Hypervigilance is a state of heightened awareness, where the mind and body remain on constant alert for potential threats. It often develops after trauma, making ordinary sounds, sights, or interactions feel like danger signals. The world becomes a place to scan, analyze, and prepare for—even when no real threat exists.

Kagome sat outside the office, gripping the hem of her skirt. She was ten minutes early. Ten minutes to change her mind. Ten minutes to convince herself she didn't need to be here.

Her leg bounced. She forced it to stop.

She had been fine before. At least, she thought she was. But after everything that happened—the infant, Hoshiyomi, Inuyasha—she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of something being off. She was tired, on edge, and lately, she'd been snapping at people for no reason. When she found that psychology book in the school library, she hadn't meant to go down a rabbit hole. But reading about trauma, about PTSD—she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Was that really what was happening to her?

The thought made her stomach churn.

She had always had people to talk to. Her mom, Ayumi, Eri, Yuka. Sango, though… that was complicated. After all, how could Kagome complain when Sango had been through so much worse? Miroku was a no-go. She just wasn't that close to him. Shippou was too young.

Which left… Inuyasha.

She could talk to him. But whether he'd listen—that depended on the day. The hour. The weather. Sometimes, he understood her better than anyone. Other times, he was frustratingly dense. For a long time, that had been fine. That was just how they worked.

But ever since that day—since she had been alone—something inside her had changed.

A door opened.

"Higurashi-san?"

Kagome shot to her feet. "That's me."

A woman stood in the doorway, smiling warmly. She was soft-featured, with dark, knowing eyes and a calm presence that seemed to steady the air around her. "Come in."

The office was bright, filled with natural light. It wasn't what Kagome had expected—not stiff or clinical, but warm, airy. Two comfortable-looking chairs sat in the center, cushions neatly arranged. There was a desk, a bamboo plant in the corner, bookshelves stacked with titles she couldn't make out from here.

"Sit wherever you like," the woman said.

Kagome hesitated before lowering herself into one of the chairs.

"It's nice to meet you, Higurashi-san. My name is Nanami Matsumoto, but you can just call me Nanami."

Kagome glanced up. That was… informal.

Maybe she studied abroad?

When Nanami sat across from her, Kagome finally took her in. She had the air of someone who didn't need to speak loudly to be heard. There was an ease in the way she carried herself—poised but not stiff, professional but not unapproachable. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were perceptive, calm, like she was taking in more than just Kagome's words. Her black hair was sleek, tucked behind her ears, framing soft features. She wore earth-toned clothing, understated but elegant, and a simple silver pendant rested just above the neckline of her blouse.

Everything about her felt… safe.

"Is this your first time in therapy?"

"…Yeah."

"I remember my first time, too," Nanami said lightly. "It's strange, isn't it? Talking to a stranger about your feelings?"

That caught Kagome off guard.

"You… went to therapy?"

Nanami smiled. "I still do. Every now and then, just to check in with myself."

Kagome hadn't expected that. It was rare for people—Japanese people, especially—to be so open about something like that. It was oddly reassuring.

She exhaled slowly, glancing down at her hands.

"I don't know if this will help," she admitted. "I just… don't know what else to do."

Nanami nodded, her expression understanding. "Well, why don't we start with what brought you here?"

Kagome had rehearsed her answer a hundred times. I'm here because an evil baby rummaged around in my soul, and now I can't stop feeling disgusting and violated, and also I might be in love with my half-demon best friend, who let me down when I needed him the most, and I don't know what to do with that.

…Yeah, no way she was saying that out loud.

Instead, she stalled.

"You… can't tell anyone, right?"

"There are some limits," Nanami said gently. "If you were in danger, or if someone else was, I'd have to step in. But everything else stays between us."

Kagome swallowed. Okay. Okay.

She took a breath.

"A few weeks ago… something really scary happened."

Nanami said nothing, waiting.

"I got separated from my friends. And then…" Kagome's voice faltered. How was she supposed to explain the rest of it?

"That's okay," Nanami said. "Take your time."

Kagome's fingers twisted in her lap. She had been so determined to keep this to herself, but now that she was here, the words were fighting to come out.

"I… I guess I was violated."

The word hung in the air.

Nanami's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes softened.

"And the worst part was…" Kagome's throat tightened. "I thought—he'd come. Inuyasha. He always does. But this time, he didn't. Not in time."

She clenched her jaw, forcing back the emotion rising in her chest.

"And why not?" Nanami asked.

Kagome let out a hollow laugh. "Because someone told him his ex-girlfriend was nearby. And that was more important."

She regretted saying it the moment it left her mouth. She sounded pathetic. Like a jealous girlfriend. Like a child.

But Nanami didn't scoff. She didn't judge.

"That must have hurt."

Kagome blinked. She hadn't expected that.

Her grip on her skirt loosened. "Yeah," she admitted.

She took another breath. She had never said any of this out loud. And suddenly, it was all coming out at once.

"I found this book about PTSD. I don't know much about psychology, but… some of the things I read sounded familiar."

"Which ones stood out to you?"

Kagome hesitated. "I have these nightmares. And whenever Inuyasha comes near, I feel like—I have to push him away. But I don't want to. It's like… there's this invisible wall, and I don't know how to get rid of it."

Nanami nodded. "That sounds like hypervigilance."

Kagome frowned. "Hyper… what?"

"Hypervigilance," Nanami repeated gently. "It's when your mind and body stay on high alert for danger—even when there isn't any. After something traumatic happens, our brain doesn't know the difference between a real threat and something that just feels like one."

Kagome frowned. "But… Inuyasha isn't dangerous."

Nanami smiled. "Your brain doesn't see the difference between a tiger about to attack you and a friend who let you down. To your brain, a threat is a threat."

Kagome slumped back. "So now I'm scared of Inuyasha? Great."

Nanami tilted her head. "Or maybe… you're just scared of getting hurt again."

Kagome stared at her.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

And for the first time in weeks, she felt like she wasn't crazy.

Like someone finally understood.

Like maybe… just maybe… she wasn't as alone as she thought.

AN: I had to do a lot of research for this one. Psychotherapy and Psychology aren't regulated in Japan and generally speaking, Japanese people aren't very open about their struggles in the way the Western World is. I did throw in some western characteristics for the therapist, to make my life a little easier, but this is definitely fiction.

I also wanted to create a moment where Kagome spoke to someone about everything she's feeling. SHE'S FIFTEEN. Imagine struggling with everything she's struggling with at FIFTEEN and having nearly as much courage and grace as she does.

also also, I know Inuyasha isn't a bad guy and they love each other, blah blah blah, but there are definitely emotional repercussions of everything Kagome goes through with him, at least clinically anyway, so I thought it would be fun to explore that.

OKAY ANYWAY THANK YOU BYE/