Kagome couldn't breathe.

And anyway, she didn't want to.

Submerged. The tepid water roared dully in her ears. She opened her eyes, but the sting of the soap squeezed them shut again. Open. Shut. Open. Shut. Every time, the same result. What was the definition of crazy, again?

Darkness ate away at the ragged edges of her vision. Open. Shut. Idly, she wondered if enough soap would make her go blind. Or better yet, if enough soaking would cause her to dissolve entirely.

Past the ripples of the water's surface, she noticed tiny spots of mold forming on the bathroom ceiling. Or maybe the spots were in her eyes?

She was dizzy. But then again, she was always dizzy these days. And nauseous. And tired

Kagome sensed the panic welling inside of her, and it felt so familiar. She harbored hundreds of panic tinged memories from her time in the Sengoku Jidai, all those days on the battlefield that could have been her last. But she always lived. They always saved her, Inuyasha and the rest. They always won, and for a while each time she would breathe easy.

Breathe easy.

She couldn't breathe!

Kagome surged upward, choking and sputtering as she broke through to the air above. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub and splashed onto the tiled floor. Shifting to her knees, she leaned her head over the tile and wretched painfully.

It was no use.

There was nothing to purge. She hadn't been able to keep anything down for days.

"Kagome?!"

It was Mrs. Higurashi, rattling the locked door handle. Shit. Her poor mother. Kagome managed a strained, "It's nothing, mama!" but her voice sounded frightened even to her own ears. She tried again. "Just a little bathwater incident, I'm fine."

"If you're sure…" Kagome imagined how her mother must look, grasping the handle on the other side of the locked door, forehead pressed against the wood grain, concern clouding her downcast eyes. Being a single mother to such a star-crossed child must be so difficult, Kagome realized anew for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Really mama, I feel a thousand times better already. I'll be out in a sec!"

Her mother relented, "Alright, that's fine dear." And then more brightly, "I know! Let me make you some tea. No need to come downstairs, I'll bring it up to your room!" She heard her mother's footsteps recede down the hall and then the stairs with a purpose.

Kagome dragged herself out of the tub and made her way to the sink. The mirror, imprecise in its fog of condensation, aided her in her reluctance to confront her own reflection. Turning on the faucet, she cupped some cool tap water with shaky hands and brought it to her lips. The sharp taste of bile receded with every sip.

Yes, she thought to herself, tea might be nice.

.


.

"What are you doing up and about, I told you I'd bring it up to you?" Mrs. Higurashi hovered uncertainly between the kitchen and the foot of the staircase as she took in the sight of her bathrobe-clad daughter sneaking down the stairs.

"That old kettle takes so long to boil. I thought I'd keep you company?" The concern fell away. Her mother smiled.

In the kitchen, Kagome watched from her stool behind the counter while her mother moved about the room with ease and chattered amiably about that day's visitors to the shrine. So many years of preparing meals for her growing son and packing supplies for her illusive daughter's band of do-gooders had blessed her with a near-perfect muscle memory. However, Kagome saw too the creased lines of worry that threaded Mrs. Higurashi's face.

"I'm just so glad to have you back. Souta and Grandpa too, you know." Her voice interrupted Kagome's reverie. Her mother had turned away from the stove to face her fully. Kagome tried to smile, rapidly blinking away a gloss of tears. "It's been, what, two weeks now? I can't remember the last time you were home this long."

Kagome couldn't, either. It had been years. Six years of this flickering, time-bending life. Months on end of trudging through landscapes full of intrigue and death and magic and suffering. And then a few days at home to ground her in reality, maybe a week. A vicious cycle, at times.

21 years old, sure, but what does that mean when you live outside of linear time?

Channeling a flicker of her normal (former?) self, Kagome attempted lightheartedness. "I guess I'm just cashing in on a well-earned vacation!"

Her mother nodded her agreement with a quiet smile. But Kagome knew her mother. After two weeks of witnessing crying jags, nightmares, and jumbled bits of information, she wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by.

"Last time you were here… Well, I thought that might be the last time." Kagome closed her eyes. Here it comes.

The looks on your faces when you and Inuyasha said goodbye-" Mrs. Higurashi reached out across the counter and gingerly cupped her face. "My daughter. So brave, so strong. I have always admired that about you."

Don't cry, don't cry. Kagome swore she felt herself breaking into a million pieces.

The kettle whistled, a blessed sound. Mrs. Higurashi turned away once again and busied herself selecting mugs, steeping tea leaves.

It was just too much. Kagome seize the opportunity to escape. "You know what, mama? I am feeling a little woozy. Too late to take you up on your offer of delivery?"

Her mother's shoulders sagged slightly, but her tone was kind and patient when she replied, "Sure, Kagome dear. I'll be up in just a minute."

.


.

Mrs. Higurashi reached Kagome's room to find it dark, her daughter's still form facing the wall. Pulling the desk chair to face the bed, she placed two large mugs of tea on the bedside table and turned on the small reading lamp. Tentatively, she reached out to run her fingers through her daughter's midnight hair. "Kagome…"

"I'm awake," Kagome responded, shifting reluctantly to an upright position. Her eyes, rimmed with red, followed her own anxious movements as her hands searched the blankets for a loose thread to pull.

There was a brief, tense silence.

She released her own bated breath. "This isn't how I thought it would be," she admitted in a whisper. "Mama, I'm not sure I can do this without him!" Kagome cursed herself for the selfish tears staining her cheeks.

"When your father died," her mother started as she pressed a mug of tea into her daughter's hands, "Well, it was so difficult back then. For all of us. You were so small." Kagome's eyes flitted to a framed family photo propped on her desk beside a mountain of unopened mail. Her mother, much younger then and very pregnant, looked proudly into the lens while cradling her taut stomach with both hands. Kagome's father sat beside her with one arm wrapped around his glowing wife. Unlike his wife, however, his gaze was reserved only for the squirming (and no doubt precocious) 5 year old girl he was attempting to balance on his knee. His expression was suspended in an open mouth laugh.

Kagome swallowed thickly and said, "I remember everything." Her heart was no stranger to grief.

Her mother continued on. "That first year was the hardest. You used to frighten me with some of your coping mechanisms. It didn't matter where we were or what we were doing, when you felt too overwhelmed you used to hold your breath until you passed out!" Mrs. Higurashi laughed sadly at the memory.

"But then, slowly, you recovered. We recovered. And you became the amazing woman you are today! Those dark times gave me children who are generous, optimistic, caring, kind..."

"But what about you, mama?" Kagome needed to know.

"It was tricky at first. I was all jumbled up! You go through life and make all your choices and think you know your destiny, but then all of a sudden it gets taken from you. And somehow you're still there, just existing." She paused thoughtfully, a faraway look in her eyes.

"For a while you think you're back at square one except this time you've got all this pain to lug around, all this suffering. But that's not quite right, either. I had my memories. I'd learned some lessons. I had my beautiful, miraculous children who trusted me to pave the way! You and Souta gifted me the strength to survive." Her mother lifted the second mug of tea from the bedside table and sipped. Kagome looked down at the still-warm mug in her own hands and followed suit. Chamomile.

"I'm not sure I consider myself optimistic anymore," Kagome said, but with less conviction than she'd intended. Mama Higurashi closed her eyes, hmmm-ed, took another sip and replied, "Oh, Kagome. You will feel that way again."

And for a moment, Kagome believed her.

Silence settled upon the room once again, but this time somehow it felt lighter. Outside, the crickets chirped their simple rhythm. No matter what era Kagome inhabited, some things stayed the same.

Beyond the walls of her bedroom, the great Goshinboku swayed.

.


.

That night, Kagome dreamt a dream she'd seen a hundred times before. It had always been the balm on the wound, the fuel for her unwavering courage during those trying years leading up to the final battle.

She dreamt that the final battle against Naraku was the final battle on earth. She dreamt that all her friends survived: healthy, happy, whole. She dreamt of a union between youkai and humankind that would last for all of time. She dreamt of a Bone Eater's Well that wouldn't force her to choose, and would allow her safe passage for as long as she'd like.

Except this time in her dream, Inuyasha was missing. Kagome spun around, frantically scanning her dreamscape for that tell-tale streak of silver and red.

And then... all of a sudden she felt him beside her, grasping her hand. She felt his sharp claws scrape gently against her skin as he gave her hand a squeeze. Unhurried and unafraid, they stood side by side and observed the too-perfect world of her imagination.

Slowly, he leaned close and said in a whisper, "Keh, you were dreaming too big, that's all. Even one out of four ain't so bad."

.


.

End Note: (7/2/15) Slow and steady, folks. Settle in for a long one. R&R!