March 1555

Rin blinked drowsily as she started down at her wailing young daughter. Life with a newborn was undeniably exhausting—every few hours the child had to be fed or changed or simply attended to, even at night. The tiny little girl was scarcely a month old, and frankly Rin was amazed that she had made it this far without a decent night's sleep…and yet, she thought with a vague sense of dread, she still had another five to go, at least, before her little one could be expected to start sleeping through the night.

Despite being frequent, though, these nighttime awakenings usually didn't last too long. It was usually a matter of just changing her or briefly feeding her. But tonight…tonight was different. Rin had tried every move in her motherly arsenal, and yet her daughter still wailed, unconsoled.

"Mikomi…Mikomi…what's the matter?" Rin murmured. "Please go to sleep…please sleep…"

She studied her daughter's scrunched-up face. She had been surprised, when she was awoken earlier that night, to find a seemingly foreign baby squirming in Mikomi's basket. For a moment, she panicked—this child had dark hair, little rounded ears, and a tiny button nose…she looked human.

But Rin's daughter wasn't human. Mikomi's father had been a youkai, and she'd inherited from him her silver downy hair and tiny puppy-like nose and fuzzy flopped-over ears.

But somehow, despite the sudden change in appearance, the sound of the cries and some strange form of deep, maternal instincts told Rin that this stranger was, indeed, still her baby.

So what had happened? Why did her little hanyou suddenly look, for all intents and purposes, entirely human?

She blinked slowly again, trying to shift muddled thoughts out of her weary mind and above the baby's cries.

She had known, technically, that hanyou lost their youkai's powers every now and again. She'd observed it in her friend, Inuyasha—Mikomi's uncle, she remembered, the half-brother of the child's father—occasionally. But somehow, it had never quite occurred to her that it would happen to her daughter, as well.

Suddenly Rin's tried eyes snapped wide open. Mikomi's father may not have stayed to help raise her, but she wasn't alone in the endeavor. There was someone else she could consult, and perhaps that someone could help her get down to the bottom of Mikomi's distress…

.oOo.

Inuyasha's ears twitched as a bout of insistent rapping sounded from the door of his hut. He shifted irritably as the sound interrupted his slumber…who on earth could be knocking at this hour?

But as his senses returned more and more to the waking, he sat up with a jolt. In addition to the tired knocking, there was the sound of a child's wails…a very young one, at that, much too young to be his own three-year-old or eighteen-month-old, who (thankfully) were still snoozing peacefully on their futon in the corner of the room.

Inuyasha's sudden jolt awoke his wife, sleeping beside him. Surprised at first, she soon caught the wails of the mysterious infant, as well.

"Wha…what's going on?" she asked blearily, stifling a yawn. "Who's crying? I thought…thought we still had another month before we had to deal with that again…"

Inuyasha inhaled deeply, trying to catch the scent of their sudden nighttime visitor.

He knew who it was immediately, and had a pretty good guess as to what she was doing here.

He turned back to his wife, briefly but warmly planting a comforting kiss on her forehead and a surprisingly-gentle clawed hand across her heavily swollen belly where their third child grew, just weeks away from birth.

"Go back to sleep, Kagome. It's just Rin. I'll take care of it."

Kagome smiled warmly at her husband's display of affection, but quickly became concerned.

"Rin? Then is that Mikomi crying? Is something wrong?"

"Don't worry about it," Inuyasha assured again, getting to his feet. "I'll take care of it."

Kagome laid her head back down on the pillow, adjusting the covers, but did not close her eyes, watching as Inuyasha strode across the room and slid open the front door.

Sure enough, an exhausted Rin stood just outside, an unmistakably human Mikomi whimpering in her arms. She looked on the verge of frustrated tears.

"Please help," she begged. "Mikomi's been crying all night and I don't know what to do. She'd never been like this before. Is there something wrong with her? Is it a hanyou thing?"

Inuyasha blinked. Wasn't it clear?

"She's human tonight," he stated simply.

"Yes, I can see that," replied Rin. "Isn't that normal? Doesn't that happen to you, too?"

Inuyasha paused a moment mulling over what the right explanation would be. Finally, he stepped aside, allowing his friend entrance to the hut.

"You should come in. We need to talk."

Rin accepted his invitation, nodding slightly as she passed the threshold.

Kagome sat up as Rin settled nearby, near the fire pit.

"Rin," she greeted politely. "Are you alright? How about…oh," she stopped suddenly, catching sight of the baby. "…it's Mikomi's human night, isn't it?"

"Apparently," confirmed the younger woman.

Silence reigned amongst the adults for a moment while Inuyasha settled between his wife and friend. Then Kagome spoke again.

"Well, we're happy to help. Would you like some tea? It'd be no problem."

"Kagome, so late at night…?"

"Oh, don't be rude, Inuyasha. It's clear that Rin has had a very frustrating night, and you and I both know how that can be!" She turned back to their friend. "So how about it? I'm sure you'll be able to think clearer with something warm in you; it'll help you wake up."

"Umm…sure. Thanks," Rin replied, and Kagome hefted herself to her feet to fetch some water and leaves. Inuyasha eyed her warily, concern evident on his features.

"I'm fine, Inuyasha," Kagome stressed slightly teasingly, clearly catching the look. The hanyou glanced away quickly.

"S…sorry."

Soon a fire was going and water was being heated for the tea. Gazing into the bright, warm flames, Rin suddenly realized that Mikomi had stopped crying…but looking down, it was clear that the infant was still distressed, and she would occasionally let out a small, strained whimper, her tiny voice hoarse from hours of wailing.

"She's…well, she's stopped crying," she said. "She still looks so upset, though…what could the problem have been? I tried everything I know…I rocked her, I sang to her…I changed her diaper and cuddled with her…I tried to feed her, but she didn't seem to want to…she just wouldn't stop crying. Do you…you don't think she's sick, is she?"

"She's human tonight." Inuyasha said for the second time.

"I know," Rin replied again. "But…it's not like human babies are supposed to be so much crankier than hanyou babies, are they? …oh, thank you," she added as Kagome handed her some tea. She took a sip. Kagome was right; the warm liquid calmed her frantic, tired mind.

Inuyasha shook his head.

"If she were born human, it wouldn't be so much a big deal. But she wasn't. She was born a hanyou."

"So?"

"Well…" Inuyasha began, a bit unconformable, as though he were admitted a bit secret. "You see, a hanyou's senses are usually far stronger than a human's. When we loose our youki…it's not just our appearance that changes. We loose our senses too. You humans are used to such dull perception, so it seems normal to you. But for a hanyou…it's like suddenly being blind and deaf and…whatever you call it when you can't smell. It's…kind of scary, and makes us feel really vulnerable. That's why hanyou never reveal their human time to anyone else…unless they trust them completely,"

He gazed softly at Kagome with this last statement, who returned his sentiment with a warm, if small, smile, touched.

"A…anyways," he continued, "this is the first time Mikomi's experiencing this. She's confused and vulnerable and scared. She doesn't yet understand what's happening, or that she'll go back to normal in time."

He glanced up to see Rin's tired eyes glistening. She hadn't even considered that possibility…she knew that youkai and hanyou had sharper senses than humans, but it had never occurred to her that a hanyou experienced that difference when…

She glanced down at her daughter, who was evidently too exhausted to continue wailing, but she still squirmed lightly, dark, unfocused eyes wide and, sure enough, frightened.

"I…never thought of it that way," Rin admitted softly. "What can…is there anything I can do?"

To her dismay, Inuyasha shook his head again.

"You can try to hold her and assure her that you're still there," he elaborated. "Try to make it clear that you can protect her. That's the best thing. But…it might not help immediately."

Rin sighed, resigned.

"So…I'll have to just deal with it every month until she's old enough to understand?" she asked wearily.

"You can try to comfort her and be sure she feels as safe as you can, but…yes, it'll probably take a few times until she understands."

Rin deflated a bit, but didn't say much further. She glanced down at her distressed daughter, the took another sip of tea, procrastinating her leave. Her eyes rested on the two small children still asleep in the corner, both with jet-black hair like their mother and puppy's ears like their father, though the unusually long ears of the eighteen-month-old girl flopped over her head rather than perking up like her brother's and father's. A thought struck her, then, that she'd never considered before.

"Did…did your children ever have this issue? Do they turn human, I mean? Do they feel frightened by it, too?"

"My kids don't seem to have youkai senses in the first place…at least, not that we can tell."

Rin blinked.

"…do you?" she amended. "Does turning human make you feel uncomfortable?"

Inuyasha didn't answer.

After a long moment of silence, Rin began to stand.

"Thank you for your time," she said, bowing slightly. "But I shouldn't take any more of it. We'll head back now."

"Why don't you stay?" Kagome offered quickly. Rin looked at her in surprise.

"You've had such a long night," Kagome elaborated. "I'd hate for you to walked all the way back home again. Stay here for the night; we have a few spare blankets and a basket Mikomi can sleep in, if she falls back asleep."

"…are you sure?" Rin asked. "I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"You're not," Kagome insisted. "We're your friends, Rin. We want to help you." She smiled at the younger woman. Slowly, Rin sat back down.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Inuyasha, who'd stood during the exchange, suddenly gently tossed Rin one of the aforementioned blankets.

"Here," he said. "Go to sleep, you need it. I'll watch Mikomi for the rest of the night. I can get by with less sleep than you humans."

"I can help—" Kagome began.

"No," interrupted Inuyasha, glancing briefly at his wife's belly. "I want you to rest, too. Please."

For a split second Kagome appeared ready to argue, but she thought better of it. He was right. She nodded ever-so-slightly and moved back towards their futon.

"Alright, but if you need help, I don't mind," she assured, yawning as she lay down under the covers.

Gently Inuyasha lifted his exhausted niece out of her equally-tired mother's arms.

"Hey, little girl," he crooned softly as he carried her off. "It's ok, you're safe. Your momma and aunt and uncle are here to protect you."

Rin slowly wrapped herself in one of the spare blankets, selecting the best place to lay down and she watched Inuyasha and Mikomi.

"…Inuyasha?" she said after a moment, so softly that only the hanyou's sensitive ears could've picked it up. He responded by glancing silently at her, Mikomi still cradled in his arms. Rin gave a sleepy, grateful smile, heavy eyelids drooping.

"Thank you."