CH 3

Two weeks later, Kagome trudges home alone after another beating, leaving a trail of crimson snow. Her body aches and every step jars her spine, but she keeps moving. She is afraid that if she stays still, her blood will freeze into jagged spikes and break through her skin. This fear is not irrational.

She was five, and she and her mother were returning from the market when they were cornered by a pack of youkai. The Panther Devas, they called themselves. They were powerful and they were bored, a lethal combination in demons. One of them, crowned with fiery hair, enclosed them within a ring of searing flames, to which the youkai were immune but not, of course, Kagome and her mother. The big brute had his fun sending currents of electricity through their bodies, and the little one created illusions so that they could not escape. After what the panther devas apparently deemed a significant amount of torture, they were about to let the battered humans go, until their leader decided she wanted some fun too. She grabbed Kagome's mother's arms and smirked savagely. Kagome at first was confused, because nothing seemed to be happening, no fire or lightning. But then the skin on her mother's forearms ripped apart, and scarlet spikes of frozen blood erupted from her flesh. Kagome screamed, and her mother screamed too, until the air was filled with an awful cacophony. The Panther Devas were hysterical, and as they laughed, Kagome and her mother broke free and ran. A couple of half-hearted streaks of fire and lightning followed them, but the youkai seemed to be more interested in receiving congratulations from the watching demons than actively pursuing their prey, having already meted out punishment.

Ever since that day, Kagome has had fears of her blood forcing itself, solid and icy, from her flesh, jutting out from her body so she looks like a bizarre porcupine. As for her mother, her arms miraculously healed, although with much scarring, but she still does not have proper functioning in her arm muscles. Her hands are always cold, as if the ice never thawed away.

"Kagome! Kagome!"

She looks up at the sound of her name, sung so sweetly by a child's untainted love. Her brother runs to meet her halfway down the street, his large eyes shining with the innocence of childhood that Kagome has protected jealously from the marauding youkai.

With a giggle, the six-year-old catapults himself into her arms, but she sets him down quickly with a wince. She will not have his clothes bloodied. She greets him with a gentle kiss to the alabaster brow that mirrors her own, save the bruising. "How was the day, Souta?"

"It was great!" announces her brother. "We played football today, and I was the best! Everyone wanted me on their team!"

Kagome smiles. She taught him how to kick the black-and-white ball back and forth, although she is no use at the sport herself. "Of course you were. I would expect no less from you."

Souta grins, exposing a gap in his front teeth, and follows her inside their home like an eager puppy. "I helped Mama make dinner today."

"Did you now? I bet it will be delicious."

His steps turn to skips in his excitement. "Guess what it is, Kagome."

"Is it… bread and water?" she teases, while actually wondering what it could be. They can never afford anything as fine as Souta is making it out to be with all his excitement. She prays her mother did not do something foolish as she takes off her black jacket in her room. Casting it to the cracked vinyl floor, she starts taking off her clothes, never mind that her brother is still in the room. Dark garment after dark garment falls to her feet. All her clothes are black, as those tend to hide bloodstains the best; both fresh ones and the ones that won't wash out. "Souta, can you hand me my sleeping shirt, please?"

"Yeah!"

Dressed in a baggy black shirt that fell to her knees, Kagome crosses the room and dips her hands into a bowl of water that rests in the corner. Slowly, so as to not cause any unnecessary pain, she washes her face, gently removing the blood. Souta watches her, fascinated, only just noticing the state of his beloved older sister.

"What happened, Kagome?"

She smiles weakly as she rubs at a persistent clot of dried blood on her cheek, flinching as she pokes a livid bruise too hard. "I fell… from the top of a looooooong flight of steps," she says with an air of confession. "It was super icy."

Naive and inexperienced, Souta accepts her words with a sympathetic coo and waits patiently as she finishes washing her face and dries off with a corner of her shirt. She will wash more thoroughly after dinner. "Let's go." She offers him her hand, and together they walk into the kitchen, where their mother waits, a tired smile on her prematurely lined face.

"Your favorite, Kagome," she says, displaying two bowls of steaming udon on the floor with pride.

"It's my favorite too!" protests Souta, who is determined to be just like his heroine.

Kagome is not pleased; much to the contrary, she is furious. But she does not let her brother see. She sits down with a faint look of consternation. In terse silence she pretends to eat, picking at her noodles, letting out the occasional sound of appreciation for his sake. Souta finishes before her, and as he begins to take his cracked plastic dishes to the tap, Kagome stops him. "I'll clean up. You go and wash up, Souta." When he leaves, she rounds on her mother, slamming the chopsticks down on the floor. "Are you crazy? How much did this stuff cost? You know we can't afford it!"

Her mother draws herself up with fire flashing in her eyes, mirroring her daughter, and for a moment it is easy to see how Kagome came to be from this woman. "Souta needs it, Kagome. He can't live off rotten rice and dirty water every day, like you and I can. You said it yourself; he should have only the best."

"That doesn't mean doing whatever you did to pay for this ridiculously expensive meal!" she explodes. "A couple minutes of pleasure is all it'll give you; once it's in your belly, it's the same as cheap old rice. It's not worth it. So out with it; what did you do?"

Her mother's eyes shift away. "It's none of your business," she says curtly. "Now are you going to eat your udon or not?"

"Did you even have any?" Kagome says suspiciously.

"No." Of course not.

"Then I won't either. Souta can have it tomorrow." Ignoring the complaints of her stomach, Kagome stalks to her room, wishing she had a door so she could slam it shut. Instead she dips a rag in the bowl of water and proceeds to wipe as much blood off her body as she can manage. Disgusted by the livid array of bruises across her body, she gives up and collapses. Her last thought before all fades to black is that if Souta should die, she would be right on his footsteps. There isn't much else keeping her anchored, both physically and mentally, to this hell.

And outside, a tall youkai pushes himself off the brick wall against which he was leaning and walks down the street, satisfied, because he now knows his prey's greatest weakness.