When the sun was beginning to set, Kagome finally let herself step away from the barricade. She felt no presence looming near, but she couldn't let her guard down. Now Hiten knew exactly where she was, and he'd be watching.

Her body felt weak and heavy when she walked further into the apartment. Was it from holding up the barrier for so long? Sluggishly, she notched her crossbow with another arrow and continued to patrol the area before she got too comfortable.

It was the slightest shift somewhere to her left that set her on edge. She turned to find an open doorway that was someone's former bedroom. Kagome held up her weapon and stepped in carefully, scanning her surroundings with narrowed eyes. As she rounded the far side of the bed, a boy suddenly popped out and scared the living daylights out of her. Kagome poised herself to shoot him and he stared back like he was about to piss his pants.

"Listen," she said, pointing at him with the arrowhead, "are you going to try and kill me?"

Both of his hands came up in surrender. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?!"

"Lower your voice," she whisper-shouted, "I'll only fight you if you're trying to kill me, so if you are, please don't play the long game—I'd really like to get this over with—but if you're not, then tell me your name so we can be friends or something!"

"Yusaku," he piped up in a tone that matched hers, "District Eight!"

Kagome threw her weapon on the bed, making him flinch; dust motes flew up like confetti and looked like glitter in the early evening light.

"Kagome," she exhaled in a sigh of relief, "District Twelve. Nice to meet you, Yusaku."


The sunlight burned its way through his closed eyes. Cautiously, he blinked his sore eyelids open, unsure of his surroundings. He tried to sit up but he was stopped by a gentle hand.

Light broke around Kagome's face in a haze. She was still in that dress, shushing him, pushing his body backward, and pressing a spoon to his lips. He fought, pressing back, almost sitting up completely.

"Eat," she said, but the voice wasn't hers. It was small, high. Blearily, Inuyasha's eyelids fluttered, trying to shake off the painful illusion. When he swallowed whatever he was being fed, his throat prickled and burned in protest. He dropped his head to the ground and yowled when it felt like his entire brain bobbed inside his skull. So much for being tough.

He opened his eyes again, but his vision was foggy. It appeared that the shapes were real this time and the glossy quality that permeated his visions of Kagome was no longer present. Shiori was staring back at him, looking skinny and tired. She smiled shyly.

"I know it tastes bad, but it's supposed to help."

He didn't have the words to tell her that he couldn't taste anything, it just hurt to exist right now—and passed out again.


"I'm at the end of my rope, everyone," Jakotsu slumped back dramatically in his announcer's seat and threw a hand over his forehead, "what if this is the last we see of Inuyasha?"

Kikyo drummed her fingers on the coffee table with irritation, glaring at the two emcees in their studio, far away from the mess they were being paid to speculate on. But she can't help but share Jakotsu's sentiment, obnoxious as he was. Inuyasha was her charge. She'd never had so much faith in a tribute. Her instincts told her he'd be the one to do it all. To see him snuffed out so soon…it would be…devastating.

Inconvenient, her sister might have said, had she known he existed. In their conversations, Kikyo artfully avoided talking about her current tributes. If Kaede caught wind of Kikyo being slightly invested in the results of her mentorship, she'd be in for a lecture.

"The miasma that saimyosho inject into the body with their stingers is horrifically strong," the other commentator, Mendou, added as he smoothed back his hair, the suit he wore was crisp and white. It looked sterile, medicinal almost. It needed some red. "If he were fully human like us he'd have been dead by now."

Jakotsu sniffled and dabbed at his tears with his fingertips, unwilling to mess up his glittery makeup. "So you think he'll be okay, Mendou? I—the people need to know."

"With his half breed kin nursing him on top of his demon heritage, he'll likely recover," Mendou leaned to the side and smirked with a charismatic flourish. "Dry your tears, citizens. There's no way that this year's underdog is down for the count yet."

While Jakotsu threw himself on Mendou and cried out (that was beautiful!), Kikyo was rolling her eyes. A familiar hand slid a steaming cup of herbal tea in front of her, glossy black claws looking stark against the porcelain.

"The brat's gonna be okay," Koga sighed and patted her shoulder. "If his life was truly in danger, Miroku would've sent aid already."

She stared at her reflection in the amber liquid.

"I'm not worried," she said, picking up the cup and taking a sip.

"Yeah, okay."

The announcers faded out and soon some tributes were back on screen. But they weren't Twelve's, so she looked away and gave Koga a stern look. He smiled at her.

"All things considered," Miroku interjected from where he was seated next to Sango, "our tributes were the only ones who drew blood today. Now they're laying low. It's not a bad position to be in."

Both Sango and Kikyo's faces screwed up in discontent, but Koga nodded in somber agreement.

"I knew she had it in her from the moment I saw her. What a clean kill, too."


Kagome had been moving about the old apartment for close to an hour now. It was a fascinating experience, to be sure, seeing all the available amenities that this fake family once had. Honestly, she wondered to herself if they were fake at all—she knew the Gamemakers were paid to create sprawling and elaborate arenas where they tortured tributes, but to simulate a home that seemed to have been abandoned in a hurry? Was every aged photograph curled along the edges only created minutes before she unearthed it? It was messing with her, the same way everything that has to do with the Capitol seemed to. Even if she won, which was a long shot on its own, she'll probably never know.

There was another room across from Yusaku's. The bed was also dusty, but a mattress was infinitely better than a sleeping bag. If her body hadn't been so crampy, maybe Kagome would have been able to outpedal Abi and Hiten.

No, they were demons, Kagome reminded herself. But a girl can dream, can't she?

As she was peeling off the stale quilt from her new bed, her stomach released a pained gurgle, and she winced at how loud it was.

Kagome had been so preoccupied that she hadn't even taken her pack off her back. She put it on the bed and rummaged around for her piece of jerky.

It was small. She had another whole one in the stash, and she'll have to ration that too.

She turned around and looked at the open doorway she knew Yusaku hid in. Even though she said hello and put her weapons down, he didn't emerge. Clutching the last piece of her first jerky, she walked toward the spot where he was crouched at the side of the bed.

"Yusaku?"

Wearily, he turned to face her but avoided eye contact. She tore off a piece of jerky and held it out to him and he took it silently.

"I'm sitting down," she announced and he nodded in acknowledgement, having already stuffed the food in his mouth. He still wasn't looking at her. "Are you afraid of me?"

He choked down the bite with a dry swallow. "No!"

"Then what?"

He stayed silent.

"You can say you were afraid, you know. I'd be afraid if someone pointed a weapon at me."

Kagome leaned down to try and get a peek at his expression, but he only withdrew further, if it was possible. She sighed loudly.

"I even trespassed into your hiding spot. What are the odds with this big building?"

Yusaku still refused to answer.

She leaned back against the bed and looked up at the ceiling. "You managed to hide from me for six hours."

He turned toward her, an exasperated look on his face. "I was napping for at least three of those."

A smile broke out on Kagome's face unbidden and she looked at him knowingly.

"But you were scared, weren't you?"

"I…" he scratched the back of his neck nervously, "I took a peek and saw it was you, and then I was glad."

She blinked slowly, her smile fading. "You were glad?"

"It could have been anyone else, so I'm glad it was you."

"Well, I'm glad it was you too." Kagome bumped his shoulder with hers commiseratingly.

It wasn't entirely true. She was glad he wasn't a bloodthirsty Career, but…

He wasn't Inuyasha.


Saimyosho sure knew how to fuck a guy up. He was now seeing his mother, which hurt worse than seeing Kagome.

"My baby," his mother said softly, like she wasn't trying to wake him, "you've been working so hard for your mother."

Cold, obviously dead hands stroked Inuyasha's clammy cheek. He could feel her bones popping with strain. Why couldn't he hallucinate her alive and well?

He cracked his eyes open and saw her sickly visage through the vignette his lashes created. Worse than he could have thought, she looked the way she did in her final years, the time when "if" turned into "when."

When are you going to give in?

When are you going to die?

Inuyasha was angry, but he couldn't move. Action of any kind was a painful slog even in his terrible dreams, so he could only lie prone and suffer.

"Why," he managed to say, but he sounded like a child in his ears.

She hugged him to her chest, but it wasn't comforting in the way he'd known his mother's hugs to be. This was suffocating.

"It was such a relief to meet your father on the other side," his mom rocked and held him tighter, her twig-like fingers snapping one by one to clutch him in a vise grip at his nape, "we will take care of you here."

He was trying so hard to breathe. Inuyasha gasped and inhaled as deep as he could with his nose and mouth smushed against her moldy blouse, all of his breaths becoming a cage fight between his lungs and diaphragm. No air would stay. It'd leave faster than it came in, with anxious speed.

"We'll finally take care of you, my love."

It wasn't even an enticing lie. None of it was real. He weakly brought his hands up to push against her frail body that continued to try and wrap around him like wire.

"Won't you come with me?"

"No," he responded automatically, his voice high and shrill as he struggled against his not-mother, "no, no!"

Inuyasha started to thrash violently, desperate to break free of the illusion. At first, her grip tightened and he felt his lungs seize, but he shoved her off with enough force that she shattered completely, pieces of her rattling to the ground in a cloud of dust.

His eyes peered around the black void he'd almost died in and found a single beacon of light, his eyes drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Body still sloshing in nauseating bile, it was a slow and pitiful crawl over to the light. He got close enough to see it was the hem of Kagome's dress, and he wanted to curse.

"Fuck." He dropped on his back in a depressed flop. It was too much.

"Fuck what?" She said with a laugh, peering down with a tendril of hair hugging the curve of her neck. Kagome didn't say fuck. It was ruining his immersion. Good.

"Fuck this," he growled lowly through gritted teeth, "fuck you."

"We both know you don't mean that," she smiled and kneeled in front of him, "...well. She doesn't know."

"So you admit that you're not real," he said like that meant anything.

"Or maybe you do mean it. All you'd have to do is ask, you know that?"

Inuyasha stared at her unblinking eyes, fanned with pretty lashes that weren't hers.

"You definitely know, or else I wouldn't know. What's stopping you?"

"You're an illusion," he insisted as if to remind himself.

"Duh," shiny Kagome flicked his nose, "I am an amalgamation of your subconscious with a heaping spoonful of potent, demonic miasma."

"I don't know shit about amalgamations and the subconscious."

"Maybe Miroku's rubbed off on you," she petted his cheek and he snarled and used his waning strength to yank himself away, "but you'd hate that. You hate a lot of stuff."

Can you blame me? He thought but didn't say, eyes wandering aimlessly across the darkness overhead.

"No," she responded anyway, "you're afraid of how much you care. Sad, really."

"I am not dying this way," Inuyasha ignored her as he slowly made himself sit up, "this is fucking terrible."

"I believe you," she said, perfectly mimicking the real Kagome's voice when she spoke to him with a tenderness that felt especially for him. It pierced his heart. Too late for that now, it was never time. Even before the games, they'd have been doomed from the start. Kagome couldn't see it, but he was saving them both from the eventual pain.

Wistfully—or miserably—he looked at her for real, but it only lasted a moment—

His eyes opened and the sight of the trees that loomed overhead rippled while his brain tried to piece together the information. His heart thumped in frantic staccato as he tried to inhale greedy lungfuls of air. He couldn't hear anything, only a shrill ringing, what the fuck—

Little Shiori came into view, blinking owlishly at his struggle to re-center. Her tiny hand touched his forehead and her face twisted in concentration, purple eyes narrowing while she examined him.

She held up a finger and looked at him meaningfully. One. Another. Two. Again. Three.

By the time she held up ten digits, he could hear the mockingjays chirping overhead and the leaves rustling with the breeze. A squirrel rushed through the leaf litter nearby, and his head jerked in the direction of the noise, a reflex borne of hunting for his meals for the better part of his existence.

"Your ears are back up," she said in an awed voice, "is that a good thing?"

Inuyasha was no stranger to invasive questions about his anatomy. It came with the territory of being a half-demon, and he was sure Shiori didn't mean harm like other assholes did. They were in the same boat, after all. He cringed as he tried to sit up, his limbs crying with disuse and his stings straining with the movement. She pushed his shoulders up to help him rise fully.

"Just means I'm fully alert now. I couldn't make out anything until you did the counting thing. Where'd you learn it?"

Shiori beamed for a moment until she looked down in her lap, fidgeting with her fingers. "Jinenji taught me to count on my hands when I'm nervous."

Jinenji. His mind began to supply information he was surprised that he absorbed: the male tribute from Eleven. Also a half breed. Scored 10. He was also a big motherfucker, which probably helped the aforementioned score.

"Sounds like a good guy," and if he was teaching kids how to handle their anxiety, he wouldn't abandon one, especially not one of his own. "You got separated from him?"

She nodded quietly, still making eye contact with her hands. "I was going to go back, but then you were being cornered by those guys, and got bit by scary bugs, and and—"

"Save it," he sighed, not particularly willing to rehash the situation he needed saving from. He hated to admit it, even to a tween girl. "I wasn't worth it, kid."

Shiori looked up at him then. "B-but I like you guys."

"Eh? Me an' who?"

"Kagome was really nice to me."

Oh. Oh. The fact she referred to them as a unit did things to him. He was a little queasy again, and it wasn't from shaking off the saimyosho venom.

"She's nice to everyone."

"Not everyone's nice to me."

That shut him up.

"Plus, we're half demons. We look after each other in Eleven." She looked so sincere. That would have been nice, he thought to himself.

"Well," he coughed awkwardly, being the one who broke their gaze this time by glancing toward the clearing. "I'm uh, all good now. Want me to take you to Jinenji?"

"Um…"

Oh no. That wasn't good. He looked at the tyke again.

"He died?"

"No! I just don't know where he is."

"Where did you see him last?"

"In…the forest?"

He blinked at her, an awkward silence filling the air.

"Figures," he made to stand, wincing along the way. He was now aware of the placement of his worst stings: hand, arm, shoulder. He used his arm for leverage and the swollen skin surrounding his wounds pulled uncomfortably. The one on his shoulder smarted the worst, as it was right above the joint. "Awright. This way."

He scooped up his pack with his good arm and walked deeper into the forest, expecting Shiori to follow, and she did silently. Her footsteps were quiet, which was perfect.

"Where…" she started softly, almost like she was afraid to ask, "Where are we going?"

"I'm hungry and I want something fresh."


A blinking cursor in a Word document was mocking Sesshomaru at the moment. It didn't help that he was in a building that enforced the systemic powers that likely ended his father's life.

Work had become even more of a chore since he started to put things together. His dormant anger had reached capacity, the kettle whistled in a resonant shrill.

He never found those papers of his. The laptop he'd used to chronicle the trail to his father's demise didn't work anymore. Someone was diligent. Soon, they'd finish off his brother, too.

A brother he never knew, a brother who was annoying him more and more by the second. All he seemed to be doing for the past three days was writhe in pain as another halfling smeared globs of chewed herbs over his pulsating wounds.

He didn't resent the wretch because of his half human heritage. In fact, his station in life assured that Inuyasha had probably received every ounce of scorn Sesshomaru thought him fit to inherit for being the sole reason their honorable father met an untimely end. It was cold comfort.

Actually, he resented Inuyasha because it seemed he not only took after their father physically, but in charisma as well; the oaf hadn't done a single thing to earn it, but he'd taken the Capitol by storm. He and that girl of his.

The world waited with bated breath for Inuyasha to resurrect.

As if on cue, Kagura gasped sharply from somewhere beside him. "Sesshomaru, your twin is waking up!" He looked up from his internal diatribe and saw Inuyasha struggling to sit up, his grotesque ear flicking this way and that in irritation.

"That creature is not my twin."

"Let me have my imagination, okay? Makes this whole thing less boring."

"You like him now?"

"I like anyone who gives my father a hard time."

"A rebel," he snarked dryly. He could feel the force of his eye roll as he brought his gaze back to the straining blue light of his computer screen. The subject of the report in front of him faded away and he began to fill the blanks with the details of his father instead.

Toga Taisho. 6'5". Aged 50.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that if his father died when he was barely reaching adulthood, then that meant his half-brother was merely a child when it happened.

"I don't like your tone," Kagura bit back and took him out of his thoughts again.

"I don't get paid to watch my tone," he diligently began to input the data in front of him, making his fingers hit the keys with too much force. "If you feel so inclined you may report it to your esteemed father to have that implemented."

"Gods!" She shuffled on her feet, glancing away and back, clearly frustrated and at a loss of what to do about it. "What is your problem lately? You've been uniquely insufferable, which says a lot because you're almost always intransigent."

He refused to reply.

Cause of death: unknown. Witnesses: none.

When Kagura realized she was being ignored, she scoffed loudly.

"Is it still the Games? Get over it, honestly."

Last sighting: the doorstep of his family home.

"You're worse than those hippies that protest outside government buildings. At least they're doing something, even if it isn't worth shit."

Quaint, understated, old money—but father was never satisfied with that.

Sesshomaru ground his teeth and lowered his lids to quell their stinging. In his periphery, he could see his wristwatch; it was 5 minutes past his lunch hour. He got up without warning and swerved out of his cubicle, avoiding the wind demoness actively berating him in the aisle.

"Hey!"

The office was awash with its regular clinical clamor; he slipped out easily, unhooking his coat from the rack by the door as he did so.


It was truly heavenly to sleep on an actual mattress, despite the faint scent of mildew that permeated the room. Kagome thought about opening a window to air out the apartment, but she was reluctant to do so. Opening a window risked her location. She wasn't completely abreast of the basics of demonic power, but it stands to reason their senses are better than hers and she didn't want to expose herself any further than she already had.

The few days Kagome spent with Godai in their shared hideout verged on boring. A small part of her was looking forward to speaking to someone after the many days of solitude, but it seemed like her roommate wasn't a conversationalist. Or maybe he is still scared of her. She can't tell. Quietly, the two of them have divided up the apartment and what spaces they occupy. Godai hardly moved, but when he did, it was in the direction opposite of where Kagome was going. Maybe he really is scared of her.

She woke up that day and decided that she wasn't going to take it anymore. So when she stepped out of the room she was staying in and she found him coming down the hallway, Kagome couldn't help but speak. "I'm not planning to kill you," he looked like a spooked animal when he realized she was addressing him, "I thought I made that clear."

His mouth was agape, jaw working as he struggled to find words.

"Unless…" her eyes narrowed and she eyed him suspiciously, "you're…trying to kill me?"

"No!"

Kagome huffed loudly and crossed her arms. "Then what? You're freezing me out because the Games aren't entertaining enough for you?"

"No—it's—uh," his arms came up and waved around in panicked placation. "I've never lived with a girl before, and—"

"I mean, this isn't technically living together—we're sheltering for our lives here, not talking about our days over dinner or something—"

"We had that piece of jerky—"

"Oh like that counts!"

"Please! Shut up!"

It was the most assertive he's sounded since she got there. Kagome frowned and looked at him expectantly.

"You also…" her eyebrows raised and he grumbled, covering his eyes, "you sort of look like someone I know."


Traversing the forest with Shiori was essentially like traveling alone. The girl was quiet and knew to tread lightly; if he didn't check for her behind him every few minutes he couldn't be sure she was there. It was starting to freak Inuyasha out. Kids are meant to be obnoxious.

"So, what does Jinenji smell like?" Inuyasha says this while they're walking carefully over a shallow stream, and realizes his mistake when she nearly trips. He held his hand out to help her, but she didn't take it.

"Huh?"

"Looking for him would go a lot faster if you can give me a lead."

"He smells like Jinenji."

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Shiori stared up at him with something like exasperation. "He smells like herbs most of the time."

He looked around the massive expanse of green in front of them and huffed. "It didn't hurt to ask."

When he heard a tiny giggle, he looked down and saw Shiori smothering a grin.

"Twerp."

She gasped incredulously while he carried forward, trying to find one of his snares up ahead.

"Keep an eye out for traps I set."

"Traps? Traps for what?"

"Food."

"How am I supposed to know what they look like?"

"They are…" Inuyasha stopped mid-stride to ponder this. Shiori bumped into him, making a quiet "oof" noise when she did so. "They're only meant to trick stupid animals. You'll know 'em when you see 'em." He then veered right into the thick of the trees where he knew he'd probably catch the most game.

There was a tickle of animal blood in his nose that told him somewhere in the thicket, one of his strategically set snares caught something. He advanced like a predator on the loose, excited with the adrenaline that always comes when he realizes he's got some fresh food on the way.

"Hey!"

His mad dash halted when he found a small squirrel carcass tangled in the brush where he'd hidden a trap a few days ago. Immediately, Inuyasha crouched down and got to work, but the moment he was pulling the squirrel free from the clutches of its untimely demise, a scream rang out behind him and shook him out of his feral ritual. He dropped the prey and quickly looked behind him to see Shiori thrashing around inside a net.

"Fuck!"

He ran over and easily cut her free, catching her before she thudded to the ground. When he helped her stand upright, she was clearly shaken. He could hear her heartbeat churning as fast as a rabbit's.

"You walked way too fast," she grumbled, looking down at the ground. "You even ran a little bit."

"I didn't mean to, I just—" he sighed. How could he explain away the fact that he left her in the dust for a dead squirrel? He wasn't suited for this at all. "I've never had to look after anyone besides myself, okay?"

"That's sad."

"Thanks for the memo," he would sigh again but he was tired of sighing, "Want some squirrel?"

The rumpled hair and dirt smudged on her face could do nothing to stop the brightness in the smile she wore when she looked up at him. "I love squirrel!"


"That was cute." Miroku smiled softly from his spot next to her. It was the first time in the past few days that he was seated and watching along with her and not speaking to potential sponsors. Koga and Kikyo had abandoned her earlier, so Sango was sitting in front of the television in the booth all by her lonesome. Maybe he was taking pity on her.

"She's adorable," she nodded in agreement. "She reminds me of Kohaku."

"It's a shame she won't last," he sighed forlornly, moving to grab the champagne bottle that was sitting in a bucket of melted ice. Every table in the tribute market got one, but theirs had gone untouched without their resident alcoholic to drain it. "It's for the best."

"How could you say that?" Sango's heart dropped, knowing he was right. But to say it aloud…

Miroku's face had closed off. His eyes were half-lidded as he made quick work of the seal on the bottle, then fisting the neck with both hands and removing the cork with a single practiced maneuver. "Being a victor is a curse. A young victor? Even worse."

She had no response to that. She wouldn't know. The one victor she knows well is Miroku, and if he was any indicator…no, maybe not. There are well-adjusted victors, aren't there?

"They're lying to themselves." She didn't realize she had spoken aloud. Miroku didn't even grab a glass, he just took a swig right after he opened the bottle.

"You haven't drunk anything in days," she comments, mostly to herself.

"I've decided I'm done dancing for the upper class today. Inuyasha and Kagome are stable for now, anyway."

Sango nodded quietly and turned her face back to the screen where she saw Jinenji carefully snuffing out a fire.


The cherry at the end of Kagura's cigarette was glaring at him from across the parking lot. She waited for him.

"I fail to recall asking for company on my lunch."

She gestured at him with the stalk of ashes that dangled from between her thin fingers. "You're not even eating."

"I look at you and have somehow lost my appetite."

Kagura exhaled harshly with her arms crossed in front of her, smoke blowing out of her nostrils like a dragon. She still hasn't ashed her cigarette, yet takes another drag. "I needed a smoke. You're not relevant to my nicotine addiction."

He scoffed and pulled his coat tighter around his body before he walked past her. The smell of her cigarette itched a craving he thought he'd defeated once before and made him grumble in irritation.

"A hit dog will holler," she said nonchalantly as soon as he was out of her periphery. He watches the butt of her cigarette fly in an elegant arc over the chainlink fence and hit the curb, cherry side down, no doubt due to her power over wind currents. He stops in his tracks, but he doesn't turn around.

"Is that some sort of racially insensitive joke?"

"It's something my decrepit bitch of a nanny used to say. Urasue had no business raising kids, but she knew how to see through people."

Sesshomaru could see where she was going with this, but he didn't want to give anything away. "And what does your privileged upbringing have to do with me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Don't pretend that growing up moderately rich instead of filthy rich was a struggle for you. Now answer me. That kid is related to you, isn't he?"

He bristled and whipped around. Kagura tutted at his dead giveaway, red lips pursed smugly.

"The boy simply bears an uncanny resemblance to me." She looked away from him and to her person instead, starting to rummage in the pockets of her expensive coat, pulling out her box of menthols.

"I simply do not appreciate your heckling." Kagura flipped open the lid and nodded patronizingly, glancing at him through her lashes.

"It reflects poorly on your character to assume all demons of canine ancestry look alike."

She laughed mockingly. "Are you kidding me? It 'reflects poorly on your character' to deny it so vehemently," she dared to make air quotes and take on a nasally voice to imitate him, "You make it obvious you know him!"

He glanced at the open pack in her hand, and that tickle of a craving returned to his taste buds. It was obvious that Kagura wouldn't be letting this go. He weighed the pros and cons of telling her silently. She was content to glare all the while.

The bottom line was that the woman in front of him had a direct line to President Naraku. Sesshomaru didn't expect to get any answers from her father. It was under his regime that Toga's case ran cold. She was a resource.

"Hand me a cigarette."

The art of sharing a cigarette was a wordless dance that he and Kagura must have done hundreds of times with numerous people. He had one in seconds. It felt like agency sat between his fingers. Stopping his smoking habit was more of a charade of self control than it was an actual necessity. As a demon, he had superior healing ability; the negative effects of long term tobacco use would not leave its mark even if he smoked hundreds of cigarettes a day. Taking that first drag from whatever high end menthols Kagura buys was like being given a pat on the back before going out into the field.

"I am not a liar. I haven't seen that boy before."

For once, she was silent next to him.

"We don't know each other. But…"

Kagura's red eyes turned in his direction, her pupils pinned with intrigue and her nostrils flaring slightly. Her anticipation managed to cow him a bit, another new sensation to add to the plethora he'd experienced since he noticed Inuyasha.

Most of the time, he said nothing on purpose. He wasn't built for pleasantries and sociability, but he was never at a loss for words, and never worried about saying things with intention.

"But what?!"

Kagura could use this against him. It's why he never intended to tell anyone in the first place.

Sesshomaru just had to use her first.

"He's my brother."


"What's that? Can I see?"

Yusaku led Kagome into a part of the house Kagome had deemed his side, the kitchen. It was covered in dust, like the rest of the house, but there was a single cabinet that looked frequently used. When he opened it, he pulled out a large glass bottle that held amber liquid.

"It's brandy," he turned the bottle over and showed her the fancy label. It looked antiquated in its design, but her eyes honed in on one particular detail: 35% alcohol. "I'll tell you about her, but have this with me."

The little pastor's granddaughter who lived in her balked at this idea. She fiddled with the archery ring on her finger, twisting it around and around. "This feels irresponsible."

"I'm not leaving this apartment today, are you?"

Her lips pursed in thought. "You have a point."

"I've tried some of it, you only need a little bit of it. And I need the liquid courage."

More like therapy, she thought to herself, but that wasn't very nice, so she nodded her assent. They weren't long for this world anyway, right?

The pair of them sat together around the kitchen island and twisted the cap off the bottle. Yusaku took a swig first, but he wheezed and coughed immediately after swallowing. He handed her the brandy with watery eyes and she eyed the offering suspiciously, but took it anyway.

The thing was so big it dwarfed her hand. The intricate glasswork on the bottle itself was something to behold, though, nothing like the unmarked homemade moonshine housed in shipwreck green that Kagome saw from time to time on Twelve. When she knocked back her sip, she immediately grunted indelicately and scrunched up her face.

Beside her, her fellow tribute was laughing uncontrollably. "Hey!" She rasped resentfully, gesturing for him to take the brandy back from her. He complied and took another drink with less theatrics this time, and the two of them sat in amiable silence, passing the bottle back and forth a few times.

The alcohol traveled through her body like a lit match being thrown onto kindling in her stomach. There was a fractional loosening of her whole self with every sip that made her understand why Yusaku might want to drink some before talking about something she suspects is painful. She understands Miroku a little better now, too, but the realization only made her sad.

"Why are you frowning?"

Kagome blinked for a moment, processing his question. She didn't realize she made a face. "Well…this stuff is stronger than I thought."

"Hah," he laughed and scrubbed a hand down his face, "yeah. I was kind of saving it for when things got really bad. But I think it would have just made me sick."

"And sad," she drank a bit more and smacked her lips together distastefully, "and wishing for water."

"I have peaches instead. Do you like those?"

"Um. Yeah. Get them out!"

Yusaku slipped off his stool and stood on wobbly legs. He ambled over to the cabinet and pulled out some canned peaches in syrup.

Hungrily, Kagome snatched it from him and examined the can. "Thank god there's a pull tab."

She yanked it open and went straight for a peach slice with her bare hands and slurped it up. Its tender flesh and juicy bite were so rich she could cry. Was this the alcohol, too?

Her fellow tribute stood across from her and plucked a slice from the can. "Do you want the short story or the long one?"

"Long one," she said, cheeks full of fruit.

Yusaku began with a brief overview of how day to day life worked in Panem's textile district. Kagome was fascinated by it; social studies was one of her best subjects in school. Math, not so much. On top of that, inter-district travel was forbidden to citizens below Three. Everything she learned about life outside of Twelve was something she treasured.

"My grandparents own a restaurant and Kyoko started working for them as a hostess."

"Kyoko?"

"The um…" she looked at him expectantly, and he gazed down at the countertop between them, "the woman. That you remind me of, a little bit."

Oh. Oh. She already had a sense of where things would go from here, so she winced.

Her silence seemed to communicate enough. "I know. It's a little pathetic. She's older than me, and a widow and way out of my league if I'm being honest—"

She patted his hand. "It's okay," and since she's not sober and she doesn't understand this version of herself, her voice wobbles when she says this next part, "I know what it's like to be in over your head."

Don't cry, don't think about him, it's useless—but her brain doesn't listen. There is an onslaught of images in her mind's eye: golden irises, snowy hair, soft lips. How the cut of his jaw dug into her palm when they kissed. She wanted to kiss him again very badly. It wasn't enough.

Yusaku was studying her. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes blinked rapidly to stave off tears but her voice was thick with them anyway. "It's nothing."

"But you got to tell him."

"Huh?"

"You told uh, Inuyasha, was it? He knows your feelings. Kyoko knows nothing."

If Kagome's impression was anything to go on, she had a feeling Kyoko had an idea. But that wasn't what rankled her. "I didn't tell him," she gritted out even though her emotions made her feel like she was speaking underwater, "I told the world. It's different."

"Whatever," he sulked, "I'm still jealous."

Agitation rippled across her, sending her longing back into the shadows where it belonged. She sucked her teeth, something she stopped doing at least a decade ago. "She could be watching right now."

He looked struck by the notion.

"There," she continued a little resentfully, "you told her."

"I keep forgetting that. It's…weird."

"I know, right?" Kagome was ready to smile and laugh again evidently, happy to commiserate instead of thinking about all that had slipped through her grasp.

Though they shouldn't, they took another drink.


"Let's hope this doesn't develop a habit," Sango said nervously, "and that this boy isn't up to something."

"Nonsense, it doesn't happen after one drink." Miroku countered with that svelte slur in his voice, patting her shoulder before pointing at Godai from Eight, "He's gormless. She'll get him."

"I am reluctant to trust your assessment if I'm being honest." The feed showing Kagome cut from her and showed Jinenji from Eleven meandering in the wooded area just behind the apartment building.

Her partner in all this smacked a kiss right on her ear and she grumbled and pushed him away. "One of us has to be the worrier."

"Why do you think they switched the main feed? That seemed like good TV."

"The conversation was getting morbid, didn't you hear?"

Yusaku absently twirled the closed bottle of brandy by the neck. The bitter liquid swished around and created a small tornado and she lost herself in the swirl. "I was saving this," he mumbled, "for the end."

It took a moment for Kagome's brain to catch on to what he meant. "That's…something."

"There's no way I'm beating anyone out there. When it was clear my time was up, I was going to drink myself into oblivion beforehand. Better than someone else doing it."

She nodded quietly, mulling over this. She hadn't given it a lot of thought. Kagome spent most of her time avoiding it in her mind.

"You haven't thought about it at all?"

"No," she responded quietly. "Didn't want to."

"Try," he urged a little breathlessly, "For posterity."

"I…" The Capitol wasn't giving her a choice in the matter. So how would she like to go out? "I don't think I could do it myself."

"Then how?"

Right now, the likely arbiter of her demise was Hiten. Brash, cocky, bigoted Hiten. Her skin crawled. As for anyone else…her mind couldn't picture it. It became clear to her what she wanted and she hated herself for it.

She opened her mouth but failed to speak. Saying it out loud…

"Inuyasha," she whispered, again blinking away tears, "I know it's selfish. But if I could choose…I would want Inuyasha to kill me."

Yusaku met her eyes with a sincere gaze. "I'm sorry I asked, okay? Don't cry."

Kagome nodded at him and the corner of her lip quivered in lieu of accepting his apology out loud. She didn't trust her words right now.

"I'll miss Kyoko's laugh the most, I think…"

Her mind glazed over. She couldn't begin to say what she'd miss the most. Kagome's life was full until the reaping.

Her mom.

Her grandfather.

Sota.

Rin.

The way the meadow behind the school looked in the spring.

Inuyasha.

She frowned for a fraction of a second before Yusaku grabbed her face and tried to kiss her. Kagome growled in shocked disgust, grabbing him by his sweater and shoving him off soundly. With his equilibrium already greatly compromised with the liquor, he tipped backward easily and fell on his behind. "How could you do that?!"

"I don't know, it seemed like—I missed Kyoko, and you were there, and t-the mood—"

"There was no mood!" She stood up from the stool and circled the counter to stare down at him. "I'm going to sleep."

Her heart thundered in her chest as she walked towards the room she was staying in on shaky feet. When she got inside she closed the door and threw herself on the bed to scream into the pillow.


Shiori watched with awe as Inuyasha deftly skinned their prey.

"Can you build a fire, kid?" She nodded at him and got to work. Usually, he'd have the fire ready before he prepped the meat, but he wanted to minimize the chances they'd be spotted and tracked. He took this chance to arrange the squirrel on a makeshift skewer so he could roast it evenly on all sides. He'd learned his lesson about undercooked meat a few times in Twelve.

They set up their meal and Inuyasha's focus tunneled again as he began cooking it through. Cooking small prey was muscle memory for him. He didn't think it was possible to miss his pitiful life in Twelve, but he wished he could sunbathe the way he used to after he finished eating. It would be impossible now. They had to smother the fire and relocate to be safe.

"Are you the only half demon in your district?"

Inuyasha looked over at her, longingly at the squirrel, then back at her. "Um, yeah. It's just me."

"That makes me sad," she sighed and folded her knees in front of her to hug them, "I would be so lonely."

"I never thought to care, honestly," he said this while looking back at the fire, carefully turning the meat, "besides. There's humans."

Inuyasha doesn't know why he mentioned that. He only dealt with other people when he absolutely had to. She was right, he was the only half-demon in Twelve and it was lonely. He'd qualify as a tourist stop to citizens if there was such a thing in that hellhole. Already it seemed like spotting him was a game among all the young kids in town, who gawked openly. Humans are cruel.

Peeking at Shiori, it occurred to him that she'd be mistaken for a human if it weren't for her hair and eye color. She had pointed ears like he vaguely remembers his father having.

She looks like him, a little bit. They could be siblings.

"The only human I talk to is my mama," Shiori mentioned her mother joyfully, but her face quickly deflated. "I miss her."

Probably the wrong subject to bring up, but he was curious. "What about your dad?"

"He's gone," she replied softly and stared at the fire, "I miss him too, all the time, but I'm used to it."

"Figures," Inuyasha scoffed emphatically, "my dad did the same. Fathered a half breed and left him too soon."

"Papa died protecting me!" Shiori burst out, scaring all the birds out of the trees and even making him startle. "It was for me and Mama," her face turned sullen and she squeezed her legs tighter to her body, "he never left."

Inuyasha's throat was tight and he couldn't place why, but it only took a moment of silence for the stale grief to creep up on him. In truth, his father felt like a long faded phantom in his mind. He doesn't remember the circumstances surrounding Toga's death, just the painful aftermath, of his mom trying her best not to follow after him too soon. He looked at Shiori and the tears gathered in her eyes and he felt awful. He needed to pull the thorn out.

"He sounds like a great dad."

"The best," she insisted, blinking away two tears that made her purple eyes look like polished stones.

"I miss my dad, too," he admitted before he realized it.

"And your mama?"

"Gone," he said, firm enough that he hoped she wouldn't press on it.

"You have Kagome, and I have Jinenji and all our other half-demon cousins in Eleven."

Jinenji wasn't as human-looking as they were, and he winced internally to think about the kind of abuse that must have brought on. He would have gotten it worse in Twelve if their roles were reversed.

Ignoring that line of thought because it wouldn't do them any good, Inuyasha huffed and looked at Shiori again. "I don't have her."

"You kinda do, you said her name when you were passed out and everything." She replied with a tone that let him know that he wouldn't be changing her mind on the matter.

"I did not," he insisted for the sake of his pride, "you must've heard wrong."

Shiori's knowing smile grew wider. "Were you always friends?"

"Friends? Keh. If you want to call her feedin' me being friends."

"Did you eat together, too?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're fuckin' nosy for a 12 year old."

"So you ate together."

"We ate beside each other, hardly talking," he grumbled and picked up their food to tear off a leg for her. "You an' I have spoken more at this fire."

"That's so sad!" She lamented, but took an eager bite on the leg, speaking with full cheeks, blowing out through her lips briefly because it was too hot from the fire, "I can't believe you didn't speak with her."

"I was mad at her," he admitted.

She pouted and it was honestly really adorable. He understood Kagome's motives a little better for putting herself up instead of Rin. If he had a shot at protecting this little girl, he was going to do it.

"Kagome was also nosy, and I found that annoying." Inuyasha decided he could offer Shiori and the Capitol a little more of his hidden depths. If he learned anything from Kagome when dealing with the public, he had to give a little to get a little. Letting people get invested might mean all 3 of them living longer.

"Why didn't you stop her?"

"I tried. She wouldn't leave me the hell alone! And if I didn't eat, she didn't eat." He started pulling off pieces of juicy meat from the carcass and popping them in his mouth while he spoke.

"That makes no sense to me," she murmured and took another thoughtful bite of her food. "Why would she not eat if you didn't?"

"We were both hard-headed," he shrugged and stared at the food in his hands thoughtfully. "I was real little, I hadn't learned to do this yet," he then looked at Shiori when he gestured to the fire and the squirrel they shared, "So I'm grateful now. Even though she yelled at me."

"She yelled at you? I wish I could see that!"

"That was the day I decided to stop fighting her. She cornered me and ordered me to sit."

"Like a dog." Shiori pointed out with a barely repressed smile, and when she saw his sour face she covered her mouth and snickered behind her hand.

"Quiet, you," he said half-heartedly, flicking a cleaned bone at her. She dodged it with a smile. He looked down at the squirrel and tore off the other drumstick for her. "Here. Seconds."

As Inuyasha ought to know by now, bonds forge easily at the foot of a feast. He and Shiori share more about their lives. The shape of everyday life changes drastically with your district's trade, he realized. The grain district was close knit and the people who lived there apparently utilized every inch of the wilderness to their advantage.

"That's why I can climb trees. It helps me reach others faster." She was licking the grease from her fingers openly and Inuyasha gnawed on his food while he listened.

"Wait. Reach others from the top of the tree?"

"Watch this," she said, her eyes twinkling, tucking her index fingers behind her lips.

Shiori whistled sharply, the sound of it felt like pins were being stuck in his eardrums. He shuddered and shook his head violently while she laughed.

The birds overhead repeated her tune in a soft, carefree tone.

"I prefer their version."

She only stuck out her tongue at that. He looked up at the trees and the tangled foliage overhead thoughtfully before he spoke.

"Do you think you could reach Jinenji the same way?"

"No," she replied so softly that he looked at her. She was withdrawn; sad, small—she appeared her age. "I don't think he's here anymore."

"He's in the arena," he reminded her.

"Not in the woods," Shiori corrected, "I think he went back to where we started."

He couldn't understand why anyone who knew about survival would leave the woods, and he told her as much.

"Jinenji told me to wait somewhere familiar," she shrugged, "if I got lost."

Inuyasha threw some dirt over the flickering embers of the fire. "That's that, then." While he was a little reluctant to leave the forest, he understood that it would be best for him to map out the whole arena in his head, just in case. But the sun was about to set, he could feel it. It was too late to go now. He and Shiori had covered more ground than he realized. "We'll head that way tomorrow."

They set up for the night far from their cooking site. When he and Shiori settled down and stared at the digital stars overhead, he felt compelled to speak.

"I don't ever sleep on the ground. S'nicer than I expected." The grass was soft on his back, it felt cool on his neck. Shiori got the sleeping bag, he was using his jacket as a makeshift pillow.

"Why's that?"

"You know. It's more vulnerable down here than it is up there."

"That's true," she replied quietly, "but I like to see the moon through the trees."

Inuyasha had a complicated relationship with the moon. He knew the phases well and tracked them anxiously. When he was a child it felt like the difference between life and death.

"Yeah."

"Papa gave me a marble, it glows," he heard her fidgeting in the sleeping bag near him. "When the moon is out. He said it's a hair-loom. I brought it with me."

He doesn't say anything. His mind is fading, the meal in his stomach weighing him down. He could maybe sleep for an hour or two…

"I was afraid of the moon," she said after a few minutes, and he was pulled out of his almost slumber.

"Me too, kid."

"It's been a crescent for a few days now."

His human night would be the night after next. He's been mostly numb on the subject; what was there to do? He's dealt with over 200 powerless nights up to this point, he counted.

"Inuyasha?" Her voice was a weak flutter and he could smell the tears.

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

Don't be, he wanted to reply. That's what you tell kids, isn't it? Don't be scared, I'm here. But he wouldn't do Shiori the disservice of lying to her. They were in the same situation.

"We'll get through it."

"Okay."

Eventually, he heard her breathing settle into an even rhythm. He peeked over to see her asleep, her little fist clutching something tightly to her chest. The sight in front of him told him there would be no time for rest. Inuyasha had to be ready for anything.


Kagome jerked awake to a faceful of pillow. She couldn't breathe. She thrashed against the bed even though her limbs felt like jelly.

"Sh-top…movin'!" Yusaku slurred above her. He wasn't putting any weight on her with his body and it made Kagome remember some advice Inuyasha gave her.

"Oh, I've got some easy advice for ya," he said after obnoxiously slurping up a ramen noodle. "Kick 'em in the nuts."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Who?"

"Any of them. All of them."

With an annoyed grunt, Kagome brought her knee up with all the force she had in her. Yusaku yelped and reared back with the pillow in his hands, tumbling to the floor.

"How could you?!" She sat up and threw her legs over the bed.

He was rocking in the fetal position and hissing.

"That pillow stinks of mildew!"

She quickly picked up her bag and stepped over his hunched body. It was only when she stepped out of the bedroom door that the adrenaline wore off and more of the physical effects of drinking as much as she did the night before became apparent. It was like her entire axis was tilted and her blood was simmering under her skin. Frankly, it was awful, and she leaned against the hallway wall to stop herself from emptying her stomach.

Kagome could hear Yusaku starting to regroup and she pushed herself off the wall and bumbled over to the front door of the apartment.

Except she forgot about the barricade.

"No!" She whined in frustration, running forward and throwing things behind her.

"M'sorry!" Yusaku mumbled from somewhere behind her and she reached over to grab a cloth doll nearby and pitched it at his face.

"Sorry doesn't quite cut it! You lied!"

"You expected the truth in the Hunger Games! That's like, don't number one!"

Taking things off one by one wasn't going to work. Kagome growled and started kicking the kitsch out of everything so she could reach the biggest piece of furniture.

"There's only some people left," Yusaku reasoned, "it stopped seeming impossible."

Maybe for one of us, Kagome thought when grabbed the edges of the table and dragged it out of her way. She yanked the door open in a similar fashion.

"Surprise!"

Abi appeared in the entryway, her sharp grin nauseatingly saccharine. Or maybe that was her hangover talking. Kagome stumbled back into the apartment, tripping over the remains of her barricade clumsily. She got up to her feet as fast as possible, turning her head to see what Yusaku was doing.

He was gone.

Of course. It's her fault for expecting anything different, really.

"Hiten's going to be so jealous when he learns I found and killed you first."

Kagome remembered her crossbow and lamented that she had forgotten it. She started to walk backward to the bedroom she stayed in. "He's not with you this time?"

"Demons don't believe in the buddy system on principle," she laughed like she was explaining something to a child. Abi edged ever closer to Kagome like a murder of crows circling a dead body, "And with Tsubaki gone, we don't have to hunt in a pack. Divide and conquer."

She walked back far enough to make it to her room. She felt behind her to push it open, hoping not to cue Abi in, but it was properly closed.

"I don't think Hiten will be jealous." Kagome shrugged nonchalantly, grasping for the knob behind her.

"I see what you're doing," Abi spat, "don't think you can fool me. I can see and hear better than you."

Kagome and Abi spent some time in a staring match. Why wasn't Abi making a move? Her eyes darted to her hands.

Completely unarmed.

"You're nervous."

"Me? Nervous? Please."

Before fully forming the thought, Kagome turned the knob behind her and dipped into the room, scrambling for the crossbow that rested by the window.

"Oh no you don't!"

She grabbed her ponytail and Kagome yelped, stumbling backward.

"Try purifying me from your hair, priestess bitch," in her peripheral vision, she could see Abi rummaging in her shorts, looking for something.

Kagome braced herself and bent forward enough for Abi's arm to be within reach. She grasped firmly, twisting the girl's arm and her hair with it. Concentrating whatever purifying energy she could muster in her addled state, she felt it rise from her palm like heat.

Abi let out a piercing shriek before she ripped herself away from Kagome. The girl barely had a chance to catch her breath when Yusaku tackled her to the carpet.

"You…fucking…animal!" she deftly squirmed underneath him to try and grip his head.

"You're the beast," he hissed, placing his arm against the underside of Abi's jaw, forcing it closed. His other hand came over to grip one of her arms and pin it with his other elbow. "A strong one! Jesus. Kagome?"

With a jolt, Kagome's inertia left her as suddenly as it came. She remembered her crossbow again and grabbed it quickly. She aimed for the right spot and pulled the trigger. At the same moment, Abi thrashed hard enough to get herself out of the line of fire. The arrow hit the floor and sizzled ominously.

Yusaku's strength waned enough for Abi to use her prone arm to her advantage. She only needed a bit of space to slash open his gut. For the second time that day, Yusaku doubled over in pain. Abi headed straight for Kagome as she was readying another arrow, but she wasn't quite fast enough.

She was far too shaky for a killer, but the lack of guesswork a crossbow provided combined with their close quarters meant that Kagome was able to shoot another purifying beam straight through to Abi's heart. The demoness fell to the floor staggeringly and the shot announcing her death rang at the same time. Her last expression was one of shock.

Kagome stepped over the body to get to Yusaku and heaved a few deep breaths as she looked over him. He'd rolled over onto his back and held his hand tightly against his midsection, but the blood was leaking out anyway.

"G-good," he stuttered. Breathing sounded like it hurt him. She got down on her knees and tried to pull his hand away from the wound.

"Let me see it," she demanded with a ferocity she did not feel, "I can help."

He let her move his hand away and drag up his sweater. Yusaku groaned at the friction against his wound. The deep gash in his stomach was beyond her limited expertise.

"Oh no," she mumbled. Enough damage had been done that something vital was likely hit. But even if it hadn't, the wound was untreatable in this environment of scraps.

"It's bad," he replied, "I…I feel it."

Kagome blinked the tears out of her eyes as she set his clothing to rights. She picked up his hand and squeezed with all her might. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"The pillow."

"I'm sorry for not aiming sooner."

"I just…wanted to do something right."

She sighed then. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay."

She swayed his hand back and forth and petted his hair while his breathing slowed. Grandfather once told her that hearing was one of the last senses to go, so she started to hum one of Rin's favorite songs. When his death was announced in the sky, Kagome gently set his hand down and turned over to look at Abi. She was wickedly beautiful and strong on top of that; she was built for the Games.

Both of these contestants tried to kill her, yet she survived.

Kagome was grateful. She wondered if her family was watching. She hoped not, because the sobs that tore from her were not the kind of a strong older sister, of an eldest daughter, or a dutiful granddaughter. Grief turned her into a shriveled, shuddering thing. If she was hidden before, she was surely telegraphing her location now; Kagome made noise, she forgot to breathe, and most of all, she was tired.

And so she slept.


Since Sesshomaru lacked any usual haunts, Kagura took him to her favorite demon-only bar by their workplace the following day. She brought him to the smoking section and held her cigarette facing away from their table. The smoke curled behind her head like a dragon's tail.

"So… he's your brother."

"Not confirmed," Sesshomaru tacked on, "but highly likely."

She stared down at her glowing smartphone and raised her eyebrows. Her fingers pinched the screen to zoom in on the image in front of her. "He's like. The spitting image of your dad."

Though he didn't intend it, he grumbled.

"It's such a cliché to be an unfaithful politician," Kagura grumbled when she set her phone down. "My father is obsessed with this stylist woman half his age."

"Speaking of your father…"

She groaned, loudly. "Here we go."

Sesshomaru maintained a blank expression, "Your father knows what happened to him. They were adversaries, after all."

"That's a bold statement."

"He's the President and my father was a politician."

"And?"

To not understand what he was alluding to was a level of naiveté that he could not abide.

"What happened to the rebellious spirit you're so fond of alluding to?"

Her eyes narrowed. "The President wouldn't be the one to orchestrate a murder. Plenty of citizens hate leadership figures and go out of their way to harm them."

"Nothing like this. There wasn't a single footprint to trace, digital or otherwise."

"That you know of," Kagura snapped. "We don't have the clearance to know the facts of every case."

"You're his daughter. You can prove me wrong."


Inuyasha's ears shot up when a second death of the day had been signaled to everyone. They were relatively close together. The more shots in the air, the higher the odds it could be Kagome. Unease stirred in his gut while he and Shiori broke past the treeline and made it to the water.

They decided to take a moment to fill the canteens. When he looked over at Shiori, she was quietly swishing her hand back and forth in the stream with a soft smile on her face. He couldn't help thinking of the content that would last for days whenever he managed to eat a hot meal after his mother died.

"We're most likely to find Jinenji while the sun is still up, so we should get moving." He felt a little bad rushing her along, but he wanted to get Shiori in safe hands before the new moon.

She didn't protest or even show signs of reluctance at his suggestion. If Inuyasha had a future, he thinks he'd like to have a kid just like her.

The walk through the buildings seemed far quicker this time compared to when he first passed through them. The entire area was more condensed than Twelve, to be sure, but possibly more quaint than he'd initially felt. He and Shiori were facing the gazebo in no time, the smaller wood peeking out behind the tallest building he'd ever seen.

Going through an open courtyard went against every instinct Inuyasha had developed over the years. But it was either the long way or the fast way, and he preferred to be fast. They scurried toward the opposite treeline, with Inuyasha trailing slightly behind and glancing around them as they went.

"Oh!"

Shiori stopped suddenly and bumped into him. "Huh?"

"It's a toy store!"

"So? There's no one in there." Hopefully.

"Let's go in!"

"What? No!"

Shiori turned around to look at him. "Please?"

They engaged in a staring contest. It made him nervous. Birds flew and cawed overhead, the sounds that they made broke through the quiet and only served to pile on the anticipation.

"Let's find Jinenji."

He didn't know that Shiori's eyes could get wider. She even pouted.

"What would you even want in there?!"

She looked down at her feet, swaying slightly, her toes tucked together. "I don't know…it's right next to the trees…and…and it would only be for one second, that's all…"

He evaluated his options. Survival instincts dictated that they get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. However…she looked like a kid again, the same way she did when she was swishing the water through her fingers.

"Keh. Fine."

Shiori leapt joyfully in place, then turned and started to walk briskly towards the dilapidated store, Inuyasha followed close behind. The Ts were gone on the bright sign, so it only read 'oy Sore!'

He took the initiative and grabbed the door handle himself and yanked it open. Dust gushed out of the doorway as soon as he opened it and triggered his sensitive nose. He sneezed and coughed as Shiori rushed past him to look at the dolls on the shelves. He leaned on the threshold and watched her fawn over everything in the room.

"Inuyasha! Come look!"

"I don't care about dolls, Shiori."

"Duh! But this doll looks like Kagome."

"That's weird." He definitely doesn't care about a doll that may or may not look like Kagome.

Shiori looked at him and shrugged, setting the doll box down and checking out the other wares silently. A few minutes passed. She crossed the room and he snuck over to look at the proposed Kagome doll. The vinyl face stared back at him with a wide grin, long black hair, thick bangs, and a striking red dress. She checked the bare minimum of boxes, honestly. "Feh. Barely looks like her," he muttered and set the doll down carefully, like it really was Kagome's likeness sitting in there.

Another doll box entered his vision when Shiori shoved it in front of him. "This one is totally my mom."

The doll that looked back at him had the same dark hair and pale skin but with a middle part and a navy dress. The box design told him it was apparently from the same brand and that it was the same character.

"Totally," he repeated.

Shiori grinned at him in a manner that told him his response was satisfactory.


Kikyo was tapping her foot incessantly as she watched Inuyasha and Shiori putter about the defunct toy shop. Dusk was approaching quickly. She wanted to shake him for being easily distracted like this. This was his best chance to reunite Jinenji and Shiori, which she felt was better for everyone involved.

"They're wasting too much time, the both of them." Footage of two approaching tributes appeared, one of them being Shampoo, who seemed hell bent on getting Inuyasha's attention.

"Gonna learn the hard way," Koga said with a sigh.

"What's keeping Kagome?" Sango wondered aloud. "We haven't seen her in a while."

"That means she's in the same place," Miroku said pensively.

"I didn't know that," she replied softly.

"Kikyo? A word?"

The only reason she tore her gaze from the screen was because it was Naraku's voice. The President loomed over her with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile on his lips.

"Of course," she nodded and rose from her seat readily, noting the sneer that Koga wore on his face as she did so.

"Let's go to my office," he gestured in the direction they'd be going in. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "You seem to be worried about your tribute."

She purposefully didn't react outwardly. "This is the farthest a Twelve tribute has gone in years."

Naraku hummed as he turned the doorknob. "True. And on your and Koga's first year representing the district. Any…other outcome will be devastating, won't it?"

The first thing she noticed when they entered was another presence in the room.

"Kagura, to whom do I owe the honor?" The President's daughter cut a severe figure standing beside the oak desk and a wall of books. She never seemed to smile with her whole face, only smirk, and they seemed even rarer when her father was present. In response to his query, she merely frowned.

"I thought we might have dinner tonight."

The President mirrored her grimace briefly. "Very well. You remember Kikyo, don't you?"

"Of course," she looked her up and down judgmentally. Kikyo was unfazed; the ire of a daughter is a given when the father entertains himself with a woman even younger than her.

"Kikyo is on Twelve's team this year," and to this, Kagura's eyes widened, "you may have noticed the two of them are doing exceptionally well."

"Yes," she replied and looked at Kikyo, "I've been so invested in their…wholesome charisma. I'd love to chat about it."

"Maybe another time," Naraku cut in, "I have a matter to discuss with Kikyo privately. I'll come out to you shortly. Kikyo," he motioned to the glass doors behind the desk, "follow me to the garden."

She said nothing and did as she was asked.


Even though Shiori found a doll that looked like her mother, she didn't care to take it. "I have my orb," she reasoned. The sun was setting in the open doorway, and Inuyasha cursed aloud when he noticed it.

"We've wasted too much time."

On the night before his human night, his senses were already dulled somewhat. His claws were still sharp and he was still strong, but his awareness was dipped underwater.

All this to say, Inuyasha would always blame himself for what happened next.

First, he let her approach the door before he did. Shiori stepped out into the sunset without thinking twice and she was snatched in seconds.

"Fuck!"

He ran after her, hoping to catch the asshole who took her in record time, but a flutter of purple entered his vision and that was the second thing.

They coordinated this.

"Inuyasha!"

"Shampoo," he growled and saw the brush rustle violently, it was probably where Shiori was taken. He tried to follow. "You're going after children now?"

"No, but Inuyasha likes a damsel in distress," it was then she cut in front of him and swung her mace into his side, which he slipped out of at the last moment. "He's a better opponent that way!"

"I preferred the illusion," he lunged forward into her space and her eyes began to sparkle with excitement while she danced backward on her tiptoes, evading him and blocking him in equal measure.

"Byakuya is dead, so reality only now," she said with gusto before trying to ram him in the gut with the hilt of her weapon. He growled and looked behind Shampoo.

"Get out of my way!"

"Not until we fight!"

Shampoo arced the mace over their heads, ready to take a decisive blow. Inuyasha, who thought self-preservation was for dorks, leapt up in the air as she came down and bounded off her head on the ball of his foot.

He could hear her "hey!" as he soared into the first tree he could grasp. Inuyasha breathed in the false silence and focused his senses. He could feel blood trickling down his forehead. He could hear all kinds of things in the distance: prey on the forest floor, heavy feet crunching the leaf litter below it, and—

A whistle. There was a second's delay before the birds overhead repeated it, but a second was all Inuyasha needed to know exactly where Shiori was.

He'd never run so fast; the way he weaved through the trees at high altitude could be mistaken for flight. It was pitch dark outside but with the sound of the whistle, he could find the direction and catch Shiori's scent. He could get there in time.

Inuyasha landed in a clearing behind Shiori with a loud thump. Not too far away was Moose, who flinched at his arrival. Shiori turned her head with an excited gasp. Instead of the silvery lilac hair and purple eyes he's used to seeing, he saw brown hair and brown eyes looking up at him. His stomach dropped.

"It worked!"

He tried to gather himself, tried to see whether or not she was in one piece. "Did he hurt—"

The shuriken that came flying pierced her chest. She fell to the ground with a yelp as Inuyasha tackled Moose and swiftly took him out with his claws. He exhaled raggedly when he looked down at his body, the boy departed quickly.

Shiori groaned behind him and Inuyasha turned to tend to her, but he wasn't the most graceful person. His bloody hand hovered around her hunched figure nervously, wondering how he could ease her pain—

With his nose, Inuyasha could smell death's creeping cloud. It hung around his mother the days before she passed, and it was covering Shiori in a thick miasma now. It was sweet, almost, though it had a rancid tarlike undercurrent. Her arm reached out to hold his hand and he followed her lead and took it with his clean one, gingerly putting her head in his lap. The blade in her chest was an awful protrusion to look at, but at this stage, he wondered if she could even feel it anymore.

"Inuyasha," she croaked out with tears streaking down her cheekbones, "you came."

"'Course I did," he whispered, "you told me half demons stick together."

Her coat pocket was glowing brightly. He rustled through the side with his free hand and grabbed the orb she treasured and placed it in her small, cold palm. She squeezed it hard but her strength drained quickly.

"Thank you, it feels warm," Shiori muttered and gasped, her eyes glancing at him briefly and turning towards the sky. The crescent moon hung accusingly overhead and the stars that lingered around it blinked their fateful patterns. "You know…"

He met her eyes but didn't speak.

"I—I…think—my moon—is pretty." Her eyes blinked slowly, only half closed.

The lump in his throat was hard to talk around, but he answered. For her. "Yeah. It is."

Then her death rang out in the air. It echoed in his ears. He looked down at her hand and it suddenly felt like he didn't know where he was or what he was looking at. What happened? It was all too fast.

Both of his hands came up to hug Shiori's tightened fist anyway. Hot tears forced their way out and Inuyasha squeezed his eyes tightly to stem the tide. He'd failed her, plain and simple, he wasn't strong enough to do what needed to be done, to cut through Shampoo the minute he saw her…

His most enduring, loathsome desire surfaced. One that became loudest on nights before the new moon.

If only he was a full demon.


Naraku walked around his garden like a child: he would touch every flower with abandon as he walked, pulling off petals and leaves in a tour of destruction. He had stopped looking at her in that intent way he always did. This unnerved her.

"Kikyo."

"Yes?" She had wandered near him, but not closely. A piece of her rebelled against the role of follower.

"I want to pick your brain about the Games." Kikyo watched his thumb smear across the top of a vibrant red rose, digging into the center of it. "What do you think it inspires in people?"

"Fear," she replied without a second thought.

"No," he corrected, "but close. Patriotism."

Her lips pursed and she said nothing in response. Pitting districts against one another hardly fosters that.

"Do you think the people of Twelve are watching your tributes in awe right now? This is the longest one of theirs has lasted in a decade and both are alive."

The tone of his voice sounded like he was hoping to change that. "I'd say hope, then."

His head craned to look at her from behind. The smirk that pulled at his lips made her feel like spiders had crawled up her spine. "Hence the patriotism," he started to walk further into the garden, through an archway that had an extravagant pagoda with hanging vines that obscured their presence. Just through the breeze blocks, Kikyo could see those floor to ceiling windows that were characteristic of the Games headquarters. She could see the number of screens showing, albeit rather obscured, Inuyasha and Shampoo dancing around one another.

Kikyo looked down at the fallen petals around her feet and then looked up at Naraku. Her chest tightened when she saw what sat beside him.

The jewel was real. He didn't even spare it a second glance.

"Another question, do you know why so many Careers win the Games?"

She swallowed thickly, wondering why she couldn't, even faintly, feel the prickling sensation of the jewel's rumored aura. "They are trained."

"You can't train for luck. Sometimes luck must be…orchestrated. But viewers don't know that."

"Yes," Kikyo responded quietly.

"Careers win because I want them to," he said blandly, the swirling black and purple iridescence of the sacred jewel reflected in his eyes. "But sometimes true heroes make it on that screen. After they triumph, or after they die heroically, the impact lasts for years."

Usually, Naraku was predictable in his torment of others, but she'd never been the subject of it.

"I wonder what impact Inuyasha will have?" The jewel pulsed and radiated an even darker shadow.

"That depends on him."

"And the world. The key to holding power is to make the beholden believe they have some of their ow5n, and the Capitol listens to what the people want." There was a collective gasp heard from the viewing lobby behind them. Naraku casually glanced down at his phone. "But it is never forgiving for long. Two more down."

Her eyes must have widened slightly because she saw the recognition pass through his gaze.

"I'd never heard your heart race so much, Kikyo," Naraku said with amusement, "I might take you to the garden more often."


notes: WHEW! Sorry for the wait, everyone. Work changes and life changes hit hard and hit often. I'm excited that we've made it this far and I hope you're excited for what comes next. Everyone's feedback helps me finish up this bad boy so please continue to let me know how you feel. You're all wonderful and I missed you! Also lots of love to The Monday Child for general awesomeness and for being the muse of a lifetime. As always, you fucking rock.