It's good to be with Mama.

The broomstick in her hands is comfortable and familiar, as is the conversation that flows between them as they sweep the stairs. But the tiny line that mars the older woman's face right between her brows tells her what Mama has not yet.

Kagome stops sweeping and frowns. "What's wrong?"

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Mama keeps sweeping. "It's nothing."

"That's not true." Her frown deepens as she leans on the broom. "Tell me."

And reluctantly, Mama tells her of footprints around the shrine grounds that must have come in the night.