Sense


She could just about sense him.

After weeks of just the two of them travelling together, it seemed she had grown familiar enough with his 'feel' to be able to tell when he was there. Even if he was completely hidden from sight.

She had never been able to tell if Sango was nearby, but after about a year of travelling with her Feudal Age friends, she had learned to identify the feel of Kirara's, Shippo's and Inuyasha's youki and, later on, had started to recognize Miroku's less obvious power signature, which had a hint of tainted darkness to it – probably because of his curse.

Kakashi's 'feel' was a bit like the man himself; a soft gentle hum, barely noticeable but undeniable there, with a spark of power hidden just underneath.

And right now she could feel it, hovering just at the edges of her perception… lingering there like a ghostly touch on her skin.

It was driving her insane.

During their travels, she hadn't minded his paranoia, his eye silently watching her. But here, in Konoha, his habit of watching her was less an acceptable show of paranoia, and more a disturbing instance of stalking.

She sighed and repressed the urge to glare at the place the man was hiding. As far as she could tell she could only sense him because of his chakra – and she had a feeling that something like this was not something people could normally do. Perhaps amongst these ninja, because she had seen them do some amazing things and heard of even more, but a civilian? No, she should not be able to tell where he was.

As paranoid as Kakashi was, he might not accept the explanation that she is a Miko, that it was her own special brand of spiritual energy that made her able to recognize his presence. And if he didn't believe her, well that could be a problem. While she wasn't exactly frightened of him, she knew better than to poke an irritable taiyoukai with a stick. The same could probably be applied to shinobi. Don't aggravate a paranoid shinobi – she didn't need to experience an unforgettable and probably unpleasant life-lesson to figure that one out.

Somewhere along the way she had finally learned that when dealing with unstable creatures, sometimes discretion was a better way to go.

So Kagome would just have to grin and bear it. With that thought she tried to shuffle the feeling to the back of her mind – let that warm hum fade into the background like Inuyasha's had when he was staking out a tree nearby.

She really hoped the man would grow bored soon.


Kagome kept up her wanderings despite having a silent guard. She looked at every part of this village until she found where she thought she needed to be.

And when she found it, she started to slowly rebuild her life again – a new home, a new neighbourhood, new people and – new rules. Because she was starting to learn about life inside a shinobi city and it was different than anywhere else she had been. Different even than living and traveling amongst youkai, because there wasn't exactly a handbook about how a Miko, or even any other human, should deal with a youkai's strange habits and customs – and if there was such a handbook, Kagome was sure she wouldn't approve of anything it said.

They'd all had to figure it out together. When to push, when to back off, when it was alright to invade each other's space, and when a fragile human should stay away. When a growing youkai needed love and guidance and when he needed to discover things on his own. How far a human could walk before they tired, and when a youkai's sense of smell grew irritated by a group of people who had gone days without a bath. Any unwritten rules they came up with were after trial and error.

But here, in this village, the unwritten rules were already there – they were the core of how these shinobi who lurked around danger and death with a casual indifference could live next door to civilians who feared these powerful ninja, and sometimes forgot that fear to a foolish extend.

And with each interaction she witnessed, Kagome learned. When a civilian crossed the line, she could see it in the shinobi they interacted with – tense muscles, sometimes even an aborted attempt to grasp a weapon. Or when a shinobi went too far, was reined in by comrades with a quick look or a touch, or by the surrounding civilians and the fear in their eyes.

She didn't know all the rules, but she was learning. And she was building a home. Not just for her, because she could tell that a lot of people around her needed a home too, even if they already had the house. This neighbourhood needed a little coaxing, a little gentle care, like a delicate herb that had just been repotted.

And that herb was all that Kagome had right now, so she tended to it with all of her being. That kept her busy enough that she didn't really notice Kakashi anymore.

Until, suddenly she realised he wasn't there.

Just like a background song that you didn't really hear until suddenly the music stopped and the silence startled you.

The hum was gone and after all these days with the feeling warmly glowing in the very back of her mind, though she would never admit it to anyone, she felt a bit cold at the lack of it.

It took her three days to adjust to the 'silence' – when she could finally carry on with her daily life without noticing the lack of it.

Then, the very next day she felt the very same 'song' again.

When it stuck around for almost the entire day, Kagome didn't know whether to smile in fondness or groan in despair. In the end she slapped her forehead and absently wondered what the watching ninja would think of that.


A.N. Sooo here I go again, introspection galore. Next time I promise some actual dialogue. Heh.