. 

 

“You were dazzling,” Koga gushed. He took the ring from his finger and slipped it on her hand in one motion, tarnished silver met artificial gold. He still primped her hair even though there were no Capitol eyes to relish her appearance anymore. “More than I could ever expect. You wore the design with pride.”

 

Kagome twirled her loose archery ring around her finger anxiously. She hoped this day was over. Koga told her he could get her ring adjusted to fit her finger better. “Next time,” she whispered meekly.  

 

“We done?” Inuyasha asked the adults.

 

Sango smiled a tired smile. “For today, yes. I’ll take you to your quarters.”


Kagome felt a bit bad to wash away Koga’s handiwork, but she soaked herself in the tub anyway, after scrubbing her hands raw of paint in the sink and peeling it off her shoulders. Ever since she’d been on the train, she learned that she enjoys long, hot baths. Typically, she’d dunk herself in her home’s washing tub, cleaning up fast, and then get to doing things for the day. She only ever lingered when she wanted to wash her hair. 

 

Steam rose from the water and clouded the mirrors of the expansive bathroom. Somehow, their living quarters managed to be an upgrade from the train. The Capitol proved its reputation for excess. She even had a bathroom in her room. 

 

She didn’t let her mind run while she was soaking. Kagome wanted to absorb the silence of the bathroom, where no one could bother her. Her eyes remained closed as she let nothingness overtake her. Calm and quiet. She floated in the tub for an indiscriminate amount of time, the only indicator that time had passed being the gradually cooling water surrounding her. 

 

Kagome didn’t cringe at the air when she stepped out of the tub. The goosebumps that came up her skin woke her mind up from its thoughtless haze. She covered herself with the towel and grabbed her ring off the counter (also rinsed of paint) and went to her bed. 


Once she got changed, she heard a knock at her door. Who could it be? The day was over. 

 

Miroku told her when they were taking her first elevator trip that the Capitol never sleeps. Twinkling lights were flashing from the tall buildings and reflecting on the windows of their temporary home. 

 

Kagome walked to the door and opened it to find Inuyasha. The sparkles that were spread in his hair had flecked down to his cheeks and his jaw. He seemed to have had trouble cleaning it. 

 

“Please get this shit off of me,” he grumbled at her, eyes looking down and away from her in shame. “It keeps sticking to me when I rub at it.”

 

Kagome couldn’t stop her smile even if she wanted to. The Games seemed so far away right then. It was just her and a friend (she thinks) asking if she can get glitter off of him. 

 

“You don’t remember primary school, when this stuff was everywhere?” she laughed as she ushered him into her room and dragged the seat by her bed into the bathroom she was just occupying. It was still steamy with the heat of her bath, her wet footprints trailing on the floor, evaporating slowly. He stopped and surveyed the bathroom for a second, but said nothing. “My mom used to scrub my hands with a brush when I got home.”

 

“I hated crafts,” he commented when he sat down in front of the mirror. “I got in trouble on purpose to avoid it.”

 

Her mind quickly draws up the image of a sleeping Inuyasha, face and arms on his desk while everyone else was making their family trees or whatever else was in store for that day.

 

Kagome grabbed a hand towel near the sink and ran it under warm water. Once the towel was good and wet, she wrung it out so it wasn’t sopping. She was practiced at this, always hand washing clothes for the entire Higurashi clan to lessen her mother’s workload.

 

She made Inuyasha tilt his head away from her. Covering her hand with the towel, she used a gentle scrubbing motion alongside his cheekbone to rid him of the decoration. 

 

Kagome had never touched a boy—another person, even—like this, holding his head tenderly with her opposite hand and letting herself feel the structure of his face on her fingers and palm. She tried to ignore it as best she could. But it was so sweet. 

 

Kikyo left enough hair along his nape and sides that she could feel the softness of skin and the downy hair against the pads of her fingers. Hair was where human ears would be, but it wasn’t a strange sight like she would have assumed if he had a cropped cut. 

 

At first, Inuyasha’s face felt lax under the towel. The longer she held his head and wiped his face, the tenser he became. First, he bit down and kept his jaw taut. Then he stretched his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brows in the process. Lastly, his glossed over eyes closed tightly. 

 

“You look tortured,” she laughed at him again. Kagome looked him once over the way Koga did so many hours ago, admiring her handiwork. He was red in the places she rubbed; the untouched tips of his ears had a twinge of rosiness to them as well. “You’re free.”

 

“Listen, no one touches me,” he said gruffly, echoing his complaint from earlier. “I think I’ve had more hands on my skin today than my entire life. I’m at my limit.” 

 

Kagome put the towel in the sink and crossed her arms, thoughts swirling in her mind. “Me too. I felt like an object.”

 

They looked at each other sympathetically, comfortable with the silence for once. Until he broke it.

 

“Kagome,” he said softly, tenderly. His pupils were wider than usual, she noticed. 

 

“Inuyasha,” she replied with as much care as he showed her name. 

 

“Today—that,” he started cautiously. “You carried us.”

 

Kagome shook her head, her hand coming up dismissively.

 

“No, shut up,” he said quickly. “They liked you a lot.”

 

She was in a state of utter astonishment. “You don’t know, do you?” she said curiously, words escaping her before she could think about them. He gave her a questioning gaze in return. “The effect you have.”

 

His nostrils flared; his eyes closed. Reluctant to speak. His eyes opened and she watched his pupils start out blown and then shrink in the same second. “You—”

 

She tilted her head down, encouraging him to continue.

 

“I’ve been bitching about protecting you and here you are, protecting yourself,” he stood up abruptly, walking out the room, “thanks for your help.”

 

“Hey!” she quickly moved to follow him, “I don’t see how that’s a problem!”

 

“It’s not,” he said curtly and turned to face her before he left her completely. 

 

“Okay!” she said firmly, her words being the force that stopped him from going. “Then—”

 

“Then what?” he barked.

 

“Then stay,” she whispered. 

 

“Stay here?” Inuyasha was speaking the same way he did when he said her name, carrying the words with the soft powdery tone of affection. 

 

Was it affection? “I don’t know,” she confessed. Her voice trembled with her vulnerability, the fear of rejection. “Just stay. Please.”

 

He dipped his head down, hair not nearly long enough to hide most of his face anymore. Instead, his eyes were shrouded for a moment. He looked at her through his lashes. “Okay.”

 

And then there were no words. The two of them were consumed by the nothingness that held her while she was in the bath, foregoing thought. They existed in the silence, recuperating and stacking up their personhood again inside themselves after a day of being erased. Only someone as stripped as Kagome was from the day would be desperate enough to ask Inuyasha to stay. He was a fragment of home.

 

Right?

 

They fell asleep.

 

Notes:

Sorry to all who were waiting--not only did I commit a great sin by waiting 2 fucking years, but I also posted this chapter months ago on ffn...either way, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading!! Sending love to The Monday Child for being the goat. And my cats, obviously. Is this author's note over yet?

6/27/22 - My sad little bbs. Good thing they have each other, right? Also, let me state my love for Kikyo and Koga as the dynamic stylist duo. They sometimes argue about what looks best (he loves his neutrals and she wants fiery reds all the time), bless them, but boy do they come through.

Chapter 3: it feels better biting down

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

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. 

 

Notes:

dedicated to Chels cause I love her and she rocks my socks. I had fun writing this. I hoped you had fun reading it! <3

6/27/22 - This one was the hardest one for me to slog through, which surprised me. I like this chapter much more now, and I feel the additions prop up what was already there well. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Chapter 4: incipiam

Notes:

I advise you to re-read the previous chapters to enjoy this installment fully!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Kagome watched the elevator door close and felt her heart sink in time. The vastness of the lobby before them had started to consume her, those elevator doors ahead a small, devastating point. Kagome was left under the Capitol’s magnifying glass, the beaming lights of the high ceiling above them searing her in place.

This wasn’t what she had expected, but she isn’t sure what she should have expected.

Was he supposed to run into her embrace? Inuyasha? Her arms were limp noodles at her sides now, useless and deflated. Koga then put his hand on her bare shoulder and she jumped at the sudden warmth that came over her clammy skin. What could have been a few seconds felt like an entire hour, her body exhausted as if she had been standing there for that long.

“It’s alright. These things happen, but now you’ve been burned into everyone’s memories.”

“He’ll be over it by sunrise, Kagome,” Miroku added. His arms were crossed, the event program rolled into a tube held in his fist. Was there a new one every year? Were there collectors? She imagined her name in that program, collecting dust in someone’s basement.

She didn’t want him to be over it.

Kagome looked down to the floor, thinking maybe she could have done something else to be memorable, to not just be a name on the list of tributes who died trying. The look Inuyasha had on his face was enough to cause her instant regret, it appeared she had caused the death of something else instead. Another part of her delighted at this, her feelings for Inuyasha that she had been shoving down and shrugging off as infatuation was finally given life, words in a sentence.

She liked Inuyasha, she always had, and that was that. Not that it mattered—

Her lips flattened into a firm line and her eyes welled up. She wanted it to matter, wanted something to happen but it could never be. He might as well be in a completely different world from her own, on the other side of a dark abyss. Her hands fisted her dress in anguish as her body hunched in on itself.

Koga leaned into her ear, speaking in a soft voice. “You’ll be making harder choices in the arena.” He was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. His hand moved over to stroke her back. “C’mon, it’s okay. Best you caught everyone with their pants down now. You want to get back home, don't you?”

Home. Did her family see the broadcast tonight? Sota would have laughed at her for being so gushy on live television, maybe even tossed in some fake gagging noises. Rin would have cooed, even if she had no idea who Inuyasha was. Kagome could see her mother's astonishment in her mind's eye, a delicate handkerchief held up to her face, stopping in the middle of serving dinner. Her grandfather's familiar flare of indignation, his ruddy old cheeks as his jaw gaped in shock.

She peeked up at her mentor and he was looking down at her with a worried but hopeful, expression. Kagome took the time to analyze his features indulgently, the way manicured brows could become stricken, angled cheekbones looking forgotten along the way to concern, lips so used to smiling somehow could take a break and sit straight. She wondered if Koga, a Capitol citizen, is as familiar with distress as she is. As she is about to become.

Every moment since she’d been called up to the stage by Sango felt stolen, each new person she encountered becoming a singular impression; the people from Twelve were somehow infinitely more real. Even their memory had slowly become fossilized as the days bled on, relics of a forgotten past never to be recreated.

 There was only what happened next. Somehow, it was comforting.


Miroku leaned into her ear and Sango did her best to tamp down the slight shiver going up her spine, which felt entirely inappropriate. She could smell that tint of alcohol that always colored his breath when he spoke to her, leaned above her, snarked her way.

“Did she tell you about this?”

She turned to him, meeting his gaze. He looked curious, maybe a little disgruntled to be left out of the loop. “She mentioned it in passing, privately. She asked me if I had ever been in love. Didn’t even say his name.”

“Very hopeful of her, considering their situation,” Kikyo said across the way, finger tapping on the edge of her chin. Both parties turned to her at the sound of her voice. “Seems like she surprised us all.”

“They’re going to eat this up,” Miroku said matter-of-factly. Sango knew he was right, but felt disquieted anyway. Undoubtedly, everyone will be keeping their eye on Inuyasha and Kagome. But Sango also knew this: the more attention you draw, the bigger the target on your back.

“It’s too late now, Sango,” Kikyo had her looking up again. A soft, amused smile graced her sophisticated features and she shrugged. “It’s out there. We all hope to protect our tributes each year, but we don’t always get so much to work with.”

Every tribute Sango has ever met managed to run through her mind at that moment. Every death. She hadn’t been doing this for very long, so she knows each face. Eri and Ayumi are the freshest, and now she knows they were Kagome’s friends. Eri was practical and honest, she scored mid-range and gave a subpar interview, because who can instill media literacy in a 16-year-old? Ayumi was much too soft-spoken and loving, she endeared her fellow tributes easily but when the games were at their thickest, she was forgotten.

None of those tributes deserved their fate. Sango’s eyes stung slightly, as they are wont to do during this time every year.

“By design, Panem never focuses on the lower districts. The tributes are essentially fodder to them.” Miroku nodded. “Kagome made sure they wouldn’t forget her.”

“Indeed,” Kikyo replied easily, “We can use this. It can be a blessing.”


 Kagome inhaled deeply and smoothed the tulle bodice of her dress. She straightened her back and saw Koga crack a smile at her newfound composure. The lobby’s marble floor started to warm under her bare feet. Miroku, Kikyo, and Sango were chatting amongst themselves not too far away, Sango appearing more concerned than they were.

Not too long ago, she would have panicked over their distant conversation. She would have tried to read their lips, even, hoping for some kind of hint of what’s to come. But none of them actually knew what would happen in the games. She didn’t know something as precious as a confession would hurt Inuyasha so much, not that she expected him to be happy. At the same time, she felt lighter anyway.

It had to come out sometime, she rationalized. It had been so long already.

“Back upstairs, then,” Sango stated with a sigh, and Kikyo led their company to the elevator Inuyasha had just departed from.

She walked with the crowd of adults to the bank of elevators and pressed the ascending button. Seconds go by in terse silence before there’s that reassuring ding that promises Kagome she will get her dress off soon.

The group of them enter the cab and Miroku pressed the button for their floor. As the doors were closing, Kagome swore she could see her mother and grandfather wandering the far lobby, and her heart begins to pound in her chest for what must be the hundredth time that night. Does the Capitol bring family members over this early?

The two people turned their heads and revealed two extremely made-up capital citizens with deceptively tame haircuts.

The doors couldn’t shut fast enough—and once the heavy metal thudded together, Kagome closed her eyes as well, trying to erase the disappointment she felt just then. It was better her family hadn’t come to the Capitol. She hardly belonged there. She was there by force.

With that cheerful thought, the group was freed from the confines of the elevator. Kagome rushed out the threshold but she was stopped short suddenly; something caught the hem of her gown. The very expensive, one-of-a-kind gown. She turned in frustration, about to give whatever offending piece of furniture that caught her dress the glare of a lifetime, but she saw a luxury men's shoe stepping on it instead.

Behind her was Koga, a cheeky grin on his face. It didn’t cheer her up the way most of his smiles did. She was worn too thin for banter this evening; no elasticity left in her to volley any of Koga’s words back at him.

"Aren't stylists supposed to treat their haute couture with some respect?" Kagome had just learned that term a few hours ago, but flexed it anyway. No one could say she wasn’t quick on the uptake.

He shrugged at her good-naturedly. "What matters more to me is the person who I made it for. There will be more fabric, more dresses, but there's only one Kagome."

Okay, that was hard to turn away from. Kagome gave him a lopsided smile, the tenseness in her body dissipating some. Koga's smile dialed up a notch. He seemed to enjoy flustering her quite a bit. She wouldn't tell him she liked it herself, it would be too easy. But their dynamic was a pocket of normalcy in her confusing situation.

“You don’t gotta worry about what your enemies think, Kagome.” Inuyasha’s face was conjured in her mind, the subject of her affections for at least a decade, turned into an enemy with the unfurling of a single piece of paper. “It’s about you in the end.”

The Capitol's invisible hand came down and grabbed her and Inuyasha by the neck and she'd been struggling to breathe ever since. Her heart sank and her stomach formed a knot.

She must have shown her displeasure on her face because Koga’s mirth disappeared. He deliberately caught her gaze after that, eyes blue and piercing like a wayward shard of ice. Kagome felt awed, and admittedly, a little shaken.

“ ‘It’s about you in the end,’ ” he repeated. “That means everything I say is a suggestion. I’ll be cheering you in the aisles ‘till I see you get to come home. You understand me now?”

 She studied those eyes and committed them to memory, so they wouldn't remain just a notion.

“Crystal clear,” she smiled and he returned it.

“Anyway—your shoes, princess.” Koga held out her heels with a small bow, which were hooked in the crook of his fingers.

Kagome took the pair of shoes graciously, curtseying with one hand and the two parted. Typical pep talk with Koga now off the list of things for her to do that night, Kagome headed for her room, desperate to get out of her dress. She could feel where the bodice was laced closed around her, the taut feeling an imitation of the tension she'd been carrying since before she walked up to Jakotsu.

She noticed a dull light coming from under Inuyasha’s door but scrubbed it from her mind. He needed some space.


Kikyo came to him first. She didn’t do him the courtesy of knocking, of course. She even flicked on his light like she owned the place. The telltale click of her heels was dulled by the plush carpeting, but the rustled fabric of her white gown sounded noisily in the quiet room as she moved to sit down next to him at the edge of his bed. He looked down at their knees, side by side, before he looked at her. Her makeup was dark but her face was soft in understanding, spiked sleeves curled over the curves of her shoulders. He didn’t see it in the crowd, but the lower half of the dress looked unsettlingly like it had been dipped in blood.

Her arm came up around his shoulders in a comforting gesture. “Are you alright?”

Something painful lodged in his chest. “Yes,” he replied quickly, “No.” He sighed loudly then, running a hand down his face and sighing again. “I have no idea.”

Kikyo’s arm came back to her side and she rested her hand on his knee, leveling him with her discerning gaze. “Honestly, I didn’t expect that you would be.”

“What gave you that impression?” Inuyasha said sarcastically, standing up and beginning to pace around the room. The physical comfort Kikyo was offering felt like too much on his battered heart. “Was it being taken from my shitty home? The death competition that starts tomorrow? Or maybe it was the sudden realization that this girl that—that I—grew up with—is…”

He didn’t realize just how much he’d been talking with his hands just then. He looked down into his open palms, sharpened claws peering up at him. Inuyasha was all too familiar with helplessness by now, but he’d railed against it for enough years that he thought he might have escaped it. He looked back to his mentor for answers, anything.

She calmly sat and listened to him all the while, nodding before she spoke. “Yes, nothing happened as it should have, but that doesn’t mean you can’t survive.”

He gritted his teeth and sneered at her. “I’m so damn tired of hearing that.”

“I’m tired of saying it,” she said softly, looking at him with a gentle expression. She looked so young, then, or maybe she was younger than he thought—Inuyasha couldn’t say. He didn’t form many bonds in his lifetime, but he was struck with the realization that he was looking at someone he can trust. The slight frown that always ornamented her face seemed truly solemn now, in a way he could never read before. “We can only work with what we have.”

The sound of his door opening pulled them out of their mutual grief, and he turned to the door with a growl. “Do any of you know how to fucking knock?”

Miroku put his hands up in surrender, lingering in the doorframe. “Can’t I come to check on my favorite tribute?”

“Enough.” Kikyo huffed as she stood up, smoothing her skirt into place. “Some tact, Miroku?”

He walked into the room with a snort. “You’re asking for a lot from someone four drinks in already.”

“Did you know?” Inuyasha advanced on Miroku, who sidestepped the entryway and slipped into his room to sit in the spot Inuyasha and Kikyo left open. His focus was entirely on the scheming man with the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I wish I knew,” Miroku lamented. “It’s brilliant, honestly.”

“Brilliant?” He hissed back, “You think that was a stroke of brilliance?”

“Perhaps you can’t see the bigger picture, Inuyasha.” His mentor gave him a pitying look. “Haven’t I hammered it in by now? You need to stand out. Sponsors are vital.”

Miroku’s words hit him harder than he’d care to admit. He stood there staring at him with a fit of seething anger, until the click of his door falling shut surprised him. Kikyo made a silent exit, and he wished for the reassurance of her empathy.

“I think you did this whole charade a little too long ago, you decrepit, liquored-up asshole,” his voice was filled with acrimony, but it sounded sadder than he intended, even to his own ears. “You’ve forgotten what it feels like to be here.”

“We can hardly relate,” Miroku shrugged easily, the insult sliding off his shoulders. “I didn’t have a pretty girl declaring her intent before I went into the arena.”


The doorknob gave way easily under the turn of her hand and Kagome stepped inside, dress rustling with a graceful sound across the threshold. Koga’s design could carry her on its own, the outfit elevated her to a new social echelon without any effort on her part. She thought that she would undress as soon as she stepped in because the pressure to be likable and pretty to the Capitol citizens was suffocating. Instead, she caught a glimpse of her glory in the faraway mirror and walked toward her reflection without thinking. It almost felt like she wasn’t looking at herself, but as a statue. A goddess. In the dim quiet of her bedroom, she could appreciate the extravagance the outfit afforded her. Even without the light on, the gown sparkled in defiance, the flowers on her person almost opalescent. Kagome gripped the flowing skirt and swished it from side to side to see the flames ignite along her bare feet and trail up the vines adorning her skirt.

Flicking on her light, she shimmied out of Koga’s latest creation and watched the fabric become a fluffy pile shaped like a blushing cloud. The vines around her neck and shoulders were begging to come off, some of the edges lifting from her skin already, detaching easily. She left the beautiful makeup he applied, though, wanting to hold on to the magic of it a little longer.

Kagome was surprised how quickly she was able to have her hair tumbling down around her shoulders in the teased waves Ginta and Hakkakku so carefully created. Petals and flowers alike floated to the floor with the motion. It took an incredibly long time to get her hair and face the way her stylist desired, but he orbited her like a moon to a planet once she was all done up, constantly tweaking things here and there like the pulling tides. Her look was nearly identical to the sketch he made of her, which Koga enthusiastically presented when she stepped in for the first fitting.

She couldn’t help but blush at the elegant rendition of herself she saw in the photo, Koga drew her prettier than she ever dreamed of. Hakkaku boasted that his master had never put a pencil to paper and finished something in just minutes.

“You’re a worthy muse,” Koga said calmly, a smug smile growing on his face when he noticed her cheeks.

But it made the dress feel better on her body when it was all said and done. Kagome swore Inuyasha’s eyes had lingered on the bare skin of her shoulders for a little while, but she couldn’t be sure; it very well could have been some wishful thinking on her part, and it didn’t stop her body from humming when they first sat together.

There I go again, she thought to herself. Get your head in the game, Kagome.

Down to her underwear, Kagome slipped on the soft satin pajamas the Capitol placed in her dresser. Shuffling her feet into the matching slippers, Kagome made her determined walk to the door, bracing herself to go next door and see him. Inuyasha probably didn’t get enough time to himself, but they were on a tight schedule, and she couldn’t leave things the way they were.

If he lets her in, anyway.

At the same time Kagome exited her bedroom, Miroku emerged from the door to Inuyasha’s room. They lock eyes and Miroku tilts his head towards her with an easy smirk. “He’s calmer now.”

The question Miroku answered was probably written all over her expression, projected from the depths of her gaze. She tried not to frown, not to cry in front of him, to hide the fact that the only person she was hoping to see when she left her room was Inuyasha.

“I only suggest going in there if you’re ready to fight, though.”

Kagome steeled herself and nodded.

“I expected nothing less, you know.” Miroku winked and pointed his finger, but she pushed past him and opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“I know you don’t expect to be fuckin’ sleepin’ here.” Inuyasha spat out immediately as if he knew she was approaching. But of course he did.

Kagome was jarred by his words until she looked down at her clothes. She seemed completely ready for a sleepover whereas Inuyasha had only discarded his suit jacket, the cuff glinting like a nightlight in the corner of his room.  He was sitting on the edge of his bed in a contemplative position, legs spread apart and firmly planted, elbows on his knees, hands knit together in exasperation.

“I’ve come to talk—” He leaned forward into his joined knuckles and inhaled sharply through his nose when she’d barely begun. His eyes were shut tight his brow wrinkled to form a dam that wouldn’t let anything pass through.

“Tough shit. Get out; I don’t want to.”

“We need to talk now! When else?” Kagome huffed. He clenched his jaw and crossed his arms in front of him defensively as he studied her for a second, irises twitching across her form and landing on her face. It only hardened her resolve, though, flecks of fiery gold sinking into her and igniting a kindling deep within. Her toes curled in her fancy slippers and she closed her hands into fists, holding on to nothing but needing the support all the same.

“I don’t know. Never sound good?” He scoffed at her. “I don’t have to fucking listen to you weave a web of more bullshit, Kagome.” Inuyasha’s arms came apart in one exasperated motion and he stood up. Kagome quickly put her back against the door to prevent any storming out and their eyes stayed on each other, her chin coming up in defiance but to also accommodate the sudden height difference between them. She tried to pretend what he just said didn’t hurt, but the swift leap in her stomach was undeniable.

He grimaced at her, eyes looking skyward in exasperation.

“Move over, woman. I’m leavin’.”

Woman?” She exclaimed incredulously. Kagome tilted her head to follow his gaze but Inuyasha only rolled his eyes and looked away, not giving her the gratification of a response. As much as she wanted to fight him, she understood his hesitancy. He was acting skittish, like Buyo in a thunderstorm. The Capitol was overwhelming her, too, to say the least. Kagome took a steadying breath before continuing. “Okay. Nevermind. Would you please listen?” Inuyasha’s ear twitched at the notion, but he said nothing.

She stared at his throat and watched it bob as he swallowed thickly and debated her offer. His lips became a conflicted frown; a pout really. The tip of his nose was slightly red—and he was completely disheveled, collar loosened, hair askew.  Even his eyes were a little red, too. Inuyasha may have been crying, and her heart ached painfully at the image that formed in her mind. That vivid memory of the little boy choking back tears visited her once again, he didn’t hesitate to bare his teeth when she came close back then, either.

Kagome pressed her back to the door even harder, allowing herself to feel that overpowering urge to protect him. Her fists released and she pressed her palms against the finished wood to keep herself steady in the face of the onslaught of emotions swirling through her.

Inuyasha’s hand came up over her head, his arm encircling her side. It was almost romantic, in a way. He leaned forward with a hateful sneer, her mind slipping away from her in that one smooth motion. He was so close that they could kiss with just a tilt of their heads. Did he realize it?

“You can lie to these braindead citizens about having some kind of crush on me, and they’ll eat it up.” His voice was a deep hissing rumble, breath ghosting across her lips. “I don’ wanna play their fucked up game but I damn sure know what it looks like, and you’re not playin’ me.”

He didn’t believe her. Inuyasha thought she confessed her feelings to the Capitol just to get an edge?

It came out because she couldn’t bear to keep it in anymore. Whatever she felt for Inuyasha walked out of her mouth on its own. It was a brewing disaster from the moment she realized they’d be doing this together, which was simultaneously the best scenario but also the worst death sentence she could have ever received. It was fortune cackling at her on their stormcloud, pointing down and saying “that one.”

If she remained quiet about her feelings, they would have died with her.

Kagome did not have any words to throw back at him. She only had contemptuous silence to give as she greedily breathed his air, every atom between them reverberating through her like a song. It felt pitiful to be entrenched in conflict with him and eating up every second of it.

As if suddenly sensing their proximity, Inuyasha’s eyes traveled across her face the way one would look at a map. Kagome was similarly trying to memorize little details in this precious, painful moment—his lower lashline, those upturned cheekbones of his, his cupid’s bow. His breathing became a little labored, a touch shallow, when their eyes finally met again.

Outside the world was bright with jovial cheer. It was preposterous; the difference between the festivities on the sidewalk that Kagome can hear out the window and the chaos that lie ahead for her and Inuyasha come morning. The absolute anguish that she’s felt ever since they called his name after she walked on that stage.

His eyes were half-lidded, the soft pink rim of them and the flush on his cheeks stirring something in her. Wildly, Kagome began thinking it was because of her. He can see down into her very pores and maybe he wanted to know what her lips taste like too.

Her mouth opened slightly, as if to speak, maybe even say, “See?” But her chin moved up autonomously to connect their lips like that’s where they were supposed to be. She barely felt his lower lip as she captured the edge of it between her own. The skin was as soft and pliant as a grape, yet she knew if she bit down, she would not tear the skin the same way. She thought about biting.

Their lips were slotted together like loose puzzle pieces, just there but with no firm press to keep them in place. Kagome wondered how her heart could be beating out of her chest while simultaneously losing her breath. She turned ever so slightly then, her lips on his cheek instead, their faces a mirror image. Despite all his anger, when she turned away, he followed without question, head leaning toward her magnetically.

“Inuyasha…” she whispered, quietly. Her heart, her feelings, became this gentle, fluttering thing between them. It alighted out of her as softly as her breath. It flowed like a river’s stream, subconscious and soothing. “Did you ever stop to think that I said it because it was true?”

A sudden, sharp intake of breath is heard in her ear as his other arm comes up to cradle her neck and his lips touch hers. Finally, finally—she remembered how to exhale, so she does it in his mouth and he leans in further to sweep his tongue along her own. Kagome makes a sound she doesn’t recognize and his trailing fingers thread tightly against the hair at her nape as he hears it.

The enthusiasm that takes her is all-encompassing. Her arms become languid suddenly, the stiff posts that kept her balanced against the door once before loop around his neck to keep her steady instead. Kagome had stolen a few kisses in her time, with boys who didn’t matter, innocent pecks and sloppy frenching that was primarily teeth and curiosity. All in her final school years, years she wished she got to share with him.

At least they have this, right?

They break away from one another, only centimeters apart. His eyes are searing into hers, dipping back down to her lips. Inuyasha’s face was so full of tension, he looked like he was in pain staring at her. Kagome’s hands sneak up his back to cradle his head and his façade seems to fracture at the touch, something softer aligning his features. Before she can spend any more time analyzing it like she does any private moment they steal together, he presses his lips to hers tenderly. She formed to him eagerly, already rising to her tiptoes.

If Kagome thought she was pressed against the door before, it was nothing compared to the firm planes of Inuyasha’s body fitted against hers on the threshold. His thumb gingerly stroked the side of her neck as his arm left its post on the wall to rest at the small of her back. Heat had thoroughly engulfed her entire being, radiating from the hand that managed to cover the expanse of her lower back. The dress she wore comes to mind, all fake flames and grandeur, how decidedly not like that a simple kiss is proving to be. Something savage began to course through the pair, and they kissed one another with an unexpected fervency. The sound of panting and quickening pulses drowned out the soundtrack of merriment outside, cheers rising and going unnoticed. Kagome couldn’t help but lean in closer, nearly clawing at his shoulders now just to feel, trying to become one being entirely, the moment pulsating around them like a throbbing heartbeat.

Inuyasha yanked himself away from her with a bite, which she so longed to return. His hands released her unceremoniously and he purposely looks away, the haze of desire and confusion hardening into an anger she cannot understand.

A pained sigh trailed out of him, more a whimper. His eyes closed. “Don’t involve me anymore. I’m sick of this place and everyone in it.”

She moved forward on instinct, hoping to console him. Maybe to kiss him again, to rewind to just a few seconds ago. But he stepped back.

“Including you.”

Kagome clenched her teeth and stared at his twisted expression through the tears welling in her eyes. “Inuyasha—” she whined, pushing forward for anything, the situation canonically desperate, a mere fact of life once she saw Rin being dragged away by Peacekeepersthere she was, calling out to that frightening stage, knowing how the story goes.

He glared at her. “Leave.”

When she made no plans to move, he sucked his teeth.

“Go!” Inuyasha shouted and she flinched. There’s no time to wait for him to calm down—it’s now or never

“No! You’re not scaring me away!” She demanded, leaning forward, causing him to step back. She ignored the pang in her chest and pointed to the door behind her. “You can’t just kiss me and kick me out. I didn’t do it for them!”

“Maybe I was getting camera ready,” He laughed sardonically, seemingly unaffected by her pleas. His head shook in disbelief. “It doesn’t add up. You confess now, in front of an audience and that fucker in a fancy suit, and I’m supposed to take it as the truth?”

Kagome was getting even more frustrated. He still couldn’t understand how it was practically involuntary at this point, she didn’t choose them in the first place—why would her heart listen to her now? Anger rose out of her like a threatening gale.

“Tell me, Inuyasha, when was there time?” His expression, which seemed to relish in his triumph just before, withered. Kagome egged on. “When have you been around long enough for me to say anything more than a few sentences to you after you left school for good?”

“I don’t know,” he said sarcastically, “An entire fucking 12 years sound like enough time for you?”

The truth sucked everything out of her. In the back of her mind, she foolishly thought she had more time. Any wild dreams of running into his arms and sharing a beloved kiss after her confession was torn away and crumpled into an unrecognizable ball. The Capitol took it all, and she was led blindly by her hand into her demise. She couldn’t have anticipated being in league with the Capitol, how playing their little game for one interview sacrificed a part of herself, her long kept secret. It had been far too bastardized by now.

“Please...Inuyasha,” she whispered tenderly, managing to bring his eyes back to hers. She is awed by their glow in the low light, nearly forgetting the feeling of losing him— it works only for a second, his hard browline centimeters above their perpetual warmth. She remembered putting her lips right there, too. When he almost did the same thing—the ghost of a memory burned like a brand on her forehead. “You can’t see?” Her voice was watery and clotted with emotion. The tension was stifling. I said it because it’s true, she wished to say again. At that moment, it felt like even that wouldn’t be enough.

“Inuyasha...do you even care? That I said it?” His lids lowered a fraction, the slightest amount of change flitting across his face, but it was smothered seconds later.

“Real or not real,” he said in a shuddering breath, raising a pointed gaze to her, “It’s never going to happen. It never was.”

Kagome could only get out a strained croak, mouth opening and closing as she advanced toward him.

He closed his eyes, stepped back, and then ordered through clenched teeth, “Get out.”   

Tears began to flood her eyes, coming down in waves. In her blurred periphery, she watched his hand strain between opening and closing beside him. She fought the urge to linger there with him and push further; she wished things were different, but he didn’t want her around and she would hate to make things worse before entering the arena. Kagome turned and left the room, not before noticing a crack in the wall by the door frame that wasn’t there before.

Inuyasha locked the door behind her, the latch resounding a noisy clack! Kagome winced when she heard it.

As she took those few steps to her room and cracked open the door, Kagome quelled the adamant barrage of melancholy thoughts that threaten to overcome her. Taking a note from Inuyasha, she locked away the rest of the world on the other side of the door. 

She dropped onto the mattress with a loud sigh, silently pulling the comforter over her head and curling into the soft blanket.

Capitol citizens’ celebrations could be heard through the window of her room too, the noises melting into an indiscernible buzz far away from her. Kagome’s day quickly caught up to her and she was led into a restless sleep in moments.


“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Koga glanced down at the open portfolio on Kikyo’s desk, releasing a disbelieving breath.

In front of her were a series of outfits for their beloved tributes with a percentage at the bottom. Citizens were allowed to vote on what outfit they would be wearing to their doom on social media, the notion so devilish and inconsiderate that it can only be from the mind of the president himself.

“I wasn’t sure he’d go through with it,” she sighed, hand skimming over the glossy paper that showed the outfit chosen for Inuyasha. How terribly cliché it looked. “I thought he’d keep to the theme of every tribute in a standard outfit befitted for the terrain in question.”

“Okay, I know, treason or whatever but,” he tapped his unforgivingly sharp nail onto the printout of Kagome, “this is fucked. Terrible, even. Unfair.”

Kikyo looked up at her partner with a resigned expression. “You know it’s never been about fair.”

“And he just put it up tonight? After the interviews?”

She closed her eyes as her exhaustion crept up on her. “The polls were only up for 2 hours.”

 “We’re their damn stylists!” Koga paced about the room anxiously. “We couldn’t even choose the options?”

“All we can do is say the right thing before they go in,” Kikyo looked down again at Inuyasha’s face in the photo, the dour expression he always seemed to wear. A pang of great sadness lanced through her chest. “If there is a right thing.”

“There isn’t, but you know that.”


Inuyasha couldn’t bring himself to sleep. As soon as Kagome left his room, he locked the door for good measure and ripped away the rest of Kikyo’s handiwork. He would feel sorry about it, but he didn’t have the energy within him to feel much of anything right now.

Her glassy eyes stood vigil in his mind’s eye, the way his hands messed up her hair, the fact that her lips looked so rosy and full because he spent a couple of minutes kissing them.

It was a lie, and he had to remember that. Inuyasha sat in the window of his room and waited for dawn.


The first sign of light creeping through her window made Kagome rise from her slumber. Internally she lamented that she didn’t feel rested in the slightest, but it was better than a knocking alarm she’d become used to. It was early, Sango had yet to appear, and she was grateful for it. Some time alone wasn’t unwelcome.

Kagome closed her eyes in quiet reflection and let herself meditate. She prayed for a clear head, for her fellow tributes (unlikable as some may be), and for Inuyasha’s safety. Searching inside her heart for the warmth of her family’s memory, Kagome felt like she’s been fortified with armor as she inhales deeply.

Once she flicks on the bathroom light and is greeted with her reflection, she is nothing short of horrified. The peachy makeup she wore the night before had been smudged around her eyes. Kagome rushed out of the bathroom to look at her white pillow, stained with makeup. Fake lashes looked like fuzzy centipedes crawling on the cushion.

“Goodness…” she sighed and brought her hand to her forehead in exasperation.

She turned the bathroom water to steaming hot and washed herself thoroughly in the shower, the pigments in her makeup making the water funneling into the drain pretty and iridescent. Cleansing her hair and body one last time before the bloodbath felt necessary anyhow. Kagome shut off the water when she was done, hugging the soft towel to her frame and patting herself dry. She walked to the mirror again, just to check for any further makeup residue—she was happy to greet her regular face.

Kagome leaned back, satisfied, and used another towel to squeeze the excess water from her hair.

Anything that could be considered indecorous felt like an act of rebellion for her, so Kagome let her damp feet tread the expensive carpet in her bedroom. She approached the standing closet apprehensively, fearing what her outfit for the arena will be like as she parted the doors. Would the clothes reveal anything about where she was going? The door creaked ominously when she opened it.

A green and white uniform with a red ribbon.

Kagome gawked at the ensemble for a second. This? No boots, not even a pocket in sight. She smoothed her fingers over the starchy fabric. It appeared sturdy but fundamentally useless.

She made an annoyed noise as she took the top off of its hanger. Suspending her disbelief as she dressed, Kagome tried to do so with care, relishing in the routine of it. Once her socks were on snugly and pulled up to cover her shins, she wiggled her feet into the new loafers, which weren’t broken in.

Kagome looked in her mirror and assessed her appearance. I look like I’m going to my first day of school, she bemoaned in her mind.


“This is a joke,” Inuyasha groaned, yanking the casual outfit out of the closet. “This entire place is a fucking circus.”


Sango came knocking shortly after Kagome was dressed. Her mentor spared her any morning chatter and merely provided her a supportive smile when she unlocked the door for her.

She looked the least like a Capitol citizen today, dressed in one color, save for a brooch on the lapel of her coat: a bird. When Kagome noticed it, she gasped, and Sango finally broke her silence.

“Do you like it? It reminded me of your performance so far,” the older girl boasted, “Figured I’d wear my support for you today.”

Kagome, awed, gave her mentor a brief hug. “Get me to the helicopter before you have to drag me kicking and screaming.”

Sango let out a watery laugh and nodded, leading Kagome through a part of the penthouse she never cared to explore. It was a long hallway with floor-to-ceiling windows. As she walked by, Kagome tried not to get queasy when she peeked down at the city streets below.

“Make sure you find yourself some high ground, Kagome.” Sango impressed upon her.

They went up a ramp and then a flight of stairs. It led them to one of the multiple roof entrances in the building.

“Don’t get off the platform until the Games officially start or you will be blown to smithereens.”

Sango pulled the startled Kagome into another hug, slipping something into her palm. “Find water first. Water is your most trusted friend.”

She hugged her mentor with a desperate ferocity. Despite their differences, despite the odds stacked against her, Sango really believed in her now.

“I’m sorry I didn’t support you properly sooner,” Sango said as she pulled back to look at her. “The moment you took up for Rin I felt you had it in you to take this thing, but—”

Kagome shook her head to stop her train of thought. “I don’t blame you. I-I’m going to do my best. I have to for my family.”

“I’ll see you when you come back.”

The words made her chest tighten and her eyes well up with tears. Her mentor pulled open the heavy door and the noisy whipping of the helicopter’s propellers made it impossible for Sango to hear Kagome’s response if she had one. Poking the center of her palm was the beak of Sango’s bird brooch, and she sneakily pinned the keepsake under her ribbon.

Kagome didn’t look back at her, just let the Peacekeepers usher her into the helicopter packed with the other kids. Every tribute had a unique outfit, something that had never been done before. When she was buckled into her seat, an officer approached. She couldn’t tell if she preferred Ginta and Hakkaku’s invasive primping or the cold, distorted reflection of herself that she saw in the tinted glass pane of Peacekeepers’ helmets.

“Hold out your arm.”

“For what?” Kagome flinched, bringing her arms closer to her body.

“Your tracker.” the impatient man scoffed, grabbing her by the wrist roughly and indelicately injecting the device into her arm. She cringed as the sharp metal pinched her skin on the way in. He had her synced to the device in his hand, like her seated in front of him or the many cameras in the arena wasn’t going to be proof enough. “Helps us monitor your vitals, too.”

Her stomach lurched when they took to flight, and Kagome tried not to spend her free time looking for Inuyasha somewhere in the lineup. She won’t be accepting his protection anyway (though the offer was probably off the table). It took a half hour for the copter to descend to the arena, which was obscured as they landed on a domed platform that kept the mystery of the terrain beyond.

Kagome was escorted to a room where she found Koga waiting for her. Behind him was a pod, probably the one that will place her into the arena. It looked small and uncomfortable. Immediately, her body became wrought with trembles, the fear of what was to come overtaking her right at the starting line.

Koga took her into his arms and she felt soothed by the pressure of his embrace. But her mind was flooded with a million other thoughts, possibilities of her imminent death, the fear that she’ll never see her family again.

He hummed deep within his chest as he stroked her back a little, it rang through her and she inhaled shakily after they parted. “Based on your clothes, I’d say the weather will be fair. I don’t know where they’ll be taking you. You got your ring?”

She nodded silently and he held her by the shoulders and leveled her with his gaze. “It will be alright.” Koga then walked behind her and she felt the familiar graze of his tar-tipped claws as his fingers gathered her hair into the high ponytail he was so fond of giving her. He gnaws another elastic from around his wrist with his teeth and secures that one to her hair as well.

“Always good to have two on you. Give ‘em hell, Kagome.”

She bit her lip, worry coursing through her. Before she rode in the plane she had at least a semblance of confidence, or maybe that was adrenaline, but it disappeared the more the Games became a real, actual bloody event she will need to somehow conquer. “I don’t know if I can,” she said shakily.

“Good thing I do,” Koga said with confidence, ushering her to the dreaded transparent portal she was supposed to step into, and she tried not to trip over her feet. “I’ve got a nose for these things, Kagome.”

He patted the tube and a door slid down from above and sealed her inside. Kagome fearfully looked at her stylist’s shrinking figure as the platform beneath her feet began to lift her off. Her hands touched the glass for a quick second but smeared away when she levitated too high up.

“Why did you keep saying my name?” Her voice echoed inside the chamber; she feared he couldn’t hear her.

“Trying to remind you that no one’s gonna forget it.”

Kagome crouched to hear him more clearly, but as the shutter overhead started opening to reveal sunlight, she shut her eyes tight in childish fear. Before the platform beneath her stopped moving, she could hear Koga shout, “See you on the other side!”

The air was dead quiet. There is no supernova of catastrophe like she expected, just the anxious hum of the tributes waiting for their orders. Sango told her if she stepped off the platform without hearing the horn blare, it would explode. At the very least, Kagome can manage that. A faint breeze caressed her and she decided to open her eyes and stand up straight, albeit timorously.

The scenery that is revealed looks like an abandoned metropolis. Something like the Capitol, but entirely unfamiliar to her more rural sensibilities from Twelve. But it wasn’t frightening. Nothing she couldn’t work with—sure the sidewalks had some cracks, and windows were boarded up everywhere; but maybe supplies were waiting to be found inside.

She and her fellow tributes were in a circular formation, an empty fountain encircled by a gazebo in the middle of them; all weathered concrete, vines, and moss. Where the water should be is a bounty of weapons, produce, and probably other gems if someone gets the chance to dig. Directly across from her was Inuyasha, of course. Their eyes locked and he squints. So, he’s still mad then. Fair.

Do not go into the cornucopia.

Another beat passed, but everybody couldn’t be idling for more than a minute. An omnipotent voice frighteningly echoed above them from the sky, Kagome realizes it’s Jakotsu.

“Tributes, it is my honor to be the countdown liaison to your 74th Hunger Games,” his voice was eager, a complete contrast to the caustic knot that’s found itself a home inside of her. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

There was a deafening horn and then a hailstorm of shots that follow shortly after as tributes descend upon the center of the plaza, and she nearly pisses herself as she scrambles off the smooth surface of the pod to the cobblestone in the park and away from all the nutjobs. Kagome heard the sound of metal slicing the air and squelching into flesh during her escape and it gave her cause to pick up the pace.


Do not go into the cornucopia, he was told. Repeatedly.

But when Inuyasha scanned the chipped paint on the white gazebo and the worn fountain within it, he spotted a few things worth scrapping for.

You’ll easily die within minutes, they said. Careers monopolize it every year.

There was a sword glinting from the inside, mounted on a beam. He could probably make use of that. There were backpacks strewn all over; thrown on the ground, hanging from the ceiling trim, sitting on ledges; all stuffed to the brim. Inuyasha bounced on the balls of his feet then, gearing up to spring forward and quickly get in and out.

After Kikyo touched up his hair one last time that morning and smoothed down the lapels of his red leather jacket, she gave him her parting words. Her hair looked like bleeding ink, her lips red and painted in a geometric pattern. “Trust no one at face value. Believe in yourself, and come back alive.”

The lump in his throat made it hard for him to reply in thanks, or even fully absorb her words. He barely registered the warm kiss on his cheek.

Inuyasha was too focused on being minutes away from this.

The unnerving quiet. Tributes sized each other up across an expanse of goodies, all given costumes tailored to the image Capitol citizens had of them. He did his best to avoid Kagome’s piercing gaze, but he couldn’t help it. She looked at him with a helpless expression, and he can’t help the grimace that comes unbidden. They put her in a school uniform.

He hates that he looked for a bow and arrows in the cornucopia. He hates even more that he found them, underneath the sword he planned to take.

That interviewer’s obnoxious voice flared out of invisible loudspeakers, and Inuyasha’s body somehow found the space to tense some more.

When the sound of the too-loud horn pierced his sensitive eardrums, Inuyasha wasted no time in leaping off of his platform while he saw Kagome make a break for it in the other direction just on the edge of his periphery. He weaved through the bodies of scuffling teenagers and jumped up to grab onto the eave of the gazebo, swinging inside and landing lightly on his feet.

It’s empty, for the most part. But he can hear fighting going on just outside, can see it down the decaying steps just beyond. Inuyasha scooped up two knapsacks and pulled the sword off the wall. Already his hands were getting full, but it wasn’t a matter of being able to carry anything. It was being able to fight without being encumbered by provisions. He leveraged the two bags onto one shoulder.

The bow was there.

In the half second Inuyasha debated grabbing the quiver full of arrows and the bow beneath it, a tribute from 9 that he remembers as Muso leans into his field of vision with bared teeth.

“Look, it’s loverboy, Akemi.” He’d been dressed like a farmhand, obviously an afterthought. He swung out his left arm and it morphed into a tree with a loud, thunderous ripple. His willowy hand starts reaching for him. Inuyasha stepped out of his grasp, the other tributes sweeping in behind him to grab what they can and trying to pull the items he just secured right off his back. His nails dug into the straps of the backpacks defiantly and he gritted his teeth. He had to get out of there before it got worse.

“You said he was cute, right?”

A redhead with skimpy clothes danced behind her fellow tribute, separate from the chaos around them, delicately placing manicured fingers onto the bark of his arm as she peeked over. “For a half-demon like you, Muso!”

Muso smirked, diving into Inuyasha’s space, and no matter how far he stepped back, Muso’s tentacle of foliage grew long enough to accommodate the distance. It was easily whipping down others in its path, making them easier kills for other swarming tributes. Akemi egged him on from the sidelines, staying behind her district companion as a cover. They circled the perimeter of the fountain at least twice now, and he was surprised no one else was taking the opportunity to intervene; everyone was equally lost in what was happening two feet ahead of them.

Inuyasha growled and unsheathed the pristine sword with his free hand, running forward into the pair, shoulder-checking Akemi into the ground as he drove the sword straight into Muso’s gut without preamble, carving upward. He wasn’t used to the weight of a sword but it turns out flesh is unsettlingly easy to tear once you’ve made the first slice. Muso’s demon blood mattered little in the wake of a blade flaying his heart in two, blood coming up out of his mouth in a pitiful gurgle. A cannon sounded off in the far distance when Inuyasha slid the sword out of Muso’s body. Suddenly, he remembered that cannons signaled a tribute’s death. He wasn’t keeping track of how many sounded off already. He just hoped none of them meant Kagome.

Akemi barely had the chance to sit up before a flail swung into her temple, hard enough that there is another bang from the sky before her body hit the ground. Epinephrine has thoroughly numbed him from shock by then; Inuyasha looked up to frantically scan the perimeter for an out.

He met the eyes of a girl with purple buns and she smiles at him mischievously. Her weapon was swaying behind her back, dripping in Akemi’s blood. “Hello, Inuyasha!” she said in a sweet accent he couldn’t discern.

Just behind her, he found an opening in the structure that had been picked clean of available weaponry (the bow and arrows are gone too, damn it all) and he skirts by the girl to jump to the ledge.

“No, Shampoo wants to be friends!”

Like he’d ever believe that.


Kagome laced through the streets and ran as far away from the fray as possible, until she couldn’t hear anyone behind her. Once the noise was gone, she slowed to a stride as she passed by deserted alleyways, the soles of her loafers making a dull noise against the stone. Before she wandered within the maze of buildings forever, she decided to make a random turn and stick to it.

That is until she heard some people talking.

“Kodachi, it is best you stick by me, your venerable brother, Tatewaki Kuno.” One of the paths leading off from her journey showed the Kuno siblings, who she remembered from Jakotsu’s interviews. The brother seemed relatively harmless, he certainly had a flair for the dramatic, but his sister seemed to have a tendency towards the underhanded that complemented it. Tatewaki donned a traditional outfit Kagome recalled learning about in school, and Kodachi wore a leotard.

Kodachi faced Kagome’s direction, beginning to walk towards her. However, she was too caught up in her superfluous flourishing to notice her. Kagome stepped out of sight by walking a few steps behind one of the brick buildings that lined the area.

“Is that a fair maiden I see over yonder?”

Kagome’s stomach dropped. Discreetly, she looked to the left and right of her, hoping to conjure another girl that Kuno was addressing. She receded further against the wall, hoping to slip away and be forgotten.

She heard Kuno’s hasty steps go off in the other direction and the gust of relief that followed.

“Oh, darling brother, how am I going make any headway with your chivalry holding us back?” If Kodachi moved, she couldn’t tell. The girl’s steps were silent, graceful.

Kagome decided to peek, noticing someone approaching from the other end of the alley, this girl speaking in the softest voice with a gentle demeanor.

“Hello,” she smiled demurely, hands tucked behind her back. She had been dressed like a homemaker. Kagome suddenly recognized Kasumi from that day in the training center, her heart speeding up in anxiety. “I didn’t expect to run into you two.”

“Oh, Kasumi! Beautiful flower, have you come to seek shelter in my arms? I knew my charms won you over during training—” Kuno gesticulated with gusto, advancing on the poor girl before she could consider protesting, his hands coming up to cradle her upper arms. It was hardly a second before Kasumi maneuvered and pulled a knife to shove straight into his gut. She could see the girl’s elbow move as she twisted the blade in with a desperate expression. Kagome let out a small gasp but covered her mouth to muffle it. Kuno grunted at the assault, stumbling backward against the wall and sliding down against it. 

“Bested by a woman, my greatest weakness,” he choked out, one hand leaving her to clutch his wounded side. “It is only fitting for things to end this way.”

A shot went off, signaling his demise. Kasumi made to yank herself away from the dead boy’s grasp, but his grip appeared to have been tighter than she initially thought.

“Brother!” Kodachi ran towards her sibling to kneel in front of his body, hands coming up to cradle his serene face. She slapped his cheek for good measure. “You dare leave me here to weather this storm? How utterly shameful!” 

Sota came to mind immediately and Kagome squashed the rising empathy down. He wasn’t even in the arena with her.

Kasumi managed to break free from Kuno’s death grip, but not without being noticed. She made to run, but Kodachi volleyed ahead of the girl with cutting elegance, eyes narrowed upon her in a fierce glare. 

“You brazen whore,” she spat, “did you hope I would bear this slight upon the Kuno name with ease? Think again.”

Kasumi tried to move in just about any direction to avoid Kodachi, but the latter was infinitely quicker. She circled behind her and relieved Kasumi of the apron around her waist, wrapping the tie around her neck in a sweeping motion.

“A sister without her brother,” she cried out, “might as well be a left hand without a right.”

Kasumi thrashed in front of Kodachi to no avail.

“But I was always the stronger of the two of us.”

Before Kagome could become caught up in the mess she was witnessing, she barreled off and tried to weave through the neighborhood even more to lose any sign of life. Another shot was heard shortly after she left, and she couldn’t help the shiver that raked through her body.

Kasumi’s entire family must be devastated.

She walked further down and away from the cornucopia, and soon the trek seemed to bear fruit: there was the light of day peeking through at the end of the block she was walking. Excited for something, anything, Kagome started to run toward the sunlight. Soon the carefully stoned floors beneath her began to fade and wear down the closer she became. Grass was peeking through, small dandelions growing in spite of their conditions. When the stones turned into dirt, there was a clearing where she heard the most wonderful sound that made her stop.

Kagome could hear the rippling water of a lake not too far ahead. She walked into the grass clearing and was surprised to see that the metropolis had a defined edge where all the streets seemed to stop. Wildlife was peeking through everywhere, and there was an old wooden fence teetering along a clifftop. To the left of her was a hill that looked like it was going to lead straight to her new best friend: water.

She tried to contain herself as she walked down, the tranquil sound of rushing water becoming louder, her excitement rising to meet it. The area was so quiet that Kagome considered that she might be the first one to find this spot and she was a little giddy. Below the cliff, there were trees that went as far as the water flowed. Truly, it felt like a private oasis—she was reminded of the meadow near the schoolhouse in Twelve, with its fence that lined the forest clearing. A fence that she only saw Inuyasha jump over.

It looked too much like home. It’s almost like the Games didn’t even exist.

Another boom signaled the fall of another tribute and her bubble burst.  Kagome reasoned that she wouldn’t be alone for long, anyone with supernatural senses could find the lake faster than she did. She quickly scanned her surroundings to give herself a way into the forest. There was a gully nearby with what looked like a ginseng plant at the top of it; it had her name written all over it.

The moment Kagome was ready to go with her plan, she heard the sound of the fence creaking above her. She froze in her tracks and tiptoed out of view quietly. Her heart raced; she didn’t have anything at all to protect her but her wits.

Before Kagome could begin to say a few prayers, Inuyasha dropped down in front of her. His back was to her, but she could tell his hair was mussed already. She could imagine poor Kikyo’s dismay, all of her hard work tousled away in moments. But Kagome preferred Inuyasha like this.

He was dressed rather stylishly for a boy going on to fight for his life in an arena. Kagome almost resented it, at least his outfit maintained a semblance of usefulness. He had a red leather jacket and black denim jeans on with sneakers. He could run and climb anywhere without worry; the jacket could keep him warm when it got chilly.

She noticed on his shoulder was a bookbag, and another one was hanging from a fist. He had a sword tucked in his belt that flashed in the sunlight.

“Inuyasha?” she called, and he rose from his crouched position quietly, the fresh leather of his jacket crinkling noisily. He turned around and his familiar scowl was there on his face while he tossed the extra bag at her feet. She tore her gaze away from his lips. His white t-shirt already had a sprinkling of blood by the collar.

“There,” he barked. “We’re even.”

“What?” She looked at the bag, and back to him. Kagome went and picked up the bookbag, not too proud to take the obvious handout, especially given the circumstances. “You’re going to give me this bag so you can avoid talking to me about the kiss?”

Kagome was aware it was underhanded to mention it. It was private, it was theirs. Something so dreamlike it felt painful to share it with an audience, but she was smart enough to realize they’d eat it up. It would buy both of them time.

His face screwed up in disbelief, and he began stuttering. “I—that was—gah…” he did a full turn, a finger coming out to point at her. “You!”

She pressed her lips together to rein in some of the laughter that threatened to bubble up inside her. His reaction wasn’t very reassuring for her feelings, but it was kind of cute. She shrugged and looked away innocently. “Sure, it was just me. Even though you kissed me first.”

Inuyasha’s eyes narrowed with newfound clarity, or maybe resentment; it’s the same way they do when Miroku talks about image and strategy. He could probably tell that she won’t be the one to drop it, even if he refused to fully engage. Even then, he couldn’t relent. “You threw yourself in my way.”

She finally laughed, an exclamation of utter disbelief. “I don’t recall you being the one pinned to a door.”

If she needled him enough, maybe he’ll stay. Half of it was for the Capitol, sure, but the other half was purely for her. She wanted to see him squirm a little over her, for it to have meant something. Kagome desperately wanted to talk openly again but didn’t know what could be said. Not only that, but it wasn’t Inuyasha’s strong suit in the first place. For all her pushing in the past couple of minutes, he only rolled his eyes in face of the truth.

“Keh! I’m givin’ you the bag because you looked out for me,” he glanced away and crossed his arms, his tone only becoming more resentful. “Once upon a time.”

She stared down at the bag again. Was it an olive branch instead? She sanctimoniously denied his help before they got to the arena, but she wanted his company. She was always around her family in Twelve, and Inuyasha is the only familiar person she has now.  “Thank you, Inuyasha. I—”

“Stay the hell away from me.” He glared at her, cutting her off quickly.

“Um, you came to me!” She accused, stomping her foot.

“‘Cause we had unfinished business, wench!”

“And that really mattered at a time like this?!” She stepped forward, and him backward. Of course it mattered. The supplies guaranteed she’d survive the night. Kagome just wanted him to admit he wanted to talk to her again.

He scoffed and stared through her angrily. Does he know she’s happy to see him nonetheless?

“Like being all over Koga mattered at a time like this?” Inuyasha even added a mocking lilt to his words. “You reek of wolf!”

“What!” She shouted in disbelief. Why would he care? And she had every right to be comforted by someone before being sent to the arena. “Koga isn’t even here! You’re just avoiding the question!”

“It’s a stupid question!” He asserted, leaning a little forward in his anger.

“And by the way, you are totally close to Kikyo too!” Kagome crossed her arms and glared back at him. “I just can’t see why you’d go out of your way to talk to me today when you just pushed me away last night!”

Stop talking about last night. Just take the stupid bag!”

“I already did!” She pointed to the bag in her hand.

Inuyasha’s glittering eyes scanned the length of her form and a part of Kagome felt unnecessarily exposed—in the way that acknowledging cameras were watching her didn’t do, in a way she had already become used to focusing lenses and probable jumpcuts. “You know,” he grumbled, “I think I hate you sometimes.”

She stumbled back, dropping the bag clutched in her fist with a trembling gait. “You don’t make it any easier, you know.”

“To what?” He spat.

“To like you,” she whispered.

“Then, fine!” He threw his arms up in exasperation, as if he didn’t start it.

 “Fine!”

He sucked his teeth and jumped across the river at top speed, and soon he disappeared right into the trees.

Kagome tried not to let the argument bother her because she had much bigger things to worry about. But it was awfully bothersome to be arguing with him now of all times, to let herself recognize that he said he hated her. In a way, Kagome had begun to hate herself too—what the games have started to turn her into. She thinks her mom would be unhappy if she knew that.

Slinging the backpack over her shoulders with a beleaguered sigh, she clutched the straps hard to will herself forward into the riverbank. There were quite a few spaced rocks crossing the river into the gully, so Kagome hopped across each one, the soothing water’s flow grounding her senses and keeping her steady. She could almost transport herself to that nice little pond back home again, could imagine a picnic set up not too far away on the grass.

She made a large, confident leap over to the forest side of the river and fumbled in her foolish attempt, the distance much too far. Her feet dug into the side of the ledge and she hauled herself up onto the cliff’s edge. Kneeling in the dirt now, the ginseng plant was right in front of her, ready to be harvested.

Kagome grabbed it by the leaves and began to pull, a sound of rustling in the trees beyond gave her pause. She looked into the treeline frantically, unsure and unable to see anything. She slowly pulled her bag around her and unzipped it to look inside for anything that can help her.

She found a small dagger, much like the one she saw Kasumi brandish to kill Kuno. She set it beside her in the dirt and put her pack on her back again; she will go through it when she feels she is less vulnerable.

Stomps came approaching and Kagome was still loosening the roots of the ginseng. She quickly picked up the knife near her, getting ready to move away before the looming Jinenji appeared. Hanging on his shoulder was the young Shiori, looking over at her with her big purple eyes. He was dressed in a plain shirt and trousers, nothing particularly useful standing out on his person. Shiori was wearing a white dress, looking serene and sweet and oh so young.

Should she keep holding her knife? He made no move toward her.

“Kagome,” he said in a low, resonant voice. “You found the ginseng.”

“...Yes.” She agreed slowly, tucking the knife away in her skirt, the sharp point digging into her a little bit. It was just as well. She didn’t want to feel so changed so soon. Jinenji timidly began to sink back into the treeline and she rose on her knees and waved her hands in front of her. “I-I won’t hurt you, I promise!”

Four suspicious eyes lingered over her, assessing her. She couldn’t blame them for their reluctance to be near her. Never mind the nature of the Games; how many times could they have been mistreated in their lives? Surely too many to count.

“I just want to gather some herbs,” she said frankly, sinking back down. “If you don’t mind, we can do it together.”

They both came forward and Shiori slid down his back to sit on the grass next to her. Jinenji looked around for a second and did the same. Again, Kagome started to wiggle around the ginseng root, trying to get it free. Slowly Jinenji’s large hand covered hers and he set the plant free. He pulled it out with one tug and handed it to her and she smiled softly.

“Thank you,” she said, bringing the knife back out only to see him flinch. Kagome brought her hand up to steady his worries, “I’m going to cut you a piece.”

With a bit of a struggle, the stubby blade pierced the root unevenly and she was able to hand him half of it. “I know you cannot gain much from helping me, but I appreciate it.”

“You were kind to him,” Jinenji declared. “I did not forget that.”

“Being kind is hardly heroic, it is actually rather easy,” she shrugged, the meaning behind his words hanging in the air unanswered. “I’m glad I got to meet you two again. I wish it was…” her voice trailed off. What to say? I wish we weren’t about to die, probably.

Next to her, she saw little Shiori give a nod and an understanding smile that was wise beyond her years, blessedly. Her quiet demeanor reminded Kagome so much of Rin, and it made her sad to think about how Shiori went into the Games because no one could advocate in her place, how helpless her parents must still feel watching this daughter, perhaps in this very moment.

All of them were crouched together on the grassy knoll, the gathering almost peaceful to an onlooker. It was nice to see a forest in front of her that wasn’t obscured by a barb-wired fence. Looking down, she noticed more useful herbs she could gather and started plucking a few up.

Soon, Jinenji started to pluck some as well and Shiori followed suit. Kagome asked them about their lives in District 11, partially to satisfy her curiosity about life outside her corner of Panem, and partially to make new friends. Jinenji told her about horticulture, the feeling of meditation and reflection for him when he cares for something and lets it grow. He scooped up dirt in his hand and showed it to her up close, giving fascinating information about how viable the soil beneath them was.

Shiori talked about how much she spends working with grain too, but she prefers to spend her time in the trees with the mockingjays. Recently, her mother took her out of school so that she could work full time.

"Wait. You couldn't go to school anymore?" She asked incredulously, the idea foreign to her. Inuyasha was the only one to drop out in her small graduating class, most kids avoiding the District's famous mines for as long as possible unless there was a dire need in the family. Only Inuyasha fell into that category, she remembered ruefully, because he had no one. But even he avoided the mines, which had accidents every year. She lost her father to the mines before she could remember.

"I stopped school early, too," Jinenji added with a shrug, the sound of roots snapping undercutting his deep, soft-spoken tone. "Doing work and school at the same time was too much every day."

Kagome looked down at the herbs in her lap in contemplation. She couldn't shake the thought that her new acquaintances were robbed of something important. Putting her melancholy aside, she looked over at a bush closer to the trees and crawled to it. Juicy black berries hung from a stem, begging to be eaten. Kagome cupped a few into her palm, bringing one up to her mouth to give it a try.

Before she could even bite into the berry, Jinenji, in one sweep of his long arm, reached over and pulled her wrist away. Kagome looked up at him in bewilderment.

"I-I'm sorry," he rushed out, frantic tears welling in his round blue eyes when he released her arm as if it burned. "But that's nightshade! You'll die if you eat it!"

Kagome let the berries tumble from her fingers, all of them thumping down on the grass beneath it. She nearly lost it all over a single bite. "Ah. Uh. Thank you."

In her hand were the remnants of the berry's juice, a dark purple color that clung to the lines of her palm like blood. She wiped her hand on the grass in front of her like it could poison her through her skin. Kagome was in a shock-filled haze, but she managed to gather herself up enough to look at Jinenji again to properly express her gratitude. "You definitely didn't have to do that. I'm almost shocked you did—" she awed, "it would have been a small victory."

"It's just who I am," Jinenji stated and suddenly Kagome understood the sentiment perfectly. "Can't let this change every part of me."

Kagome nodded enthusiastically at that, though she couldn't help the bubbling of guilt and shame she felt about how much the Games had already changed her and they've only just begun.

Jinenji and Shiori then asked her about Twelve, and she told them about the crappy mines, about their hidden market, and because she couldn't help herself, a little bit about Inuyasha, too.

The sun dipped lower in the sky and Kagome decided she would be off and they both went their separate ways. She looked in the bag of supplies she had and found a canteen she could fill with water to take on the road with her.


Inuyasha took the high ground. He swung and bounced from branch to branch in the surrounding forest, looking out for another body of water beside the one at the edge of town, which was bound to become a hotspot for killing soon enough.

He left Kagome there, knowing it was dangerous. But he had to start forgetting about her now, he was already doing it much later than he should have, but it was so much harder to do with her nearby—looking at him with those eyes, scheming with that mouth.

That mouth, his memory beckoned again. Inuyasha paused on a large bough and sighed sharply, hands coming up to comb through his hair haphazardly; hoping it could be whisked off like a wayward leaf that landed on his head. No, more like a bug. When he said he hated her, when he meant that she hated how she made him feel, the look on her face was hard to resist. Her expression immediately looked guilty, smugness from seconds before gone, lips trembling and eyes glistening, her unshed tears shining like polished steel.

He grunted and scanned the clearing, listening closely. He could hear some tributes a ways away, though he won’t go investigating who they were. The further away from people he was, the better off he felt. He almost wished the trees were even taller. The sky beyond appeared to have an imperceptible sheen to it, but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Everything by the Capitol is fabricated, even if these woods looked real.

Inuyasha jumped on another sturdy looking tree limb like he’d been doing for the last half hour, but it was as if the once dense bark suddenly hollowed beneath his feet and snapped. He was falling from a height he’d never caught himself from; the trees in 12 weren’t nearly as full and high. Fruitlessly, he tried grasping at anything he could touch, leaves popping off into his hands as he made to hold on to branches that passed him on his descent. When Inuyasha finally held on tight to a tree halfway down, the branch supporting him broke as well.

Since the ground was getting closer and it looked like hitting it was inevitable, he just moved to break his fall in the way that seemed most practical.

Right on his back.

He smacked the ground with a loud thump, the grass and foliage beneath him graciously cushioning his fall somewhat, but not leaving him any less winded. His vision blurred in front of him, trees multiplying into a halo above his eyes as he tried to thread breath back into his lungs. Inuyasha tried to sit up, but it was excruciatingly painful, too much for what he just put his body through. Maybe landing on your back is the wrong idea?

Definitely, bones were broken. Based on the searing pain he was feeling in his chest and his fitful breathing, he might have punctured a lung with the edge of a broken rib. Hopefully, no one finds him like this, a useless heap at the brink of the forest.

Great, he wanted to say. He only winced, though, sucking on his teeth as he withstood the pain that should only last a few more hours at most. 

He distantly wondered what Kagome was up to before he passed out.

Notes:

Whew! We're finally in the arena. It's gonna get juicy from here on out, folks. Please direct your screams to me @doginabirdcage on tumblr, and I will do my best to answer reviews here as well! Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter 5: now or never

Summary:

When Byakuya emerged, he held a struggling Kagome by the neck and his heart dropped. His fury reached a rolling boil hard and fast and he couldn’t help it when he growled.

“We take this ugly girl and kill her for you, Inuyasha,” Shampoo giggled and encircled Byakuya. She brought her hand up to Kagome’s chin and held it tightly. “Do you miss you dog?”

“Inuyasha,” she said tremulously, her face a ruin. “Help me. Please.”

“Kagome,” he awed, hurt by the entire scene. He’d seen that face before, in a room that wasn’t actually his, on time that didn’t belong to them anymore. And now she’s finally asking him to protect her. She needs him.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sesshomaru stared at his office computer with a disdain he only saved for his mortal enemies. Sure, that list basically comprised itself of just about every person he's ever encountered ("assume the worst" being his personal mantra, if he deigned to have one of those), but the ire that bubbled up every time he sat at his desk was an ever-glowing flame that spat at him throughout the day.

 

He was not made for a desk.

 

It was stoked by the hellish mundanity that surrounded his workspace. Phones that rung unanswered too long, obnoxious gum-chewing coworkers, papers being swished around and stapled. It was all a continuing loop of abject torture.

 

Now, however, Sesshomaru's frustration was in its peak season. The Hunger Games were happening, so there was another blinding screen placed at the very front of the room. Everyone was encouraged to gather and discuss the prospects of the arena, giggling and gossiping like high schoolers.

 

He barely got any detective work to do in the idyllic state that was the Capitol, but they all at least pretended to be busy the rest of the year.

 

The worst part was that the games reminded him of his father. That glittering enigma of a man, made of constituent-wooing smiles and chivalric bravery.

 

Sesshomaru hated him, but he also hated that he didn’t know what happened to him. His father’s disappearance and eventual declared death ate at him so much that it drove him to take the detective career path. Being a part of law enforcement in the Capitol was just a farce; the entire department was dedicated to covering up the government’s nefarious dealings.

 

He wasn’t a particularly righteous man, so he stayed onboard to earn his living, but each year the games cropped up and sent Sesshomaru’s mood spiraling. Why did his father have to participate in this endless parade of bullshit willingly?

 

A balled-up piece of paper hit Sesshomaru square in the temple. He turned in the offending direction it came from with a sneer and found his coworker staring back at him.

 

Kagura was a waspy woman with an unquenchable thirst for making Sesshomaru participate. She always sported a glossy red lip shade that reminded him of freshly drawn blood. In character for a president's daughter, he thought.

 

“Hey grumpy, what’s got you worked up?”

 

As if on cue, a group of their peers began to holler at the screen above them, clapping along with the harrowing sound of bones cracking.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he deadpanned. “It’s business as usual over here. I hate this job and you’re bothering me. Nothing is different.”

 

She had just joined the force and wasn’t aware of the thorn that lodged itself into Sesshomaru’s side annually.

 

“Pay no mind to him, Ogami,” police chief Ginkotsu leaned over his cubicle with one metal arm, “he gets pissed about the games every year. The boy has no sense of entertainment.” Sesshomaru glared at him.

 

“I am not a boy, Ginkotsu.” The chief was an abomination with a plethora of cybernetic implants. He represented the mortal folly of trying to become as powerful and immortal as a demon, which was popular among human residents in the Capitol. His eye was obscured by a metal plate, his entire jaw a hinge.

 

“See what I mean? Not a funny bone in this body.” He pointed to the top of his head, “We get to slack off at work once a year and this kid’s doing paperwork like a square.”

 

I will not engage, chief wants me to engage, but I will not, he looks like a mailbox with arms, who cares what he says—

 

Before the older demon could go on torturing him, he stalked off to continue watching the television. Kagura was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

 

His hackles rose and he tried to contain his ire. “What?”

 

“You haven’t been watching like, at all?” Kagura almost looked impressed.

 

“Nope. I haven’t a single speculation to go over with you; you’re better off cavorting with the buffoons across the room if you’re looking for that.” After so many years, this was almost a point of pride for him. He hated everyone and everything they stood for.

 

“So you haven’t seen the kid who looks like you?”

 

His neck snapped so hard to meet her inquisitive gaze that were he a lesser species, were he human, it might have hurt.

 

She grinned deviously. “Now I’ve got your attention.”

 

“You lied to talk to me about these insipid games?”

 

“No. Gods, you’re so touchy. Hate that about you. Anyway, there’s a tribute from Twelve that looks related to you.” She sat up and observed him smugly, as if she had just stumbled upon his greatest secret. “Were you off fathering kids in the lower districts, detective?”

 

He didn’t dignify the accusation with a response, but finally looked up at the screen. “Point him out to me.”

 

“He’s a favorite, so he should show up soon,” Kagura said idly, “but there’s the other Twelve tribute, actually!”

 

Kagura pointed at a girl dressed in a school uniform who was carefully inching against the wall of an old building.

 

“She confessed her love to him, it’s a whole thing, real soap opera if you ask me.” That made Sesshomaru’s face screw up in disgust.

 

The girl onscreen looked petrified as a huddle of tributes that looked far more menacing than she started to round the corner.

 

“Looks like his girl’s in trouble.”


As she walked back into the labyrinth of buildings, Kagome tried her best to traverse as quickly and quietly as possible. At every possible turn, she looked both ways before moving forward. She wasn’t trying to lose anyone this time, so she didn’t see the use in walking in a weaving pattern as she did before.

 

Her canteen was sloshing loudly from where it was clipped to her backpack, though, so she stuffed it into the bottom of her bag.

 

Kagome knew she was taking a risk by walking away from a plentiful water source, but she had a feeling she would fare better in the old town than she would in the forest. Besides, Inuyasha was there, and it seemed best for her to get as much space between them as possible with the way he was reacting to her, even though she disliked it.

 

The cluster of structures was becoming more dispersed the further she walked through, which told Kagome that she was close to their starting line. She moved even more carefully then, listening intently for any approaching footsteps or voices. And if someone was stashed in some corner, she didn’t want to call them over with any noise she made.

 

When the clearing of cobblestones showed itself, Kagome peeked around a corner to see the cornucopia in the distance. It looked smaller this far away, and she was surprised to find it unguarded. She was smart enough to figure out that the careers were simply hiding.

 

The square almost looked like the merchant district back in Twelve, but slightly nicer, despite its clear desolation. Little shops lined a sprawling street, all boarded up with their decorative, faded awnings. There was even a library at the end of it. Twelve didn’t have a library.

 

A part of her wanted to walk around and get a sense of the entire area, but the sun was low in the sky and Kagome wasn’t ready to take any risks. When she was certain she didn’t hear or see anything around her, she ran to the first store she saw:

 

Flick’s Sporting Goods.

 

Kagome goes around the back and starts tugging different segments of plywood, hoping to find one with loose enough nails for her to pull it off.

 

Until she heard a chorus of laughter, that is.

 

Her heart lodged itself in her throat and her body thrummed in terror. If they caught even a whiff of her, she’d be a goner. She tucked herself against the wall, breathed in as much air as ear lungs could take, and willed her body and soul to wind down to a simmer.

 

“Hey, think anyone’s hiding around here?”

 

She could feel four hazy outlines in the periphery of her mind. They were walking from the direction she had just left.

 

“We’d sense them, Tsubaki,” a svelte voice purred. “We should still scan the perimeter, though.”

 

Somehow, Kagome could sense their very spirits.

 

“You guys head to the Center, I’ll take a look around,” Hiten said with enthusiasm. “Maybe I’ll find some rats scurrying about.”

 

Kagome’s mind was reaching shutdown mode, just like her grandfather taught her. The air pushed through her nostrils might as well be her entire thought process evaporating as she began to float far away from the Games, Hiten—even Inuyasha.


You could work for Panem, even be on a tribute team, but you’re still not immune to commercials. It allowed gamemakers to continue crafting their life’s work, to pick which tribute to return with at which camera angle, after the mandatory dose of corporate shill.

 

“Fuck,” Sango whispered harshly.

 

“Fuck is right,” Koga concurred.

 

“She’ll be alright,” Kikyo said firmly. “If she wasn’t going to make it within five minutes, they would delay the ad run.”

 

“You’re awfully calm,” Sango accused. “What makes you so sure?”

 

“Statistics,” she remained unflapped, “Human tributes typically die within the first five minutes of their encounters with demon ones.” Sango’s stomach roiled at the odds being put so coldly. “The pool for spiritually inclined tributes is lower, but her survival rate rises to at least 30% if she runs well enough or knows what she’s doing.”

 

“We know she knows what she’s doing,” Koga stated firmly.

 

“Exactly.” Kikyo smiled at him.

 

She couldn’t hold back. It was better to know than not to know. “So what are her odds?”

 

“Fifty-fifty.”

 

Sango put her head in her hands and groaned.

 

Miroku dropped into the seat cushion next to her and she jostled slightly. “Why the long faces?”

 

“Kagome’s in danger,” her stylist gritted out.

 

She looked at him, hoping to read something on his expression.

 

Miroku was always stone-cold sober when the games began. He worked Capitol socialites with aplomb and somehow managed to keep his attention on what was happening in the arena at the same time.

 

All she could see was a muscle jump in his jaw. “She worked him over before. We’re swimming in donations, either way it goes.”


Her eyes were closed as she listened to his feet make contact with the pavement nearby. A gust of wind from Hiten’s brisk gait flutters her shirt. The worn bricks behind her left her sandwiched beside him. If he found her there, she’d be instant prey, but the thought didn’t even register in her conscious mind.

 

“No one’s stupid enough to be here. Yet.

 

And just like that, he walked right past her.

 

Kagome’s concentration didn’t break until she felt everyone’s aura fade away. Her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply. “That was a close one,” she muttered to no one in particular.

 

With one ear open, she turned back around and started fiddling with a window she hadn’t tried yet. After little to no effort, a board came off at one side and swung downward, hanging precariously on its final nail.


Sesshomaru had gone back to glaring at his computer when Kagura began to shake his shoulder.

 

“What now?” He bit back a groan. It was unbecoming to be so expressive, he decided long ago.

 

“Your doppelgänger is on screen.”

 

His head shot up to see a young man laying on the forest floor, looking almost serene as the cameras panned closer and closer to his prone form. There was a sword on his belt, and he had straps on his shoulders, so he must have fallen asleep with his pack on him.

 

How uncomfortable, Sesshomaru thought.

 

The most egregious thing about the scene, beyond the bizarre fact that this was being filmed and this kid was sleeping, were two fuzzy triangles on his head.

 

“Half-demon,” he hissed. “And you’re saying this bastard looks like me because he has white hair?”

 

“No,” Kagura sighed. “Keep watching.”

 

The boy rubbed at his nose when a plume of smoke curled around him and ebbed away.

 

Figures his inferior senses wouldn’t pick up on immediate danger.


Inuyasha’s nose twitched as something started to tickle his nostril. As he regained consciousness, he could feel his entire body hum with soreness. He groaned and rubbed his nose to soothe the rising itch. His ears caught the sound of wind whipping violently nearby, and he turned his head to see where it might be coming from.

 

Vibrant orange flames crashed beside him, licking mere inches from his face, and he rolled off and stood in one fluid motion to break off into a run in the other direction.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned as his ribs cried, sword slapping into his thigh, his stuffed knapsack beating a rhythm into his aching back. It was ash in his nose, the forest was on fire because of a dumbshit falling asleep at their camp—


When that wretched child opened his eyes, Sesshomaru’s stomach actually dropped.


Even with the fire on his heels, Inuyasha’s body was burning with overexertion. It was never hard for him to run, but to do so while his cells were still trying to put him back together—well.

 

He didn’t want to run into anyone on the way, so he first tried to stay close to the unsinged edges of the forest. But the flames were relentless, flaring out and growing larger at every step. An entire tree crashed down in front of him as he made another effort to escape and Inuyasha swore while he turned to run toward the river.


With the parted hair and determination that lit his gaze, the boy on screen looked like the spitting image of his father. All the while, the blaze was surely beginning to encircle him. The cameras provided an aerial view of the forest, nighttime skewing the entire image except for the steady glow and fluffy, tangerine clouds dissipating up above.

 

“His name?” Sesshomaru asked despite the swirl of emotions coursing through him.

 

“Inuyasha,” Kagura snickered. “Creative, right? Only a half-breed raised by his human parent would get such a gauche name. He sounds like a fictional character.”

 

That’s right, he thought. If this really is his brother, that means…

 

Toga Taisho loved a human woman.

 

Sesshomaru felt violently ill.


The fire had cornered him, blocking his path forward. He’d rather be consumed by it before giving up, so Inuyasha covered his face with the sleeve of his leather jacket and ran straight through the accursed ring. In the back of his mind, he feels a little thankful that Kikyo cut his hair the way she did.

 

When the heat finally leeched from his body like a splash of water, he brought his arm down and kept bounding toward the river’s stream. No tributes dared to come out, but he was certain that his presence was known.

 

Whatever. He’ll fight who he has to.

 

As soon as the brackish waters of the stream were crackling just in front of his feet, Inuyasha allowed himself to look back.

 

The fire was gone. 

 

He leaped across the river, much to his insides’ chagrin, and prepared himself to make camp out in the open. It was stupid, but he’d been scorned by his beloved woods twice in one day, and he didn’t want to stick around and lick his wounds in a place that was out to get him.

 

Inuyasha heard leaves rustling and the soft echoes of the river water. It seemed impossible given the fact that it seemed this entire gully was packed with dirt, but there it was: a cave beneath a blanket of hanging vines. When he pulled them aside, he could see it was no bigger than the compact bathrooms on the Capitol train, minus ceiling room. But he'd still fit, and that was all that mattered.

 

He tucked himself in the farthest corner of the rocky cavern and refused to sleep, the same way he did after his mother died and they took her body away.


“His coat should have caught fire,” Miroku stated.

 

Kikyo said nothing.


Kagome wriggled her way through the small opening in the window she unearthed. The frame was scraping against her midsection, but she pushed through the pinching feeling to shove herself further into her new shelter.

 

She thought she had passed her final hurdle once her head and shoulders were through, but Kagome underestimated her butt. It hurt more to move against the planks and frame with her thighs than it did with her ribs. She whimpered in pain as she felt a wayward nail scrape down the side of her leg when she fell through.

 

With no leverage on the other side, she hit the ground with an unceremonious thump and she hissed upon impact. She fell in a heap, lying there for a few seconds in exasperation, briefly contemplating what she did in a past life that led her here.

 

There was hardly any light being let into the former establishment, so she couldn't make heads or tails of what was in front of her.

 

A healthy layer of dust that surrounded the place had been kicked up and started to tickle her lungs, making her cough violently. Finally, she sat up to rummage in her bag to retrieve her precious canteen. She took a gulp to soothe her throat. Not wanting to risk giving away her position any further, Kagome got up and reached through the window to affix the wayward plank back into its precarious place. It took some fiddling, and it would definitely come loose a lot faster for someone else next time, but she had to take what she could get.

 

Kagome curled up with her pack against a stack of cardboard boxes and willed herself to sleep.


“Your tributes survived the initial cull,” Naraku purred when she entered his office. “You must be proud.”

 

Kikyo sighed nonchalantly when she sat down. “The real test hasn’t begun.”

 

The president looked amused, even smug at her declaration. “You wouldn’t call running from a raging forest fire a test?”

 

On instinct, she could tell that he was trying to pry something out of her. She knew for a long time that Naraku was suspicious of her (he was suspicious of everyone), but his apparent need to speak with her eclipsed his cunning nature. Her allegedly dubious alliances were like a ball in the air, never hitting the ground or staying in his court for very long.

 

“Not for a half-demon,” she shrugged and his eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “There is always more up your sleeve.”

 

“There will have to be,” he leaned back into his chair and gave a close-lipped smile. “If I want to keep up with you.”


While the office was cleared out of its employees one by one, Sesshomaru sat at his desk in a state of shock. The implications of this cursed child's existence weighed on him heavily.

 

It almost made him want to start searching for his father again.

 

Quite the useless endeavor, indeed. Sesshomaru turned over every stone and followed every lead, to no avail. No one he spoke to had anything of value to give him. Toga's disappearance wasn't even given the honor of growing into a cold case, an investigation was never opened.

 

This tugged at his soul endlessly in the beginning. No matter that his father was flighty and more dedicated to the cause than he was to his wife and son. In the deepest parts of himself, Sesshomaru still idolized him. How could the Capitol easily forget such a memorable man?

 

A part of him knew. He simply refused to entertain it, it only led to more dead ends and heartache. It put their eyes on him. Logically, it was far too much trouble. His mother was given a widow's stipend, they paid for the rest of his education and Sesshomaru led his life under the radar.

 

But this boy was a wick at the end of a stick of dynamite. It was burning fast, and Sesshomaru is starting to feel like he has nothing to lose.

 

He bent over and opened the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet with haste. There was a folder in there of every scrap of evidence he could find regarding his late father, buried beneath piles of bureaucratic nonsense he was forced to work through daily.

 

Kagura approached his desk, casting a shadow over his bent head. "Looking for the right form to waive parental rights, Sesshomaru? No need to worry about that. The arena would probably make short work of your shame."

 

Her voice was teasing. She didn't mean it, didn't know what she was saying, but a ferocious growl left his throat anyway.

 

The papers were missing.

 

"Enough!" Sesshomaru roared, one clawed hand shredding a xerox machine's worth of printer paper and the other crinkling the aluminum wall that cradled them.

 

"Easy there, tiger," she snarled humorlessly, "no one is in the office to hear you be a dick right now, but—"

 

His head shot up from the drawer and he glared from below her. She quieted down immediately.

 

"If you make the idiotic choice to pry into my life, do not cry when you are bitten."

 

She hiked her purse over her shoulder and harrumphed. "Tomorrow, then, brat."

 

Good riddance, he thought to himself. Sesshomaru had spent the last 13 years plagued by his father’s memory. Only when he finally resigned himself to a life of banality does the issue come to a head. Seems fitting, for Toga Taisho.


She found a crossbow. And a bike, but she focused on the former.

 

It was tacked to the wall, in her line of sight when she woke up with a wicked pain in her neck from sleeping on the floor. Kagome was currently trying to knock it down, standing on her tiptoes and poking at the edge. With one particularly strong jostle, it rattled off its home on the wall grate and slipped out of her hands.

 

In an instant, Kagome conjured a barrier around the weapon and stopped it from hitting the ground and exposing her location. She blinked at the hovering object encircled by a translucent film, impressed with herself. She easily grabbed it from the floating orb.

 

All she needed was arrows, so she set to work finding some. None were visibly on display, so Kagome had to check the cardboard boxes. She found a number of things in them: fancy jump ropes, some kind of foam cylinder, thick rubber bands that she vaguely recognizes from the training center at the Capitol, and a bunch of other niche junk.

 

Lingering at the bottom of the last cardboard box, there was biking gear. She tossed the helmet, elbow, and knee pads, but picked up a pair of form-fitting shorts. She kicked off her loafers and started to slip the shorts up her legs.

 

A day in the arena and she’s climbed up an entire cliff and squeezed her way through a window. She didn’t like feeling the breeze on her cheeks and definitely didn’t want to keep risking giving the nation a view of her upskirt. When the waistband started to press against her upper thigh, however, she hissed in pain. There was a lengthy gash down the side of her leg, red and stinging around the edges.

 

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Already?”

 

She leaned over with her legs banded at the knees by her new shorts and fished out the ginger root that she dug up with Jinenji and Shiori. Rinsed the cut with water and wiped it with the edge of her sleeve. Then bit off a piece of ginger root, cleaned that too, chewed it into a paste, and pressed it to the groove of the wound. Her skin was very tender to the touch, but hopefully, the ginger would make some strides in bringing down the bloomed inflammation. Kagome slid up the bike shorts the rest of the way and bore the twinge of pain.

 

Kagome had to get the bitter taste of raw ginger out of her mouth. She turned to her bag again, hoping she might find rations. She first found a sleeping bag that would have been useful an entire twelve hours ago. Her hands skimmed over something rough and vacuum sealed, and when she pulled it out there were 3 thick slabs of jerky staring back at her. If she rationed it, she could last a few days on them.

 

She ripped open the first one, nibbling on it.


He stayed in the cave for two entire days, only emerging to look and wait for fallen tributes' faces in the sky (only one on day two). They had already reached something of a stalemate only a few days in, which he didn’t know whether to laugh at or be thankful for. He had examined his knapsack during his idle time. There were some first aid items, pieces of jerky, the canteen, rope, a sleeping bag, and a sickle. He hadn’t finished all of his jerky, but he wanted to get ahead of his food supply, not wait until it was too late.

 

Much to his dismay, Inuyasha needed to return to the forest.

 

Inuyasha’s head poked out from the vines and scanned the perimeter. Night covered the arena, but darkness wasn’t an issue for him. He’d set a few traps while everyone rested. Tie his entire self to a tree once he finished, then get some good, bark-supported sleep. First, he made sure his canteen was full.

 

Then he set several snares around the water’s edge, along with deep holes near the embankment. It was the most likely place for animals and tributes alike to flock, which made it a win-win. Either he inconveniences an annoying career for the better part of five minutes or has a pheasant for dinner. All in a day’s work.

 

A little deeper into the wood, he set out a couple more complicated traps. If only one or two worked, that’s still two animals he could break down and ration for days at a time. The forest seemed largely deserted, which was peculiar. It could be that the remaining ten tributes were extremely good at masking themselves, or most of them found it more useful to stow themselves away in the town. Inuyasha couldn’t fathom it, himself, he’d always found sanctuary in nature.

 

He managed to avoid thinking about her for an entire two days, but he wondered where she ended up. The night after the fire, he didn’t dare poke his head out to watch the fallen tributes in the sky. She could be dead already.

 

Inuyasha ignored the hollowness clawing its way inside him.

 

Deep into the wood, but not so deep to be thoroughly cornered by a neglected campfire, he found an imposing tree. The width of it was at least two of him, and he was ready to take his chances on it. As careful as he had done when he was an inexperienced child, Inuyasha climbed the bark with increasing trepidation. He had the twine rope hitched over his sword hilt, ready to be deployed if things looked perilous.

 

Once he found a suitable branch to nestle into, Inuyasha looped the rope around the tree trunk. It took a bit of maneuvering, but soon enough he was secured to the tree with his bag in his lap.

 

Finally, he let himself fall asleep.


“Sesshomaru, how nice of you to show yourself to your lonesome mother!” Inukimi opened the door with a flourish, the gems embedded in her canine teeth glinting under the porch light. The brownstone was located on one of the Capitol’s more luxurious streets, and it was his mother’s final claim to fame. With Toga’s death, their life was rendered unsustainable, so all their family had were airs.

 

“We have dinner together a few times a month,” he huffed when she put her arm over his shoulder and dragged him through the foyer. “Which I’m starting to suspect is too often.”

 

“Nonsense. Your father would hate to hear that you’d even consider neglecting me so,” she cupped his cheek. “My handsome man. You look just like him.”

 

There is someone who looks like him even more, he thought and felt angry at himself.

 

“Are we going to sit down and eat?”

 

“Yes! Come come come,” she waved him to his seat. “We’re having truffle pasta.”

 

He was nonplussed. “You cooked yourself?”

 

“Of course not, dear,” she shouted from the kitchen. “I got this from Bice in town.”

 

Inukimi set down their plates and took her seat. “Eat up. You’re looking thin.”

 

Sesshomaru’s eyes narrowed at his plate. The older she became, the more she pretended she was a doting parent. He speared the fettuccine and started to twirl his fork. “Just like mom used to make,” he muttered.

 

She scoffed and sipped her wine. “We’re not nurturers, it’s true. Doesn’t run in the bloodline, sweetheart.”

 

They ate in stony silence. He nursed his own glass of wine, the warmth it provided made his emotions from the past week rise like a blister. His mother got the strong, demon-grade alcohol.

 

She cleared his throat and he looked up sullenly. “You haven’t spoken much.”

 

“Hn.”

 

“How is work?”

 

He stared at her.

 

“Any landmark cases that you cracked open?”

 

“Work,” he ground out, “is a joke. You know that.”

 

“If your Papa could hear you criticize the democracy he loved so much, he’d be heartbroken,” her eyes fluttered and she sighed, wiping the corners of her mouth with a crisp white napkin. “They’ve treated us fairly since we lost him. You’d do well to remember that.”

 

“I’ve been thinking about my father lately, actually.”

 

Her hand came out to grasp his own from where it sat limply on the dining table. “I think about him every day.”

 

He didn’t doubt it. But since the day the authorities declared Toga’s disappearance a non-concern, Inukimi was content. It rankled him, to be the only one that seemed to care. It was unprecedented.

 

“More specifically,” he inhaled deeply, bracing himself, “I’ve been thinking about the time he died.”

 

The hurt that flashed across her face was unmistakable. “How could you even—“

 

“I investigated myself when I first started working. No one provided anything useful.”

 

He felt her squeeze his hand, nails pricking around the edge of his palm. “There is only pain there, Sesshomaru.”

 

“Why?” At this point, he might be able to guess some of it. That boy was the final stone being turned over. “I didn’t ask you. I needed to, but I didn’t.”

 

“Sesshomaru—“

 

“I was trying to spare you,” Inukimi snatched her hand away. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

 

“I am trying to spare you! You don’t understand what they’re like. We can’t go against them.” He knew what she meant, especially now, after years of working for their government. “Don’t be like him, it killed him,” she whispered pitifully.

 

“I was on the path to forgetting. But something has been brought to my attention.”

 

His mother’s woes shifted into something hopeful. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t been keeping track of the games, she once called them juvenile. Toga had more words for it, but his father’s disdain was morally rooted. Of course she didn’t know about Inuyasha Taisho.

 

“Father…” he started, but words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He looked down and sighed, forcing himself to meet his mother’s glossy eyes and hesitant smile. “I believe he has another son.”

 

Inukimi’s face crumpled. She let out a discordant cry as her chair whined against the hardwood floors and she stood to her full height. “Get out.”

 

Sesshomaru blinked disbelievingly, unmoving from his chair.

 

“Get out!”

 

He left his childhood home in a daze. When he got up from his seat, his mother shoved past him and retreated up the stairs. They didn't say goodbye.

 

On the commute back to his apartment, he wondered how much she really knew. She said his father was working against the Capitol, but in what capacity? As far as Sesshomaru was aware, Toga worked within the parameters of existing governance.

 

The Capitol only tolerated Naraku, but they loved Toga. He was subversive and brilliant whereas Naraku had always been cagey and punishing.

 

It was enough.

 

For the longest time, Sesshomaru had refused to let his mind wander this far, though it was obvious. He put a steadying hand on his knee and tried his best to maintain composure within the confines of his despair.

 

Next pressing question, he thought. Did mother know about Inuyasha?

 

"Don't be like him," she had begged.

 

Her incessant need to pretend she was an attentive maternal figure. Constant references to her late husband and his imaginary feelings.

 

No, he decided, if she knew, the Capitol would know.

 

Inukimi probably knew of Inuyasha's mother, though.

 

When he returned home, he'd have to go over every scrap of information he remembered from his initial investigation. Maybe there were files left on his personal computer. At the very least, he could remember who he asked already. He had to look between the lines.

 

He had to find out who took that folder most of all.


He sustained himself in the trees for quite a while, managing two nights’ sleep. Again, not a single death. It figures that the luck would run out eventually.

 

"Inuyasha!" He craned his neck to look down and see Shampoo. The sun was beginning to set on his third day living in the treetops.

 

"Come down!" She bounced in place, the bells in her hair tinkling. She was surrounded by three other tributes, one of them being Moose. The mace she wielded was left at her feet.

 

"Shampoo wants to say hi!"

 

The half-demon in question rolled his eyes and tipped his head back against the bark, doing his best to ignore her. He wondered how she could even see him so high up, but he had a feeling it was the blaring siren of a red jacket he wore. The Capitol really fucked him on that one. He’ll add it to the growing list.

 

After about 20 minutes of straight up ignoring her, he took a peek downward and saw she was talking with her minions. Inuyasha recognized the purple demon, only for his bright red eyes. He remembered that he scored a 9. There was a pale man with a long ponytail beside him that he didn’t recognize but he was dressed as if he belonged in a castle with courtiers, not fighting people in an arena.

 

“I come up, okay?”

 

No, he thought, but it was useless to voice it. Shampoo was making her way up the tree, hoping to latch herself on a branch and head up. Inuyasha was shocked at her agility and hoped her stamina would run out.

 

It did. Shampoo got tired and gracefully slid down the tree, flipping off the trunk near the bottom. “Too tall! Inuyasha, come down to me!”

 

“Keh, like hell,” he mumbled to himself and watched her approach the boys below. They were lazing around and sighing, Goshinki even picking his teeth.

 

He was hesitant to untie himself, even though his instincts were screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. Shampoo and cronies were hounding him for much longer than he’d expected. Did she want to enlist him in her ranks?

 

If he untied the rope, his final protection from falling as he did a couple of days ago would be gone. It felt like too much of a risk. He held on to the knot instead, shuffling up and craning his knees to a crouching position, at the ready.

 

“Byakuya. We do it,” he heard her command. “Bring her.”

 

“If I have to,” he sighed.

 

Inuyasha perked up at that. Her. The pale boy who he now knows is Byakuya disappears behind another tree for a few minutes.

 

He starts to loosen the knot.

 

It better not be who he thinks it is.

 

There is a rustle of feet in the grass.

 

The rope comes off.

 

When Byakuya emerged, he held a struggling Kagome by the neck and his heart dropped. His fury reached a rolling boil hard and fast and he couldn’t help it when he growled.

 

“We take this ugly girl and kill her for you, Inuyasha,” Shampoo giggled and encircled Byakuya. She brought her hand up to Kagome’s chin and held it tightly. “Do you miss you dog?”

 

“Inuyasha,” she said tremulously, her face a ruin. “Help me. Please.”

 

“Kagome,” he awed, hurt by the entire scene. He’d seen that face before, in a room that wasn’t actually his, on time that didn’t belong to them anymore. And now she’s finally asking him to protect her. She needs him.

 

He jumped down without a second thought. Byakuya stepped away from the budding fray with his captive. Kagome struggled faintly, wriggling, trying to yank herself out of his headlock. Did they hurt her? It only made him angrier to see it.

 

Shampoo smiled like a cat who got the canary and began to advance on him.

 

Inuyasha deftly dove away from her and the mace that still lay on the ground by his feet, weaving toward the demon who held Kagome. Before he could even reach out a claw, he was head to head with Moose and the others waited in the wings.

 

He’d have to take them out first, then.

 

Remembering that Moose didn’t have the head for close combat, he moved into his space and caused the boy to fret immediately. Inuyasha speared his elbow straight into his nose and he fell to the soft ground in a heap.

 

“So tough, Inuyasha! Join me!”

 

Not us, he thought to himself. Just her. Have her shitheads gotten wise or are they just in denial?

 

Goshinki let out a hair-raising roar, like he could read his mind. He stomped toward Inuyasha with speed and purpose, swinging his giant mitts with inelegance. With claws that big and sharp, finesse comes second.

 

Shampoo approached him from the opposite direction, again without her mace. She kicked out with a yelp, which he had to block with his forearm. The two of them became entangled in a series of her kicks and punches and his blocks, eventually culminating in him grabbing her leg on the upward swing and throwing her into Goshinki, who let her meet him with a thump to his abdomen. She groaned from her place on the ground.

 

Inuyasha unsheathed his sword for Goshinki, swinging it and trying to make contact anywhere, to no avail. The purple demon could dodge every attack he thought of and he was getting wearier by the second. With Kagome on the line, he pushed through, deciding at the last minute to turn around and leap in his face with the sword in an arc, going straight for his mouth.

 

That landed and Inuyasha tried to hold back his disbelief. He was cutting into the corners of Goshinki’s mouth and the young man garbled his frustration, swinging out and grabbing Inuyasha by the leg, digging his nails in. He screamed and pushed in more before he was flung clear across the forest floor by his bleeding leg.

 

When he gained the wherewithal to sit up a little bit, he saw Shampoo swinging her mace into Goshinki’s cheek and horns. It hooked on, wrapping around and dangling like a dangerous earring. “Bad Goshinki! You hurt him!”

 

“Ain’t that the point?”

 

“No, dummy,” she huffed. “The point is be strong as one.”

 

He blinked his mind into focus and looked around for Byakuya and Kagome, but he couldn’t see her.

 

“Where’s Kagome,” he ground out, blood pooling in his mouth. He might have bit his tongue in the fall, but he couldn’t feel it. “What did you do with her!” Already, he was regaining strength and stood up, walking up to and sheathing the blade that fell from his hand next.

 

Shampoo turned to him and shrugged. “I don’t know where the smelly girl is.”

 

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me! Bring her out!”

 

“Silly dog,” she then turned from him and gestured to Byakuya. “Get her.”

 

A twist of Byakuya’s fingers and Kagome appeared out of thin air, tear-stained cheeks and all.

 

“Inuyasha!” She cried out, and that hit him like a punch to the chest. But she wasn’t real.

 

His fists were so tightly wound that he felt the tips of his sharpened claws prick his skin. “You assholes make me sick.”

 

Inuyasha leaped up the tree nearest to him and got as high as he’d been before in a matter of seconds.

 

“Inuyasha, no!” Shampoo whined.

 

Like a ladder, the branches lined up to his little camp and he jumped across the boughs and crouched above the little squad once again.

 

“Psst.”

 

His ear twitched in acknowledgment and he stared ahead resentfully.

 

“Psst!”

 

Inuyasha craned his neck minutely to see the little half-demon girl sitting on an adjacent tree limb. She pointed to something hovering above him.

 

He looked up to find a saimyosho nest that was hanging from a bough that arced above his head. It was a honey brown color and it was encompassed in swirling clusters that made his skin crawl.

 

“Thanks kid,” he whispered faintly but knew she could hear it. Shiori smiled.

 

Inuyasha poked the nest with the edge of his blade.


“This oughta be good,” Miroku leaned forward on the sofa unheedingly. “I might have to call in those sponsorships early.”

 

“This is insane,” Sango fidgeted in place, twisting her fingers together. “Those are extremely poisonous. Their miasma alone will make Inuyasha lose his mind temporarily.”

 

“But it’ll kill the others if they’re not fast enough,” Kikyo offered.

 

“It’s ballsy,” Koga insisted. “I think it’ll pay off. If it goes awry, the Capitol is gonna reward the kid, I guarantee it.”


A couple of the bugs with bulging, uncanny eyes buzzed out of the nest from the puncture and Inuyasha quickly speared the cluster again before it gave the bastards below him enough time to run. It stuck to the end of his blade and he flung it to the ground like a ball.

 

Byakuya was hit right in the face.

 

Inuyasha’s vision was blurring along the edges and he started to feel incredibly nauseous. He leaned over on the bark and dry heaved, gripping onto the corrugated surface for dear life. When he looked up, he saw Kagome standing there, the flowers on the hem of Koga’s dress flicking with flames.

 

Kagome looked like a goddess towering above him, or some kind of avenging angel. Deep brown eyes, a firmly set jaw, and a dress that looked so ethereal and her that she must have been born in it. It bloomed upon her fertile skin; it was her final form.

 

She leaned down gracefully as if the world hadn’t been spinning at light speed and going toward full tilt. Her soft hands cupped his face, like that one time he doesn’t want to remember, and she tutted in sympathy.

 

“Didn’t they tell you not to die for me? Idiot.”


Kagome had experienced quite the come up: she’d found a pair of plushy sneakers to replace her pinching loafers and saw the arrows she was looking for had fallen between the store counter and the adjoining wall where the crossbow hung.

 

Her days in the sports store so far could almost be considered peaceful. There has been only one fallen tribute since the first night, and of all people, it was Kodachi Kuno from District 5. How horrible her and her brother’s parents must feel.

 

The days went on and she didn’t have much to do between rationing her food and water. She could only think.

 

Kagome said a prayer for Kodachi and her family, and all the other lives lost, even if she didn’t know who was gone. She said each tribute’s name and willed their peace of mind into existence. Even Hiten.

 

She prayed for Inuyasha—she felt his presence, somehow, knew in her gut he hadn’t died yet even though in reality she couldn’t be sure. She prayed for his impeccable instincts, for his strength to serve him well. A small part of her prayed that she might see him again, but she felt selfish for it. The part of her that she let miss him was a snarling, biting thing. If she let it, it would consume her completely.

 

She meditated constantly and thanked every higher being for the recent manifestation of her spiritual powers, which has already saved her neck more than once. The fortuitous nature of her hideout and all her new supplies were yet another blessing she didn’t take for granted. The meditation also helped quell her hunger. A quarter piece of jerky and sips of water does not make a meal.

 

Curling up in her sleeping bag that morning, she tried to squeeze in a few extra winks. Light filtered in through the boarded windows in bright slashes. She was able to successfully fall back asleep.

 

A loud, distant boom resonated within the walls of the store. It woke her up and set her heart to pounding. She had to take a few slow, steady breaths to get herself back to a state of reasonable calm.

 

That noise reminded her that she won’t be able to hide forever.

 

Prickling awareness made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She could feel people approaching before she even heard or saw them. They were like curling winds creeping on her subconscious, and soon enough she heard the footsteps approaching. Kagome masked her aura instantly.

 

The group was talking as loud as they wanted. They felt safe.

 

“You heard that, Tsubaki? Hiten thinks Inuyasha killed that one just now,” Abi said with incredulity laced in her tone, and Kagome can’t digest both things at once: Inuyasha, killing. Abi, doubting him. “I think he’s obsessed.”

 

“I think you’re both blinded by your prejudice,” she said in her nonchalant voice. “Half-demons are an eyesore, to be sure, but not an affront on creation, or else they wouldn’t survive past conception. He probably killed whatever pitiful soul that was.”

 

Voices grew closer by the minute.

 

“If they got killed by him, they were definitely pitiful,” Hiten’s voice rasped out like rusted metal. He always sounded like he was short 3 glasses of water. “Hakudoshi was so condescending for a kid. He made my skin crawl.”

 

“Maybe it was the fact that you were killing a child,” Tsubaki commented.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Nah, couldn’t be it.”

 

“Kodachi was a hard one, for a human. No offense, Tsubaki,” the girl in question scoffed while Abi mused. “I can fly and still those gymnastics were disorienting.”

 

Kagome had to rein in any reaction she’d have to Abi’s unwitting confession to Kodachi’s death lest she blows her cover. But it didn’t stop her heart from lurching.

 

“She was graceful,” Hiten said and Kagome was shocked he could even say the adjective without gagging. “And hot.”

 

Hums of approval bounced between them.

 

“I don’t smell anything,” the thunder boy said right outside the storefront Kagome had hidden in. “I don’t think we’ll get ambushed.”

 

Kagome slowly stood up, hoping that her efforts to go undetected would hold. She picked up her pack, the crossbow and arrows, and wondered how she might find her way out of this.

 

“I don’t smell anything either.”

 

She glanced over at the bike. She doesn’t know how to ride a bike.

 

Kagome slipped on the discarded knee pads from days ago.

 

“What about you, Baki? Sense anything?”

 

“Give me a second,” she snapped. “And don’t call me Baki.”

 

In the following silence, she hesitantly mounted the bike.

 

“Why, Baki?” Hiten snickered.

 

She loaded the crossbow.

 

“Yeah, Baki, why?” Abi said smugly.

 

“Because I think idiots are better off not being encouraged. Now, can you let me do this?”

 

“Okay,” the demons replied.

 

Kagome’s heart pounded as she put one foot on a pedal and lined the bow with the door.

 

“Let’s just open it,” Tsubaki sighed. “It’s probably vermin and no matter who’s in there, we’ll kill it anyway.”

 

In a minute the boards were gone. She felt her body insist upon a tremor, but tamped it down. It wasn’t the time.

 

The knob turned easily and the door opened.

 

Kagome aimed quickly and released her new weapon, which hit Tsubaki in the throat. Her stomach was roiling, she could vomit right on the spot, but she pressed down on one pedal and hitched her other foot up to keep momentum. Hiten caught Tsubaki in a dumbfounded stupor and Abi’s eyes became slits before Kagome shoved past them on the bike.

 

She was going as fast as her legs could take her, but the cobblestone was not friendly. It jostled her with every wheel rotation, sending her on a risky journey while Abi flew toward her on flamed feet and Hiten ran with his inhuman speed. Kagome headed past the boulevard of shops and aimed for the towering complex that loomed over the entire plaza. It was falling apart, covered in vinery, and most of all, huge enough to hide in.

 

She would not have the advantage for long.

 

Closing her eyes and pedaling forward, Kagome conjured a barrier around herself as Abi brought up the rear. Hyperventilating, she opens her eyes and sees the world coated in the lavender film of her spiritual energy. Soon enough, the bird demon was flying right in front of her, intent on blocking her sight with a sadistic smile.

 

“You deep fried Hiten’s wrist,” her grin grew wider. “I have to give you props.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be scared of me?” Kagome bit out.

 

“Oh, I could be,” Abi circled her lazily, “But you’re outnumbered, canary. And no one is here to hear you sing.”

 

Her arm moved back and suddenly her hand was awash with flames, talons looking like cavernous streaks in the firelight.

 

Abi flung the cluster of fire right in Kagome’s face. She flinched and the barrier was gone like a popped bubble, her footing was lost, and down she went.

 

Her knee pads skidded against the ground and so did her hands. She whined on impact, rolling over and stopping on her butt. Her bag bounced against the pavement from where it was strapped to her back, the crossbow clattering to the side. She scrambled and reached for the weapon with feverish anxiety, hands shaking as she grasped the handle and dragged it to her, keeping her eyes on Abi as she dove forward with Hiten in tow.

 

Kagome slid back on the stones, her back toward the building as she haphazardly loaded the crossbow again. The weapon was rather useless against demonic healing, but maybe…

 

She shakily aimed it up with both fire and lighting crackling before her eyes. On unsteady feet, she stood up and fired a charged arrow straight into Abi’s hovering ankle. It cracked and hissed on impact and the girl yelped with a hawklike screech.

 

“Next time I won’t miss!” Kagome looked at Hiten and dared him to approach, hoping that he remembered their time in training.

 

She loaded the crossbow as she walked backward toward the building, in a silent standoff with Hiten as Abi clutched at her seared limb. Hiten looked torn between assisting his fellow tribute and going in for the kill.

 

Kagome jerked her weapon out and aimed at Hiten. The arrow’s tip glowed with eye-squinting levels of light as she continued to step back. He was hovering around, not stepping forward but refusing to let her out of his sight. Kagome’s back hit the building and she hastily felt the wall behind her, hands rustling the vines while she searched for a doorknob.

 

The moment that Hiten decided to dive forward in a run, Kagome fired the arrow, which shot in a humming beam. She managed to buy herself some time and looked behind her to find the double door to enter the building.

 

When she pulled the handle, vines ensconcing the handle snapped and popped. The door was glass, rather heavy, so it took her a little while to open it on rusted hinges. Once she got through the door, she looked through it to see the thunder demon holding his shoulder with ferociousness burned into his eyes.

 

Scanning the lobby, she found a coat rack to shove through the rectangular gapped handles and ran further into the building. The floors were covered in pieces of fallen ceiling and chips of paint from the walls.

 

It felt dangerous to even inhale the stuffy air of the enclosed lobby, so she held her breath and ran to the stairwell. It was marked with a convenient photo, something she saw during her stay in the Capitol. Behind her, she heard the doors being banged on and the sound of the wooden coat hanger buckling under the pressure. The metal door to the stairwell was rusted shut, so she had to slam her shoulder into it a few times. Arm sufficiently bruised, the door was jostled from the frame and she was able to crack it open and run up.

 

Kagome only made it up 3 flights before she heard Hiten approaching. He must have left Abi to recuperate, and now he was gaining on her fast. She left the emergency stairwell and went onto the 4th floor. There was a line of doors on her left side and a balcony that overlooked the arena on her right. At the end of the hall was another stairwell that curled along the side of the building.

 

She started to run toward it with her legs still burning from exertion, rounding onto the grated metal steps and holding the rail as she went up floor after floor. Her chest was tight and she barely had any breath in her, the world becoming a living, pounding entity around her. She couldn’t hear Hiten, but she could feel him, his demonic aura pulsed menacingly from across the vast building.

 

At this point, she didn’t know how many levels she cleared, but from the view, it looked high up. There were many she could still go, but all the adrenaline and lack of air gave her an epiphany.

 

Hiten will give up eventually.

                                         

Kagome turned into the hallway of the next floor she landed on, walking toward the apartments. She picked one at random, and thankfully the knob turned. She was greeted by an apartment that looked like it was abandoned in a haste. The ceilings were moldy and every surface was covered in dust. There were books and albums strewn about, pages curling.

 

She immediately got to work shoving furniture in front of the door. A desk, an end table, a bookshelf, even an empty birdcage. Sitting in front of the stockpile, she sat down and breathed deeply, masking her aura and concentrating on making a barrier that could encompass her entire self.

 

It was tough, but she felt the spiritual energy project itself out of her body like a second skin. Hiten must have been listening for her footsteps because after he passed her hiding spot, she felt his energy stop moving.

 

“Don’t think you can get away from me,” he yelled from above. “I’ll be the one to kill you if you ever come out.”

 

She exhaled sharply through her nose and furrowed her brow in concentration.

 

“If you live long enough.”

 

There was a plunge as he dropped from the building, she guesses towards Abi or their hideout.

 

Kagome didn’t let her guard down for six hours.

Notes:

Woo!!!! Posting more than one chapter in the same year?! What a concept!

We're getting into the gorey bits, folks. I hope you're strapped in. Also, I've been aching (lmao) to write Sesshomaru's entrance for a long time along with Kagome's scene running from Hiten. This fic has been cooking in the proverbial crock pot that is my brain for so long. It feels amazing to get more out! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated, here or @doginabirdcage on tumblr. Shampoo was the one who wanted to play games with me this time--her dialogue was harder to formulate but I still love her.

Many thanks to The Monday Child for being the goat as always (also for being an absolute riot in the beta notes), my non-fanfic-reading friends for reviewing the action-y bits, my cats for sitting on the keyboard when it was Time to Stop TM for the day, and you, lovely reader of mine.