Broken Mold
171
Kagome never did understand how the grass around the well always stayed so short. It was feudal Japan; it's not like the villagers came out once a week and mowed it for a quarter. So why, then, did it only come up a couple inches instead of brush against her knees?
"I've already made my decision, Inuyasha."
She waited.
She blinked.
"I said I've already made my decision!"
The hanyou's gaze was apathetic. Lately, what she had thought to be nonexistent relationship had in fact crumbled away. This was a nonexistent one. "So?"
Kagome fidgeted. "Well, aren't you going to try to stop me?"
"I'd like my clothes back later, if that's what you mean."
She hated herself for being unable to look him in the eye. "I-I know. I'll have new clothes when I get back. I'll wash it, too, before I bring it back." There was a short pause. "Or, you could come pick it up later."
He shrugged. "I can wait."
Kagome Higurashi wanted desperately to tell Inuyasha he could go shove his haori so far up his ass only Miroku and an excavation team could find it. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care if he wanted to put on this callous act. It wouldn't affect her. But, what she wanted most of all, was to believe that it was still just a front.
Kagome's face had run the gambit from angry to indignant to pleading to frustrated. It had stopped there. Full lips grasps at half-formed words as she tried to force him to make her stay. Nothing came out. She stood there, facing away from him, staring at the several planks of wood that suddenly looked so scary. Her thick arms were limp at her sides. She couldn't come up with anything. She felt her tail between her legs.
"So I'll get to that then."
Inuyasha waited patiently.
Who was he to resent her? So she got fat, big deal! Was that grounds to shun her? What, he didn't like her undefined gut, so now he's going to go pout in the corner?
Kagome Higurashi smiled: frustration to avengement. Who was he to resent her? Was her tummy too soft? Did she eat too much? It suddenly dawned on her that he ate more. He'd been eating a lot more. Behind her wasn't Inuyasha the Demon. Behind her was Inuyasha the Denier. He wasn't the chiseled-out-of-stone Superman anymore. After that shrine, he'd traded it in for the molded-out-of-jelly life of a couch potato.
Behind her wasn't a super-jock staring scornfully at the jellyrolls that were her body. It was every fattie at Weight Watchers who "didn't have a problem." His strong chest jiggled. His solid abs bulged and hung over his waistband. His double chin echoed the frown on his face.
If she were to go away, he'd be in her time begging for candy before the end of the day. If she were gone a month, she'd probably come back to a crush that was fatter than she was. This was the knowledge brought her comfort as she let herself fall down the well.
The hard dirt of the well had hurt more than she remembered. Falling objects, Kagome mused, fell at the same speed, but not the same momentum. She couldn't stop herself from blushing when she had to struggle to climb the ladder out.
As she walked out of the well house and into her home, all she could think about was how badly she didn't want to go to school. When she realized this, she had to repress the urge to slap herself. What Kagome had failed to notice was her mother, standing at the window, anxiously scrubbing away at what looked to be clean dishes.
"Kagome?"
She had stridden right past the kitchen, missing the initial shock on Ms. Higurashi's face. It was good that she had. She would have burst out laughing at the sight.
Now she was blushing. Her mother looked horrified and dumbfounded at the same time. Though it was surprising Kagome could tell; she never managed to bring herself to look above the woman's perfectly slender neck and chin. It suddenly hurt to look her in the eye.
For the last few months, things had progressed in a fairly linear fashion for a group of five teenagers traveling along in feudal Japan combating demons. To her, the change from the cycle of walk-eat-walk-fight-eat-sleep to the cycle of eat-walk-eat-eat-fight-eat-sleep-repeat-with-snacking had been gradual and therefore relatively acceptable. Her increased lethargy coupled with her increased gluttony had resulted in exactly what she and her friends and anyone else would have expected it to result in: her increased waistline.
However, Ms. Higurashi had not been present for the three months when her only daughter had managed to balloon herself out of Abercrombie & Fitch and straight into the Lane Bryant catalog. She hadn't been there when Kagome unwittingly discovered let-out seams or when she found her seemingly uncapped appetite. No, all Mrs. Higurashi had been present for was the honor of paying for her daughter's first forays into midnight binging, her first chocolate-overdoses and saturated tummy-aches; her first vehement attempts at relieving the pressures of her relationships by straining the pressures of her waistband.
Was this the reward she got for all her time spent with her nose diverged in parenting books? To see, when she stood back and let her flower grow by its own sunlight, that what she created in doing so was not a flower, but a bloated cactus, greedily gorging itself on the very sunlight she allowed? This wasn't what she wanted! She wanted a rose, not some thick-stemmed abomination, wilting under its own gelatinous weight!
"I'm so glad you're home," her voice squeaked. "We've all been worried sick about you. Your grandfather can only make so many excuses without you ever being present…"
Kagome nodded anxiously, rushing forward with only a warning of "I've missed you so much!" before she enveloped the older woman in a soggy hug.
She knew, from every parenting book she had ever read, that she should be happy to receive such an open gesture of affection from her daughter at this age. And she was happy. But she couldn't stop herself revolting at the feeling of her daughter's suddenly roly-poly stomach against her, or of her pendulous breasts which, embarrassingly even to her, were crushed in on themselves when Kagome failed to account for her new assets in the bear hug. How could she be expected to be wholly appreciative of her daughter's return when, in bittersweet addition, it and she came attached with forty extra pounds that also begged her immediate attention?
Her arms, encircling Kagome's torso, sank into the malleable flesh of her sides that not too long ago had consisted only of the lean abs of a local track star, of the sides that had been the understated curves of an understated fitness regimen. Now, she found the obtuse bulges of love handles squirming against her arms and the soft pliancy of back fat beneath her palms.
The softness of the new flesh had been compounded by the softness of a foreign fabric. And, when the realization hit her that her tubby girl was clad not in her clothes, but Inuyasha's, it made all the puzzle pieces fall into place. Ms. Higurashi slid out of the hug.
Kagome was ignorant of the silent connections. "I wanted to come back sooner, I really did," she chirped apologetically. It was so sincere she almost believed it. "But there was just so much that needed to get done! I came to visit as… soon as…"
"Oh, honestly, Kagome!"
"What?"
"If you're pregnant, just say so! The living conditions in that Dark Ages hell hole are hardly such that I'd want to subject my granddaughter to!"
"Nani!"
The look in her mother's eyes remained offensively compassionate. "Look, you know that I wasn't too old myself when your father," she paused briefly, contemptuously, at the subject, "and I had you. Don't you think that I'd recognize all the warning signs? The depression? The moodiness? The evasiveness? You expect me to believe that you couldn't come and see your family for three months?" She paused again, contemplating taking the final plunge in accusations.
She did. Happily. "The weight gain?" Her fingers assembled in firing-squad lineup to point, in disgusting disdain, at the prominent outline of her daughter's belly against the white haori. "Really, Kagome. I should have known something was wrong the instant you couldn't stuff that plump butt of yours into those jeans. You were practically – no, literally – overflowing them! …You knew that, didn't you? You, the best track runner Tokyo High School has seen in a decade!" Her mother spat the words in direct defiance of that which she fought to explain. How else, after all, could it have happened? She was such a promising athlete. No one in his or her right mind would have consciously thrown it all away! And for what?
Kagome suddenly felt all too conscious of the way her saddlebag thighs rubbed together. What had happened to those long, seductive legs of the athlete, she wondered, able to feel the slight sagging of her entire body, under no force save her obesity's own gravitational pull.
She felt an incredulous sense of anger rushing to her cheeks. Her mom saw embarrassment. "I'm not pregnant! I'm still a virgin!" she shrieked, rushing past the woman, upstairs, to rummage through her dresser for something acceptable at school.
Inuyasha didn't feel like going back to the village. Instead, he found himself walking west, prepared to work off some steam.
"See if I care," he grumbled aloud to any woodland creature that would dare to disagree. There were none.
There were none. He couldn't remember how long he had been walking, but he was sure that this was not the forest he had entered from the clearing around the well. It had never been so quiet and lifeless.
Several possible conclusions reached him. None worried him too much.
"Inuyasha."
A chill ran up his spine at the sound of the voice. The stench of death permeated the air, coming from every direction but hers. He didn't allow himself to think about what deception this illusion tried to achieve. He moved closer, dried foliage and dead branches crunching beneath his feet.
"Kikyo."
It took him a moment to realize just what he saw standing before him. He had repeated himself at some point after he saw her, but found the tone of the statement to be questioning. Kikyo did not smile.
"It's been awhile," he said involuntarily. "I've… I've missed you."
The only trace of a smile came when, bitterly, she said, "There has been a lot of me to miss."
He cringed. She had said it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly that he knew she didn't care. At least not in the way she should. Whatever he'd say would have no relevance to the fact. Still, he struggled for the right words.
"You've gotten fat."
Inuyasha blinked. It took him a moment to register what she had said. Then, submissively, he agreed: "Yeah, I guess that's what I was thinking." He smiled. "You always could read me."
When Kikyo laughed, it was hollow, devoid of the sense of pleasure the action was supposed to relay, regardless of from where it was derived. She simply went through the expected motions, feigning a soul that wasn't there. "No, you've gotten fat," she emphasized. Inuyasha was red.
"I have not!"
She looked at him curiously then quickly dropped the subject. "Okay, you haven't."
Inuyasha was reluctant to take in her profile. She had, to his dismay, actually ballooned as much as Kagome – if not more. Her Shinto robes, once fitted loosely to the woman's figure, were tight and disheveled at best. They struggled to cover her expanded midsection. Inuyasha, unable to look away, saw that the white blouse was no longer cut off at the waist by a sash: it hung from her shoulders and drooped against her potbelly, Kagome's potbelly. There was no extra fabric to restrain.
When the miko spoke, a large double chin rumbled, mocking the dry seriousness of her tone. "I believe this is your fault, or the girl's. Where is my reincarnation?"
He watched her make the demands. Her hands hung at her sides, clutching a bow. She displayed no more emotion in the movements of her body as she did in the limpness of her voice. When he thought of this, one unifying adjective came to mind.
Flabby rolls swelled under Kikyo's robes: under her chest, under her arms, along her hips. Flabby demands came from her lips; demanding that he bring Kagome to her, sacrifice to her, for no better reason than she deserved it. He owed it to her. She didn't seem to expect to have to enforce them. When he looked at her, looking at him, he knew that she expected him to obey her out of the love that they once shared.
"Whatever is happening to me is happening because my counterpart has deviated from her soul's forsworn path. If she thinks she can get away with it, I will show her that she is sorely mistaken."
"It's her life, not yours. Yours has ended," Inuyasha growled.
"That may be true," she conceded, "But if I continue to grow, I will be unable to fulfill my promise to you."
"Which one is that?"
"To bring you back to hell with me. Do you see me being able to string a bow around this bulk?"
As if on cue, the miko's stomach surged forward a little more, revealing its pale flesh among the folds of her garments. "Oh," she said absently. "I seem to be eating."
Kagome shoved the latter half of a jelly donut into her mouth, chewing loudly. Her mouth opened slightly between every bite in candid spite. A small droplet of purple goop landed atop a cotton-covered breast. Her mother turned to stare out the window again.
What Kagome had found to fit her were her mom's worn-in maternity jeans and sweater. They, like the rest of the retro collection, dated back to the period of her mother's life where, with Souta, she'd lost that perfect figure for which she harbored such obscenely proud feelings for and expected Kagome to share. Unlike her first pregnancy where she had craved salad and rabbit food, Ms. Higurashi's second lobbied for a cuisine of a much more sensual nature.
By the second trimester, the trim housewife had been an unprecedented thirty pounds over her expected pregnancy weight. The bloated curves that resulted were eerily similar to Kagome's. Not that she cared; she was too busy celebrating the school's policy for allowing casual outfits in "emergencies." Though she'd probably be expected to change when assigned a new uniform.
Kagome left without a goodbye. She walked to school alone, silently dreading the reaction of her peers.
There are seven rules to which all living organisms must adhere to be, in fact, living. Of the first is a structure of cells; anything from an ant to an elephant has it. Second is the ability to reproduce. Then, a metabolism: the sum of chemical reactions within an entity. Following down the line are the laws of homeostasis, heredity, evolution, and interdependence.
To be human is to have sentient thought. It is to possess the faculties of logic, of judgment, of reason, and of choice. It is to live a life unfettered by the chains of instinct, of tradition, of the past. It entails all the abstractions that science can do without. It defines a person, not an organism.
Kikyo managed to retain all of the former and none of the latter. By definition, Kikyo was alive. She was a living, breathing, moving Thing. However, a human being cannot live its life without advancement, without progress, without achievement. Kikyo could. Her advancement had stopped when Naraku's claws had found her flesh. Her progress had stopped when she was laid to rest. The only achievements had been achieved as priestess living her life and defending the Shikon no Tama.
What stood before him was a dirty sacrilege to that life. Her only aspirations were that of her deathbed on the outskirts of the Jewel's shrine: vengeance. What had once been a noble priestess, devout in the preservation of life, was now a profane beast devoted only in its quest for sustenance, and the destruction that sustenance demanded.
Vaguely, Inuyasha was finally able to make the connection he should have been able to make on that first meeting in the crags. This was not Kikyo. This was not even her memory. Kikyo had been beautiful. But now, in her eyes, he could see that which its face had always attempted to hide: its true nature. The golem of mud and bone was not an avatar to Kikyo's brilliance; it was a festering tribute to her final, misguided transgressions.
Inuyasha had always made it an unspoken policy not to draw his conclusions of Kikyo until he knew he had all the facts. Now, he had them. This was Kikyo.
Kikyo's mind had once been sharp in the efforts of its goals. Kikyo's mind had been stunted by the numbing hurt of his apparent betrayal. The golem had been constructed from that.
Kikyo's emotions had once been so strong as to find love in the face of a bastard half-demon, and sought to right what had been done wrong by nature. Her emotions had been withered by the contradiction of her would-be mate as her murder, her faith stamped out. They had been tunneled into the sole act of reactionary anger; the need for revenge; for justice. The golem had been constructed from that.
And when, unexpectedly, the spirit had been discovered to be in use, the golem had stolen just fragment: an unused remnant of a past life. An unnecessary piece of a whole had been used as host for the priestess. From a frozen mind, a shared soul, and the husk of a body, the golem had been constructed.
Inuyasha no longer looked at that which had been Kikyo in confusion. Now he looked at it in understanding, and in pity. He did not know why she was still allowed the divine right to use the sacred arrow. She did not deserve it.
"Your right to me ended when you died," he announced coldly, his eyes steel. "If you try to rectify whatever has happened to you by endangering Kagome, I will kill you without remorse."
Kikyo looked at him with passive comprehension. "Alright."
He didn't know what made him do it, but from his pocket he extracted an Oni Bar and handed it to her as he began back towards the well. She took it graciously, and he knew then she'd devour it as eagerly as all the others had.
"Is that Kagome?"
Eri nodded. "I saw her before school. Oink, oink."
Yuma nodded, stifling a giggle. She struggled to act respectful while the group dressed out. "You're one to talk," she said. It had been less to defend a friend and more to antagonize another.
"Oh, shut up," Eri cried, "I'm just going through a growth spurt!"
"Those make you taller, not wider. Honestly, Eri, I don't understand how anyone could let themselves go right after they snag a guy."
Eri blushed, tugging on the school's skimpy PE uniform. The shorts looked more like a red bikini bottom than something assigned by a public school. But more importantly, it did absolutely nothing to hide the extra fifteen pounds the poor girl had accumulated around her hips. "It's not my fault!" she gushed. "Sato knows all the best restaurants. I'm lucky I'm not her size," she groaned, gesturing to the PE office Kagome had entered.
"Yeah, right. Your boyfriend made you fat," Yuma said. "I totally believe you."
"It's true!"
Yuma sighed and turned to the girl. Both now ready for PE, she took a moment in the locker room to prove her point: she poked Eri's slack tummy. "If a guy scores a girl with a firm stomach and tight ass like you, I don't think he's going to willingly throw it away. It's your fault for not ordering salad."
"B-but he hates it when I do that!"
"Sure he does." She rolled her eyes. "Listen, you know how strict Ms. Yama is about fitness. If you pack on any more, she'll kick you off track for sure and there goes your easy A."
"I don't think I'm that fat," Eri grumbled.
Inside, Kagome Higurashi stood in what could almost be considered a sports den. Football, baseball, and basketball memorabilia littered the walls and tables. Several gym teachers sat at chairs arbitrarily placed around the room, focusing either on paperwork or the college stats on the television. Miss Yama saw her first.
"Kagome?"
So, this was general PE. Kagome didn't know whether she should be happy, proud or embarrassed. She was, after all, no longer required to be able to run miles at a time. Not to mention that she and her friends could have ran circles around any butterball here. However, she was now one of them. Embarrassment took precedence.
The entire class didn't want to be here. Sure, Kagome knew that this was the expected reaction to PE, but she'd never actually been in a class that displayed it. She'd never actually felt it herself, either. But with each heavy step she took, she wanted less and less to be there.
"Kagome? Is that you?"
She had been dreading this encounter since she got back from the well. "Oh, hi, Hojo."
Subconsciously, the look that she received had been expected. She felt herself wanting to curl up into a ball and disappear. He had quickly acknowledged her weight with a cursory glance at her figure, then quickly returning to lock eyes with her. She didn't know why she suddenly felt so horrible.
"You look healthy," he said optimistically, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the crowd. The teacher would be several minutes late anyway. "Now I know what you've been doing for three months." His tone had shifted into what might have been resentment.
"Hojo, I've been sic-"
"I know what you've been. You also haven't been at your house, either."
"I was probably at hospital."
He nodded. She had an excuse for everything. "You know I care for you, right? I wouldn't want anything to happen to you?"
That radiant smile of hers appeared. It was dwarfed by her pudgy face. "Yeah, Hojo, I know."
"I always bring you stuff to help you feel better, and I'm always devoting my time to you." He was looking at her seriously now.
"And I appreciate it! It's just…" His hand covered her mouth in mock-drama.
"It's time that I start thinking about myself, Kagome. I can't just waste my time on someone who clearly doesn't return my feelings. There are only so many brownie points for dating a girl like you."
Kagome frowned. "What's a 'girl like me'?" she mumbled against his hand.
"Well, it's just that you're sick all the time. I can't really enjoy having you as a girlfriend, if that's what you'd even call this after one date. All I get from this relationship are the girls gushing 'He's so loyal' and 'Ooh, he's so caring.' After today, when word gets around about how fat you've gotten, I won't even have that. I'll just be some pathetic loser who has to hold onto you because I can't catch anything better."
Kagome was staring at him, the embarrassment returning full-force. "Is that how you really feel?"
"Yes."
"Then go ahead," she said, a look of exasperated resignation appearing. "Dump me. It makes my life easier."
"I know how hard this must… Wait, what?"
She thought for a second, and then said, "It's fine. I think it'll be good for both of us."
He was shocked into silence.
With that, a whistle blew and she walked off to her class, and he to his.
"This is Kagome Higurashi. She's been transferred to this class temporarily," the dead voice of Mr. Ikuto droned. He pointed her in the direction of her place in the lineup.
A few of the girls had giggled at the announcement of her name. Glancing around at the class, she didn't see why. They were here for the same reason she was. Most of them could use a little more exercise, Kagome mused, looking at the large array of soft stomachs and thick thighs.
She didn't have time to think on the subject further. Mr. Ikuto had barked an order for arm stretches while he took role. The class obeyed, sort of. Kagome and a few others took to warming up; the rest stood around staring listlessly at the instructor. Across the courtyard, she could see the guys' class actually participating. The girls were just waiting for their chance to socialize.
When the class was ordered to stretch their legs, Kagome watched as only a handful applied themselves to trying to touch their toes. None of them were quite flexible enough to reach their goal. Somehow, Kagome had conveniently forgotten about her own lack of flexibility. That, or she refused to admit it.
When she bent down, prepared to excel at one of the few things she thought she was still good at, several things happened. The first was a not entirely new sensation, which could only be described as the bunching of belly rolls. It occurred to her that this alone would make her toes an almost impossible task. Second the ever-changing center of balance from her enlarged chest. Third: the pallid plumber's crack that emerged, much to the chagrin of the girl behind her.
When Kagome's hands failed to descend past her knees, able to only touch ballooned thigh, the image it created could have been considered comical. Once listening to the rumors to be spread in later periods, one couldn't help but laugh. Kagome was not laughing.
Her slow descent to her ankles would have continued painstakingly, had not the instructor moved on to leg presses. She managed to fail equally badly at each of the following stretches.
When it came time, she had imagined crunches to go a little more smoothly. Sure, she knew she couldn't do them, what with her abs being made out of jelly and all. The last time she remembered exercising those muscles was when she leaned over a table to grab the butter. Even that hadn't gone well.
However, most of the other girls didn't look too toned in that area either. They wouldn't possibly hold it against her if she did a few less? They managed ten of the required twenty-five. She might have done three. They later held it against her.
Mondays and Fridays are jogging days in Mr. Ikuto's rigorous PE course. He had made this abundantly clear first semester. If he had made it clear to Kagome, she would have made sure to stay in the feudal era an extra day or so, or she might have just lost her alarm clock until around second period.
After the class had walked to the track, he rattled off instructions that everyone supposedly knew: "You have six minutes to complete two laps. You'll be graded on past times. If you walk, you'll run it again."
Kagome did what she had been conditioned to do. She ran, yet heavy footfall did nothing but cause her to fall farther behind the rest of the class. Flabby thighs shuddered with each jarring step. Beneath the snug PE sweater, her gut bounced with the rhythm of her gait. She couldn't suck it in. Worse yet, the locker room wasn't somewhere a girl changed into a sports bra.
For the first time in her life, Kagome knew what it felt like to come in last. By the time she'd rounded the second lap, the thin uniform was practically dripping with sweat. Beet-red and gasping for breath, she didn't make the six-minute mark.
"Run it again," Mr. Ikuto said. "There's still plenty of time left."
"But…" was the only rebuttal the girl could rasp. As she stumbled past the bleachers for her second run, a thin girl puffed up her cheeks to the amusement of a group.
There had been a time when Kagome wouldn't have minded being the only one still left on the track. It had been the same time when her antiperspirant still worked and she was still on the track team. Her bare thighs looked a lot better back then, too.
What had happened? She had run miles in less than six minutes. Now she couldn't make two laps. The fatties in a general PE class laughed at her.
She wanted desperately to be able to run again. Hell, she'd settle for being able to suck in her tummy again and touch her toes, but even that wasn't happening. The closest she imagined herself getting to a size 2 was being behind one in a lunch line.
When the bell rang, Kagome was the first to the locker room. She was the first to leave. She didn't show up to second period.
She didn't hate the girls in the locker room for bolstering their own egos. She didn't hate the teacher for enforcing the rules. The only thing she could find to hate was her self for what she'd done.
When she reached the well house, it occurred to her how it might be interpreted if she returned mere hours after she left. Certain needs, however, outweigh others.
Inuyasha felt sick, down to the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes and kept walking, getting away. He realized once he allowed himself to contemplate the emotion that he missed Kagome.
In his mind's eye, he saw Kikyo, and he saw Kagome. But now his vision was unobstructed. Kikyo was dead. The shell and the careless freak that had replaced her wasn't even a substitute. He wasn't afraid to admit that yes, he'd loved her once. But she was gone and he was no longer confused about what had replaced her in the world.
Kagome had cared. She hadn't stood there in placid indifference and let nature take its course. Her ebbing self-respect was better than wanting none at all. He wanted to tell Kagome that it didn't matter.
He was at the well. Kagome sat atop the rim. The old plywood bent beneath the force of her chubby body. She looked just as bad as Kikyo sitting there in bulging jeans, exhausted from what little physical exertion she had tried to do.
But that was exactly why he preferred her. Wanted her.
She still attempted the physical exertion. She still wanted the cute clothes, even if she couldn't find them. She still took pride in her hair, in her makeup; in the way she carried herself.
That was what Inuyasha wanted. He wanted the girl who still had emotion, the girl who wasn't afraid to show it, no matter what people thought. Kikyo hadn't shown emotion. She didn't have it to show. She didn't want it. All he had seen in her face had been cold, calculating apathy.
She hadn't noticed him. Why she had come back here, from her time, and not do anything but cry was beyond his grasp.
Kagome's stomach jutted out onto her lap. Its untidy bulk had started doing that lately. Her tight clothes had sunken and risen from the pressure of her body. Soft, pale love handles bulged out from under her shirt. They were accompanied by the tip of the shapeless belly that oozed onto her lap. It was disgusting, he thought, until he saw her struggle to force the shirt back down and to tug up the seat of her too-small pants over her too-wide ass. What he found repulsive wasn't her size; it was the fact that she'd wrought it on herself. Suddenly, he wasn't disgusted any longer. It was a pity.
He wasn't sure when she had noticed him. He was but a few steps away, when she let out a final sniffle, wiped her nose on her arm, and forced her self to stop crying. She waited expectantly, eyes fixed on the ground.
He felt it coming before he said it. "You're a cow," he grumbled. Self-defense mechanisms were falling into place. He thought of his conversations with Miroku. "How anyone could just let themselves go like you have is beyond me!"
Kagome Higurashi used to be in great shape. She used to have firm, toned legs and a great ass. She used to be first string in track. She used to be able to walk – swinging her hips innocently – and Hojo and all his friends' eyes would follow her obediently. She used to slide effortlessly into her school uniform. She used to run, not because some angry PE teacher threatened her to, but because she enjoyed it. She had liked – no, enjoyed- her body.
It had taken her this long to start missing it. She didn't run first-string track anymore. She panted, fat and sweaty, along in a general PE class. She didn't slide into a revealing uniform. She blushed, even at thought, even if she could find one that fit her. No, she fought her way into a pair of her mom's old maternity pants. And she didn't walk, assured, confident, along and draw a string of heads turning to follow her. That is, she probably did, but they would be accompanied by repressed laughter.
She knew that if she were to run away from him now to go find Sango, she wouldn't leave behind the fleeting image of a sad little girl. He'd just remember the fat cow that stopped for a breather before her fat ass reached the tree line.
When she turned to look at him, however, his words didn't seem to match his face. She had expected the usual combination of detachment, pouting and loathing. Admittedly, that hadn't really fit him lately; his own double chin destroying the effect he tried to achieve. But instead of all that, she found him looking at her sincerely; looking at her like he understood.
"Inuyasha…?"
It became instantly apparent from the look in her eyes that he'd done something wrong. His defense, which he'd come to rely heavily on the past months, was crumbling under his sole need to tell her the truth. He imagined that he looked shocked. But if it had been displayed in his face, Kagome hadn't acknowledged registering it. She looked up at him, from her seat at the well, as if she hadn't heard the insults, as if he himself had said something different.
He looked away. His feet shuffled against the uncut grass.
"I don't know why you do it to yourself," he muttered grudgingly. He elaborated, "You pig out, gain weight, and then act all sad that you've gotten fat! You did it to yourself! What right do you have to mope around over something that's your own fault? You knew what was coming before you even started!"
It was Kagome's turn to look away. "I know."
"People have to be responsible for their own actions, Kagome."
"I know."
There was a beat of silence as he studied her face.
"I used to think that I was just being superficial," he said finally, "and that I was disgusted because of your weight." HE closed his eyes, shaking his head. "But I wasn't. That was just the end result. What I hated was that you willingly did it. I hated that you didn't care enough about yourself to do otherwise to stop it. That you'd eat, in front of everyone, ignoring- or ignorant- that it went against everything you wanted to achieve.
"I know you, Kagome. And I think I know why you're doing it. You ate to relieve stress. With all your responsibilities, your studies have been slowly going out the window. But more than that, when I told you I'd chosen Kikyo, you'd lost hope in a relationship. You ate because you'd given up.
"But what have you got left, if you're failing out of school? If you're all alone? All you have in this era is your physical ability to establish your independence. And what do you do? You throw away your last lifeline and come, in every way, to depend on us. To slow us down, even! I never imagined you as a dependant, Kagome. But that's what you've let yourself become.
"What I found disgusting was that you let yourself do it. Kagome, it's okay if you need to lean on me a little. I'm strong enough for both of us. But I don't want you to get to the point where you need to depend on me, like Kikyo had wanted me to come to depend on her. I want you to be able to stand by yourself, even if you can't do it all the time.
"I didn't find it disgusting that you were fat," he announced, "But what you were doing to yourself in the process, I did."
She wasn't looking away from him any longer. She was staring into uncharacteristically caring eyes. He really did understand. She pushed herself up, and Inuyasha found himself in her soft embrace.
When she let go, he coughed, roughly, "Don't think this changes anything," trying to sound gruff. "And I'm hungry."
From her backpack, Kagome pulled a DEAN Bar and handed it to him.
As they walked towards the village, Inuyasha snapped the treat in half and extended the larger piece to her. She smiled, pushing it away.
"No thanks," she said lightly. "I'm on a diet."
He ignored, for once, her jiggling backside as she drifted a couple paces ahead. Instead, he let himself focus on his chocolate.