Once upon a time, when learning archery, Kagome's grandfather would tape foul faced demons to the front of targets and tell her to 'aim for the beasts'. Now, as she aimed at blank targets, she found herself missing his guidance, if not his ideals. He was a master archer in his youth, and when Kagome took over as priestess of the shrine, it was expected for her to learn to pick up where he left off—even if there was no reason for archery in this day and age.

Today her aim was off, and with nothing but a red dot to draw her eye, she found herself unmotivated.

Immediately, she hated that thought and rebuked it—labeled it intrusive—and tried to move along. It was her grandfather's voice clinging to those words, and being back at the shrine, even for a moment, was like being at war. Her thoughts, his beliefs—they fought like hounds, and she couldn't stand it.

" Maybe you should evaluate the way you view youkai. " Sango's words had been innocent, flippant even, but they'd stuck anyway. They sank into her and made her uncomfortable, like a splinter that lodged itself too deep into her nail bed. She wished it out, but it was too ingrained in her to simply pluck free. When it was a choice between tearing herself apart and finding peace in her maladie, it was so easy to close her eyes to the discomfort. But then someone would mention it, and the feeling would intensify. It would become impossible to ignore the discomfort until her mother opened her mouth, and, suddenly, Kagome was able to see herself as progressive, if not liberal, kind, if not mindless.

Sango didn't see it that way. She called Kagome's endless back and forth 'performative' and wouldn't let up until the wrong was righted.

The memory of Sango's shouting made her fingers sweat, and she missed the shot. It had been a while since she last felt that small. Kagome thought, at the time, that she'd been helping. Any and all attempts to understand Sango's sudden anxiety had been rebuffed, and then, when Kagome insisted that she knew that something was wrong, she would act how she thought she used to act in an attempt to play 'normal' for a few hours. To this very moment, Kagome didn't know why, but Sango's silence made Kagome hostile with Sesshomaru. How many times had Sango insisted that it had nothing to do with her foul boss? Another arrow went off course as Kagome's mind wandered. How many times did she have to close her ears and come to her own conclusions for things to go as wrong as they had?

There was nothing other than shame and helplessness that could make Sango secretive. And that made her protective. Clingy. Possessive. How could she go on as if everything was fine when she thought she knew what had befallen her dear friend? She wanted to say that it wasn't her fault, but she found she couldn't, not truthfully at least.

"I know what you did." Kagome had waited for Sango to run down to the cafeteria before she cornered Sesshomaru and locked the door after her. Like a crazy person. "I know what you did to Sango, and I'll kill you if you don't make it right."

He carried on as if he hadn't heard her, and present-Kagome wished she'd taken that out he'd so graciously given her, but she'd taken that as audacity. Somewhere along the way, despite Sango's insistence, she'd gotten it in her head that Sesshomaru was the enemy, that he'd hurt her dearest friend. Maybe it was because Sango didn't change in front of her anymore, too busy hiding ugly yellow bruises that took too long to heal, and that alone had been enough to make Kagome think that maybe Sango had been hiding something.

Kagome's hand stung with the force of her anger, and the petite, glowing handprint upon his alabaster skin glared back at her. She hadn't regretted it in the moment; in fact, she'd felt like a hero at first.

"Girl." The word came through his ground teeth like a curse, and she'd never felt more stupid. Fear thumped behind her ribcage as rage tinted his hard cheeks pink. "Have you considered that every evil in this world is not found in me?" When she'd been unable to answer him, he continued, every word getting stuck behind clenched teeth and pursed lips. "Perhaps this is why she wishes to keep the story under wraps. Maybe she doesn't need you rushing to her 'defense' and pointing the blame at every youkai within fifty feet."

The edges of the imprint had festered despite his attempts to summon enough youki to staunch the burning. When he couldn't, and a hiss of pain left his lips, Kagome could do nothing more than apologize. Guilt as sudden as a spring rain flooded her chest.

She wanted to say that was enough remembering to finish her target practice and apologize how Sango wanted, but that wouldn't be the end of it. The problem she came to process wouldn't be processed.

"You were the last one with her—." The embarrassment still made her queasy; she'd been floundering at that point, trying to find that same righteous indignation that possessed her when she went stomping into his office even though she was starting to feel sillier and sillier.

"Yes, because taking her to the hospital is equal to guilt." His sneer had been too much to bear, or maybe Kagome couldn't stand to look at what she'd done to him. Either way, she'd glanced away, choosing instead to glare at the floor.

"It was a logical connection to make when you consider she was all but naked."

"Made illogical when you consider the bruising and the stench of trash."

The longer they sat there, the smell of burning flesh filling the room like smoke, the stupider she felt.

"So why won't she tell me? If not you, then who?"

The door handle shook at that moment, proof that Kagome's time was up, and she headed for the exit without waiting for him to tell her where she could shove her questions. Somehow she feared Sango more than she feared Sesshomaru's retribution. Some part of her knew that Sango could and would deal far worse damage.

"What's going on in here? And what's happened to your face?" She sat their lunches on his desk and rounded the corner of the table.

Kagome realized then, as she watched Sango tip Sesshomaru's face with a sterile kind of gentleness that she had it all wrong. If Sango had been hurt by him, she'd have jerked his head to the right and dug the frayed remains of her nails into his burning skin. But she didn't. She drew the energy from his cheek and rolled her eyes when—after the fact—Sesshomaru shoved her away with a declaration that he hadn't needed her interference.

Kagome shot another arrow, imagining Sesshomaru's face on the board. Despite Sango's grace, he somehow managed to maintain his usual distaste, and Kagome wondered whose voice it was telling her that he was being unappreciative. But his attitude wasn't the problem there.

She was.

As Kagome put her bow away, she decided she didn't need to rehash the hushed remarks Sango aimed at her. They'd stung enough the first time.

xXx

Kagome's plan, initially, was to buy him lunch and call it a day, but when InuYasha stormed into the office with a dirty look ironed onto his expression, she got the feeling that it wouldn't be enough.

Whatever tentative friendship they may have entertained turned to dust when his door slammed shut behind him.

Well then. She settled into her work, pretending his sudden silence didn't bother her when, in reality, she'd gotten used to him swinging his door open and asking her mindless questions. Work was boring when she wasn't chasing him away from her piles.

By the time lunch rolled around, and InuYasha's glaring as bordering on harassment, she was no better off ideawise. So she put in an order for delivery and knocked twice on InuYasha's translucent door.

"What?" When he wrenched it open, his sneer already in place, Kagome felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. "Quickly. I'd hate to be assaulted for something I haven't done." Unlike Sesshomaru, InuYasha was vocal, and he was loud. He didn't paint what she'd done in disappointment like Sango had.

"I need to apologize."

"Don't bother. Sesshomaru is an unforgiving bastard, rightfully so in this situation. You accused him of assaulting his assistant. With no proof. You made a scene—."

She hadn't meant to. Not really, but when Sango pulled her aside and began insisting in hushed tones that she had the wrong idea, that he had been nothing but helpful, Kagome had so many questions. Why were her clothes torn or discarded? Why was she covered in bruises? And as she got no answers, she grew frantic. She grew loud.

"Have you spoken to your friend?" He didn't give her a chance to answer, too angry to do much more than steamroll her. "Because she spent six hours at the jailhouse pleading his innocence."

"I never intended—."

"Rin got out of school only to find out her father was in prison for something he didn't do. Do you think I give a rat's ass about your intentions?"

Kagome shrank away from his rage, scrambling for something—anything—to say in the face of it. "I want to make this right. Sango's right. I was blinded. My grandfather—."

When the door slammed in her face, and Kagome was left with that tired old excuse on her tongue, she turned away from him and headed to the elevators to find Sango.

If she thought the hatred died with InuYasha and Sesshomaru, she was wrong. When Rin spent the night next, her big feelings dwarfed her. It got to the point where Kagome found she was better off hiding in her room for the next three days. She wasn't a victim, she at least knew that much, but it was hard not to feel like one when faced with anger and disappointment at every turn.

The fact that she hadn't been fired yet was a miracle in and of itself, but how much longer could she stand to be a pariah? If they wouldn't forgive her if they didn't even think she was worthy of that much, then what was the point in opening herself up to rejection?

"Kagome, dinner." Sango was walking away before Kagome could deny being hungry. If she didn't apologize, Sango would forever gaze at her with that tight-lipped glare. She'd lose her best friend if she weren't careful, and there was no amount of bias or prejudice in the world that would ever make that okay. So she trudged outside, ignoring the hate that seemed to fill their living room like smoke, and took a place at the table.

They'd been talking about Rin's art project, if their current conversation was any indicator, and she sat quietly as they made plans. It was then that she realized that this three-day excursion was Rin's idea. Sesshomaru wasn't very creative, and so, up until this point, her art projects were always lackluster, so she'd specifically requested Sango's presence. Just Sango.

"Have you considered green accents?" Kagome didn't know why she'd opened her mouth. Rin had made herself more than clear a number of times now, her opinion wasn't welcome, but there was something disheartening about the way she shredded the green strip of construction paper, balled it up in tiny fists, and then marched it to the trash.