Chapter 7: Witching Hour
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Morning breaks slow.
Pale gold sunlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows over the clearing where they made camp. A thin mist still clings to the ground, curling around roots and rocks like it doesn't want to let go of the night. Kagome wakes to the quiet sound of birdsong and the scent of damp earth, her sleeping bag just barely warmed by the fading heat of the fire Inuyasha kept going.
She sits up slowly, stretching her arms overhead. Her muscles are stiff, not from travel, but from unease. The village—still just over the ridge—lingers in her mind like something half-remembered from a dream. She can't shake the feeling that they were being watched last night. That something in the trees had been watching them.
Not malevolent. But not innocent, either.
When she turns, she sees Inuyasha already on his feet, back to her, arms crossed as he stares through the thinning trees toward the village. His ears twitch once as she moves, but he doesn't speak.
"They'll be up by now," she says softly, tugging on her shoes.
He nods. "I smelled smoke from their fires a while ago."
Kagome finishes packing up her backpack before she stands beside him, pulling her jacket tighter. "Sango and Miroku are already ahead, right?"
"They said they'd meet us near the eastern gate."
Kagome glances toward the village. The buildings are barely visible in the morning haze, their thatched roofs blending into the pale sky. But even from here, she can sense something is off. The kind of spiritual disturbance that lingers—just faint enough to doubt it, just strong enough to make her skin crawl.
"We should go," she says. She adjusts her bag and quiver before walking over to grab her bow leaning against a tree.
Inuyasha doesn't argue. He never does when her voice goes quiet like that.
They descend the slope together, neither of them saying much. As the village comes into full view, Kagome notices what she missed the night before—charms nailed to doors, dried herbs tied to posts, and bowls of salt placed beside entryways. Wards. Crude, but desperate.
"They're trying to keep something out," she murmurs out loud in thought.
Inuyasha growls softly. "Or trap something in."
They reach the village gate without resistance. There are no guards. Just a sagging wooden archway with more of those charms strung across the top—faded ink, torn paper, and beads worn smooth from weather.
A few villagers catch sight of them as they step inside. No one runs. No one speaks. But no one smiles, either.
Eyes follow them.
A child peeks out from behind her mother's robes before being quickly ushered inside. A man chopping wood freezes mid-swing and watches them with a tense, unreadable expression. The air feels thick. Pressurized.
"They're scared," Kagome leans towards him and whispers, her eyes watching over the villager's reactions to seeing them.
Inuyasha doesn't respond with anything but a grunt of acknowledgment. He's busy scanning every rooftop, every alley.
Footsteps approach from the east path. Sango and Miroku appear between two houses, both already deep in conversation with a man who seems reluctant to walk too close to them. He seems to be in his forties, and has his black hair pulled back in a short, but high ponytail.
"Ah—Kagome, Inuyasha," Miroku calls with a friendly greeting. "Good timing."
The man stops short when he sees the two of them—particularly Inuyasha. His eyes dart up to the ears, then the claws, and something shifts in his face.
Not fear, but recognition.
"You," the man mutters, hazardly pointing at him. "You're one of the old priest's companions."
Inuyasha's eyes narrow. "What priest?"
"Kaede," the man says, and Kagome's breath catches. "She came here years ago—helped banish the spirit from the shrine near the river."
Sango speaks gently, trying to gain the man's focus. "We were told your village was experiencing strange occurrences. Disappearances. Nightmares. Illness."
The man glances at everyone in the group, then nods once. "It started again. A few weeks ago."
"And the shrine?" Kagome asks. "It was sealed?"
"Kaede sealed it. Said the spirit had been weakened, maybe even destroyed. But something broke the barrier recently. Something tore it open from the inside."
Kagome exhales. "That's why we felt it."
The man hesitates, glancing around at his surroundings, then says lowly, "We don't think it's the same spirit anymore."
Inuyasha's claws flex slightly out of instinct. "Then what is it?"
The man is finally able to directly meet his gaze. "Something older. And angry."
Shortly after, the man excused himself, suddenly seeming skittish, and the group remained polite and thanked him for his help. They all shared a quick glance, silently agreeing to continue their travels through the village to find more clues or information.
The village was still quiet, too quiet for midmorning. A few chickens pecked around the edge of a fence. A child darted out from a doorway before being quickly ushered back inside. The wind stirred dry leaves across the path, but no one came to greet them.
Sango slowed her steps. "They're watching us."
Miroku gave a small nod, standing beside her. "Afraid, perhaps. Or waiting to see why we've come."
"Let's not give them reason to worry," Kagome said, offering a polite bow to an elderly woman peeking through a window. The woman stared without blinking; a rosary clutched between her fingers.
Eventually, a man with a limp approached them. He held a walking staff and wore a faded robe, the hem frayed and stained with dirt. Two others followed at a cautious distance—an older woman with a sharp, lined face and a younger man with wary eyes. They didn't offer their names, but the man with the limp motioned for the group to follow him to a thatched-roof home near the center of the village.
The inside was dim, lit by a single lantern hanging from the rafters. The smell of old incense lingered in the air, clinging to the wood and cloth. Miroku sat first, folding his legs. Sango stayed beside him, her weapon still strapped across her back.
Kagome lowered herself beside Inuyasha, who remained near the door, arms crossed in his sleeves. His eyes immediately flicked toward the window. Being on the lookout.
The man with the limp finally spoke. "We were told you came from Kaede's village. That you've helped others before."
Miroku nodded. "We have. But we came only after hearing your village was in danger."
The old woman snorted. "Danger? Hah. That's one word for it."
"We don't talk about it anymore," the younger man muttered. His voice was hoarse. "Not since Ayame."
The room stiffened at the name.
Kagome leaned forward. "Ayame?"
"My sister," the old woman said sharply. "Gone now. Like the others. Like the children."
Silence.
"Taken?" Kagome asked quietly, her voice raising a hair.
The man with the limp nodded once. "They go near the shrine. They vanish. Or they come back… wrong."
"We've sealed it," the younger man added. "Put wards around it. We don't go near it. Not at night. Not since the dreams started."
Sango's brows furrowed. "Dreams?"
The woman shook her head. "You'll understand. If you stay long enough."
Kagome felt it again—that thrum. Soft, like a heartbeat beneath her skin. It wasn't there before, but now it pulsed faintly from beyond the wall of the house. North. Toward the forest.
Her head whipped in its direction, causing Inuyasha to glance over at her sudden movement. His eyes narrowed in question, but she didn't acknowledge it.
She rubbed her arms. "There's something still active near the shrine, isn't there?"
The older woman met her eyes. "There's something that wants to be found. Something that calls."
Inuyasha's voice was low. "Or lures."
A silence fell. Heavy and thick.
Miroku finally broke it. "We'd like permission to investigate the area. With care. No one else needs to go near it."
"You can't stop it," the old woman warned, her voice sounding frantic. "You might wake it up."
"We're not here to fight it," Kagome said, even though she didn't fully believe that. Not with Inuyasha ready to swing his sword for any excuse he can find. "Not unless we have to."
The man with the limp gave a slow nod. "Then go. But not tonight. Wait until dawn. That's when it sleeps deepest."
Kagome didn't look at Inuyasha, but she felt the shift in his posture. Tense. Ready.
The old woman stood, taking something from the shelf. She walked across the room and pressed a thin bundle of ofuda into Kagome's hands. "These are all we have left. They might not work anymore. But take them."
Kagome accepted the papers, their edges brittle with age and use. She felt a slight spark—barely enough to notice—but something in the paper still hummed faintly. Familiar. Like it had been near the jewel before.
She met the woman's gaze. "Thank you."
As they stepped back out into the light, iffering their gratitude, the wind picked up again, scattering dust across the path.
Behind them, in the shadowed doorway, the villagers watched with hollow eyes.
They made camp just outside the village, not far from the tree line. This time, they remained in direct eyesight of the village. Sango and Miroku moved easily in tandem—pitching their tent, preparing the fire, checking their weapons. It reminded Inuyasha of another time. Another lifetime.
He sat a little apart, back against a tree, sword propped beside him. His ears twitched at every sound—the low rustle of wind, the chirp of a lone cricket, the distant creak of wood from the village.
It wasn't the threat that unsettled him. He was used to danger.
It was them. The people with him.
Sango's laugh as she teased Miroku for nearly burning the rice. The soft sound of Kagome humming while she sorted through the ofuda the old woman had given her. Even Kirara, curled at the edge of the firelight, felt like some relic from a dream he couldn't quite place.
He didn't remember everything. Not clearly. Pieces came in flashes—smells, sounds, feelings—but never the full picture.
But this?
This felt familiar.
And that was what made his chest tighten.
His gaze drifted toward Kagome. She was kneeling beside the fire now, her face dimly lit, her expression focused as she read through the markings on the paper slips. Her brows were furrowed slightly, her lips parted just enough to show she was mouthing the words to herself.
He didn't remember their story. But he remembered her.
And for some reason, that made him restless.
"You okay?"
He looked up. Sango stood over him, her arms crossed loosely, her eyes steady.
"Tch." He glanced away. "Fine."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're doing that thing again. Where you pretend you're not worried when you are."
"I'm not—" He cut himself off and scowled. "…It's just weird."
She sat down beside him with a soft sigh, her shoulder brushing his. She knew exactly where he was coming from. "Being here again?"
He didn't answer right away.
Finally, he said, "I keep thinkin' I'll remember something useful. That maybe whatever's in that shrine will shake something loose. But the only thing I keep thinkin' is…"
He trailed off, piercing his lips in a pout.
Sango glanced at him. "What?"
He looked toward the fire again.
"If something happens tomorrow… I don't want her anywhere near it." He murmurs, avoiding her gaze.
Sango didn't press. Instead, she just nodded. "Then let's make sure nothing does."
The village slept uneasily.
Clouds rolled over the moon, casting shadows that stretched long across the dirt paths. Trees swayed in the breeze, their branches creaking. From the forest beyond the shrine, a low, pulsing hum began to echo—soft, almost musical, like a chime caught in the wind.
Kagome stirred, her eyebrows furrowed.
Her eyes opened slowly, her breath catching as the sound threaded through her chest like a string being pulled taut.
She sat up, the blanket slipping off her shoulders. She wasn't cold, but her skin prickled. A pressure tugged at her heart, gentle but persistent.
Not a voice. Not a word. Just a feeling.
Come closer.
The fire crackles low in the pit. Sango and Miroku sleep in a quiet tangle nearby. Kagome's bedroll is undisturbed, though she hasn't stirred in some time.
Inuyasha sits with his back to his friends, against a tree, facing the village. Tessaiga lays against his shoulder, nestled in his crossed arms. His eyes are closed, golden irises hideen beneath the shadows of lowered lids. He struggles to stay sleep and get some decent rest. But something's wrong.
The night is too still.
Outside the tent, the wind shifts. His ears twitch, turning toward the distant whisper of trees. He tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword and sniffs the air.
Kagome isn't here.
His eyes snap open.
He's on his feet before he can think—quiet, careful, checking the camp. Her bow is gone. So is her presence. No scent of distress, no struggle… but she left. Alone.
Inuyasha exhales, sharp and quiet. Something flickers in his chest, tight and unfamiliar.
He doesn't remember everything. But he knows she shouldn't be out there by herself.
The path winds between trees, soft dirt giving beneath her feet as she moves in silence. Her bow is slung over her back, her steps steady but distant. As though she's dreaming.
The pull is stronger now. A quiet hum beneath her skin, behind her ribs, coaxing her forward. Like the well before it glowed. Like the shards before they shone. Her fingers brush the edge of her sleeve where she once kept the jewel—the memory feels distant, like someone else's.
The shrine stands at the heart of the woods, half-buried in moss and time. Its wood is dark with age, slanted beneath the weight of years. But there's something inside. Something calling.
Kagome's breath fogs as she steps toward the entrance. The temperature drops—just slightly. Not enough to feel unnatural. Just enough to make her hesitate.
She grips her bow.
"Hello?" she calls softly, her voice nearly echoing in the dark emptiness.
No answer. Only the creak of wood, the rustle of wind.
She crosses the threshold.
Inuyasha finds her tracks just beyond the village edge. Faint, but fresh. She hadn't been running. Just walking. Drawn to something.
He grits his teeth and takes off after her, feet silent over roots and fallen leaves. His claws flex with every step.
Why did she go alone? Why didn't she wake him?
He doesn't know what's more frustrating—that she left without a word… or that the thought of something happening to her makes his stomach twist.
"It's not like I—"
He cuts the thought off. That doesn't matter. What matters is finding her.
The trees open just enough to reveal the shrine—and her silhouette.
She's standing still at the entrance, bow ready, her head slightly tilted like she's listening.
Inuyasha's voice comes low and sharp.
"Kagome."
She jolts, half-turns, her eyes wide with surprise. "Inuyasha? What—?"
He's already beside her, scanning the structure. "What the hell are you doing out here?" He asks with an accusatory tone.
"I… I'm not sure." Her voice trembles. "I felt something."
He doesn't argue. Not when her scent is laced with unease. Not when her hands are shaking just slightly.
He steps in front of her. His hand rests near his hip, hovering near Tessaiga.
"Whatever's inside, you're not going in there alone."