He protected her from gossip.

When Kagome first approached him at school—and what a surprise that had been, seeing her in the halls along with all the rest of the new first-graders—he was keenly aware of the other students watching them.

"Inuyasha!" she cried, sounding surprised and pleased as she weaved her way towards him through the throng of kids. "You come here too?"

The chatter and buzz in the hallway grew noticeably quieter.

"Uh," he replied, glancing around the hallway at the curious—and in several cases, disapproving—stares of their classmates. "Well, yeah. I mean, obviously."

"I'm so glad!" She finally reached him and he was taken aback at how delighted she seemed. Her smile was just as bright (and baffling) as he remembered.

Did she not see the other kids looking at them?

"Um," he said, "I—"

"Hey, maybe we could walk home together after school?"

Did she not realize they could hear her? "Um..."

"Do you live near that park?" she continued, adjusting the backpack on her shoulders, totally oblivious to his hesitation. "If we both have to go the same way—"

It was getting quieter by the second, and now he could pick up scraps of whispers, reverberations of muttered comments through the hall.

—they know each other?

Are they friends?

She can't be—

—with that freak?

Both of his ears twitched simultaneously, as though they could dislodge the words now ringing in his head, somehow make them unheard. He knew that she wasn't aware of the stares or the whispers. And he knew something else too: she was teetering on a ledge, balancing on the sharp needle-point of their collective esteem. The other kids had assumed she was like them—one of them—but this display was making them doubt. One more word to him and she could topple over the edge, fall straight to the bottom of their favor. With him. By the time she'd realized her mistake—and she would eventually, like everyone always did—it would be too late to fix. He had to do something.

"No," he interjected loudly. "I don't want to walk home together."

Her eyes widened, and her smile receded. "Oh. Well..."

He forced his voice irritable, mean. "Jeez, you're annoying. Haven't you bothered me enough? Leave me alone."

She flinched back. He saw the hurt collecting like storm clouds across her face, caught the telltale whiff of salt before he made himself walk away. Down the corridor, towards the stairwell. Before turning the corner to the stairs, he threw a furtive glance back over his shoulder. She stood alone, arms hanging limply at her sides, looking down at the floor. He wanted to go back, tell her it was a joke. But he knew what would happen if he did. Really, he was doing her a favor. If he went back, she'd just resent him in the end. They always did.

He didn't want that to be true of her.

He turned away and took the stairs at a run.

And that would be the end of it, he thought. By the day's end, she'd have figured out just why she shouldn't associate with him. The other kids would clue her in pretty quick. Un-human. Half-breed. Dirty blood. They'd forgive her for her earlier slipup—just this once—she'd realize just what she stood to lose, and she'd never talk to him again. That time outside the park was a one-time-only deal.

Not, he reminded himself, that he particularly wanted to talk to her anyway. He was used to being alone. It was better that way.

He pretended that the twinge of disappointment in his gut was just an upset stomach.

The next day, during recess, he went straight to his usual spot—the maple tree planted in the corner of the schoolyard. This was an unspoken but universally-accepted arrangement on the playground: he stayed near his tree, the other kids didn't bother him, and he didn't bother them. Sometimes he watched the others play; usually he climbed up into the tree's branches and watched the sky until the bell rang. He'd just gotten settled onto one of the lower branches when—

"Inuyasha!"

He looked down into Kagome's smiling, upturned face. She stood at the base of the tree, one hand resting on its trunk, the other shading her eyes against the sunlight.

"Want to go on the swings?" she asked.

Was this girl stupid, or what?

With a huff, he turned away and stared determinedly up into the tree's foliage.

"Hello?" she said, sounding somewhere between uncertain and hopeful. "Inuyasha?"

He ignored her.

"C'mon, don't you want to play?"

He never played during recess. And she wouldn't, either, if she kept this up. Wasn't she paying attention to the other kids? They could see.

At his continued silence, she made a tiny noise of annoyance in her throat. "Quit ignoring me!"

He made the same noise back. "Quit bugging me!"

"Quit being mean!"

"Quit being annoying!"

"Quit saying that!"

"Quit—quit—arg, just quit already!" With that, he leapt into a higher branch, the better to ignore her and reinforce the 'leave me alone' message she obviously wasn't getting.

He heard her huff loudly. "Fine! Be like that!" Then the soft rustle of clothing, followed by a muted thump. Surreptitiously, he sneaked a glance down at her. She was sitting on the ground with her back propped against the tree trunk. He eyed the shiny black crown of her head, streaked with dark blue highlights in the dappled light, waiting to see what she would do. After awhile, she started humming to herself, and it soon became apparent that she had no intention of moving.

She was stupid. Or stubborn. Or both.

He frowned, shifting to face the foliage again. So maybe she hadn't figured it out yet. She would soon enough—there'd definitely be talk now. Being nice to the half-breed once, on the first day, was one thing; but continued niceness, after it was obvious she should steer clear of him? She was asking to be excluded.

His gut twisted at the thought, mind flashing back to her bright, happy smile. He couldn't let it happen.

Maybe he could still fix it. Maybe, since he hadn't shown that he liked her in any way, the other kids would let it go. Chalk it up to politeness or social ineptness and move on. He just had to stick with his strategy of ignore and evade, and eventually she'd get the hint.

With new resolve, Inuyasha kept ignoring her until the bell rang. She was still sitting against the tree when he jumped down, and she quietly followed him back inside.

The next day, she tried to talk to him in the hallway after classes. He walked past her with a scowl.

The day after, she sat beneath his tree all through recess. For the rest of that day, he noticed that her classmates didn't speak much to her.

The last day of that school week, he thought she'd finally given up. She didn't approach him in the halls, didn't bother him during recess. He went all day without seeing her—which both pleased and bothered him—until he started walking home from school. He'd just left school property when he heard footsteps behind him. He paid them no mind at first, but then her scent drifted to him on the breeze. He frowned and kept walking. The footsteps continued. When she'd been following him at a steady pace for three blocks, he finally turned his head and saw Kagome walking a few paces behind him.

He knew he should follow the plan and ignore her, but he found himself calling back, "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer, but she did start humming.

"Oi," he tried again, "what do you think you're doing?"

The humming just got louder.

He whipped around to face her—walking backwards as he did—and growled, "Hey, you can't ignore me!"

"Why not?" she asked. "You ignore me."

"And yet you're still here."

She nodded. "Yep."

He had no idea what to make of that. "Stupid! Get a clue! And anyway, I have a good reason for ignoring you."

She tilted her head at him. "Oh really? What is it?" Only she didn't sound all that confused. Her tone was eerily like that of a teacher expecting an answer she already knew.

"I—you—" He sputtered, wanting to stick with his plan, but also wanting to yell some sense into her. In the end, his vexation won out. "Don't you get it?" He came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and so did she.

"Get what?" she asked.

"Man, you're the densest person I've ever met. Don't you get that—"

"No," she said, and there was clear frustration in her voice, "you're the densest person I've ever met."

His jaw dropped. "What—"

"I don't think you get it. I don't care what people think. The other kids can say what they want about me. I like you. You're my friend. Why shouldn't I talk to you?"

Friend?

He couldn't do anything but stare at her.

"That's why you've been ignoring me, right? Because they're mean to you, and you don't want them being mean to me, too."

He just stared.

"Right?" she prompted.

Slowly, he nodded.

She grinned. "I knew it. I knew you didn't really mean it."

Did she really... friend?

"Wait," he said, shaking his head, "don't—doesn't it bother you? Don't you get what'll happen if you hang out with me?"

"Yes," she said, "but I don't care."

"You don't..."

"Nope. Don't care."

She couldn't possibly understand, not really. He persisted. "They'll ignore you."

"Like you've been doing?"

He scowled. "They'll talk bad about you behind your back."

"They're already doing that."

"They'll make fun of you, maybe even bully you."

"So?"

His hands balled into fists. "So?! You'll be miserable! You won't have any friends! You—"

"You're my friend. I'll have you." At his astonished silence, she continued, "Anyway, who'd want to be friends with them? They're not very nice. I'd rather be with you."

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Winded. But in a weirdly good way. And all he could do was stand there like an idiot, staring at her.

"So," she said after a moment's silence, "friends?"

Her expression was calm and friendly and open. The feeling he'd felt when he first saw her crying across the street—a tug, a pull drawing him towards her—came to him again, but far stronger this time.

"Yeah," he said, voice rough. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Friends."

She smiled at him, and he knew then and there that he'd do anything to keep her smiling.