The Days that Followed
As far as her family and friends knew, the crying had stopped within a couple of weeks. In reality it had gone on much longer—mostly nights, hours spent in the dirt pit of the dry well, surrounded by the creaks and musty well-house smells and a roof above, wishing with all her heart, trying to draw on any power she had, doing anything she could think of that might reverse the magic, that might trigger… something. And then she would gradually come to a stop, would hoist herself up to the lip, and calmly exit, sliding the door quietly behind her.
Her mother knew; some nights she met Kagome in the kitchen as she made her return, her eyes puffy and swollen, but Mama never said a word: just simply handed her a cup of tea, or a snack of seaweed, or something small. They would sit together with their legs curled up under the kotatsu or move to lounge on the back porch that faced away from the shrine.
Kagome had stopped being embarrassed by these nights early on. It had been the same when her father had passed. Different circumstances, but a few snatches of similar memories: Kagome, just a child, waking from a bad dream and sneaking through the house, whispering for her mother, whom she would find sitting on the tatami in front of the family altar. It had taken fifteen years for Kagome to revisit those memories and make the connection—the blotchiness of her mother's usually perfect, healthful skin; the soft blue tissues that always accompanied their snack bowls on the table.
But as far as everyone else could tell, Kagome moved through the world again. Her school friends were astounded at her sudden and miraculous immunity to the multiple illnesses that had kept her out of school (no longer did she have to make excuses for the time she spent in the Feudal Era) and pleased to have her back within their circle. They went out to eat after school, studied together, went shopping. The only peculiarity was that Kagome didn't seem to want to date anyone. Hojo was as persistent as ever, even after the tales of Kagome's terrible possessive boyfriend (explaining half-demon behavior to her friends had never gone over well; and it seemed they only retained her earliest complaints) had made their way around school.
"He had to move away. It was a family thing," Kagome would answer dismissively when someone asked. Only Ayumi picked up that there was something fishy about this story but, after a gentle conversation with her friend, had decided not to press the matter.
Kagome had discovered that her studies were a something to sustain her—to keep her distracted, on the one hand; and to have something to work hard for. Math, which had never been her strong point, became her greatest enemy. It was never nearly as rewarding to slay a math test as it had been to slay a demon, but it was something. Kagome put all her energy into conquering high school entrance exams and went with two of her closest friends—Ayumi and Eri—to a very respectable girls' school close to Higurashi Shrine.
She was determined to keep moving forward. In the past year she had hardly visited the well-house at all. She still liked to stop under Inuyasha's tree, ringed with paper garlands and wearing its familiar weathered whorl that had grown around the hanyou who was sealed for fifty years. But she wouldn't spend too long.
Her grandfather kept asking her to be a shrine maiden—to become the shrine's priestess, or at least wear the familiar red hakama and white overshirt as she worked—but she politely refused, preferring now to leave the sweeping and interactive tasks to her brother and instead spending hours in the back room making her way haltingly through old scrolls. The language had changed a lot in 500 years, but thanks to the meager skills she had acquired after having spent so much time in that era, she kept searching through the squiggles of text for her answer. A clue. A flicker of light. A hint that she had been able to return, or that told the story of the friends she had unwillingly left. Nothing mentioned an amorous monk and a demon-slayer. Nothing even mentioned an inuyoukai or a kitsune. For months she kept combing through records, but when this activity interfered with her schooling she abandoned it.
For all intents and purposes, Kagome had returned to "normal" life. The life—Inuyasha always told her—that she was meant to lead. But even as she excelled in her studies, even as she made top marks and laughed after school with her friends at Wacdonald's, even as she fulfilled all the check-box requirements for being a "normal teenage girl," Kagome felt empty. She could carry herself boldly through the day, even get excited about studying or working hard: but most nights she dreamed she was back on the other side of the well, breathing fresh air and walking side-by-side with her best friend, her companion, her partner, her savior—her Inuyasha. They were both sweet dreams and nightmares. When she woke up in the morning she was always back in her modern era, back in her bedroom—and the window was closed, no sign of footprints on the carpet, no sign the door to the well-house had even been unlocked for the past month. And she would get up and do it again.
"I think if I keep going I might forget," she said suddenly one night, sitting with her mother in the kitchen. "I think if I keep moving towards the future, if I keep myself busy, I might be able to make it." The glow of the light reflected in her tea, and she looked at it for a moment, cradling the cup as if she was holding something far more previous. "Mama, I don't want to forget. I don't."
Kagome's mother was silent for a long time. Then—"You won't forget. The ache will fade and the days will seem lighter, but you won't forget."
Outside, the cicadas were starting up. Late spring. She would be graduating soon.
"Yeah."