"Kagome," her mother had warned her, "on your fifth birthday, you will start to hear things under your bed. But do not worry, my sweet girl; the monster can only hurt you if you look it in the eye."

Kagome had nodded and said a hearty "Okay, Mama!", because she knew all about monsters from her cousin Kikyō. And Kikyō had said that she was not frightened, so why should Kagome be?

Kikyō had even said that she looked under her bed and she stared down the monster; that was how unafraid she was.

And Kagome could do anything that Kikyō could do.
So tonight, on her fifth birthday, Kagome was going to look under her bed.
She was going to stare down the monster, just like Kikyō had done, because Kagome was not scared.

That night, when Mama turned off the lights, Kagome turned her face to the moon and she took a deep breath.

She could do this!
She was not scared!
She
was not scared.
(Maybe if she repeated it to herself the shivers that broke from her body would stop.)

Kikyō hadn't been scared.
Kikyō had said she wasn't scared at all.
That's what she said.

Kagome gulped as her eyes adjusted to the soft moonlight in her bedroom.

Mama says that monsters don't hurt anyone. They just need to scare people. Because that is their job.

Kikyō hadn't gotten hurt. So Kagome wasn't going to be hurt either.


Scratch.
It was time.
Scratch scratch.

Kagome could hear the individual fibers of the carpet give off the sound. If it was not her fifth birthday, she would have snuck off the bed to grab the cat, because Buyo sometimes liked to hide there, and force him into late night cuddles.

But it was her fifth birthday, and Buyo had been let out for the night.

The monster is here! Kagome pulled the covers over her head and tried to calm her body.

Monsters only hurt you when you look them in the eye, that's what Mama said.
But Kikyō looked her monster in the eye.
And Kagome could do anything that Kikyō could do.

Kagome closed her eyes and focused on the scratching. The monster was under the bed, close to its foot.

Wait, was that snickering?
This was certainly a strange monster, to be laughing like they were a small child.
They didn't sound scary at all.

Would Mama say that monsters who didn't sound scary were always the scariest?
That was what her friend Sango had said: that monsters that looked the most like people were often the worst monsters. But Sango had been too scared to look under her bed. Sango had only been repeating the stuff her dad had said to her.

Scratchsnigger—Scratch

It sounded almost like the monster was having fun, maybe even playing. Kagome's fear was burning away with every laugh the monster couldn't contain.

What if this is a trick? Kagome asked herself. Maybe that was why Mama was so insistent that she never look a monster in the eye. Because the monsters wanted little children to do it.

But Kikyō had said that she looked her monster in the eye.
And Kikyō wasn't scared.

That was that. Kagome liked the sound of the monster's laughter, and she liked that the monster laughed in between scratches, as if it was delighted to show off how scary it was. That was not the sound of a sneaky monster trying to trick someone.

So Kagome snuck to the edge of her bed, hunkered down flat, then stretched her arms toward the blanket.

Scratchsnigger—Scratch

Kagome balled the blanket up silently in her hands, then she tugged the blanket upward. She slammed her eyes closed and dropped forward, so that her head nearly touched the ground, ready to be face-to-face with her monster.

Then, Kagome opened her eyes.

Two golden orbs looked back at her, wider than saucers, terrified.


They were not supposed to look monsters in the eyes.
That was what everyone said in their realm. That the humans that they haunted knew never to look at them.

But then why was Inuyasha looking into the wide forest-green eyes of the girl he was haunting?
Did she know what he had done?
Was that why she was not scared?

"You're my monster?" the girl whispered; her excitement was so palpable that Inuyasha almost smiled—almost.

He liked when someone called him a monster. Usually they didn't say that. Instead, they called him a freak. A half-breed. They told him the world was better off without him. That his mom and dad had died because they were ashamed that he existed.

Well, he would show them.
He was gonna go and he was gonna haunt, just like all the other monsters did. He was gonna do it better and be bigger and scarier than them all. And he was gonna do it younger than any other monster.

So, on Inuyasha's fifth birthday, he snuck into the special place where they kept the gateways, and he looked and looked and looked through the rows of decorated hoops, all adorned with the birthdays of those on the other side, those to be haunted.

That's when he saw it.
It was a light pink hoop that was painted with delicate ivy. Birthday: July 13.
It was a few weeks away, but… the person on the other side would be five years old soon, just like him!

Inuyasha grabbed the hoop from its hook and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. It was late at night, and all the monsters were off haunting their people, so no one was there to catch him. It was perfect.

He would haunt this person! And he would show them all that he could. That he deserved friends, too, because he could do everything that the other monsters could do, even though he was only half-monster.

So, on July 13, Inuyasha watched the hoop light up.
It was time to crawl through to the other side.
It was time to become someone's monster!

When he emerged under the bed, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It was a nice smell. Like cherry blossoms. And the feel of the room comforted him. Whoever this person—girl—was, she was loved.

With the first scratch, he felt the bed above him erupt in trembles.

Good! Inuyasha beamed; he was doing a great job! He was scaring his human!

So he scratched again, and he heard her swallow.
It made him chuckle.
Another scratch, another giggle.
It was so easy! He was the greatest monster ever!

Then… it all went wrong.
She was looking at him.
They were never supposed to look at him.
She wasn't scared… he had failed.

But then, she smiled.

"You're my monster?" She didn't ask the question with disgust in her voice. She asked it with delight. She was excited, because he was her monster.

"What of it?" Inuyasha was still scared. He had stolen the gateway to get to her and now she had looked him in the eyes.

"I thought monsters were supposed to be scary," she shrugged.

"I am scary," Inuyasha snarled, showing her his fangs and pinning his ears back threateningly. "They all told me I was a freak and stuff… I am scary."

Her eyes widened, but instead of being scared, she almost looked sad. Why did she look sad?

"Why did people say you were a freak?" Kagome asked.

She had expected a scary snake or spider or maybe a frog… she had not expected someone with pretty golden eyes and hair that looked like moonlight and adorable puppy ears on the top of his head.

He didn't look like a freak to her. He looked nice. And he looked lonely.

"Cuz… my mom wasn't a monster," he said, his brows still furrowed to look scary, but Kagome just thought he looked cute.

"Oh. Are other monsters scarier than you because they do have monsters for moms?" Kagome asked. She did not know a lot about monsters, after all, just that she was not supposed to look them in the eyes (and did).

"They say they are, but they're not. I'm gonna be the scariest monster of them all!" her monster declared. "Then they'll stop telling me to go away. Then they'll be my friend."

"Why don't your mom and dad tell them to go away?" Kagome was genuinely curious. Her Mama promised to always protect her if people were mean.

"My mom and dad are…" The monster's ears had started drooping. It made Kagome want to crawl under the bed with him and give him a hug. He looked so sad. "...dead."

"You don't have any family?" Kagome gasped.

"No." Inuyasha answered.

He didn't like telling his human these things. She would never be scared of him if he told her all this stuff. But… he wanted to tell her. Because she wanted to talk to him; she wanted to listen to him. She was not telling him to go away like all the others.

"Oh." The girl slid off the bed, and before Inuyasha could growl at her, she had shimmied under the bed right next to him. "I am so sorry…" She reached out, and took one of his clawed hands into her own. "Well, you can be my friend."

Had his human really just offered to be his friend? Inuyasha had never had someone offer to be his friend. The best anyone would do was to throw him a scrap of their uneaten food. And here she was, touching his hand and smiling at him and she knew he was only a half-monster and she was still excited?

"I'm not supposed to be friends with humans." Inuyasha thought about pulling his hand away, but he couldn't. He liked the way her hand felt holding his; he never wanted her to stop holding his hand.

"But your mom was a human. That means you're only half-monster," she offered. "So… maybe you can be friends with humans!"

She had a really good point. It was only monsters who were not supposed to be friends with humans, and Inuyasha was a half-monster.

He should probably be more cautious, really think through whether it was a good idea, because monsters were always told that humans could be sneaky. That monsters always had to be on their toes when humans were involved.

But… his heart told him that this human—his human—was not tricky. And his heart desperately wanted to be her friend. Because he wouldn't be alone anymore. Because she smelled nice. Because the way she smiled and talked to him made him feel like a somebody.

"Okay!" The monster boy smiled so big that Kagome got to see his fangs again, but this time it was not to be scary, but because he was happy. "I'll be your friend!"

Kagome giggled. She liked her monster.

"What's your name?" She hoped her monster had a name. "I'm Kagome."

"Inuyasha," the monster—no, half-monster—no, Inuyasha—replied.

"Do you want a midnight snack?" Kagome asked. She wondered if someone who was all alone and was called bad names got enough food. "It was my birthday today so my mom would probably let me."

"Your mom…?" Inuyasha sounded scared.

But Kagome knew Mama. It would not matter that he was supposed to be the monster under her bed; it would matter that he was lonely and hungry, and that he wanted to be Kagome's friend.

"Yeah!" Kagome beamed, then began scooching herself out from under her bed. "If I tell Mama that you're my friend, then she will definitely feed you!"

Inuyasha's stomach grumbled at the thought of food. When was the last time he had eaten anything? Was it when he caught that fish, before they chased him away from the pond?

No one had offered him food before.

"You promise that your Mama is not going to chase me away?" Inuyasha asked.

"I promise," Kagome declared, and she extended her hand out to Inuyasha, who took it.


Saying that it was a bit of a shock when her daughter marched into her bedroom with a small demon boy with dog-ears on the top of his silver head would be an understatement. But Mama had always known that Kagome was special.

"This is Inuyasha," she had said. "He's my monster. His family is dead and people keep being mean to him." Then her little nose scrunched and her eyebrows furrowed; Kagome's way of showing she meant business. "He's my friend, and he's hungry, so can we get a midnight snack for my birthday?"

Mama twitched at the information as she took in the small boy. He was skinny, and his stomach grumbled, and his ears drooped as Kagome spoke. But it was his golden eyes that Mama could not look away from, dark from haunts she did not think she could fathom, yet, there was a minute flicker of hope starting to ignite in them, too.

"Of course," Mama answered, sighing because she had a feeling that her family was about to get one child larger. "Let's go make ramen."

As Kagome and Inuyasha scampered down toward the kitchen, Mama Higurashi chuckled; this was probably the real reason why children were always warned not to look directly into their monster's eyes.