Broken Mold
109
Kagome let out a petite groan as she heaved her way over the rim of the well and hit the soft dirt within the well house. It had been far too long since she had been back. As she anxiously made her way outside, the trees surrounding the Higurashi shrine a dull red and yellow with the colors of autumn, she couldn't help but push herself along a little faster, faster and faster until she was running.
The front door burst open and her disappointment mounted. "Mom?" she called out, but did not expect a response. The house was surprisingly absent of all the familiar presences she had expected. The air was clean, devoid of the thick, distracting odor from the smoke of her grandfather's daily rituals. Her mother, usually multitasking something could neither be heard nor, later, seen within the kitchen, where Kagome had come to expect to find her after long periods in the Sengoku Era, nervously scrubbing dishes whilst awaiting her daughter's return.
"Souta?"
They were out. After two entire months away from her family, they didn't have the time to be there when she returned. But, she quickly checked herself: it was unfair of her to look at it that way. They didn't know she was finally coming back today. Besides, there were at least other things she had been looking forward to.
A few weeks away from modern life can, if a person looks at it in the right light, feel a lot like an extended camping trip. Every necessity can even be accounted for if one carries it along in a large yellow backpack. A sleeping bag, flashlight, mosquito repellant, fresh water, and of course a few chocolate bars can all be brought along to help keep the prepared camper sane. Sane from, say, a chauvinistic pig of a hanyou masquerading as a sensitive, heroic, good-looking feudal age hero.
Or was it the other way around?
But after a few weeks go by, it's hard to maintain that illusion of a quaint, insignificant camping trip. The first misconception that's quickly rectified is that of bottled water: water straight from mountain springs. Because in reality, mountain springs do not taste like bottled water. Bottled water is more accurately ground water, like that which is found within wells around mountain springs. The springs themselves follow the same basic principles of any other natural source of water: bad if it's stagnant, better if it's running, but crap either way.
Soon after that, the less important things start running out. Suddenly, there are no more seasonings. And sadly, even Miroku can't make burnt rabbit meat taste like anything more than what it is: burnt rabbit meat. At least with the taste of home, Kagome could close her eyes and be briefly swept away from the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere and placed back in the middle of modern day Japan at that precise moment just after she'd asked Souta to pass the salt.
But there was one thing that Kagome thought she could count on always packing enough of. There was one thing that she thought she could always count on through Inuyasha and Shippo's bickering, the bug bites, the stale water, the filthy food, the torn clothes, the cold nights. There are always certain things that can provide just enough of a pick-me-up to get a weary traveler through the day. For Kagome, that thing was chocolate. And if that sniveling little runt of a kitsune hadn't stuffed it all down his fat little gullet when she wasn't looking, Kagome might have been able to sanely get through those last 6 weeks.
It was that thought that Kagome Higurashi had running circles in her mind when she strolled into the kitchen pantry. Now admittedly, there are certain things a girl subconsciously wants to avoid when attempting to maintain her trim figure. And admittedly, many such avoidances concern chocolate. Kagome knew this, but she was a bright a girl. A fight with Inuyasha would never lead to rummaging through her massive backpack for as much candy as she could find to stuff her face with. No, it had always just meant she just take a few bites of something sweet and then try to calm down. It had never meant sitting alone gorging herself with whatever might serve as a temporary substitute for a relationship.
Never, so long as she could remember, has it meant, "Kami, I've missed you," and jamming as much of it as she could unwrap into her chocolate-smeared mouth. Doing something of that nature wouldn't be proper of a future Shinto priestess or Dr. Higurashi, Ph.D. Binging on chocolate is something that's expected of unhappy fat girls who have no way of expressing their pent-up emotions and dealing with the monumental social repercussions of living in fast-paced modern society.
Lately however, Kagome had been feeling a lot like an unhappy fat girl.
Everywhere she looked she saw more, too. When she was away, her mother always liked to splurge on things that reminded her of her daughter. Apparently, Miss Higurashi knew of her daughter's secret love for the treat. Shelves were lined with entire industrial-size packages of empty calorie laden snacks. Kagome greeted it all eagerly, savoring each bite as if it were her last and taking bite after bite as if there were no more bites after. She didn't care that sometimes her input exceeded her output; that sometimes she took in another delight before she swallowed the last. Each newly found flavor combination was welcomed as it assaulted her palette with something else even more magnificent.
This was not the way Inuyasha's lover should be acting, she told herself. Kagome Higurashi was a respectable, strong-minded, beautiful girl who would never just suddenly give and let herself go, Kagome thought through another bite of a DEAN Bar.
However, to her horror, the image of that confident, beautiful girl that had always remained omnipresent in her mind was changing. She saw in her mind's eye that which she had always aspired to be. She was the good student. She was the powerful athlete. She was the loyal friend. She was the attractive girlfriend. Or would be, anyway.
With every single ounce of sensuous chocolate she slid into her mouth, that girl changed, conforming to every vicious stereotype Kagome thought of and suddenly allowed. She became content; placated, lazy. Her values of her friends suddenly took a backseat to the value of her food. Her goals and aspirations fell subject to
Then she also saw no more scales. No more diets. No more counted calories and long-term goals. She couldn't explain it, nor did she want to, but the sudden of promise of just forgetting all the societal pressures made Kagome giddy. She forgot all her self-conscious glances at magazines. She forgot her gnawing envy of the girl one dress-size smaller than her. She thought dizzily of no more salad, no more celery, no more rabbit food. It felt good.
But then, above all, the Miko saw her hips. She saw sleek, slender, shapely hips and thighs. She saw her flat stomach, her thin waist, perk breasts, defined arms, and tight ass. She saw all the fruits of countless hours of hiking, of track meets, of gym class. She saw the result of watching her weight, of counting her calories, of denying herself excess. And she saw it all being thrown away. It, too, felt good? Toned legs gave way to thick, jiggly thighs. Slender hips broadened, straining against the seams of some pretend pair of jeans, roly-poly tummy bulging over them. Looking down at the candy bar in her hand, she could imagine, even feel, the fat bulge of an unkempt double chin. Yet it was almost as if none of that mattered. She'd just shrug it off and unwrap another. She felt free, in some unexplainable way. She thought of binging, of getting fat, and told herself it would just be tonight. She'd diet tomorrow; she'd break even. Today, she'd let go, forgetting more and more burdens as they hid themselves away within her taut stomach. It felt good to let go. It felt unbelievably, obscenely and offensively good.
It was there, on the ceramic tile flooring of the pantry, stomach clutched and painfully distended against her blouse, that Ms. Higurashi found her. Still nibbling on a chocolate bar, her mother swore the 16-year old girl had more of the melted chocolate smeared across her lips and cheeks than in her mouth.
The light of the pantry had never been flicked on.
Kagome Higurashi has experienced the bitter realities of life without food, without comforts, and without Inuyasha. Finally, something had snapped. And she was determined not to let him or it get to her again.