Chapter Two: A Familiar Secret

"... and I will be holding your essays until next week, when I've completed my reviews. In the meantime, familiarize yourself with the Ikko-ikki and the Jodo Shinshu Buddhist sect. We will discuss them in detail at the next lecture. That will be all for today." The auditorium was suddenly filled with the bright glare of the overhead lights and the noise of shuffling students as they packed their belongings together.

Kagome blinked, letting her pen drop across her notebook with an annoyed expression. It was already her fourth session of class and Professor Michifusa's grating lectures had, if possible, only grown worse. He could be an army drill sergeant, she thought disgustedly, her fingers still sore from her panicked note-taking. I must be inventing a new style of shorthand, she noted as she tried to decipher the information she had jotted down.

Despite her dislike for the man, Kagome had to admit that Professor Michifusa was a competent teacher, and the information she was absorbing pertaining to the Sengoku Jidai both delighted and frightened her. Delighted, in that she was beginning to see loose connections and orders to the battles that Inuyasha and her friends would occasionally stumble across in their trek to find jewel shards. It scared her for the very same reason, however; the few times that Kagome could orient herself in the feudal era, a sickening sense of foreboding would overcome her, for she had a vague idea of what fate awaited the villages they passed through. Time played no role in Kagome's calculations. Whether the historic battles were to happen during her travels or a hundred years later made no difference to her. She still knew there would be a terrible struggle, that many people would die, and that knowledge was sobering.

On her last trip down the well, the knowledge had upset her so much that Inuyasha, in a moment of unusual clarity, mentioned that she was beginning to look like Kikyou. That she had understood his comment for what it was meant to be rather than growing angry had both surprised and unsettled Kagome, for in that moment she had also realized that she was beginning to understand her previous incarnation. It was as if her attempt to free herself from Kikyou's path by taking control of her own life was backfiring; the harder she pressed herself to succeed in her classes, the more similar she felt to the undead priestess. On a more heartening note, the half-demon had redoubled his efforts to force Kagome to abandon her studies after he noticed the change; it was, however, endearing only up to the point when she was forced to upset the natural formation of the land with several Inuyasha-sized craters. Ignorance and happiness might have been as integrally linked as wisdom and suffering, but when all counts were tallied, Kagome found herself wanting to land on the side of the well-informed rather than the blissfully oblivious.

With a sigh, Kagome slammed her notebook shut and shoved it messily into her backpack. It had been a long day, and her brain hurt from the lecture almost as much as her body ached from her treks through feudal Japan. All she wanted to do was go home and collapse into the comfort of her room, free from the responsibilities of both worlds. A commanding voice stopped her cold, and she felt her fingers curling involuntarily in response. Oh no, she thought to herself with a wince.

"Higurashi," the professor called out. She could feel his glare like a thousand-watt bulb shining on the top of her head, and wondered for a moment if the man could use his glasses to magnify the intensity of his stare and start small forest fires. It certainly felt like she was having a meltdown under his scrutiny. "I wish to speak with you for a moment. Approach the desk," he instructed her.

"Yes sir," she began miserably, standing up and making her way down the auditorium stairs. A few of the exiting students gave her sympathetic glances as she marched down to his lecture table. She felt for all the world like a death row convict walking her last mile. "So, umm… is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" Kagome began nervously.

Professor Michifusa peered at her incredulously from over the rim of his thick glasses. "Of course there is, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered to call you down here," he snorted derisively.

Kagome flushed and shut her mouth quickly, her cheeks burning. Way to go, Kagome, she chided herself. She remained quiet, feeling the heavy weight of Michifusa's gaze, tension building in her shoulders. When he finally spoke again, she let out an almost audible sigh of relief.

"I wish to speak to you about the essay you turned in for the assignment two lessons ago," he said, reaching into his briefcase and drawing out a stack of papers.

Kagome fidgeted nervously as he rifled through the pile, finally finding his goal and pulling out the stapled sheets with a slight frown. She recognized it as her own essay and drew her eyebrows together worriedly. Oh no, don't tell me I bombed the first assignment already! her brain was screaming. "Is there a problem with my essay, sir?" she asked out loud, crossing her fingers. Her rational mind gave her hyperactive panicking instincts a good kick in the pants. It wasn't that bad of an essay. I'm probably just overreacting, she told herself.

"To put it that way would be something of an understatement," Michifusa answered.

Kagome's rational mind seized up in a fit of asphyxiation and died. "W-what?" she managed to stutter out. The irrational part of her mind, having free reign over her thoughts, decided it would be best to let anger take the reins; anger was more productive than panic. What a jerk! she thought to herself. He's almost as rude as Inuyasha. I can't believe he'd be so direct!

Michifusa waved the paper at Kagome, a deep frown etched over his face. "There is more than a slight problem with this essay of yours, Higurashi." Lowering his glasses, he stared at her intently. "You have a quick mind, and an unusual approach to the subject matter presented in this course. In most cases, I would find this to be quite… refreshing," he admitted. "Your thesis, however, is simply unacceptable," he added quickly, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose with a snort.

Kagome blinked in confusion. I think he just complimented me. No, wait a minute… "What's wrong with my thesis?" she asked warily. "You told us to take a standpoint on Nobunaga's destruction of the Ashikaga family and argue about its effects on feudal Japan. I thought I did that…" she began nervously. The more rational part of her mind, however, had a miraculous resurrection and reminded her bluntly of the subject of her paper. It seemed like a good idea at the time, she thought to herself with a sense of impending doom. Professor Michifusa is a lot less intimidating in memory than he is in real life…

The professor peered at her as though he wasn't fooled by her feigned ignorance. With a large sigh he dropped the paper onto his desk disgustedly and crossed his arms. "I'll get straight to the point, Higurashi. It is very unusual for a person of your age to be attending a higher-level lecture such as this one. In fact," he said, pausing and giving her a significant look, "it would be very easy for me to forbid you to attend this class. Technically speaking, you should have fulfilled the basic level history requirements first before being allowed to study a specialized area in-depth."

Kagome's mouth fell open and she felt her hands unconsciously ball into fists at her side. "Y-you wouldn't dare!" she shouted before she could stop herself. Michifusa looked mildly surprised at her outburst, and gathering her courage together Kagome continued tremulously. "Just because you don't like my grandfather very much doesn't mean you have the right to--" She stopped as the professor's eyebrow quirked.

"Ah, so you are indeed a relation to the Higurashi clan, the family that maintains the Sunset Shrine in Tokyo." A small, almost unnoticeable smirk crossed his face. "I had suspected as much."

That small comment and signal infuriated Kagome more than anything the professor had said in all of his previous lectures. Fuming, she stabbed a finger out towards the man, her eyes narrow with fury. "I knew it! You've had it in for me since the beginning of the course, haven't you? That's so unfair! I can't believe—" she cried shrilly. Her tirade was cut short by Michifusa's curt voice, which had lost all semblance of amusement at her tantrum.

"You are gravely mistaken. While it is true that I question the cognitive abilities of your grandfather, I find it somewhat appeasing to know that there is hope yet for sanity in your family." He paused and regarded Kagome thoughtfully. "You also have an incredible opportunity available to you which most students are not fortunate enough to experience," he said enigmatically.

For the second time that day Kagome's mouth snapped shut. Does he know about the Bone Eater's Well? she thought suddenly, regarding Michifusa with shock. "What do you mean?" she probed cautiously, hoping to draw more information out of him.

"Hmm, perhaps I was overhasty in my estimation of your intelligence," he mumbled to himself with a look of disgust. "Are you not aware of the history of the Sunset Shrine? That area was considered sacred ground even before the Sengoku Jidai. You have the rare opportunity to reside in one of the few remaining places in Tokyo untouched by the passage of time." His eyes glazed over, and an almost wistful look crossed Michifusa's features. "You actually experience a piece of feudal history every day," he told her.

More than you know, Kagome almost answered him, though she was relieved that her secret hadn't been discovered. Instead she bowed her head, suddenly ashamed of her previous loss of temper. I haven't been giving Professor Michifusa enough credit. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought he was. Her charitable thoughts ended as abruptly as they had come as Michifusa continued his speech.

"It is precisely for this reason that I find your essay to be unacceptable. You show much promise and talent for a person of your age, Higurashi." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "In fact, I found my review of your academic history to be rather surprising, considering how intelligent you seem to be."

Kagome felt sweat beading on her forehead as he pinned her under yet another round of intense scrutiny. "Umm… I was ill..." she mumbled. Michifusa didn't look particularly convinced. "… a lot," she added in a tiny voice.

"Ah yes. You suffered under periodic rheumatism. Then there was that nasty case of the bends, followed by a serious bout with gonorrea. I can only imagine the pain you must have caused to your poor family," he added wryly. "And yet how very fortunate that this semester finds you in perfect health."

Face flushed with embarrassment, Kagome fumbled for an explanation. "It's…" she tried unsuccessfully. In the face of the professor's cold, analytical logic, nothing could defend her grandfather's flimsy excuses for her poor school attendance. "It's not catching," she said lamely.

"Your illnesses? Of that I have no doubt. Your grandfather's wild suppositions, however…" He pointed at her essay on the table as if to illustrate his point. "I am not as convinced on that matter. From your writing, it would seem that you are in serious danger of picking up his bad habits."

Kagome scowled angrily. "Hey, don't talk about my grandfather like that!" she said to him. "I know he can be a little… well, eccentric, but he's a good person!" Unlike you, she thought viciously.

"You should not allow your archaic religious beliefs to affect your academic studies, Higurashi," he continued obliviously.

"Archaic religious beliefs? Religion has nothing to do with my thesis!" she sputtered. "And what gives you the right to call my grandfather's beliefs archaic anyway? A lot of people still follow the religions traditions of Shinto today!" she yelled.

Michifusa removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking decidedly annoyed at Kagome's outburst. "How else I am to interpret your thesis statement?" he asked her. Settling his thick glasses back into their position on the tip of his aquiline nose, he picked up Kagome's essay and began to read from it. "… documenting several unexplained instances of destruction on a scale completely outside of the scope and funding of Nobunaga's army. Once the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. It is therefore not illogical to conclude that such destruction may have been caused by the actions of demons in feudal Japan. Certainly the existence of supernatural forces such as demons would offer a plausible explanation for many unexplained occurrences and inconsistencies within Nobunaga's recorded conquests." Tossing the paper back onto the table, he peered at Kagome. "My personal beliefs aside, please explain to me, Higurashi, in which way it would not be possible to construe this sort of statement as a religious belief? There is absolutely no evidence of the existence of spirits or demons outside of classical literature. Your thesis statement is attempting to challenge five hundred years of well-established historical fact." His tone of voice and contemptuous stare made it very clear what he thought of her attempt.

Kagome sucked in her breath, her anger growing incandescent. "Wait just a moment there! You're the one who told us that we had to keep an open mind about the interpretation of history! You said that the pursuit of truth was mostly a struggle against established beliefs, and doubly so for the truths buried under the surface of our history books!" She scowled and snatched her essay off of the table, waving it at her teacher angrily like a weapon. "So what if my thesis could be read as a religious belief? Just because YOU don't buy into someone else's theory doesn't mean you can automatically classify it as a simplistic superstition!"

Michifusa quirked an eyebrow at her with a bored expression on his face. It wasn't too surprising; Kagome imagined that his tactless behaviour caused him to deal with angry students on a regular basis. "We are dealing with the study of history, not philosophy, Higurashi. The true study of history is the extrapolation of the truth based on fact, observation and critical thinking." Grabbing the paper away from her, he tossed it onto the floor carelessly. "Trying to argue the possibility of the existence of demons falls under neither fact nor observation, and therefore has nothing to do with this course."

Kagome watched her paper flutter to the ground slowly with a mix of anger and disbelief. What a hypocrite! she thought to herself. I don't care if he tosses me out of this class, I'm not going to let him get away with this insult! With a scowl, she pulled her backpack off of her back and slammed it onto the table. Digging out her notebook, she flipped through it and opened to one of the pages filled with her illegible scrawl. "Attempt to make your thesis original and interesting," she read. "Cover an aspect of the conflict that has yet to be adequately explained." With a snap, she slammed the notebook shut and glared at Michifusa. "I did exactly that! Just because you don't agree with my thesis doesn't give you the right to throw it away and call it irrational! Did you even bother to read the rest of it?" she growled. "I met the requirements you set for the assignment to the letter!"

"The assignment by its very nature is impossible to fulfil," Michifusa answered her smoothly. "Establishing an original thesis on such a well-known and critically analysed historical event is a doctorate-level task. The students of this college are in no way capable of reaching that level of competence now, or perhaps ever. Especially participants like yourself, raw initiates to the study of history," he finished depreciatively.

Kagome's eyes widened with disbelief. "What?" she shrieked, causing the professor to wince from the shrill tone of her voice. "You mean you handed out an assignment with the intention to fail everyone in the class right from the start?" She threw her hands up into the air and sighed noisily in exasperation. "Why are you picking on me then? Just go ahead and fail me with everyone else if you don't like it so much!"

Michifusa's eyebrow ticked slightly and his unflappable countenance began to show a few cracks of annoyance. "The purpose of the exercise was not to induce failure, but rather to encourage critical thinking. The results of the assignment are ultimately secondary to the effort put in to achieving it." He took a step closer to Kagome, his eyes growing dangerously narrow. "Your essay, if you could even call it that, displays not only a prominent desire to fail, but also completely lacks the barest hint of critical thinking!" With each word, he took a step closer to Kagome, his anger growing palpable.

Something was slightly off about the whole situation, and had Kagome not been infuriated at Michifusa, she might have stopped to consider it. Her rational mind, however, was long dead, and worse than that, her pride and her sense of justice had been grievously insulted. Refusing to back down from Michifusa's confrontational behaviour, she crossed her arms and snorted carelessly. "I don't even know why I'm still bothering to talk to you. You're obviously convinced that we students are wrong and stupid, and shouldn't be allowed to express our opinions if they don't agree with yours. And to think, I was actually dumb enough to have some respect for you when this class started!" she said snidely. "My mistake."

"Girl! How dare you take that tone of voice with a superior!" Michifusa fumed, his brow beading over with sweat. "You will show me the proper respect I am due!"

"Respect is earned through action, not status," Kagome said, barely resisting the urge to make a rude gesture at the professor. She met his heated stare with one of her own and planted her hands on her hips.

"Why you—" Michifusa growled.

"Bite me," Kagome answered cheekily. She blinked as a low, feral snarl erupted from his throat, and suddenly the dull haze of anger cleared as if a strong breeze had rushed through the room. She was left feeling chilled to the bone, and suddenly scared. Michifusa towered above her, almost close enough to touch, and for a moment she had a crazy image of him actually accommodating her request. Unable to stop herself, she took an uncertain step backwards, and the professor's rumbling snarl rose in volume.

Michifusa was still wearing his neatly pressed khaki pants, and his tweed jacket was as bland and ugly as it had been before. But she had never really noticed how tall he was until he was towering over her; all of the pocket protectors in the world couldn't hide the power that was thrumming through his frame. The neatly parted black hair he so carefully maintained had slipped out of its stiff coif, curling around his forehead in several disorderly clumps which were dampened and meshed to the skin by sweat. His skin was ashen, flushed pale under his cheeks, and his pupils were dilated with anger, the effect magnified by his thick bottle glasses.

"Oh shit," Kagome whispered to herself, taking another step back. Something is definitely not right here… "Mr. Michifusa?" she squeaked nervously, taking another two steps away from him. To her dismay, he followed her, narrowing the gap between them. Personal space being violated, she thought frantically.

"How dare you resort to such childish and immature tactics in my presence," Michifusa snarled at her, his voice icy. "I will not tolerate your insubordination to my authority. I will not allow you to--"

Kagome tuned out his words, which hummed with the electric undercurrent of a low growl. What is going on? she thought, her eyes darting over Michifusa's tense body. He's totally losing it! Professor Michifusa has never lost his cool before, not ever. This isn't natural! And as she searched for an explanation, it came to her in the faintest of pulls, one that caused a cloying fear to choke her throat even as comprehension dawned.

pulse

"Oh no…" Kagome whispered, her hand flying to her chest. The small glass jar was still there, securely fastened around her neck by a strong leather cord. After her experience early on with the flesh-eating Noh mask, she refused to let it remain anywhere unattended in the modern era, especially at the shrine with her family.

pulse

Her blood pounded in her ears as one answer fell into place. There are no demons in modern Tokyo, at least not until the pull of the jewel's power wakes them.

pulse

Time slowed down, and Michifusa blinked at her. When his eyes opened, his pupils had winked into tiny pinpricks of black, surrounded by a huge iris the colour of frozen amber.

pulse

Yellow eyes… he has yellow eyes… Kagome found herself repeating with shock, feeling slightly numb.

"… Do you understand?" Michifusa hissed, bending down until his nose barely touched hers. The anger radiating off of his body was almost visible, and Kagome held herself very still, though her fear had given way to confusion. She shook her head mutely, and this seemed to anger the professor even more.

"Answer me!" he snarled, his eyes flashing with fury. His yellow eyes.

"… Inuyasha?" she whispered softly, fear making her voice catch in her throat.

Michifusa leapt away from her as though she had burned him, breathing heavily through his nose. He blinked, and Kagome noticed that the frozen amber in his eyes had been replaced with a more familiar shade of pale, muddy brown. Colour flushed back into his cheeks, and he blinked again, as if he was trying to focus. His eyes flickered over her, and she tensed in fear. Quickly, he spun on his heel and faced away from her, attempting to smooth down the unordered clumps of hair on his head. A tense silence rose through the room between them.

Finally, when it was clear that Michifusa was not going to speak first, Kagome took a deep breath. "Umm…" she began nervously. "… Are you going to kick me out of the class now?" she squeaked.

The professor remained motionless, refusing to turn around, and Kagome held her breath.

"… Rewrite your essay, and you will be permitted to stay in the course. You have one week to come up with a new thesis and submit a completed paper. Leave."

Kagome blinked slowly. "What?" she mumbled. What the heck is going on? she thought. This guy is some kind of demon who nearly just killed me, and now he wants me to rewrite a stupid essay denying the existence of demons? "Sir?" she tried again questioningly.

"Leave," he repeated, his voice growing brittle and holding a note of warning.

Kagome's rational mind was resuscitated by her sense of self-preservation, and she paused only long to reach out and snatch her bag off of the table before fleeing up the stairs of the auditorium. The only thing she could think of as she made her way home that evening was his yellow eyes, and the mystery unravelling before her.

- x – x – x -

A short trip home and a good dinner later, Kagome was feeling much calmer, though her confusion had not abated. The question of who, or what exactly Professor Michifusa was weighted heavily on her mind and skirted on the edge of her lips, begging to be shared with someone. But she didn't dare talk of it in the presence of her grandfather; already, there was no love lost between the human Ieyasu Michifusa and her grandfather; she could only imagine what he'd do if he caught wind that his self-proclaimed "arch nemesis" actually had demon blood in him. The o-fudas would fly, she thought to herself with a snort of amusement. Then Grandpa's head would probably fly next, she thought more soberly. No, discussing the situation with her family was not an option.

She considered going down the well to ask her friends for advice. But the memory of golden eyes stopped her. What if it really is Inuyasha? What would happen if he confronted himself? Interacting with the resurrected Kikyou in the feudal era was already disconcerting enough to Kagome; she doubted Inuyasha would be able to handle that sort of metaphysical conundrum with any grace or skill. Not like I've managed to "handle" my own situation very well either, she thought wryly.

That left Kagome alone in her room with the unenviable task of sorting out the problem by herself. Placing the jewel shards on the bed before her, she settled onto her stomach and studied the softly glowing splinters. "Is Michifusa a demon?" she asked them, thinking about her encounters with the professor. It didn't make any sense; Kagome couldn't feel any sort of demonic aura emanating from the man at all.

The jewel fragments winked softly in the light, and Kagome dropped her chin onto her arms with a huff of frustration. "Who am I kidding?" she groaned. "Demon sensing is Miroku's specialty, not mine." It was true; though Kagome had inherited the same spiritual powers and purity as Kikyou had possessed, she had no formal training and only the barest understanding of how to use them. Her specialty, if it could be called that, was sensing the presence of the jewel shards, not the presence of demons that carried them. Her ability to feel the aura of other demons was more akin to a game of hit or miss than skill. Even Sango could sense the evil energy radiated by greater demons much more accurately than Kagome ever could. It had never occurred to her to ask for training to recognize the signs at the beginning of her journey, and towards the end, learning those skills were too painfully similar to emulating Kikyou's troubled life. "I usually only sense trouble right before it tries to kill me," she admitted to the glowing splinters with a foolish grin.

Their soft glow comforted her despite her self-depreciating remarks. "At least no one else can get you guys to turn pink," she said, tapping the side of the jar with a small smile. The smile faded as she tapped the jar again. "Except for Kikyou." Her thoughts sank with the comparison, and she shut her eyes and berated herself for allowing her mind to wander.

"Pity parties won't solve any problems, Kagome!" she said firmly, forcing her eyes open. The jewel splinters greeted her, and grabbing the jar, she clenched her teeth with determination. "I know I'm not THAT bad. If he really was a full demon, I should've sensed something earlier. I have a part of Kikyou's soul after all," she murmured. Her brow creased. "No, wait; she has a part of my soul. Or maybe we have the same soul… ooh!" She groaned and beat her head against the mattress of her bed a few times to clear her thoughts. "None of that matters right now! Focus, Kagome!"

Taking a deep breath, she reviewed her experiences with Michifusa before his outburst. "Definitely nothing out of place before. Why didn't I sense anything? I had the jewel shards with me before, too, and I'm not THAT blind. Besides…" She thought about his lectures.

Michifusa had always been adamant in his denial of the existence of the supernatural. So adamant, in fact, that she was sure his disgust for the subject stemmed from a deep-seated hatred. Would that mean he hated himself? He doesn't seem like the type, though; he doesn't act like he's depressed, he's just plain old mean. In fact I get the feeling the sick bastard enjoys it. She thought about his lectures, and the wistfulness with which he spoke about the feudal era when he mentioned the Sunset Shrine. It was as if he had been jealous of her; typical behaviour for a human history buff, but hardly the attitude she would expect from a demon who had experienced the feudal era first-hand. "He's never acted like he's trying to cover up anything when he talks about demons. He means every word he says, I'm sure of it."

Again, her mind drifted back to Inuyasha, and she thought about how the years might change him. "If he really was only a half-demon, that might explain some things, like the hate… but could it really be him?" She blinked slowly and thought about it. The adult, middle-aged Michifusa looked nothing at all like Inuyasha's human form on the nights of the new moon. Then again, she knew age could greatly change a person's appearance; Kaede hadn't been born looking like a wrinkled pumpkin, after all. Once long ago the elderly priestess had also shared the delicate blush of youth and aristocratic features of her hauntingly beautiful undead sister. "And it makes no sense anyway… if he really was Inuyasha, he should know me."

In this Kagome was absolutely sure of herself. Most days she tried not to delve too deeply into her feelings for the half-demon, and whether or not he actually returned them. Even if he was torn between a love for her and Kikyou, she knew Inuyasha well enough to be certain that he would remain her protector no matter what the future brought them. It was also another way in which she vowed to be Kikyou's opposite; she promised herself that they would remain friends no matter who he ultimately decided to give his heart to. Not that it made the pain of his indecision any easier to tolerate; for that, the enchanted rosary was much better at soothing her nerves.

That meandering thought brought to mind an unpleasant question. What if Inuyasha did finally decide who he loved one day? Michifusa definitely had Inuyasha's eyes; the more she thought about it, the more certain she was of the connection. "Maybe that means he's a descendant of Inuyasha," she murmured thoughtfully. It took a moment for that concept to filter through her thoughts and comfortably settle down. When it did, she shot off of the bed so quickly her head spun.

"Oh my gosh!" she yelled, her hands clapping onto her cheeks. That would mean Inuyasha had a son or a daughter with somebody! But who? What if… what if it was me? The thought that Professor Michifusa could in any way, shape or form be related to the Higurashi family sent a shudder of panic through Kagome. "Let's stop that thought before it goes any further," she said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to rid herself of the feeling that she needed to bathe. Besides, there's no guarantee that Inuyasha would choose me anyway, she told herself reassuringly. He could be Inuyasha and Kikyou's descendant. That thought made her choke. Being taught by the snobbish, insufferable son (or grandson) of her previous incarnation was almost as bad as being actually related to him.

"No, no no!" she said, flopping back onto her bed. "This is all wrong. All demons live for a long time. Even Inuyasha is a couple of hundred years old, isn't he? Why is he only on one side of the well, then? Why wouldn't he be here with his son?" She glanced at the jewel fragments and a chill stole over her. What if he couldn't be here? "Inuyasha wouldn't let someone like Naraku kill him. I know it." Her voice sounded much more confident than she actually felt. "Maybe he is Michifusa. They both can be pretty rude, after all. And there's no mistaking those eyes. That has to be the answer," she said decisively. She squashed her stirrings of doubt ruthlessly, the echoes that whispered that Inuyasha would never have forgotten their adventures voluntarily, that he never would have forgotten her, period. To consider any other possibility would be to admit that Inuyasha could die, and that was something Kagome would never be ready to do.

"Something terrible must have happened," Kagome concluded, closing her eyes and sighing heavily. "Something that changed Inuyasha into what he is now and stole his memory. I've got to find a way to make him remember himself. Nobody deserves to live as a person as horrible as Ieyasu Michifusa," she snorted. Cracking her eyes open, she regarded the small glass jar in her palm. "I'll bet this all has something to do with restoring the jewel," she grumbled.

As if in response, the jewel fragments pulsed lazily in her hand, their soft pastel glow increasing momentarily in time with her heartbeat. They looked so fragile and innocuous, lying in the bottom of the jar and glowing softly in the light. Hardly like the object that had caused such widespread suffering and destruction in the feudal era. Not at all like the curse that had torn apart Kikyou's life and was now in the process of crumbling her own.

They pulsed in her hand once more, and Kagome shut her eyes, suddenly tired of seeing them. "I hate you," she whispered to the jar, squeezing it tightly between her hands.

AN: Kagome's thesis quote is from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, probably more popularly known as "(paraphrased) Sherlock Holmes."