*Prologue*
Kagome'd known for a while that something was wrong. There was a fatigue in her body that had never been there before. It hurt to move sometimes, hurt to think. But still she'd continued with the Quest, not saying anything and smiling at her friends' worry and questioning. She ignored it as long as she possibly could—until she'd woke up one mid-morning on the sidewalk halfway to school with Hojo standing over her, looking worried. He'd called an ambulance despite her many arguments and claims of "I'm fine."
So, reluctantly, she had gone to the place with the paramedics, and Hojo had left for school, promising to stop by the shrine later and 'check up' on her. She didn't doubt it.
The whole afternoon had been spent on the cold metal chairs in the doctor's office and waiting room. There was test after test, needle-prick after needle-prick. Kagome sat through it all as tolerantly as she could with her mother hovering nervously a few feet away, leaving against the striped- papered wall. The middle-aged woman's hands were tightly knit, and her knuckles white with pressure, and she constantly stole uneasy glances at the broad-faced wall clock and her daughter.
Finally, a doctor came to talk to them. He looked somber as he asked Mrs. Higarashi to please sit down, and Kagome felt a ball of dread begin to form quickly in her stomach. The doctor had beat around the bush until Kagome was literally shaking with worry before coming outright and saying it plainly. He said they'd discovered an abnormal something-or-another in the many samples they had taken. Mrs. and Ms. Higarashi both listened in complete confusion and anxiety as he explained slowly as though they were mindless and fragile little people.
The only thing the stupid doctors could tell them were two things: one, that Kagome had a rare type of blood poisoning. Two, that she had ten says to live. There was no known cure, or even an antibiotic. Nothing. All they could do was offer painkillers and their "sympathy"—the type of doubtful sympathy that only strangers can give. They didn't know or understand the meaning and significance of those words they so idly passed around each and every day.
Kagome's mother cried for the entire duration of the traffic-jammed ride back home. She told Souta and Grandpa and then they cried too. Kagome watched and heard it all in a sort of numb slow-motion like a replay tape, knowing that none of the grief and misery could help her position in the slightest—nor could anything else, for that matter. She was dying, and had only a mere ten days left of her life. Dying. Even the word was scary, and brought with it a mysteriousness that even her mother couldn't explain pr chase away. Dying. Like her father.
Like Kikyou.
Among the jumble that was now her thoughts, Kagome heard one resonantly above all the rest: 'I haven't told him yet.......' Tears came to her eyes as she thought about leaving her friends and family and home. The quest was still incomplete, and Naraku was still terrorizing people. Sango's brother was still being controlled and Kikyou was still hovering ominously close. Nothing, truly, had changed, but it would. She was leaving; she was dying. Dying. Every time she thought it, the word echoed. She couldn't bring herself to say it.
With a sense of duty, Kagome packed her big backpack for what she knew would be the last time, leaving her school books and packing instead extra ramen, potatoes chips and all of Shippo's favorite storybooks. The aspirin she took for all the good it would do, just for the sake of it. She said goodbye to her family, saying she'd come back soon, that she needed time to think.
But even as Mrs. Higarashi hugged her only daughter, she knew she wasn't planning to return.
"Take care, sweetheart," she whispered through her tears as Kagome backed away, feeling her heart melt.
"Why are you crying, momma?" Souta asked confusedly as he, too, stepped up to Kagome.
"No reason, honey," sniffed their mother.
Kagome knelt before her little brother like she hadn't done since he was two and fastened her arms around his shoulders, hugging tightly. Souta, confused at her behavior, patted her back awkwardly and waited for an explanation.
"Souta," Kagome said slowly. "Be good for momma while I'm gone, okay? Do good in school, and take care of everybody."
"I will, nee-chan," the boy answered. "But you won't be gone for long, right? Maybe when you come back we can play some of the old games together. You know, like we used to."
"Maybe," she answered sadly, forcing a smile. She stooped and hugged her too-short grandfather carefully, wincing as she heard his muffled sobbing.
"Goodbye, everyone. I love you."
She wouldn't lie again and say she'd be back soon. It would be too much.
So with her family watching her back, Kagome stepped up to the ancient well, putting her hand on the splintery, textured rim. She glanced back to the house and her tight-knitted family, swallowing her hot tears, and leapt without looking back again into the time-rip, knowing with a sort of sinking feeling that she would never, ever be able to return to the life and home she had always known. Never again.
Kagome'd known for a while that something was wrong. There was a fatigue in her body that had never been there before. It hurt to move sometimes, hurt to think. But still she'd continued with the Quest, not saying anything and smiling at her friends' worry and questioning. She ignored it as long as she possibly could—until she'd woke up one mid-morning on the sidewalk halfway to school with Hojo standing over her, looking worried. He'd called an ambulance despite her many arguments and claims of "I'm fine."
So, reluctantly, she had gone to the place with the paramedics, and Hojo had left for school, promising to stop by the shrine later and 'check up' on her. She didn't doubt it.
The whole afternoon had been spent on the cold metal chairs in the doctor's office and waiting room. There was test after test, needle-prick after needle-prick. Kagome sat through it all as tolerantly as she could with her mother hovering nervously a few feet away, leaving against the striped- papered wall. The middle-aged woman's hands were tightly knit, and her knuckles white with pressure, and she constantly stole uneasy glances at the broad-faced wall clock and her daughter.
Finally, a doctor came to talk to them. He looked somber as he asked Mrs. Higarashi to please sit down, and Kagome felt a ball of dread begin to form quickly in her stomach. The doctor had beat around the bush until Kagome was literally shaking with worry before coming outright and saying it plainly. He said they'd discovered an abnormal something-or-another in the many samples they had taken. Mrs. and Ms. Higarashi both listened in complete confusion and anxiety as he explained slowly as though they were mindless and fragile little people.
The only thing the stupid doctors could tell them were two things: one, that Kagome had a rare type of blood poisoning. Two, that she had ten says to live. There was no known cure, or even an antibiotic. Nothing. All they could do was offer painkillers and their "sympathy"—the type of doubtful sympathy that only strangers can give. They didn't know or understand the meaning and significance of those words they so idly passed around each and every day.
Kagome's mother cried for the entire duration of the traffic-jammed ride back home. She told Souta and Grandpa and then they cried too. Kagome watched and heard it all in a sort of numb slow-motion like a replay tape, knowing that none of the grief and misery could help her position in the slightest—nor could anything else, for that matter. She was dying, and had only a mere ten days left of her life. Dying. Even the word was scary, and brought with it a mysteriousness that even her mother couldn't explain pr chase away. Dying. Like her father.
Like Kikyou.
Among the jumble that was now her thoughts, Kagome heard one resonantly above all the rest: 'I haven't told him yet.......' Tears came to her eyes as she thought about leaving her friends and family and home. The quest was still incomplete, and Naraku was still terrorizing people. Sango's brother was still being controlled and Kikyou was still hovering ominously close. Nothing, truly, had changed, but it would. She was leaving; she was dying. Dying. Every time she thought it, the word echoed. She couldn't bring herself to say it.
With a sense of duty, Kagome packed her big backpack for what she knew would be the last time, leaving her school books and packing instead extra ramen, potatoes chips and all of Shippo's favorite storybooks. The aspirin she took for all the good it would do, just for the sake of it. She said goodbye to her family, saying she'd come back soon, that she needed time to think.
But even as Mrs. Higarashi hugged her only daughter, she knew she wasn't planning to return.
"Take care, sweetheart," she whispered through her tears as Kagome backed away, feeling her heart melt.
"Why are you crying, momma?" Souta asked confusedly as he, too, stepped up to Kagome.
"No reason, honey," sniffed their mother.
Kagome knelt before her little brother like she hadn't done since he was two and fastened her arms around his shoulders, hugging tightly. Souta, confused at her behavior, patted her back awkwardly and waited for an explanation.
"Souta," Kagome said slowly. "Be good for momma while I'm gone, okay? Do good in school, and take care of everybody."
"I will, nee-chan," the boy answered. "But you won't be gone for long, right? Maybe when you come back we can play some of the old games together. You know, like we used to."
"Maybe," she answered sadly, forcing a smile. She stooped and hugged her too-short grandfather carefully, wincing as she heard his muffled sobbing.
"Goodbye, everyone. I love you."
She wouldn't lie again and say she'd be back soon. It would be too much.
So with her family watching her back, Kagome stepped up to the ancient well, putting her hand on the splintery, textured rim. She glanced back to the house and her tight-knitted family, swallowing her hot tears, and leapt without looking back again into the time-rip, knowing with a sort of sinking feeling that she would never, ever be able to return to the life and home she had always known. Never again.