All the Way Down
Kagura only smoothes her face when she feels the ground beneath her feet, when she's gently set down on the bone stricken ground of the well. Slowly, she opens her eyes. Sunlight illuminates the stone walls and vines grow down into the well.
She nearly wants to cry at the sight of that square of bright blue sky over her head, framed by rotten wooden timbers and overgrown leaves. She brings her hands in front of her face, knowing with chagrin that physically she hasn't changed―flimsy human hands wave before her eyes. But that hardly matters in the face of what that blinding blue sky means.
Her heart is soaring in her chest as she climbs the rotted rope ladder out; several times feeling like she'll slip or crack the weak boards, like she might gain a broken leg from the climb out rather than the jump in. Her hands are shaking so much that the struggle takes longer than it should, her grip unsteady, and her eyes stinging so badly she can hardly see her next handhold, but eventually Kagura emerges in the well clearing.
It's the middle of October, but the air is warm, crisp, unpolluted and free. She cannot control it, but the wind is an old friend here, the reddening trees are singing in the breeze, leaves rustling as a cool gust whips through them. It tousles her hair, envelops her and squeezes tight, and despite the promise of winter in it, she feels as if it's welcoming her home.
She takes the time to savor the feeling, relishing in the wind on her skin, she slides down the side of the well, sitting on the ground she leans against it. Her heart is beating too erratically, pounding in her ears as she takes it in. She tries to calm herself, be rational―if this is the feudal era, a time of demons and monsters and―but the elation thrumming through her veins is far too loud and all too human, adrenaline demanding she move, do something, rather than just sit in the dirt and contemplate the reality of what she's just done.
Gently, she leans back and peers over the well's brim, sees nothing but half buried bones at the bottom. If she lept again, would it let her back through? Or has she stuck herself here just the same as Kagome? The wind begins to howl again, and Kagura knows that she's already made her choice, no point in looking back now.
Her heartbeat slows and she pulls herself to her feet. There is a well worn path into the trees and she takes it, the wind pushing at her back as she tries to rack her brain for any memory of this place. She vaguely remembers the well, only knows that it's near the village the Inu-tachi had always used as their base camp, but she can't remember how far or what direction she needs to go. Finding your way was always so much easier from the vantage point of a feather several hundred feet in the sky.
As she walks she laments that she's still in her work clothes; a pencil skirt and pristine white blouse, her kitten heels are not suited for walking uneven ground and her stockings keep getting caught in stray twigs. But her human feet are soft, just as unsuited for walking in the forest on an autumn day as her heels, so she keeps them on and doesn't care if her stockings tear as she picks her way through the underbrush.
It doesn't take long for her to find the village, smoke from the hearth fires cloud the sky, long streaks that emerge from beyond the trees, beckoning her in with the scent of warm meals. A few of the village women give her a strange look as she passes, but no one says a word or tries to stop her. The men are out in the fields, gathering the remainder of the harvest, while the women are preparing dinner or finishing with lunch, she doesn't know which. There are children running back and forth between their homes, the older girls carrying younger siblings on their backs as the boys chase each other with sticks, playing samurai. She never took the time to observe human villages when she had been here, but she sees now how idyllic it all is, why Kagome came back for good.
As she watches them, she comes to a conclusion. If this village has survived this long, so carefree and happy, then Naraku must be dead. It is a hope and a prayer, but also the only explanation for why this village is thriving, why the children are full bodied and sprinting through the rows of houses, well clothed and well fed. One or two of the women staring at her is with child, and in the distance the fields are bountiful.
A woman passes by, forcing Kagura out of her revelation by her movements, hunched over and rolling a large pickling barrel in front of her, her hair slung in a low ponytail and the woman pays her no mind, set in her task, but Kagura freezes.
She knows this woman, no longer a full faced teenager, instead a woman grown. The muscles born from hefting a giant weapon made of youkai bone have settled on her frame, and while the barrel in front of her is an awkward height, she pushes it forward with a practiced ease. And Kagura knows her―
"Sango…?"
The demon slayer stops, turns, and gives her a curious look before steadying the barrel in a divet in the dirt, insuring it won't keep rolling.
"Hello." She says it cautiously, and one quick once over of her clothes has Sango's brows furrowing. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I know who you are…"
Of course, she's human and the woman before her would only recognize a youkai four years dead. Kagura bites her lip, unsure of what to say, how to explain, if she even should because they were never anything even close to allies, let alone friends, if her story is even believable enough to tell, if she even wants to tell her life story to the taijiya of all fucking people.
She wonders if she would have second guessed herself this much before.
"You're right, I―"
Sango tilts her head and looks at something over Kagura's shoulder. Kagura turns, a group of men, covered in dirt with farming tools slung over their shoulders is waking this way and the one in the front…
"Ane-ue!" A deeper voice than she'd expected.
He walks past her without a second glance, and Kagura feels the sting of tears in her eyes. She watches this boy―no, nearly a man―
"Kohaku?" He turns to face her, confusion and then a dawning recognition on his face. She covers her mouth to hide the wet smile spreading across her cheeks. "You've gotten big."
And then the tears do come.
…
She hadn't expected the boy to live, truth be told. She had hoped, she had sacrificed whatever chances she'd had to ensure that he would have a chance, true. In the end, though, Kagura is a cynic and the boy should have died by now. But he's alive and she can feel whatever remnants of bitterness leaving her heart; seeing Kohaku before her, an awkward, stocky teenager. There are pimples on his brow, masked by freckles, but she can tell, his limbs are a little too long for his body, all skinny lean muscle and one arm thicker than the other from swinging his weapon.
Sango is watching her as if she's seen a ghost, and Kagura supposes that's not far from the truth. She can tell the demon slayer is more suspicious of her than her brother is, her arms are rigid at her sides and there's a bend in her knees, her feet spread apart in a lax battle stance. Kohaku is still staring at her and there might be tears in his own eyes as she sniffles at him. She doesn't like showing Sango her tear stricken face, but figures it's too late now, and besides, she's―
"Kagura…?"
His voice cracks when he says her name, and she finds herself with a chuckle in her throat, laughing past the tears she's trying to hide behind her hand and nods weakly, wipes at her cheeks with her sleeve as discreetly as she can manage.
"Kagura?" Sango interrupts, folds her arms in front of her chest, but Kagura can still tell the woman is on edge. "As in wind sorceress Kagura?"
She nods, meek, but she meets the slayer's eyes anyway.
Kohaku is stuck between them, maybe picking up on his sister's apprehension, realizing that long dead youkai don't simply return from the dead so easily. Kagura knows she's not supposed to be here, knows that if the slayer decides the circumstances are too suspicious that she'll have nothing to her advantage besides her word. It's a sobering realization, that the tables have turned so drastically between them.
"You're…" Sango can't quite get the word out.
Neither can Kagura. Instead, she says: "Where's Kagome?"
Saying the name so casually feels strange in her mouth, but Sango says she'll find her and abandons the barrel in the middle of the road as she jogs off, leaving the teenage demon slayer and former youkai standing there awkwardly. Kohaku is still staring at her, a mixture of shock, relief, and confusion flickering across his face.
"Stop looking at me like that." She wipes away the last of her tears on her sleeve. As much as she's glad to be back, it's strange having the boy staring at her in shock.
Kohaku nods, asks her to go back to his sister's home with him as he moves the forgotten barrel out of the middle of the road. She follows next to him as he leads her through the village. Kohaku's presence staves off most of the stares and she's glad for it, but it feels odd walking next to him, her head feels a little light and her neck protests when she has to crane her head to look at him.
He leads her to a decent sized home near the village's shrine, he holds open the straw curtain for her and she steps inside. The smell of smoke greets her and she removes her shoes at the step when Kohaku ushers her inside. She sits next to the hearth in the main room, the coals slightly smoldering from lunch. Behind her, a thin screen to section off the sleeping area.
"You know, we've had a lot of strange experiences, but I think this might be the strangest," he says with a nervous chuckle. He brings a pot of water over the hearth, moves the coals and adds more wood to rekindle the fire. He's trying to ease the mood, but it only serves to make Kagura more uncomfortable, the air inside the hut is already stuffy enough with smoke as it is, she doesn't need him trying and failing to be lighthearted. She watches him poke through the coals again, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. He's nervous, and she doesn't blame him.
"Kohaku, I thought you'd be…" The words bubble up before she can catch them, but she can't finish the sentence. Maybe before, she wouldn't have cared, but now she can't help the fluttering in her belly, the worry over this boy's life. She'd been scared for him then, been scared that he was the last thing left that would kill Naraku, had known that his life meant more than hers, and as desperate as she'd been she hadn't been able to bring herself to strike him down.
Even now, the thought makes her stomach roll.
Kohaku looks at her, opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the curtain being thrown to the side, almost hard enough to rip it from its bindings. Kagura jumps at the intrusion, and finds herself looking up at golden eyes.
Not the ones she wants, but close enough.
"What's up, Inuyasha?"
It's a gut reaction, nerves loosening her tung at the sight of the hanyou who'd almost killed her more than once. He hasn't changed, still a grouchy asshole as he stomps into the hut and up to her kneeling on the floor.
She leans away when he bends over her, in her face, nostrils flared and glaring. He's quiet, save for the grating sounds of him sniffing her, deep inhales and exhales. There's dirt on his face and dust on his clothes, as if he's been working in the fields with the rest of the men. She wants to shove him off but someone else comes barreling through the door just before she musters up the courage. He stands, crosses his arms and turns his back on her, blocking out the doorway with the expanse of his back.
"It ain't her." He says this with an air of finality. Kagura rolls her eyes.
"Are you sure?"
Kagura peers around him, sees Kagome braced in the doorway. The girl―no, no longer a girl―stands there all wide eyed and cautious, dressed in the traditional dress of a miko. The robes, coupled with the sunlit halo around her and the shadows smudging her face…
"Shit," Kagura can't help but breath out the expletive, "I didn't think so before, but you really do look like her."
Kagome blinks, the words taking a little longer to process, and then she purses her lips. Which only reinforces the similarity. Her hair is different and she isn't as much of a frigid bitch, but with the miko attire it is definitely Kikyou's reincarnation standing in front of her. Even Inuyasha seems to bristle at her comment, but neither of them say anything.
The girl sidesteps the hanyou and comes to kneel in front of Kagura, whatever irritation she'd felt gone in the face of a sudden fascination with her clothes. Kagome must recognize what it means, that even if she is not Kagura as they knew her, that there is more at work here than a simple possession or one of Naraku's schemes.
"How…?" She reaches out a hand, as if she wants to touch Kagura's sleeve, to feel the fabric and prove that its real. Kagura almost lets her, but Kagome thinks better of it and retracts her hand. Instead she refocuses on Kagura's face. "I mean, how can this…? If you're from…"
Kagura doesn't have an answer for her. Like Kohaku had said, not the strangest thing that could have happened, but she can see the gears turning in Kagome's head, the hoops her thoughts are jumping through to try to find an acceptable answer for why the youkai who'd tried to kill her, kidnapped her, terrorized her, and died, is sitting in front of her human and suit of all fucking things.
And maybe living here has had more effect on the girl than Kagura would have thought, because the next words out of Kagome's mouth are the last she would have expected:
"What the fuck is going on?!"
…
A/N: Has this been properly edited? No. According to google docs, this has been sitting in my drafts since... Oct 2018, and its been an idea in my head for even longer than that. It would have stayed in my drafts for probably another year if Sunrise had not reared their money-grubbing little heads and started Yashahime. This is a sequel to my other fic "Skin", but now it is also my #KaguraIsTheMotherConfirmed #ThisIsHowKaguraCanStillBeTheMother fic. You're welcome. Enjoy.