"Kagome! Wake up!" Small hands pounded away on her back, quickly bringing her back to life from sleep. She didn't want to get up.

"Sshhh, Rin," Kagome whined, pressing her face into the pillow as she tried to adjust her position on the cot with Rin sitting at the edge. She gave her real bed to Sota when he started high school, while her sister shared with her. "Let me sleep a little longer."

"Aw, but it's a surprise!" Rin said everything was a surprise.

"Please," she implored. "I'm tired."

Swift footsteps approached before the door to the room was swung open. "Can't wake her up, Rin?"

Sota's voice was deeper, and it was unnerving. Her brother is getting older in front of her face. She wishes for the cracking noise she used to hear when he spoke.

"Kagome!" His voice was excited. "You gotta wake up, it's a surprise."

"Not you, too!"

"Seriously. This is real."

Reluctantly, she rolled out of bed and followed her siblings. She left the bed messy so she can settle back in later.

They walked into the warmth of her kitchen, sunlight brightening the entire room. Although they had little, her mother never failed to make it feel like home. Sota walked ahead of her and opened up their icebox, revealing a basket of fruits.

"Oh my goodness!" Much more awake now, Kagome ran over and looked at the glossy delicacies. There was a red apple that looked so crisp that Kagome's mouth watered at the thought of sinking her teeth into it.

"Gramps got these from a family he helped out last week. He just gave some away to people in the neighborhood, so these are all ours." His tone was filled with wonder and laced with the same amount of anticipation that Kagome felt. She ached to eat that apple.

"I told you it was a surprise, Kagome!" Rin reached between them and grabbed herself a pear. Sota chuckled and swiped an orange from the pile.

She reached her hand down into the box, letting the cool air soothe her fingers. She grasped the smooth apple and ran her thumb across its vibrant crimson skin, taking pleasure in its simplicity. Its reassuring, real weight felt like gold in her hands.

As soon as she brought it to her lips, she bared her teeth and bit.

And then her eyes opened.


Kagome woke up with a start, bleary eyes staring at the dark ceiling of her room inside the train. Her hands gripped the blanket fiercely as she got used to breathing again, trying to readjust to the reality before her.

The dream felt so tangible. She can still feel the foamy texture of the apple in her mouth, the juice on her tongue.

She closed her eyes with a sigh of relief, letting the tension leave her body before dropping back onto the luxurious bed she'd been sleeping on for the past week and a half. She's finally gotten used to the abundance of comfort. The first night she couldn't get to sleep until four in the morning because she was used to the firmness her cot provided and the limp pillow she had been using since her childhood.

Kagome tried her hardest not to act cranky the next day. But in the end, she went and slept the rest of the day away by noon.

Her eyes wandered around her temporary room. She was disquieted by how the room was so fine yet crude. It was well decorated and its furniture looked expensive, but it was also devoid of life or character. A blank slate for any helpless tribute to walk into. The overcompensation for her mortal fate tugged her heart relentlessly.

Her eyes honed in on the shape of her family's archery ring that sat on the dresser. Pointed up, the dull silver has muddied with generations of use. Her grandfather hugged her tightly and slipped the ring into the pocket of her skirt on the day of the Reaping and told her that nothing was impossible.

Kagome did not know the ring she knew so well was on her person. It sat in her pocket until the firm metal pressed against her thigh uncomfortably when she threw herself on the horribly soft bed to cry.

She felt it and hastily retrieved the sign of home. She pressed its pointed edge in the middle of her palm, squeezing it tightly in both hands as tears fell.

Nothing is impossible, she had recalled then. Now she looked at it every day before she faced everyone else on the train.

Not sure if she could fall back asleep tonight, Kagome rose from her bed and found her slippers.

I'll go to the kitchen and get some water to calm myself down, she thought rationally, and maybe an apple.

Opening her door as quietly as she could to not bother Inuyasha with the noise, she strolled out of her room with a silent gait. This included a rather silly looking maneuver on her tiptoes. One of her hands skimmed the wall as she walked, to which she found not a ridge of texture where the builders might have failed in creating the monster of a train. No dust came off on her palms, either. Everything perfect for the Capitol.

There were lights along the floor as she walked, very dim but bright enough for anyone to be able to find their way. Kagome found it funny, as the train is vertical in the first place—no hallways to get lost in. She approached the kitchen door, which had a helpful plaque that depicted some utensils. Merely pushing the free-swinging door to get inside, she scanned the room.

Fluorescent lights turned on because of her movement. It scared her the first time she went looking for snacks, but now the technology seemed commonplace to her. The whole room was a wash of metallic silver, with accents of whatever accessories were on the stone counters. It was the coldest place on the train, always causing Kagome to hug her body for scraps of warmth.

She walked around and looked for her craving, forgetting the water. "Fruits, fruits, fruits…" Kagome whispered a chant, speaking the food into existence. In the very corner of the area was a tall, woven basket that held the treasure she sought and more.

There was an apple at the top of the pile, calling her. There was one of every type: green, yellow, candy red, dark red, and mixtures of these colors. Apples have names, she learned that in first grade. She doesn't remember them now. Kagome wanted a red one, the same kind that she tasted in her dream.

But she wouldn't eat more than one, although there was an array of choices. She had learned her lesson the first time she ate food on the train. She felt nauseated that night, and not only because she called Inuyasha cute. Her stomach was heavy with more food than she had ever consumed in her seventeen years of living, and it was a lot to adjust to. When she told Sango the next day, the woman implored her that she took her time when she ate.

She wanted to enjoy the finer things despite an expiration date on the opulence she had been introduced to, but her mind still constantly recalls the starving people in Twelve while her body put on more weight.

Kagome closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

She picked up her food and took note of the white shine the overhead lights gave to the apple. For the second time, she bites down, closing her eyes and chewing slowly.

When her lids lifted, the gloomy atmosphere of the kitchen settled into her skin like grease. It was unwanted. The nectar in her mouth tastes sickly sweet, similar to the cheap candies she'd buy with Sota whenever she found a coin on the ground. Kagome missed her family more than anything; she missed her siblings most of all.

Imagining Sota and Rin without her was the kind of reality she didn't want to bear. Sota was two years younger but he was Kagome's best friend. They developed side by side, experienced the same hardships, and agreed on almost everything. No matter how many connections she could make in Twelve, they all paled in comparison to the kind of ease that came with hanging out with her family. Rin was always sweet and talkative, bringing soothing light into the worst of times in the Higurashi household. Kagome didn't want to see that light go out, let alone in a death match.

Sighing, she began the walk back to her quarters. She munched on the snack in her hand as she walked, letting her mind wander to the Games, which were never very far.

She'd have to practice her archery like mad once they're in the training center. It was no contest. Her mother always told her that she can shoot halfway decent, but her aim is always a little off. Kagome had also been trying to meditate regularly during her time on the train to help her channel her spiritual energy when the time comes. The results were nonexistent.

She entered her room and flopped back onto her bed. The apple rolled from her hand, only mostly eaten. She looked at her ceiling, which was finely decorated with a swirling pattern she couldn't identify. I know I have it, she has blessed more houses and exorcised more spirits in Twelve than she can count, but how can I use it? Her powerful aura mocked her mercilessly each time she tried to utilize it. The fact that she can't call upon her own energy was proof of incompetence.

Even if she polished her archery skills, Kagome would have to face going to the cornucopia once the Games began. Miroku strictly advised her not to, but she already wasn't sure about trusting Miroku ever since his patronizing speech. Even during "strategy" meetings with him, Kagome noticed how little he cared about her. She was almost completely alone. Her stomach lurched in fear. She knew that more than half the tributes can die in those first moments, all over much needed supplies. But arrows were a necessity.

She was scared. Imagine what it's like to die in the first five minutes, disappointing everyone, Kagome wondered morbidly. It was the moment when the herd was thinned out to show the Games' real competitors. Was she a real competitor? Could she grab a quiver filled with arrows and a bow when another person is trying to put a knife in her back? Could she kill to get what she needed?

Her grandpa had tried to get her used to death; it was the life of the only minister in town, it was her parish to inherit. Praying over sickly people and the recently deceased was routine—but Kagome has never been able to shake her conscience whenever she sees an ailing person. People are malleable creatures who can be stomped out rather easily. She's seen people die in the middle of a psalm, holding her grandfather's hand. She would always stop in moments like that, but her grandfather would harshly whisper that they must keep going.

The verdict was that Kagome is probably going to have to kill someone, but how can I live with myself after?

She bets Inuyasha doesn't have to worry about the cornucopia at all. He has claws. Probably good eyesight for the dark, too. And sharp ears…

Kagome's mind conjures up his twitching ears and bright eyes unbidden. Her face reddens immediately, her heart swelling in her chest. She wipes the image from her mind without preamble. She cannot do that anymore.

If she didn't win, she hopes Inuyasha does. He'll be reluctant, but if anybody deserved to live with an absurd amount of wealth after a life of poverty, it would be him.

Death haunting her every thought, Kagome closed her eyes tightly to banish her feelings. She is going to fight until her dying breath. She will see Sota again. She will see Rin again. She will see her mother and grandfather and…

Kagome missed them so much. A trembling gasp burst from her lips; tears poured from her sealed lids despite her best efforts. They drip back past her temple and into her hair. Her chest was unreasonably tight, keeping her from breathing properly. Her mouth opened to bring air into her body, but her lungs felt plugged up. Her hand rested on her chest to prove to herself she was functioning. The best way to calm herself was to take note of her ribs rising and falling like normal even though her face was hot and rosy from anxiety.

It's okay, she soothed herself.

Rolling over into the downy quilt beneath her, she sobbed piteously. Her shoulders hunched as she pressed herself further into her bed, trying to hide from what was to come. Her small cries made her body quake.

"I don't want this," she whispered. Her mind reached a sudden blankness with her statement, and she kept her face in the bedding, allowing all of her parts to catch up with one another. After a few minutes of relaxation, Kagome felt tired.

That's one way to get yourself back to bed, her face smushed into the fabric to wipe the wetness from her cheeks, uncontrollable sobbing. Good, Kagome. You'll win the Games just yet!

Kagome sat up groggily and her body felt weighted with cement. Shaking her head vigorously, the lethargy left her somewhat. The dip in the bed that her hips created made her apple roll towards her thigh, sticky and moist against her.

"Oh," she said curiously before she picked it up. The flesh of the apple had turned a light muddy brown; oxygen had taken its course. It looked completely unappealing now, useless.

When did she start to relate to apples?

Languidly, she rose up and threw away the apple in her trash, the fruit reaching the bottom with a thud. She sat back down on the mattress and tucked herself in. Once her head hit the pillow, her eyelids immediately weighed on her, leading her into sleep.

Nothing will ever be the same, she thinks halfheartedly.


Her dreamless sleep was rudely interrupted by firm knocks on her door. Each time Sango's fist made contact with the wood the pound resonated in Kagome's head.

"Come in," she said meekly, falsely. She wanted to tell her to leave.

"Time to get up, Kagome," Sango says as she walked into the room. "It's a big day."

Kagome sat up in a slouch and then glanced at Sango. Remembering who she was with, she made herself sit up straight. "Yes, I remember."

She eyed her up and down, and Kagome felt a little exposed. She must have looked tired, or worse, like she'd been crying. Sango's expression said it all. Her face held a waning smile, growing into something forced, something to cheer her up.

She must have looked absolutely like she had cried last night, and probably much more.

"We will have a good time today," Sango offers in a tender tone. "The song isn't over just yet."

She pondered Sango's words—the song isn't over. It hurt her, mostly. Kagome had noticed a couple of days ago that Sango placed her bets on Inuyasha as a potential winner. It was a poorly kept secret. Kagome could tell that Sango was a genuine woman and had a hard time masking her true emotions, especially guilt.

Right before she walked into dinner, she saw Miroku and Sango whispering harshly at the dining table. Her face was twisted with grief, fist clenched on the tabletop. Miroku was picturesque, calm as stone. Seconds after she stepped in, Sango's eyes darted over to hers. Kagome smiled awkwardly, and Sango's expression turned somber. Watching her turn to Miroku and whisper an affirmation made everything obvious.

She wished they'd be smarter about it. At least try a little harder to pretend you're rooting for me too, she almost said to them bitterly. She was being forgotten, losing the small amount of favor she garnered in the beginning.

Kagome realized quickly that she cannot hold hands with Miroku and Sango to the finish line. The odds are not in her favor.

"We will have a good time today," she repeated to her mentor incredulously. She lifted her crinkled quilt and moved it out of the way. It was so soft that no sound was heard as it fell back on the bed. Kagome's feet met a downy beige carpet. The fibers tickled between her toes, providing grip and a false sense of security, much like the entire train they stayed in. "I wonder what we'll be doing."

That was a lie. She knows that she's going to spend her first day in the Capitol being groomed to perfection. Kagome had always followed the games closely, not just because she was forced to. Every time a resident of Twelve was taken to the games, Kagome had to watch their journey. Morbid curiosity would infect her, and she could not bring herself to look away. Each year, the hope was the same: maybe they'll win.

In the last couple of Games, the tributes from Twelve were some of her closest friends. Last year, it was Ayumi. Before, it was Eri. Kagome had wished so badly that they would win and come home. She felt rather selfish for that, because both were given little to no attention once the games began and even during the promotional period. It was like their fate was decided before they stepped into the arena.

That will be me. No one will notice.

Her heart clenched in fear and empathy for her beloved friends who met their demise so harshly. Eri took an axe to the neck, someone told her the next morning. Kagome had covered her eyes instinctively when it happened the night before, and she was a little ashamed at her cowardice. It was disrespectful not to pay attention to Eri's final seconds. But Kagome told herself it was all disrespectful. It was sick to watch murders on a television screen. To be recording it with a camera and doing nothing.

Ayumi's death was too slow for Kagome to shield herself from—she died sick, stashed away from her competitors, and rotting by the day. It was the wintry terrain she got placed in without a source of warmth, sending her to her deathbed with hypothermia. Tributes from the career districts found her frozen body a couple days later (hovercrafts couldn't reach inside a cave), gawking and laughing at the pained expression on her huddled corpse. Kagome vomited when she saw them poke Ayumi's icy flesh with twigs, burying her under snow, with just her head out. It was supposed to be funny. When a couple of those kids died, she felt no remorse.

Eri and Ayumi's deaths should have been a warning for Kagome. She was next in line.

Kagome sighed, her heart heavy. The carpeted floor was still cuddling her feet. Her toes dug into the strands and pulled them slightly as she steadied herself.

"It'll be okay, Kagome," Sango reassured awkwardly, hovering beside her and patting her clammy hand on her bare shoulder. Kagome looked up at her and couldn't help but feel a little bad for her again. None of her tributes have ever survived the games. Inuyasha could be the one for her and Miroku.

She cannot be jealous of Inuyasha's predisposed advantages in the arena without feeling abashed by it shortly after. His appearance only brought him prejudice until now. Kagome just desperately wished it were her to break the losing streak.

It could be her.

"What if you put your faith in me?" She said aloud. Her eyes widened when she said it, she couldn't help but feel like she was being a little delusional.

Sango's hand lifted from her shoulder quickly, like Kagome burned to touch. "What?"

Kagome couldn't believe she said it. It seemed dirty to campaign against Inuyasha, somebody she didn't hate at all, in fact, she liked him a lot—but she loved her family much more.

"I can win too," she continued, standing up. "I'm not a demon, but I was raised by a priest and have worked with the church my whole life. I have skills. I know herbs. I can shoot."

It's not too late, she told herself. We haven't left the train. It's only over once we're in the arena. She can't sway Miroku and Sango once she's gone.

If the only thing she could get was pity points, she could live with that. If it got her food in the arena when she needed it desperately, that was all that mattered. Anything that might work in her favor to help her win. Winning felt like Kagome's wildest dream, something imaginary and impossible, but if she did not try, she didn't even have a slim chance.

"Kagome, I know this!" Sango chuckled awkwardly and tilted her head in mock confusion. Her smile was thin and unsure. "We've gone over this extensively together, you have skills. It's all about what you do in the arena."

Kagome's eyes narrowed and she stared at her mentor.

Attempting to change the subject, she reached for the door. "You should take a shower and get ready for the day," the knob turned under her grip. "This is your last couple hours of privacy before the Capitol tries to swallow you whole, you should relax a little more. We have some clothes for you to wear in the bathroom."

As she was stepping out of the room, Kagome shouted and stood up. "Wait!"

"It's not only that," she insisted with a soft voice. "There's more to it. I know you know."

Sango paused and looked at Kagome with a shameful expression. Her eyes turned down and her shoulders dropped slightly, pretty hands clutching the doorframe and knob. Sango swallowed her visible apprehension and stood straight, taking her fringe and brushing it behind her ear.

Kagome was unsure if she said the wrong thing. Am I making it worse? Looking at the shuffling woman, her doubt dissipated slightly. She remembered the repeated times when Sango had apologized to her for their situation, offering the only consolation she could possibly give within the structure of Panem. Her mentor had sentimentality. Kagome's appeal to her could work.

"People will like me. I can make them like me. It will work," she implored, fists squeezing in urgency. "I won't let the Capitol forget me like they did Eri and Ayumi."

Sango winced at the mention of her friends' names. She had to get to know both girls. She probably had to come to terms that the Capitol had been the death of them.

"Not me," she implored.

Sango swallowed and looked at her with a softer expression.

They stared at one another again. Kagome's toes dug into the carpet again, and she thought she might tip forward and fall into the abyss between them.

"I strongly advise you to make the best of these last couple of hours," her voice became firmer by the word, starting hesitant but ending with a strict finish. The aura of a no-nonsense woman who stood at the podium the day she was called had resumed itself. "Trust that the time we spent together is valuable once you enter the arena."

Avoiding any type of response, Sango left without preamble. Kagome sighed loudly, tiredness escaping in a drawn-out puff from her chest as if someone had squeezed the air out of her themselves.

She gawked at the closed door. It was inanimate but insulting. The wood was glossy and the knob was glass. Each time she saw that knob turn her heart sped up. Kagome wanted Sango to enter the room again and say she was right, and that she can win.

But now, only stillness. Staring at the wood grain and the shining glass would not make it open.

"Fuck," she whispered. Tears came to her eyes again, and she felt angry. "No," she spoke to herself, louder than before.

Kagome has been made to shoot arrows since childhood. She's not a genius at it, but her grandfather always told her that she is competent. At least.

Her fingers are not soft everywhere. She has formed callouses by practicing archery for so long now. To remind herself of this, Kagome runs her thumb along her index finger and feels the evidence of her training. She only had the too-loose thumb ring to protect her hand from the bowstring, not always effective.

Now trapped in nostalgia, Kagome remembered when she realized that her hands were adapting to the stress of her everyday routines and becoming harder in certain places. Not a delicate little thing any longer, she cried at the thought of being roughened over time.

Her mother had laughed at her and smiled a warm smile. "Sweet girl, nothing as insignificant as a callous would do anything to dull your charms," Kagome remembered hugging her tightly as she cried a little longer, holding onto her vanity for only a few minutes more.

Her mother then taught her how to make a balm out of the plants she grew in the garden. Kagome made batches for herself and put it over as much as she could—scrapes, irritated skin, and of course, her hands.

It smelled earthy and it soothed her. There were specks of green scattered in the salve no matter how much she ground the herbs.

Kagome hoped she can find the right ingredients for the ointment in the arena, hopes for an amiable climate.

She takes the ring to the bathroom with her, afraid to leave it unguarded so close to the end of the train ride.


Finished with her shower, Kagome stepped into her room and gave everything a final glance. Coziness can be seen from every corner. The vision in front of her was overlapped by a memory—the overused cot that rested next to Sota's bed.

So much for that, she thought with a sigh.

Since she felt so ambivalent about her bedroom, Kagome's attention went to her clothing. The clothes weren't hers; they were standard issue and straight from the Capitol. They smelled like bleached linen. She'd be lying to herself if they didn't make her feel even more despondent.

What will they do with my clothes? Kagome wondered.

Throw them away. Burn them. Send them back home with her ashes, maybe.

She isn't ready to leave Twelve behind.

Underneath her fingers, Kagome felt the slick wood of the dresser. Her hand skimmed to the center and pulled the ornate handle to reveal the clothes she forced herself to put away that first day.

They were folded with care, but not perfectly. This was a comforting sight; the uncanny perfection of the Capitol had not reached the parts of her that made her who she was.

Kagome decided she'd be entering the Capitol with clothes her mother had sewn for her instead of an outfit that was chosen in some meeting where they were debating how to best make people feel insignificant. She was lucky to have something her mother made for her, her family's ring, and the thoughts of her siblings keeping her going.


Kagome was feeling extra defiant and thought about skipping breakfast with Miroku and Sango. Inuyasha did it every day after their first, so why couldn't she?

In the back of her head, Kagome saw her mother wagging her finger at her, that's why. The overwhelming urge to be courteous is what brings Kagome to the breakfast table that morning.

"Hey, Kagome!" Miroku chirped, sipping on a coffee that she was sure had been spiked with liquor. "Glad you made it again today. I promised Inuyasha a bouquet of roses if he came to breakfast this morning, but he was unamused."

She gave an awkward nod and sat in her usual spot, surveying the spread. After days of indulging in sweets and decadent foods, Kagome had begun to yearn for the cozy breakfast made by her mother: eggs and plain rice.

While she prepared her plate, Miroku's mouth opened again, ready to comment. Kagome braced herself.

"It's your last day on the train and that is what you want?"

Kagome looked up at him and gave him an honest answer. "It reminds me of my mom. It makes me feel stronger."

He stopped and stayed still, the hand holding the sloshing coffee steadying as Miroku absorbed what she said. He blinked and his taunting smirk smoothed into what looked like a genuine smile. "I miss my father sometimes."

Kagome couldn't fight the warmth she felt. This was a moment. With Miroku, of all people.

Miroku cleared his throat and sipped his drink. "But when I miss my dad, I drink sake."

"Oh," Kagome said as she deflated. "I guess."

"You're depressing her," Sango huffed and sat down. "You're supposed to support your tributes."

Miroku's eyes gleamed when he turned to her. The coy reflection in his irises reminded Kagome of a stray cat. "I am supporting Kagome. Right?"

The playful expression was turned to her and she couldn't stop the reflexive roll of her eyes. He remained undeterred as his eyes glossed back to Sango.

"I'm sharing my own story, that's appealing from a mentor, isn't it?"

Miroku calling himself a mentor made Kagome's skin crawl with anger. Of course, it was a simple word, a role he is filling. It's absurd, she thought viciously.

"You're doing a poor job at mentoring me, so I wouldn't say you were appealing, either," she stated bluntly.

Miroku chuckled, appearing unfazed. "I do mentor you. You don't want to take my advice. Is that my fault?" His free hand rested on his chest to feign offense.

She quickly glanced down at her bowl of rice and suddenly she realized she could not eat with Miroku at the table.

"I would take your advice if it would work. But what you've said to me sounds like 'be quiet and die.'" The chopsticks in her hand were a grounding point that kept her from crying in front of this man again. She clutched them so tight they were almost one rod, a sword maybe. Or an arrow.

"I told you to be sweet, so people would like you..."

"The only person I'm not sweet to is you!"

Miroku's palm went up between them and Kagome scoffed loudly.

His hand dropped. "Be pitiful, Kagome. Talk about how you couldn't stand to see your sister die in the arena so you took her place. Say your family isn't whole without you."

The chopsticks didn't help at that moment. If it was a sword, she was holding it by the blade and it was cutting her palm.

"I have to be pitiful? While the career districts get to be what, intimidating? Am I supposed to be a lamb?" She thought that she could take pity, she hoped she could. But she was so much more than pitiful. Her voice wavered, dropping and showing the two mentors in front of her how humiliating it all was.

"That would help, yes. You play the sympathy card and get assistance in the arena because people like you and don't want you to be savagely torn apart by your peers."

"Miroku is exaggerating it, Kagome. You don't need to be milquetoast."

Milquetoast. What does that mean? Her heart was racing. It was all too much. How can she win when she has to act defenseless?

"I don't trust either of you," she stated.

The look on Sango's face was stricken. Miroku took a sip of his drink again.

"If people know how much you love your sister, they will love you for it," Sango said softly.

"It's your best angle, Kagome." Miroku reassured her.

She didn't want to continue talking to them, so she stood up and left.


While she was heading to her room as fast as her feet would take her, she bumped into a wall gracelessly, nearly tipping over.

This wall had arms, and they grabbed her wrists. "Kagome?"

Inuyasha's big hands enveloped her arm with ease and she shivered at the feel of the blunt ends of his claws skimming her pulse points.

Whenever Inuyasha spoke to her his voice was gravelly but somehow resonant. Whenever he said her name, it was coming straight from deep inside him. She's wondered if it's her imagination.

"Sorry," she started, trying to weave away from him. "Um, just trying to get to my room."

His hands held her steadfast, but didn't grip her; a soft cage around her skin.

"Wait," he whispered.

She looked up at him and they stopped, staring. Kagome's throat was stinging terribly, anger and frustration knotting her thoughts together. "What?" Her words were a question, her tone a plea. She nearly begged him to let her go. She didn't want to play the pity game, especially not in front of him.

Inuyasha continued to stare, eyes flitting madly across her entire person. Was he doing a wellness check? Was he trying to find her weaknesses? The latter would at least make sense.

His eyes scrolled up from her mouth and she pursed it tersely. When his eyes met hers again, she couldn't keep the flow of emotions at bay anymore. Her head turned away and she blinked. Her face was so warm, burning with shame as two tears trickled down her cheek and came off her chin.

Kagome tore herself away. Everything inside her was coming to a rolling boil. Inuyasha's claws scraped her wrists with the motion, the red trail left on her skin like bracelets. Again, they found themselves at a pause. She looked at her wrist and looked at him. The movement was so fast that she hadn't noticed a crackle of spiritual energy slip through her skin when she withdrew. She looked at his fingers, the tips of his nails were singed black.

Her cheeks were still wet, but the shell-shocked look on Inuyasha's face gave her pause and yanked her feelings back into her stomach for a moment.

"I can't control it," she said. Her hands came up in surrender, an attempt to placate him. "I know you didn't mean to scrape me…"

Inuyasha's face twisted up and he looked like the child she saw in school every day growing up. His brows pinched, the afflicted expression communicating so much anger and confusion.

"Why won't you just let me fucking protect you?" He said harshly, venomously.

Kagome's eyes narrowed. "And that tone is supposed to convince me?"

He growled and forced an exasperated sigh from deep in his chest. She watched his nostrils flare as he pouted. "Do you even care, Kagome?"

Kagome was shocked. Her head jerked back with his words, almost like he struck her. Does she care? Does she care?

"How could you even suggest—!" She clenched her fists at her sides and stepped into his space, her nose almost meeting his if it weren't for their slight height difference. "You're not allowed to ask me that, Inuyasha." Her voice came out in a hiss.

She watched his face twitch. His jaw clenched so tightly in response to her that his throat bobbed tensely, a harsh reply coming forth, but filtered through his clenched teeth. "Fine."

Inuyasha pushed past her and stormed off and into the dining room. As the door opened, she heard Miroku's delighted gasp begin and Inuyasha telling him to shut up before the door swung closed.

She couldn't find it in her to cry some more, she was too offended. Not caring? When Inuyasha refused to acknowledge he was the one who had the most potential to win out of the two of them. How awful.

Kagome wanted to shriek in anger but refused to give anyone the satisfaction. She cast away the pitiful girl, and burns her in a fire pit for extra warmth. If she must look fragile, it will only be a false skin. The fire lights inside of her stomach, calcifying her resolve.


Once Kagome had taken an hour to herself, she made her way into the parlor part of the train with heavy feet. She wore the clothes she came in on with pride.

Sango balked. "Kagome, are you sure you want to enter the Capitol in that? We have something new—"

"Yes," she replied, reminding herself to straighten her back. "I like this more."

"At least they fit you properly," Miroku commented dryly, not meeting anyone's gaze. His eyes were trained on the outside, where paved sidewalks and boutiques replaced the forestry that they were all used to. The expansive windows were there for everyone to look through and enjoy the spectacle as they approached. Many people waved to Miroku, who gave a curt nod in return. "Sunshine's clothes were baggy as shit. He had no choice."

Kagome looked at Inuyasha, who rolled his eyes and fidgeted with his Capitol attire, stiffly pulling down to smooth out wrinkles that didn't exist.

Faintly, Kagome could hear people shouting their greetings for her and Inuyasha. At the moment, they were just a plural: "Hello, District 12!"

This is where she could gain admirers. Kagome bit her lip and started to think of making these people remember her name.

People were screaming and waving with huge smiles beside the train. Everyone was outlandishly dressed, colors everywhere and styled in ways she'd never seen before. As she peered further, she could see each building looked pleasant with their manicured front yards. No wear and tear, no livestock lingering around. She suddenly remembered Rin's goat, Ah-Un, leaving cloven tracks all over.

It was as if she entered another universe.

Kagome was slightly perplexed by the excitement displayed by the crowd. She almost wondered if everyone was conscious of the fact that the Games were a battle royale. But that was impossible.

She put the bubbling resentment she felt into a fake smile, which felt outside of herself. It was so big it hurt after a while and was hopefully radiant. She waved enthusiastically out the windows while Inuyasha watched her in sullen silence, tight-lipped at the same crowd that called out to him as well. Kagome knew Miroku wasn't going to question her fervent participation, not when this was what he wanted. Her eyes traveled to her other mentor briefly. Sango looked like she was greeting the fellow Capitol residents out of obligation, an awkward smile as her eyes routinely flickered between her tributes and the people outside.

The train stuttered to a stop, heaving a great sigh once it settled into the station. People were held back by gates, and there was a clear way set for the District 12 entourage to step outside the train. The slight brush with celebrity had Kagome's stomach in knots, but she turned to a part in the cabin where no one could see her breathe deeply and soothe herself.


The beast of a train had finally come to a halt, and all of Inuyasha's instincts were screaming at him not to get off. People were screaming just outside the train door and it was all getting to be too much. He looked around the room and found Kagome, finally away from the window and facing a wall, probably coaching herself, he thinks.

Something told him that the world won't be their own once they step out. It was the Capitol, and he wasn't an idiot. He had to talk to her before everything changed for the final time. Inuyasha walked up to her huddled form, but she didn't acknowledge his presence at all. Not very promising for things to come.

Lightly, he brushed his fingers on her back. She turned with a confused look on her face, mouth hanging open a little more once she registers who she was looking at.

What was he supposed to even say? He gulped audibly, a fierce sigh leaving him. "I know you care." He wasn't sorry for asking her, though, making her think about how pitiful she was starting to look. It wasn't the Kagome he knew.

The train doors opened and released a gush of wind that blew her hair away from her neck, making her shiver. He looked down at the shell of her ear, briefly, but he brought his eyes back forward to her questing face. Kagome still looked skeptical of him, but softer. "Do you care, Inuyasha?"

He frowned at that, not even considering his answer before he spoke. "No, I don't."

At that, her face fell completely for a moment, and then a flicker of something Inuyasha couldn't identify passed in her expression. Her hand came up between them.

Inuyasha can feel his face bunch up while he looked at the offending hand. Damn him, he checked if his nails left scars. He took her hand, fingers skirting under her sleeve to peek at her wrist.

Miroku snapped his fingers impatiently behind him, the screams of the Capitol citizens reaching a crescendo. Inuyasha, sated and ready to get this over with, turned some and tried to slide away—

Kagome held him fast, even tugged him. So, he listened.

The smile she gave him was blinding.

"May the best one win," she shook their hands for him. He coughed involuntarily, all of it just a bit too much.

He didn't know when she showed up, but Sango appeared behind them and began to push them towards the door, which broke their hands apart. Kagome looked up at him with bewilderment, and Inuyasha could do nothing but look at her briefly, mouth agape before he turned away to squint at the bright sun that assaulted his eyes from overhead. The sidewalk beneath his feet was so fresh and unblemished that it glittered. The citizens clamoring to catch a glimpse of him down the aisle could hardly be registered by him as their entire crew rushed across to the private building where Tributes were held every year.

There were twelve clusters in the lobby, and they appeared to be the last to arrive. Miroku and Sango seemed to be looking for someone, Kagome was hugging herself sheepishly. Inuyasha scanned the room, trying to size people up. He caught a rather rakish-looking boy grinning straight at him, licking his teeth in a similar appraisal.

Inuyasha looked away. What about him drew fuckers like that in? Like a grimy little fly to shit.

In his line of sight was an unfamiliar face. A woman: tall, slender, elegant. Her hair was so dark it looked like an abyss, her brown eyes looking bright in comparison. Without missing a beat, she brought her hands up to cradle his face, turning it side to side and examining him thoroughly. The audacity left him speechless. Her hands were soft.

"We got lucky, didn't we?" She said.

"Wuh?" He managed to produce.

"We did," Miroku said from behind her. "I agree."

Her hands slipped down and she turned to Kagome. "Koga's going to kick himself for missing her arrival."

"I'm sure he'll make up for it plenty," Sango groaned which made Inuyasha's eyes narrow.

"Let's get you two parade-ready." Miroku declared ushering Kagome off with Sango and Inuyasha off with the strange woman.


Kagome found herself separated from her company. Suddenly she was in a room filled with 11 other young girls, each of them being shuffled around from station to station being fixed up to Capitol standards. Even though Miroku and Sango could hardly be considered comforting, losing their familiar faces made her fearful. She imagined Inuyasha being plucked at and scrubbed like she was.

A man with a smoke grey mohawk gasped dramatically when he lifted up her armpit. She was splayed on a table, already thoroughly cleaned. Underneath his eyes were a sharp black line that extended past his lashes and into his temples. "Ginta, look at this!"

He brushed his index against her armpit hair and she stifled a snort before she snatched her arm away. "Hey!"

"I always forget they're au naturale in the lower districts," the man named Ginta huffed good-naturedly, like she was primitive. His eyeliner emphasized his animal gaze. He had a streak of black at his hairline and the rest of it matched the other man that was torturing her.

"If we don't remove it, Koga will tell us to," the other one sighed. "Everyone hates being waxed."

"Waxed?" Kagome's head jerked in disbelief. "Please, don't, um…" His name would be helpful in her pleading.

"I'm Hakkaku," he retorted as he slowly smoothed her arm back upward on the table. She didn't want to disobey and get in trouble, so she let him. "It'll be quick, twelve girl. I promise."

"I'm Kagome," she corrected.

"Kagome," Ginta smiled placatingly. Each tooth of his was sharpened into points, two accenting gems on his canines. "Waxing isn't so bad. Let me do your eyebrows first, and you'll see."

She swallowed and closed her eyes tight. Both men got to work on her, removing every extra bit of fuzz on her body that was deemed abnormal by them. She didn't know how they decided this, but after all of it, she felt tender and raw, even though they treated her fresh skin afterward with lotion.


Finally, he was told the woman's name was Kikyo and that she was the appointed stylist for twelve's male tributes. A sorry job indeed.

A sorry job that Kikyo apparently took very, very seriously.

"I can already tell you're not the cooperative type," she said as she struts ahead of him, heels beating down on the floor like pistol shots. She never looked back. "Neither am I. But we're going to have to commiserate."

Her hand waved him to follow her into a huge gymnasium with a series of booths. Two identical girls scurried up to meet her. "Hello, girls," they preened under her subtle smile, "get Inuyasha here to beauty base zero." The two nodded.

She walked away without a word. "Where are you going?"

Again, she did not look back. "I will meet you in the dressing room."


Her skin was smoother than she had ever felt, gliding against the plain cotton shift she'd been put into like satin on a stone. Ginta and Hakkaku ushered her into a different room and sat her down in a chair next to a flustered Inuyasha, who was looking at his hands in disdain. She glanced at them herself and saw that someone had buffed and shined his claws to a beautiful sharpness.

"I didn't know so many people would be touchin' me," he grumbled in her direction when they were left alone. "I hate it."

Kagome thought of the two strange men lifting her limbs in outrageous positions and ripping off the strips of hot wax. She noticed Inuyasha's eyes glance over to her legs.

"I don't want to imagine what they'll do to us next," she sighed in exasperation, tucking them aside. Her skin felt raw and tender, despite the many lotions.

"Keh. You don't have to," Inuyasha turned to her fully. "They're going to put us in one big bowl and watch us kill each other."

"One step at a time, Inuyasha," a voice came through the room before the face. Kagome and Inuyasha's eyes scanned the woman who appeared, the woman who held his face gingerly. She looked too regal to be standing in the cluttered dressing room, which suddenly looked dingy in comparison to her. Her silhouette was curved, highly emphasized by her flowing red pants and the white sleeveless turtleneck hugging her neck. Feathered earrings dangled along her collarbone. "You two have a few public appearances to make first."

"Unfortunately, Kikyo."

She strolled over and scooped Inuyasha's flowing silver hair up from his neck and pulled it away from his person. He visibly bristled. Kikyo turned to stare at Kagome, obviously analyzing her. Had she come to the same conclusion as everyone else she'd met? This gave Kagome reason to stare back. Her jaw clenched and she refused to be the first to look away.

"Koga's going to love you." Her eyelids lowered a fraction and there was a small upturn of her lip. She brought her attention back to Inuyasha's hair.

Kagome blinked owlishly, looking around for this fabled Koga. In the open doorframe stood a tall man with piercing blue eyes, covered in tones of deep brown and sporting an ornate fur pouch along the line of his hip. Kagome looked to the corner of the room for a second, staring at a pile of shoes to reel herself in, a futile attempt not to blush in front of such a stately figure.

"Hello, you," Koga spoke again, with a raspy voice. "I hope Ginta and Hakkaku weren't too rough. I just always prefer beauty base zero."

Beauty base zero? She almost asked what that was, but he circled her with a pointed gaze, and she stared back. She searched his crystal irises, but he wasn't truly looking at her like a person. He was looking at her wholly, an image.

"You're quite beautiful, Kagome," he stopped. "It's not always this easy."

She swallowed nervously. In her periphery, she could see Kikyo tying Inuyasha's hair into a low ponytail.

Koga moves behind her seat and speaks to her reflection in the mirror with a grin. "Beauty, Kagome—that's currency. Especially here."

His words had Kagome studying her features with intent. She looked at the shape of her face, its contours, and its plushes. Maybe she was desensitized to what Koga saw. What was in front of her is the face she's been acquainted with for 17 years. For all of those years, when her mind thought of beautiful, she thought of majesty, of rawness.

She thought of Inuyasha.

Automatically, the ghost of habit possesses her and she turns her head to look at the half-demon. He was stony and silent. On the floor shining silver lengths of hair were spread around Kikyo's feet. Her heart leaped.

"He's beautiful, yes," Koga leaned in close to her ear, moving her hair out of the way so that he may whisper unencumbered. "But I'm focused on you. Can you focus on yourself for me, too?"

Once Koga got to work on her, she knew she found a friend. Amongst the spill of compliments was someone genuinely interested in her. She told him about her life, forgetting that it might be lost to her. He nodded as he curled her hair, smoothing fragrant oil through it and nursing the wispy curls he gave her with careful hands.

Kagome was looking at herself differently because of his efforts. Did everyone feel like this when they were made up in such fine detail? Her skin looked smooth. Her cheeks were blushed. A few delicate ringlets framed her face.

"You're powerful, Kagome." This time, when Koga grinned at her, she gave him one back, swept up in the glittering world he created for her.

Koga offered her his hand and she took it, stepping down from the high chair. Kagome was reminded of the storybook tales of princes and chivalry before the world changed.

As he led her to a new part of the dressing room, he told her the plans for her and Inuyasha's first appearance to the public: The Tribute Parade.

She had completely forgotten about Inuyasha. She turned to look behind her, his seat was empty. Kagome faced forward again and saw a rack bursting with clothes.

"Kikyo and I agreed easily that dressing you two up like miners was dumb and unoriginal. We want you both to cause a stir." Koga stopped and turned to Kagome again as if he might have forgotten something. Kagome looked back at him, and he nodded to himself. "Red was the right choice. Kikyo and I took a long time to land on fire rat."

"Fire rat?" She asked.

"A fabric. You'll see."

He stepped away and started carding through all of the clothes, hand slipping in to grab the only red dress hanging there. It was long and decadent, the vivid fabric bunched in some places, the bodice twisted and asymmetrical, one side coming up to hug her shoulder. It was busy, but not overly so, somehow it all looked pleasantly clean. The back was completely open and she'd never shown so much skin besides when the summer days were at their hottest and her family hung out on their dilapidated, concrete terrace behind their house. Koga handed it to her.

"Put it on," he nods and his eyes trail to look at the clumsy way she's holding the gown to her body. She clutched it tighter to her, worried she might lose it in the few seconds she needed to walk behind the ornate screen he pointed her to.

"How," she said incredulously.

Koga laughed, loudly, like a bark. "Unzip it, you step in it, and I'll zip it up. Sound good?"

Kagome stepped behind the screen and undressed out of her shift. Where did they put her actual clothes? She kept her ring on her finger. The fabric pooled around her feet before she stepped out of it and put the dress over her head. It slinked down, everything reassuringly hugging her.

She stepped out from behind the divider, the length of the dress bumping against her bare feet. She held up the top over her chest and shuffled awkwardly to get Koga to zip the dress, snickering all the way. The gleam in Koga's eyes and the smirk on his lips when she turned around again told her he was pleased.

"You're going to blow them out of the fucking water, Kagome," he turned away and bent down, opening a nearby box. Inside were shiny red heels, like syrupy candy. Like the apple. He set them down in front of her feet. "These aren't too high. You should be fine."

Kagome bunched up the dress around her knees, looking awkward and inexperienced. Koga didn't appear to mind. She stepped into the shoes tentatively. Her hands freed the dress. She bobbed in place for a moment, coming to terms with her new sense of gravity. She was afraid to walk.

"Stand straight," Koga instructed her. "I want to look you over."

Kagome slowly stood to her full height. He huffed out a breath of air through his mouth, stifling his laugh.

"Hey," she accused.

"Don't worry," he shook his head and shushed her, a finger on his lips. She had noticed the armor-like ring that was on his index finger when he used it to part her hair while he dressed it. Now it was pressed to his mouth. "I'm just in awe of my brilliance, but clothes are only as good as the wearer. Walk to me."

She stepped carefully, invading his space. Her arms splayed out, hoping to balance herself.

"The ring," he commented. "It's too big, and it doesn't match. Give it to me."

Kagome immediately fisted her hand to her chest, trying to hide her treasure from him. "I need it."

He studied her carefully and she tried not to cower or shrink at his gaze. He spent all this time fostering her confidence and here he was, rearing over to crush it. Koga's hands came up to hold her biceps, giving a comforting squeeze. Her arm sank. He held her away from him, scanning her fully. She tried not to blush under the attention. "They are going to love you."

Water pricked at her eyes again. She resisted it with all of her might, dipping her head back to drain the tears back into her body. "I want them to," she whispered uneasily. It was okay to tell Koga what she wanted, right? He was on her side, for all intents and purposes. "I want to win."

Koga's metal adornment poked her jawline as he pulled it down to face him. "I'm betting on you, Kagome. I will keep the ring safe."

She tentatively handed it to him, and he slipped it on his finger. It fit just fine. "My clothes, too? My mom made them."

He nodded reassuringly. Kagome pressed her lips together in thought, wondering how to stand out next to someone like Inuyasha, who garnered attention without trying.

"Come on," he took her hand and guided her out to where the parade will begin. "You and Inuyasha are the finale. We are going to use that to our advantage."

As a final touch, Koga adorned her shoulders with broad swipes of gold leaf, a little on her cheekbones, too—and coated her hands in shining gold paint. He used a makeup brush to apply it over the bones of her wrists, the adornment ending with visible strokes right there.


"You cut my hair," Inuyasha said disbelievingly as they walked. "Almost all of it."

Kikyo had led him out of the room in that way of hers, even though everything in him wanted to disobey her, to make her job harder because she just ripped a big chunk of him clean off. But he didn't want to watch Koga butter up Kagome anymore and that won.

"I did you a favor," Kikyo shrugged and brought him into a different dressing room, with another rack of clothes. "You looked wild. Untamed."

"Miroku said that was appealing." He can't believe he's using Mioku as a point in his argument.

"Miroku only knows how to make a decent fucking cocktail," Kikyo spat. "It's a waste of your potential. Your hair will also grow back before you know it anyway, you're a demon."

"Half-demon."

"They will read demon." Kikyo shrugged and pulled an outfit for him off the rack.

The red matched her pants, it was so brilliant and bright that he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Hair grows back. But you only get one chance to make an impression. You're going to knock them out, with my help."


Once Kagome stepped outside, there was the sound of thunderous applause trailing into the space as the Capitol residents awaited the procession of tributes. Ahead of District 12's chariot were all of the other

districts, each extravagantly decorated. None of the other tributes faced their direction, and this disappointed her. She wanted to see them. Directly in front of their chariot were the tributes for Eleven. A boy that looked like a mountain towered over the little girl next to him, who only came up to his legs. The little girl had silver hair like Inuyasha's but mixed with a tinge of ash. The backs of their heads told her nothing. She looked at her chariot.

Standing there in the same vibrant red that she wore was Inuyasha, bright golden eyes standing out against the fabric. Compared to her, he had no sleeves, a cuff hugging his arm and a gold ring decorating his neck, and no hair hanging around his shoulders to cover it.

Kagome blinked away her disbelief, staring at Inuyasha. His hair was cropped and shaven, left with a longer princely section across the crown of his head. He looked back at her, obviously still disgruntled with this drastic change.

Koga patted her, his hand on her bare back shocking her skin a bit. She wobbled slightly to get onto the chariot, holding onto her stylist's hand for balance as she stepped in next to Inuyasha. Instead of being at his shoulder, she was near his jaw in height because of the heels she wore.

"You kept your hair," he grunted at her. "Lucky."

"I-it looks good on you, honestly," she said nervously. He didn't look so young anymore. He looked brutish, conquering, a serious brow and a sharp jawline softened with his feminine eyes framed with long black lashes. He pursed his full lips and her stomach swooped before she spoke again. "I never thought I would see you with so little hair."

"My neck is cold," he said frankly.

"Get over yourself," Kikyo leaned on the opposite side of their ride, arm slung over. Her bracelets clinked against the wood frame. "Remember what we talked about?"

"Yes," he nodded curtly.

"Trust me, Inuyasha." Her voice was soothing, and Kagome felt she was the exact type of person that could weather him into some submission, like Koga placating her into wearing heels and letting him hold the ring.

"Sure," Inuyasha said sarcastically. "My neck is still cold."

"Good enough," Kikyo sighed before she met Kagome's gaze. "I want you both to know that this entire thing is going to catch fire."

"W-what?" Kagome stuttered in surprise. "I know we want to stand out, but..."

"Don't worry," Koga said. "You both are wearing fire rat leather. It won't even burn you, just sit on top of your clothes. We both made sure you guys are wearing lotions that will protect you just in case, too."

She fought the urge to gawk in disbelief at them, lest she reveals just how far she was out of her depth.

Kikyo handed Inuyasha the button, which was a probably smart choice, in Kagome's opinion. "Press this when you think it's a perfect time."

Koga and Kikyo left them alone. She tried to quell her jitters, the provincial side of her sending goosebumps along her skin at the idea of the fire licking her flesh.

Inuyasha turned to her and held out his hand. "I'll squeeze you when it's time."

"Are you sure? My hand is painted."

"Keh. Like that matters. Give it here."

Kagome nodded, hoping to absorb his bravery into her palm after she took it. She threaded their fingers. He looked at her with slight shock in his expression, but gave her hand a brief but comforting squeeze anyway.

The tributes ahead of them had started their ceremonious procession, the crowd clearly and vibrantly reacting to each pair in the waves that they appeared. When she and Inuyasha started moving, Kagome hoped she didn't falter on her feet, placing her weight firmly on the points of her heels to hold her steady.

Once they came into the golden afternoon light, Inuyasha waited a few seconds. Kagome's skin was creeping with anticipation, wanting to be wowed just as much as the crowd surrounding them. Inuyasha pressed their hands together tightly and she braced herself, breath seized inside her chest.

Suddenly they were alight, and she couldn't feel a thing. Screens were floating in the air around them, projecting their image and Kagome saw her reflection. She and Inuyasha looked like two pieces in one whole. They looked like royalty. She noticed that Kikyo put glitter in his hair, to match his eyes, to match her.

A triumphant smile overcame her. I want them to love me, her desires rang inside her mind loudly. The cheers grew. Kagome looked down at her intertwined hand with Inuyasha's and noticed an opportunity.

Kagome had lifted their arms in the air like they had already won. Inuyasha almost didn't let her do it, but he released the tension that was limiting her and reciprocated her vigor. She turned her gaze to him with mirth pouring from her. He gave pause and steadied their locked eyes, face softening and the tension melting. He gave a slight smirk, looking back at the crowd with a certain hope in his gaze. A complementary pair. As if—maybe, they could win as a team.

She didn't care to remember how impossible that was at the moment.

Roses and all kinds of flowers she didn't recognize flew to their feet. Inuyasha caught one with his other hand and the citizens wailed in delight.

After they had made their rounds and all of the people had seen them, the horses slowed to a trot and they approached a lot bustling with other tributes and their teams. She and Inuyasha disengaged, her hand slightly wet with the sweat their heated palms created. She stretched her lonesome fingers experimentally, some of the gold being lifted away. It stuck to Inuyasha. Kagome was lost for breath; every atom of her energy was eaten by the crowd behind them and she panted heedlessly.

"Our prince and princess," Miroku cooed at them when they approached. Sango was standing in silent awe right beside him. Next to Kagome, she heard Inuyasha suck his teeth. "You've outshone the entire history of Twelve's tributes. This is a good start."

Koga came up to her side and held his hand out to aid her descent again. She took it and stepped down, heels clicking against the marble floors underneath.

"It was good, Inuyasha," Kikyo commended him, patting his shoulder after he has gotten down in front of her. He nodded curtly, a smattering of blush on his cheeks at the acknowledgment. "I'll relieve you of your jewelry, for now, soldier."

He took it all off himself readily, tearing it from his skin like it stung to wear it.

"You were dazzling," Koga gushed. He took the ring from his finger and slipped it on her hand in one motion, tarnished silver met artificial gold. He still primped her hair even though there were no Capitol eyes to relish her appearance anymore. "More than I could ever expect. You wore the design with pride."

Kagome twirled her loose archery ring around her finger anxiously. She hoped this day was over. Koga told her he could get her ring adjusted to fit her finger better. "Next time," she whispered meekly.

"We done?" Inuyasha asked the adults.

Sango smiled a tired smile. "For today, yes. I'll take you to your quarters."


Kagome felt a bit bad to wash away Koga's handiwork, but she soaked herself in the tub anyway, after scrubbing her hands raw of paint in the sink and peeling it off her shoulders. Ever since she'd been on the train, she learned that she enjoys long, hot baths. Typically, she'd dunk herself in her home's washing tub, cleaning up fast, and then get to doing things for the day. She only ever lingered when she wanted to wash her hair.

Steam rose from the water and clouded the mirrors of the expansive bathroom. Somehow, their living quarters managed to be an upgrade from the train. The Capitol proved its reputation for excess. She even had a bathroom in her room.

She didn't let her mind run while she was soaking. Kagome wanted to absorb the silence of the bathroom, where no one could bother her. Her eyes remained closed as she let nothingness overtake her. Calm and quiet. She floated in the tub for an indiscriminate amount of time, the only indicator that time had passed being the gradually cooling water surrounding her.

Kagome didn't cringe at the air when she stepped out of the tub. The goosebumps that came up her skin woke her mind up from its thoughtless haze. She covered herself with the towel and grabbed her ring off the counter (also rinsed of paint) and went to her bed.


Once she got changed, she heard a knock at her door. Who could it be? The day was over.

Miroku told her when they were taking her first elevator trip that the Capitol never sleeps. Twinkling lights were flashing from the tall buildings and reflecting on the windows of their temporary home.

Kagome walked to the door and opened it to find Inuyasha. The sparkles that were spread in his hair had flecked down to his cheeks and his jaw. He seemed to have had trouble cleaning it.

"Please get this shit off of me," he grumbled at her, eyes looking down and away from her in shame. "It keeps sticking to me when I rub at it."

Kagome couldn't stop her smile even if she wanted to. The Games seemed so far away right then. It was just her and a friend (she thinks) asking if she can get glitter off of him.

"You don't remember primary school, when this stuff was everywhere?" she laughed as she ushered him into her room and dragged the seat by her bed into the bathroom she was just occupying. It was still steamy with the heat of her bath, her wet footprints trailing on the floor, evaporating slowly. He stopped and surveyed the bathroom for a second, but said nothing. "My mom used to scrub my hands with a brush when I got home."

"I hated crafts," he commented when he sat down in front of the mirror. "I got in trouble on purpose to avoid it."

Her mind quickly draws up the image of a sleeping Inuyasha, face and arms on his desk while everyone else was making their family trees or whatever else was in store for that day.

Kagome grabbed a hand towel near the sink and ran it under warm water. Once the towel was good and wet, she wrung it out so it wasn't sopping. She was practiced at this, always hand washing clothes for the entire Higurashi clan to lessen her mother's workload.

She made Inuyasha tilt his head away from her. Covering her hand with the towel, she used a gentle scrubbing motion alongside his cheekbone to rid him of the decoration.

Kagome had never touched a boy—another person, even—like this, holding his head tenderly with her opposite hand and letting herself feel the structure of his face on her fingers and palm. She tried to ignore it as best she could. But it was so sweet.

Kikyo left enough hair along his nape and sides that she could feel the softness of skin and the downy hair against the pads of her fingers. Hair was where human ears would be, but it wasn't a strange sight like she would have assumed if he had a cropped cut.

At first, Inuyasha's face felt lax under the towel. The longer she held his head and wiped his face, the tenser he became. First, he bit down and kept his jaw taut. Then he stretched his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brows in the process. Lastly, his glossed over eyes closed tightly.

"You look tortured," she laughed at him again. Kagome looked him once over the way Koga did so many hours ago, admiring her handiwork. He was red in the places she rubbed; the untouched tips of his ears had a twinge of rosiness to them as well. "You're free."

"Listen, no one touches me," he said gruffly, echoing his complaint from earlier. "I think I've had more hands on my skin today than my entire life. I'm at my limit."

Kagome put the towel in the sink and crossed her arms, thoughts swirling in her mind. "Me too. I felt like an object."

They looked at each other sympathetically, comfortable with the silence for once. Until he broke it.

"Kagome," he said softly, tenderly. His pupils were wider than usual, she noticed.

"Inuyasha," she replied with as much care as he showed her name.

"Today—that," he started cautiously. "You carried us."

Kagome shook her head, her hand coming up dismissively.

"No, shut up," he said quickly. "They liked you a lot."

She was in a state of utter astonishment. "You don't know, do you?" she said curiously, words escaping her before she could think about them. He gave her a questioning gaze in return. "The effect you have."

His nostrils flared; his eyes closed. Reluctant to speak. His eyes opened and she watched his pupils start out blown and then shrink in the same second. "You—"

She tilted her head down, encouraging him to continue.

"I've been bitching about protecting you and here you are, protecting yourself," he stood up abruptly, walking out the room, "thanks for your help."

"Hey!" she quickly moved to follow him, "I don't see how that's a problem!"

"It's not," he said curtly and turned to face her before he left her completely.

"Okay!" she said firmly, her words being the force that stopped him from going. "Then—"

"Then what?" he barked.

"Then stay," she whispered.

"Stay here?" Inuyasha was speaking the same way he did when he said her name, carrying the words with the soft powdery tone of affection.

Was it affection? "I don't know," she confessed. Her voice trembled with her vulnerability, the fear of rejection. "Just stay. Please."

He dipped his head down, hair not nearly long enough to hide most of his face anymore. Instead, his eyes were shrouded for a moment. He looked at her through his lashes. "Okay."

And then there were no words. The two of them were consumed by the nothingness that held her while she was in the bath, foregoing thought. They existed in the silence, recuperating and stacking up their personhood again inside themselves after a day of being erased. Only someone as stripped as Kagome was from the day would be desperate enough to ask Inuyasha to stay. He was a fragment of home.

Right?

They fell asleep.


notes: FINALLY, CHAPTER 2! Big sorry to all who were waiting, I love this story but life sometimes comes at you fast and the beautiful, romantic multichaptered fanfic you're writing collects dust until your brain can do the story justice again. Thank you so much for reading! Lots of love and thanks to The Monday Child for listening to me ramble and also editing this for me. Also big thanks for my cat who sat in my lap as I edited this, when she added "bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb" with her paw I knew I had to save that zinger of a line for later.

6/27/22 - I always wonder if I made these two share a bed too early. I mean, they could have done it in the arena for the first time instead, but they led me here themselves, I swear! Either way, no ragrets TM. The Capitol may be a bastion of exploitation and overconsumption, but damn is it fun to write about our two heroes being here.