It didn't take long for the party to be in full swing. Kagome had been forced to put her new gift in the ornate cabinet in the adjourning room, sneaking back whenever she could escape. Those moments became fewer and farther between as the night went on, as all of the pesky suitors her mother had invited kept popping out of the woodwork, inviting her to converse, eat, or dance.
Being the gracious hostess, Kagome had no choice but to accept but kept every interaction as short as possible. The only one who didn't seem to get the message was a young man named Akitoki. They'd gone on a few outings the last time she'd been home, but he'd quickly voiced his need for a stay-at-home wife willing to take care of the home—and himself.
He was sweet enough and would likely entice some hardworking woman to fulfill that role, but Kagome knew that wasn't the life for her. There were too many things to experience, too many places to see, and she was greedy enough to want it all. Joining the ballet was the first step, and now that she was lucky enough to land a lead role, she could focus on accomplishing everything else.
Playing house for someone who expected her to do everything was not part of the plan. She was terrible at cleaning anyway. She could do it, but she usually got distracted in the middle and spent more time dancing, the floors and windows remaining dirty and dusty.
Heaving a sigh as she glanced toward the tree, Kagome tried to listen to the conversation around her. A few women she'd gone to school with were twittering about the latest gossip, attempting to goad her into revealing the same about the ins and outs of her dance company, but Kagome had never had enough patience for that. She usually had to have someone explain why someone else was mad because she'd missed a breakup or betrayal.
"You can't be serious, Kagome," Yuka admonished, smacking her arm with a lace fan. She jumped at the contact, having missed what she'd said prior, giving her a guilty look. Yuka rolled her eyes. "What's the point of travelling so far away if you spend all your time practicing?"
Kagome blinked in confusion. "That's the point of being a dancer," she replied.
The two other women groaned, Ayumi fanning herself dramatically. "Aren't male dancers supposed to pick you up or hold you when you spin? You can't tell us there hasn't been a single spark between you and the male lead."
"They pay more attention to the chorus girls than me," she said. "And have been perfect gentlemen when we rehearse—"
"Did someone mention a gentleman? You couldn't be talking about me, then." Her uncle seemed to appear out of nowhere, situating himself between her and her friends. Kagome was grateful for the reprieve, especially when he nudged her away, inclining his head toward the nearest door. His hand was clasped tightly behind his back, and she brushed her fingers along his before darting away, her friends completely enraptured in what surely was a harrowing tale of his latest exploits.
Closing the door quickly behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief, taking a moment for her ears to adjust to the blissful silence. The chatter on the other side was a constant din, grating on her nerves until she was ready to burst out of her own skin. Being home was one thing; enduring relentless company was something else. Maybe she'd convince Kouga to take her hunting in the morning.
Mama would likely try to talk them out of it, and she usually slowed him down, but running through the forest would cleanse her senses—and the growing headache at the base of her neck.
Breathing deeply, she made her way to the cabinet, smiling at the sight of her newest addition. "Hello again. How have you been getting on?" His passive expression made her laugh, though she stifled it behind her hand. "Sounds about right. Hence why I'm in here." She opened the door, automatically sliding her fingers over his broken shoulder. She couldn't imagine going about life missing a limb, but the magic of her uncle's tale made it sound like he'd had no other choice.
He didn't seem like the type to complain, either.
"You probably take it all in stride, claiming it was all according to your plan," she mused, tapping her chin. "Isn't it a shame that I never believe anything at face value?" She grinned at him, the voices on the other side of the door quieting long enough for the lyrical notes of the live band Mama had hired to filter under the door.
Kagome began to sway, unable to help herself, and she eyed the statue, mirth lightening them to mischievous cobalt before she curtsied low. "Standing on the sidelines during such an enchanting melody? I think not, Your Highness." She grabbed him, holding him up in the air before spinning across the floor. Although he was made entirely of wood, the intricate design of his uniform and features gave him life. She imagined his long, silver hair flowing freely as he moved.
"If you're anything like Uncle Touga," she said, rising up on tiptoe, "you'd probably have to pull it back in some way. Unless you're skilled enough to have it stay in one place." She alternated between dips and spins, her skirts cascading up in the air with every lifted leg. Her heeled boots weren't the best for keeping her balance, but the trade-off was the lack of blisters on her toes.
When the song finally came to an end, she was breathing heavily but smiling more than she had since the party had started, and she curtsied again. "See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?" The next song was faster, so she returned him to the shelf. "I don't suppose you've introduced yourself to anyone else in here?" she asked.
Each shelf was lined with vintage dolls and toys from her childhood, most of which were collecting dust. She refused to get rid of them, though. Once she had a more permanent residence, she'd find a place to put them. They'd served her well growing up, and she couldn't find it in herself to get rid of them.
"This is Sango. She was raised to be a lady, but being a demon slayer suited her better. Don't worry," she said, winking at the nutcracker, "she's good at reading people, so she won't attack you." She tapped the edge of a large boomerang. "I wanted to be like her when I was little. Having Kouga around helped tame the need to run away and start my own team of slayers. Don't tell him that, though."
She moved along the shelf, the slight shift of the wood making the rings on the next doll's staff clink together. "This is Miroku. He's a little handsy, but Sango keeps him in line." She pointed to some dried flowers at his feet. "He tries to woo her but always jumps the gun before she can say yes." She giggled softly as memories of acting out almost-weddings resurfaced.
Kouga would play with her now and then, especially when battles were to be won, but an overexuberant round of sparring had distracted her from putting them away. When she'd come back to him the next day, he'd had a punctured palm, so Kagome had wrapped his arm in purple tape, pretending he'd been cursed.
She introduced a few more, then landed on a dark-haired china doll clad in a floral kimono. "Kagura is my oldest doll," she said, the slightest touch making her beaded earrings sway back and forth. "Uncle Touga gave her to me one of the first times I met him. She's older than Kouga." The silk of her clothing had never faded, even after spending years in Kagome's room and sometimes a stroller.
Her expression was as sombre as the nutcracker, and they looked like they came from the same set, but even as she put them side by side, they were slightly turned away from each other. "You'd probably get along with her," she mused. "She pretends to be unfeeling, but she's very loyal." She tapped Kagura's foot. "She's always struck me as sad, though. Like she's missing something. Uncle Touga says she's part of a set, but he'd never found the other one, so I don't know what it looks like."
The band swelled again, and Kagome winced, realizing how long she'd been hiding. "I should get back," she said with a resigned sigh. "I'll come and see you again later." She tapped the moon on his brow, then closed the cabinet door. She longed to spend the rest of the night talking to her old toys, as ludicrous as that sounded, especially for someone her age. But she knew Mama enjoyed showing her off to her neighbours, and the success of her latest show was the perfect opportunity to do so.
The party lasted well into the night, candles replaced as waning wicks were snuffed out by passersby. Kagome wasn't sure where Mama had kept them all, but the trays of food were never left empty for long, steam rising from various dishes even as their old clock chimed nine. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed, or better yet, a bath, but every time she edged toward the stairs, someone new found her, bombarding her with questions about her time away.
She'd tried to make eye contact with Touga, hoping he'd intervene on her behalf, but after an overzealous presentation of his latest invention, he became the subject of everyone's attention, unwanted or not. She'd even started looking for Kouga, but he'd disappeared, leaving her to fend for herself.
It wasn't until Akitoki asked for his third dance that Mama was finally at her side, insisting she was needed in the kitchen. Akitoki had beamed at the notion that Kagome had been responsible for some of the delicacies that spread across multiple tables, but Mama quickly dashed his dreams, stating that it was a matter of plating, not cooking. His shoulders had slumped but were ignored as she dragged her daughter away.
"My hero," Kagome crooned, collapsing onto the nearest stool as her mother replenished a tray of fudge.
"You looked like you needed rescuing," agreed Emiko. "Though I'd hoped one of them would catch your eye."
"Trying to keep me at home a little longer, Mama?" she guessed, smiling good-naturedly as she snuck one of the tarts from the trays, popping the entire thing into her mouth.
"Not in the slightest," her mother argued. "You're far too talented to be stuck as a housewife." Her emphatic tone had Kagome wrapping her arms around her waist, Mama quickly doing the same. "I just worry about you being lonely while you're travelling."
"You're not planning on buying Kouga a plane ticket, are you?" she asked, making a face. "It's bad enough with the chorus girls fawning all over him when he visits."
"That's half the reason he does it." The two women locked eyes, then burst out laughing, the tray of desserts forgotten on the counter.
"It's too bad he didn't get into dance himself," Kagome said after wiping her eyes. "Everyone would both love and hate him. For all the same reasons."
It was her mother's turn to make a face. "His ego is large enough as it is, thank you. I'm just glad he isn't the player people make him out to be. I'd rather the gossip be about how mysterious he is, not a trail of broken hearts."
"That we know about." That set them off again, and it was a while before Emiko could collect herself long enough to scold her daughter.
"You shouldn't wish that upon your brother," she said, dabbing her eyes with a napkin.
"It would serve him right for all the times he's come into my room without knocking," Kagome said with a sniff. "Or broken my toys." She cast a wistful glance toward the double doors leading into the ballroom. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was responsible for the nutcracker's missing arm."
When she turned back, her mother was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, and heat began to creep into her face. "Your break isn't meant to be spent playing with toys," she chastised.
"I'm not, Mama. Uncle Touga—"
Emiko threw her hands in the air. "Your uncle is nothing but trouble when it comes to affairs of the heart. He should work on sorting out his own situation before trifling with others."
Curiosity gnawed, and even biting her lip wouldn't stop the questions bubbling under the surface. Kagome slowly got to her feet, helping her mother arrange the last of the trays. "What is his situation, Mama? Aunt Izayoi always seems so sad, even though Uncle Touga clearly loves her." No matter how much attention he gave to her and Kouga, it was nothing compared to what he lavished his wife with.
Izayoi was soft-spoken, especially compared to Touga. Although she always greeted his compliments with a smile, it never quite reached her eyes. Touga noticed it, too, offering her soft touches and kisses to her temple. She always squeezed him a little tighter afterward, then removed herself from his embrace to stand off to the side. Kagome had tried countless times to initiate a conversation, but it was always stilted and usually cut short. At times, she reminded her of Kagura, like a soul wandering alone, looking for her missing piece.
"Her situation is complicated," Mama eventually said, her hands curling around the bottom of the tray. "She lost two people very important to her a long time ago."
Kagome leaned against the counter. "Did they die?"
"Not exactly," she hedged.
"But they're not here," Kagome guessed. "Even with Uncle Touga's magic?"
Another sigh, this one longer than before. "He's tried everything within his power, but it's a spiderweb of spells that he hasn't been able to penetrate." Uncle Touga had always been shrouded in mystery, but this was the first time she'd heard Mama speak openly about his abilities.
Even within the youkai communities, daiyoukai were elusive and rare. Touga was the only one Kagome had ever met. There were supposed to be others in his family, but she'd never been introduced to them. The nutcracker had similar markings, but the crescent moon on his forehead put him in another category entirely. Besides, it had to be painted on.
"Where have you gone now?" Mama asked, not even looking up from the tray.
Kagome sighed. Somehow, she always knew. "Not far. Just wondering if there's a way to make Izayoi's night a little brighter."
Mama's eyes flickered between the ballroom door and the adjoining room. "I think your efforts are needed somewhere else," she said. "But I'm sure she would love the company regardless."
Kagome groaned. "You're not siding with Akitoki, are you? He's so bland, Mama. I fall asleep just listening to him." Her hands went to her hips. "And you just finished rescuing me from him!"
Emiko chuckled but shook her head. "Not in the slightest, dear." She handed her daughter the tray of desserts. "Why don't you take these in? I have it on good authority that Izayoi is a fan." Kagome brightened, but her mother leaned closer before she could turn away. "I also happen to know that Akitoki is allergic and will have to keep his distance."
She raised an eyebrow, her mother nodding fervently, and Kagome balanced the tray on one hand, popping one into her mouth for good measure. "Just in case," she said, the two women sharing a smile before she slunk through the ballroom door.