004: Disconnect

"Kagome?"

She started, hands curling around the cold metal of the padlock as Sota's voice rang out from behind her.

A tongue across her top lip made the dry skin sting, the light trace of copper gone in a flash. Around her, the sounds of crickets and cicadas sang accompaniments to the cars passing in a distance. Though the shrine was fixed upon a hill, the urban world beyond the torii gates carried upwards with the night breeze.

It wasn't like that before.

(What a blessing, a voice in her head praised, we have the finest musicians at our camp every night, Kagome-sama.

A hand wrapped in beads spread fingers wide against the blanket of nighttime. And look, such heavenly lights to keep us company.)

Here, a blanket of fog and cloud nearly covered the waning moon.

Footsteps, and Sota's voice clearer and closer behind her, "What are you doing?"

Kagome could hear the underlying resignation and fatigue in his voice. Like a spectator in an audience, she could see the scene so perfectly: two actors on a stage, an immeasurable distance between them that was more word and feelings than real reach, this was just another rehearsal in a never-ending play that had yet to air. Or, maybe, a drama without a final chapter.

Sota was only delivering his lines. She had to remind herself it wasn't his fault. It was Kagome who wasn't following script, and it was Kagome who made the audience of her family suffer.

She breathed, eyes closing for a moment before letting her hands drop from the lock.

One. Two. Three.

In, out.

When she turned, Kagome forced herself to meet Sota's eyes. She let her mouth move, lips drawing tightly in what must have been a convincing enough smile.

"I was just making sure the lock was still on." She gestured behind her, but her gaze held steady. "Since we've been having issues with it."

Sota blinked slowly, shoulders dropping. "Oh, okay."

Kagome tilted her head, "Did you need me?"

Neither sibling looked back at the locked building.

The younger sibling shifted, and Kagome took the hint to start walking back towards the house, following alongside him.

"Did you-" Sota swallowed, stopping, and the silence between them teetered on the head of a pin. Kagome kept her head perfectly still, her body turned forwards; never backward.

In his face, she could see herself, Mama, and what scant recollection she had of Dad: the same faint crinkle between his eyes when his brows furrowed in thought. The same tightness around the corners of his mouth while a question licked the back of his teeth, threatening to spill out. "Did you…feel anything? Back there?"

She looked at the window shutters of their home, the bicycle resting on its kickstand by the hose where Sota had been diligently cleaning the frame, and the soft glow of the living room where Mama was watching the evening news. The house stood meters away like a beacon, welcoming, while the well house behind her remained silent and void. Absent.

"No," she said, "There's nothing."

Telephone poles and phone lines that seemed to stretch far into eternity sped past beyond the glass window, concrete buildings and the occasional clothes hanging out to dry breaking up the monotony. His temple throbbed, a sharp pulsing that made his jaw clench; it always did when he took any type of transportation that went faster than a bus. Yusuke slouched further into his seat, his own reflection looking back at him with a grimace. Behind him, Keiko worked to address the noticeable stain on her pant leg, acquired at some point while passing through the crowded streets and only seen after she had sat down.

"Oh! Here."

He'd barely time to blink, hand already raised and fingers curling in reflex as something small made impact with his palm. Yusuke turned his head to his girlfriend across the aisle. Keiko hadn't even bothered looking up from where she continued to rifle through her large tote bag, which took up its own seat next to her. The only other occupants of the train compartment were a salary man dozing several seats up and a woman with an equally sleepy baby, groceries by her feet.

"What's this?"

"A good luck charm," Keiko replied, distracted. She let out a small huff of success when she finally found the slim package of wet wipes buried at the bottom of her bag. Probably underneath the sunscreen, snacks, bottle of tea, bottle of water, and whatever else she was hoarding away in the striped monstrosity, Yusuke thought.

It made him look like a wandering bum, or, worse, a freeloading boyfriend, carrying practically nothing while she refused to let him hold the bag for her whenever they went touring. Today's trip had been to a market in a neighboring district; Yusuke shuffling along sleepily at the crack of dawn while his girlfriend was on the hunt for limited edition, seasonal gifts.

"I'm not putting one of those things on my phone-"

"Yusuke, as much as anyone can try and pull you into the modern era, this isn't a phone charm."

However begrudgingly, the once spirit detective turned ramen stand part-timer and, now, spirit world consultant had found himself joining the rest of his generation at the turn of the century, investing in a mobile phone plan. Only bothering to pay for the cheapest possible meant Yusuke's brick probably didn't have the capability to loop all the straps and charms he'd seen young people adorn their own sleeker models, Keiko included – though hers, admittedly, were modest and fitting of her tastes.

"Where'd you get it then? A vending machine?"

Keiko gave him a flat look, blowing away strands of hair more out of annoyance than necessity. "No, silly, from a shrine. It's to ward off bad spirits."

Scoffing, Yusuke uncurled his fingers to reveal the small, sunshine yellow pouch. The omamari was no bigger than a tea bag, rectangular in shape with a decorative knot made of white rope. Light gold leaves were embroidered in a delicate pattern up along the sides, while striking red thread denoted its purpose in kanji.

"Jeez, Keiko, look at it." He wiggled the fabric pouch between two fingers, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. "You really want me to believe this flimsy thing actually works? Come on, how much did you pay for it?"

Keiko clicked her tongue; wipe wrapped tightly her fingers while she scrubbed with a determined vigor. "Ugh! Can't you just be thankful I was thinking of you when I got this?"

"Don't tell me you paid more than fifty cents for this."

When had she even found time to find a shrine in the market? The place had been filled to the brim with people despite the crisp early morning. Food vendors, grandparents, screaming kids with sticky dango drizzled in sauce running around the place.

Well, he realized, that might explain the stain. Yeesh.

Keiko's voice cut in, primly. "Twelve hundred."

"Twelve hundred—Keiko!"

"He was really, really nice!" Keiko's cheeks pinked, the tips of her ears flushing in the tell tale sign of her beginning temper. "I thought any chance of helping you stay safe was worth it, okay?"

Aw, shit.

Deflating, Yusuke leaned back, his legs sprawling in front of him as he held the omamori up between them. Keiko's mouth twisted before she turned her head sharply, tossing the wipe into a trash bag that she'd no doubt take with her off the train. Responsible.

There was that twisty feeling in his gut again, the one as familiar and present as Keiko herself; it spanned the entirety of their friendship, like an algal bloom it spread and took space up in his gut whenever he acted like a dick. Which, unfortunately for the ecosystem of Urameshi Yusuke, was often.

"Thanks."

Keiko's mouth twitched, but she stared resolutely out the window. Her arms were crossed and her hands were held tightly to her side.

"I'll keep it on me."

Her eyes met his in the reflection of the window, and he made a point of stuffing it in the inner pocket of his jacket. Slipping a hand over where it rested, he added, carefully, "And I'll be careful. Like usual."

Turning her head, Keiko's eyes softened as she reached her hand out towards him in offering. Raising his palm, he felt something small and light pressed into his skin. Pain killers.

"That's all I ask, Yusuke."

11/22/18.

Thanks for your reviews and follows. It's nice to know people are still reading. More to come. Hopefully not as long of a wait. There's a lot of ground to cover.