Like Mother Like Daughter

“Then, Junko brought me to headquarters, and I met the rest of the team,” Yuuto reminisces as his eyes fall upon the night sky above him. Kagome stares at the man next to her, stupefied by his story he shared with her. The breeze swept her pixie cut off of her face and let it dance with the night air.

“I definitely wasn’t prepared for Niko,” Yuuto recollects, as a short and soft chuckle vibrates against his chest, “You remember when he drew a knife on me? God, after everything I went through that day. I really thought Junko just lured me into some crack den, and called her cronies to kill me, because she couldn’t do it herself!”

Kagome smiles as she giggles at the memory. Her eyes sparkle as some residual tears fade away underneath the moonlight. “I’m pretty sure he was just mad that Junko let some strange, criminal guy onto the Task Force before him, you know?” She adds, taking Niko’s perspective into account. Yuuto nods at the point of view, and his eyes pull to the girl on his right.

“Then I met you,” He states softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. Kagome’s head turns to Yuuto at the newfound tone of voice, and her chest tightens at his words. “You were just laughing as Jiro and Ren tried to hold Niko back from carving out my eyes. You just stood there, with your hand over your mouth, behind the couch. I think you were wearing pajamas, too - you weren’t even dressed up in anything fancy.”

Kagome’s eyebrows squint together, as she grows confused by Yuuto’s perspective of the memory. “I don’t know what it was, because you definitely weren’t doing anything special, but…” The corners of Yuuto’s mouth perk up in a warm, whole-hearted smile as he stares at Kagome under the stars.

“I still fell in love with you the minute I laid my eyes on you.”

Kagome’s eyes fall open in an indescribable shock, as Yuuto’s own eyes stay latched on to her’s. The speed of her heart rate accelerates with each passing moment the two stare at each other. The once calming wind now bullies against Kagome’s tense body, and the stars above now act as taunting spotlights placed upon her.

Yuuto grows concerned at Kagome’s lack of a response, and his eyebrows draw in confusion. “Kagome?” He asks, his voice breathing into the wind, “If you don’t, you know… You don’t have to-”

“Take it back.”

Kagome’s tight voice whispers out, the words scratching against her throat as she speaks. Her eyes shine with resurfacing tears, but they swell with fear and apprehension instead of their previous sadness and despair. Kagome’s palms grasp the ledge of the balcony tightly, but the fear that resides within her causes her grasp to be limp.

Yuuto’s eyes spill into a pool of hurt and disorientation, being taken off guard by the blunt response. “What?” He queries, his heart tightening in his chest - swirling in a lake of pointless hope, “Why would I take that back? That’s how I feel about you, and if you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. But don’t tell me to take it back-”

“Please, Yuuto,” Kagome pleads, her voice choking up from the anxiety seeping out of her heart, “Please, take those words back. Tell me you don’t mean it. You can’t do this to me, Yuuto! Not you, it can’t be you. I need…”

Kagome squints her eyes shut, and she allows the words on the tip of her tongue to vanish before they are spoken. Shaking her head free of the emotions she is overcome by, Kagome bolts towards the balcony entrance. She rips the glass door open and sprints inside, where she finds solace and desired isolation within her dark bedroom.

Yuuto remains standing on the balcony, where his sight lays upon the open doorway - the place his love had just fearfully run through. The panging in his heart stings with every pulse, and the tightness in his muscles and bones clench with anxiety and confusion. Yuuto’s face swims in expressions of hurt, hopelessness, and vulnerability. Out of all the outcomes Yuuto conjured in his mind, that certainly was not one he was prepared for.

Kagome waited in her bedroom until she was sure that Yuuto, Ren, and Niko all left headquarters. Embarrassed, her mind is filled with mixed feelings of betrayal and guilt. She so desperately wanted these cruel emotions to vanish, for something to just wash away all of the pain and hurt that was weighing on her unyielding heart.

“It makes me feel better!”

A short flash of a buried memory resurfaces in Kagome’s mind, and her heart drops at the recollection. She squeezes the pillow situated in her arms tight to her chest as she squints her eyes - attempting to rid herself of the memory she has suppressed all these years.

“It makes me feel better! It makes me feel better! It makes me feel-”

Throwing the pillow across the room, the plush object collides against the wall and knocks into a picture frame. The glass portrait falls against the surface of the wall and slams onto the floor - causing the glass pane to shatter. A photograph of Junko and Kagome resides within the now tarnished glass, and the picture frame falls face first onto the floor.

Kagome stomps over towards her closet and rips out a black zip-up hoodie from one of the many hangers. Throwing it over her upper body, she marches over to her bedroom door. Forcefully prying the wooden door open, Kagome steps into the hallway.

She closes the door behind her, and is immediately greeted with an overbearing silence within the dark apartment. As she cautiously makes her way down the ominous hallway, Kagome’s past taunts her present mind.

Shiori Hata and Kagome Hata were an inseparable duo of mother and daughter, ever since the day she was born. Her father, though a part of her life, never made it to her third birthday, due to a fatal drug overdose. Kagome heavily relied on her mother throughout her adolescence, and Shiori provided everything her daughter needed and more.

Her mother was a professional model - but, as Shiori put it for a young Kagome, she was a “model for adults.” Thus, despite being a renowned supermodel, Kagome was never allowed to see any of her photographs due to their mature nature. Shiori worked at night, in order to comply with an international time schedule, and Kagome always watched as her mother was picked up every night by a man in a dark car.

Kagome now finds herself in front of her roommate’s bedroom door - where soft, muted snores escape through the cracks of the door. She places her warm palm onto the cold doorknob, the sensation causing a chill to run down her tense spine. Twisting the knob, Kagome’s cautious eyes land upon a sleeping Jiro.

Jiro’s body is sprawled over the mattress, and the blue blanket is tossed across portions of his own unconscious body. Pushing the door past its ajar position, Kagome enters the bedroom without warning. She takes a step into the dark room - the only light coming from the full moon outside of the window - and a creak sounds out from the wooden floorboards beneath her feet.

Kagome was always a beautiful girl: gaining popularity through middle and high school purely from her looks alone. Her long, blonde hair melted the hearts of many, and planted seeds of envy in others. Despite it all, Kagome was always a truly kind and intelligent person - with a personal enjoyment for Chemistry. Having consistently received top marks on all of her science exams, her teacher - Mr. Yamamoto - regularly praised her for her intelligence and hard work.

Senior year, she was appointed president of the Chemistry club, and was recognized across the prefecture for her outstanding performance in a multitude of science expositions. Her last year of highschool was set up to be an astounding gateway towards secondary education, and a year to be filled with memories she would reminisce about for a lifetime.

However, senior year was filled with nothing but treachery, disbelief, and tragedy from the very beginning. It all started with Kagome’s curious mind, and her mother’s bathroom.

Sucking in a breath, Kagome continues on her path into Jiro’s bedroom - placing even more caution in her footsteps. She manages to make it to Jiro’s bedside, where the soft snores she heard before now goad her ears as she carefully looks to his nightstand. Reaching her hand down to grasp the handle of the first drawer, her eyes dance to the surface of the bedside table.

A framed photograph of all of the officers, alongside Niko, pose merrily on the curb outside of the apartment. Junko immediately draws the attention of the picture, and beside her Ren and Jiro have thrown their arms atop her shoulders. Niko and Yuuto were back-to-back next to Ren, and a cheerful Kagome held up two peace-signs next to Jiro.

It was a picture taken about two years ago, when they had asked the old bartender downstairs to take a group photo of them. Kagome had complained about the team not having many pictures together. While Junko, Ren, and Yuuto complied, Jiro and Niko were tough to persuade. Eventually, after many compromises and bribes, the photo was taken - much to Kagome’s joy.

Even though Jiro opposed the idea, he still kept the picture at his bedside all this time, and Kagome had no idea. The thought makes Kagome smile, and look towards her snoring friend in a deep sleep to her left. Pulling the handle, the top drawer of the nightstand crawls open, and a shadowy pistol rests within the confines of the drawer.

The sight makes Kagome’s previously warm and nostalgic expression fade into a scowl filled with anxiety and dread. Despite the nagging feeling, she reaches into the drawer and clutches the pistol. Sliding the weapon into the back of her waistband, Kagome softly shuts the drawer back to its original position.

A bored Kagome waltzed down the decorated hallway of her and Shiori’s home. Her long hair swayed with every step, and her light footsteps padded against the cold floor. She reached her mother’s bathroom, and stared at the closed door. Contemplating for a moment, Kagome decided to enter the undiscovered room.

Since she had her own bathroom closer to her bedroom, Kagome rarely went into her mother’s bathroom. Twisting the knob, she welcomed herself into the tiled, porcelain bathroom. Kagome dragged her eyes over the walls, the hygenic trinkets, and all the like. As she looked to the left, her eyes landed on her own reflection.

Kagome walked closer to the mirror, and she realized that it doubled as a cabinet. She reached her hand out, and pulled open the cabinet door that supported the mirror’s surface. Her brown eyes looked over multiple prescription medication bottles, facial wipes, cotton swabs, and one particular substance that sparked her curiosity.

Grabbing the small plastic bag within her fingertips, Kagome possessed the unknown crystalline powder in her hands. An expression of confusion darted across her features as she examined the strange bag. Just then, she heard her mother entering the house - taking her off guard. Kagome shoved the white powder in her front pocket, and swiftly exited the bathroom.

Kagome shut Jiro’s bedroom door behind her, and sighed a heavy breath after her exit. Setting her face straight, she tugs the dark hood of her zip-up over the short strands of hair on her head. With a newfound determination, Kagome paces towards the metal doorframe, and files through the open doorway. As she cascades down the rickety, wooden staircase, the door shuts with a short clamor behind her.

Reaching the first floor, Kagome marches straight through the closed bar. The residual smell of alcohol tickles her nose, and the glossy bartop reflects the streetlights’ glow from outside. Throwing herself through the doorway, Kagome casts herself into the night air. There was an eerie atmosphere surrounding the empty street before her, and the once relaxing starry sky now hovered over her in a somber fashion.

After school the following day, Kagome found her Chemistry teacher packing up his things before leaving for the day. “Mr. Yamamoto?” Kagome asked, entering the classroom. Mr. Yamamoto looked up from his desk, and smiled at Kagome’s entrance. “Ms. Hata!” He greeted, turning in his chair, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Kagome smiled at the warm welcome, and approached Mr. Yamamoto’s desk towards the front of the room. “I, uh… I need your help with something,” Kagome admitted bashfully, feeling the small, plastic baggie within her pocket, “If I gave you something, would you be able to tell what it was?”

Mr. Yamamoto removes his glasses from his face, and draws his eyebrows in deliberation of Kagome’s words. Skeptical, Mr. Yamamoto does not comply right off the bat. “Will I be getting in trouble for having this… substance… in my classroom, Kagome?” The question made Kagome’s eyes widen a fraction, but a look of uncertainty crossed her features.

“Probably not, but that’s the thing - I have no idea what it is,” Kagome said as she pulled out the crystalline powder from her uniform pocket, and held it in her cupped hands. Mr. Yamamoto took the bag from her possession, and held it between his fingers. Placing his glasses back onto his face, the teacher’s face pulled together in scrutiny as he analyzed the substance.

Then, when he finally realized what the powder consisted of, his face dropped. Kagome observed his reaction, and her heart rate began to accelerate. Her mouth parted as she shifted her weight from foot to foot in a subconscious measure of anxiety. “W-What is it, Mr. Yamamoto?”

The teacher placed his heavy, concerned gaze onto the innocent, highschool senior. “It’s cocaine, I’m sure of it,” Mr. Yamamoto said - his voice low and serious as his words shoved themselves into Kagome’s eardrums.

Kagome drives her weak legs over the sidewalk in tired, yet determined sprints. She has one destination in mind, and nothing was going to stop her from reaching it. The hood previously placed upon her head was pushed back from the momentum of her run, and from the sharp wind that scrapes against her body. The expression on her face conveyed exasperation and meaningless hope, while her heart pulsates through deep feelings of dread and anxiousness.

The illuminated street lights stand at separate intervals above her, and they paint a strong glimmer of light in her eyes as she runs past each consecutive post. Kagome’s breath is heavy, and her throat burns with each push of oxygen. 

Nevertheless, she does not stop running. She does not stop forcing herself forward. The pangs of hurt from the events of her day still reside within her heart, and it is all the more reason to keep moving on.

Kagome’s eyes gaped and fogged over after hearing her teacher’s conclusion. Her knees shook in her stance, and she could feel her heart beating from the pits of her stomach. Why did Shiori have drugs in the house? Even after what happened to Kagome’s father, she still possesses this kind of thing?!

“Now that I’ve helped you, Kagome,” Mr. Yamamoto said, standing up from his chair, “I think I deserve a little compensation, no?” The teacher stood behind Kagome, but her mind still raced with fear and uncertainty. She was barely paying attention to what Mr. Yamamoto was saying, until he coarsely placed his large hands onto her small shoulders.

“I mean, I’ve done a lot more for you in the past than just identifying that powder, haven’t I?” He began rubbing the curves of her shoulders - giving her an unwelcome and rough massage, “I always boosted your scores on tests, I appointed you president of the Chemistry club, and I even put in a good word for you at your top choice college.”

Mr. Yamamoto gripped Kagome’s shoulders, and his fingers aggressively pierced her bones. “When are you going to give me something?” The teacher asked, his voice low as he placed his mouth right next to her ear - where her long, blonde hair covered the skin. Raising his hand from her shoulder, Mr. Yamamoto shamelessly brushed her hair back, and moved his mouth even closer to her ear. “When is it my turn, Kagome?”

Kagome’s eyes squint shut as she finds herself entering the train station. Be it so late at night, there were minimal civilians wandering the station - making it easier for Kagome to run to her desired train. The tiled floors below her sneaker-clad feet vibrate from the soles of her shoes colliding against the dirty, public ground.

She finds herself at the correct platform at last, and - in a fit of exhaustion - her torso buckles over as her hands fall upon her knees. Kagome’s breathing is a wretched mess, while beads of sweat pour from her hairline and tickle her eyelashes. Her heart continued to pulsate rapidly, until Kagome regained control of her unhinged breaths and stabilized her heartbeat.

Once her body returns to normal after a few minutes of vulnerable rest, Kagome stands to her full height. As she does so, a train powers through the tunnel in front of her, and makes the ends of her clothes sway from the sudden gust of wind. Her eyes hold a deep determination as she watches the metal train force its way down the tight tunnel.

Kagome arrived home after her encounter with Mr. Yamamoto, and immediately made her way towards her bedroom. Her mother was not home, thankfully, so she was not pestered about questions of her day. She threw her bag onto her pink bed, and dragged her body over to her desk. Kagome snatched a pair of scissors on the desktop, and marched out of her bedroom.

She reached her secluded bathroom door, and hastily threw herself into the white room. Slamming the door behind her, Kagome dragged her eyes to her own reflection in the mirror. She brought her body closer to the counter, where she stared herself down on the reflective surface. “Don’t touch me…” Kagome muttered out, her words slurring together in a fit of disorientation and despondence.

“Don’t touch me!” Kagome’s voice suddenly screamed, and he thrashed the blades of the scissors through her long, blonde locs of hair. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” She repeated, shouting all of the words she couldn’t say before. The scissors violently diced her hair, as the dead strands floated into the sink below.

Hysteric sobs fell out of her dry mouth, and the cries minced her heart and throat at each blood-curdling whine. Soon, Kagome cut all of her hair off - leaving her with a short, uneven heap of blonde hair atop her head. Her breaths were deep and tangled, as her eyes remained lethally trained onto her own reflection.

“I don’t want you … to touch me.”

Kagome’s train finally pulls to a stop in front of her, and the automatic doors gradually crawl open. Pulling her face together, Kagome steps onto the mode of transportation, where she notices that she is the only passenger in this car. Sighing to herself, Kagome collapses onto one of the many open seats in the car.

A few minutes later, the doors close once again, and the operator’s voice rings throughout the empty car. Kagome relaxes her back into the plastic seat as she feels the train thrust forward into the tunnel.

That night, Kagome sat in her room, isolating herself from her mother. There were a multitude of questions she needed to ask Shiori, but could not find the confidence to ask. Kagome was also ashamed of her newfound appearance, and would rather not explain her haircut to her mother.

At around the same time as every other night, Kagome heard Shiori take her leave to the modeling agency as the front door closed shut. On a whim, Kagome sprinted out of her dark room, and headed towards the front door. Ripping the entryway open, Kagome watched the black car drive away down the empty street.

She pulled her face together in a mix of doubt and determination, and shut the front door behind her. Kagome ran across her front yard, and picked up the bike stranded by the curb. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and the night air hugged her tense body in its clutch. Kagome hopped onto the bicycle, and pummeled the pedals as fast as her legs could push.

Kagome hauled herself and the bike through the street, where she caught a glimpse of the fading vehicle down the road. Bringing her eyebrows in, Kagome pushed harder, and stood on her bike to further boost her mobility and velocity. The gloomy clouds overhead guarded the twinkling stars, causing a blanket of shadowy darkness to encapsulate the sky.

She wondered where her mother’s agency was, and how long it would take to get there. Not sure of her physical ability to keep up with the motor vehicle, Kagome continued to push herself onwards, and followed her mother into the ominous night. The roaring engine vibrated within the caves of Kagome’s chest, and combined with her rapid heartbeat.

In a turn of events, the car pulled to a stop in front of a suburban home in a residential neighborhood. Could they have been picking up another model that did not own a car? Kagome placed her feet onto the ground, and slowly skidded to a halt - out of sight from the vehicle. Bringing her eyebrows together, her deep, hollow breaths passed her lips as she watched the driver turn off the vehicle, and exit the car completely.

He walked over to Shiori’s door, grabbed the handle, and opened up the passenger door. Her mother’s leg fell out of the car, and was followed by the rest of her body. The man offered her a hand, and hoisted the woman out of her seat. Shutting the door behind her, the man led Shiori up the path, and towards the front door of a random, suburban house.

After they entered the building, Kagome stomped her feet onto the pedals, and pushed herself towards the house. She threw her bicycle onto the curbside, and staggered up the pathway. What was her mother doing here? This couldn’t possibly be the modeling agency, could it? Nonetheless, Kagome persevered onwards towards the front door.

The automatic doors pull open, and Kagome files through the exit at her desired stop. A new wave of anxiety washes upon the young woman, as she realizes the closeness between her and the place she is so desperately trying to reach. Kagome waltzes through the train station with haste in her step. Soon, she is welcomed by that same night wind that kisses her face in greeting.

Needing no navigation or directions, Kagome marches down the street - having the address so readily imprinted in her mind. The cold material from the weapon concealed in her waistline sends a chill up her spine in a flood of fear. She had never operated a gun before, let alone be taught how to use one. Was she really going to use it, should the opportunity arise? Did she have the strength and the willpower to wield such a lethal weapon?

Shaking her head, Kagome quickens her pace as she continues marching down the empty sidewalk. The oversized zip-up on her torso, and the baggy jeans clad on her legs feel tighter as the distance shortens between her and her final destination. Kagome’s muscles tighten subconsciously, and her eyebrows draw in a rigid position.

Kagome’s shaking hand grasped the handle of the strange front door, before she roughly twisted the entryway open. There, in the middle of the room, was her mother’s back facing her daughter. The large, bulky coat fell from her shoulders and onto the wooden floor at Kagome’s entrance. Shiori turned around, a tide of shock lacing her expression, and her eyes latched onto Kagome’s own petrified ones.

Shiori hid a silky, lavender slip dress beneath her barricade of a coat. The man in front of her stepped to the side, and eyed Kagome up and down. “Who the hell are you?!” He voiced, with anger echoing his words. Kagome’s eyes were wide with confusion and fear - the worst conclusions jumping around in her mind.

“Kagome,” Shiori whispered, turning her body to face her daughter, “What… What are you doing here? What happened to you?!” Shiori stepped towards Kagome, but the movement caused her daughter to take a step back - retaining the distance between them. Kagome’s breath hollowed out, and reverberated against her dry throat.

“Kid, get the hell out of here, so we can get on with our night,” The man demanded, stepping forward to latch his grip onto Shiori’s bare arm, “I paid good money for this bitch, and you’re just wasting my time!” Shiori winced at the contact, but did nothing to resist the man’s tight grasp.

“Mommy,” Kagome spoke up at last, her voice just above a whisper. Guilt ran rampant through Shiori’s eyes as she stared at her daughter. “What are you doing here? Who is this man? Why… Why are you dressed like that?” Tears began forming in the crevices of Shiori’s eyes, and her painted lips started to quiver in despair.

“I…” Shiori began, not being able to find the right words. Then, in an instant, her knees buckled and gave out beneath her - causing her body to collapse onto the wooden floorboards. What started out as salty tears turned into hysteric and sinister sobs that echoed against the gloomy atmosphere that settled over them.

“I’m a filthy, filthy woman, Kagome!” She screamed so loud in admittance, and her chest roared in guilt, “I’ve lied to you this whole damn time! I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m so sorry. I love you so much, Kagome. Please, please, forgive me…”

Kagome’s mouth closed as her shaking lips touched, while her eyes remained wide open as they stared into her mother’s own eyes. “What was it?” Kagome asked, her voice low as she tried to remain calm, “What was it that you’ve lied about?”

Shiori pulled her weighted, guilty gaze onto Kagome, and her chest rose and sank with each uneven breath. “I’m not at all who you think I am… Who I told you I was,” Shiori’s hitched breath interrupted her confession, and a few tears fell down her reddened cheeks, “I’m not a model. I never was. I just told you that… because it was easier to lie, than to tell you the truth.”

“Tell me the truth,” Kagome demanded as she strained her voice, trying to keep her already weakened composure. Shiori’s lips drew in, and her eyebrows quivered up as the truth rose in her throat - burning her esophagus as it approached her tongue. Squinting her eyes shut one last time, Shiori relinquished the last moment of Kagome’s ignorance to the reality of her mother’s life.

“I’m a prostitute.”

Kagome’s mouth parted, and an expression of utter betrayal consumed her face. For eighteen years, Shiori let her naïve little daughter believe her mother was some celebrity supermodel, and worked tirelessly through the night - every night - to keep a roof over her head. 

It wasn’t her being a prostitute that made Kagome’s stomach churn and boil with anger, sadness, and betrayal. It was the lies that her own mother had fed her, starting from when she was just an innocent child.

“That’s not all you’ve lied about, now is it?!” Kagome’s voice began to raise to a shout, as she dug her hand into the back pocket of her pants. Yanking out the white baggie, she hurled the powder at her cowardly mother. “What’s this, huh?! Why did I find cocaine in your bathroom?! You remember damn well what happened to Dad, and this is what you do to yourself?! To me!?”

Shiori’s screams of sorrow and guilt returned, and the floodgates within her eyes reopened - sending rivers of tears down her face. “It makes me feel good!” She tried, sobbing deep, hard cries that stemmed from the pits of her lungs, “Don’t blame me, Kagome! I need it! I need-”

Just then, a bullet pierced through the air, and landed straight into the forehead of the man that still grasped onto Shiori’s arm. The force made him fall backwards, and his large, bulky body hit the creaky, wooden floor with a powerful thud. 

Shiori’s eyes flooded with fear as she stared at something behind Kagome, and a petrified expression washed over her tormented features. Attempting to stand, Shiori stumbled before sprinting further into the house, where multiple gunshots followed her retreating figure.

Too frozen in shock to move, Kagome’s heart seemed to stop beating in fear, and all of the miniscule hairs on her tense spine stood up. Shiori vanished, and the sound of the back door slamming shut confirmed her leave. Kagome heard a sigh from behind her, and collapsed onto the floor. The emotions in her heart travelled down into her stomach, and stopped at her knees - her body unable to support the anxiety flowing through her.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” A feminine voice sang from behind Kagome, causing the shaking girl to turn around, and collapse further onto her backside. A tall, looming figure stood right outside of the doorway, and a black pistol was clenched in her right hand. White strands of fire danced from her head, and a pair of pale, blue eyes stared down at the cowering girl.

“Please…” Kagome begged, her voice quivering as she spoke, “Please, don’t hurt me. I… I’ve had such a… bad day…” The statement made the woman chuckle, and she placed the pistol back into her holster at her hip. “Haven’t we all?” The woman said, branching out an arm, offering Kagome help to stand, “I’m not gonna do anything to you. You’re not my target, at least, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Kagome nodded, and accepted the woman’s hand, hoisting herself up from the floor - though her knees still shook uncontrollably. “At least I got one of ‘em, right?” The woman said as she turned around, heading back to wherever she came from. The statement made Kagome’s eyes rip open in realization. “You were… trying to kill my mom?!” She stated, disbelief lacing her voice.

The woman turned around, and her pale blue eyes held a strange, guilty emotion that met Kagome’s fearful eyes. “Tried, yes. That’s my job, I’m afraid,” The woman responded, her voice steady, “Your mom, she… She was not a good lady. She’s probably been keeping lots of secrets from you, considering your apprehension to my assassination attempt.”

Kagome’s hands flitted to her face, as she tried to suppress another round of tears that threatened to escape. The woman continued staring at Kagome, an empathic feeling washed over her as she did so. “Do you… have anyone you can call? Anywhere you can go?” Kagome violently shook her head at the question, and that familiar feeling of weakness and hopelessness returned within her gut.

“Well, come with me, for now, I guess,” The woman said complacently, “You can stay at our department’s headquarters until you find somewhere to stay. We’re good company, I promise.” Kagome looked up to the woman, and she stared into her pale blue eyes. “W-What department? What do you do, even?”

The woman smiled proudly as she placed a hand onto her hip. “I’m a police officer in a confidential subdivision of the Tokyo Prefectural Police Department,” She responded professionally, as if the line had been rehearsed countless times before, “I’m Junko. Now, come on, let’s get out of here before the medics and coroners come to clean up.”

Kagome now stands in front of the all too familiar front door of her childhood home. The same door she ran out of five years ago, and has not returned since. The amount of dirty dread and fear that’s flowing through her bloodstream nearly makes her turn around, and never come back. But, the determination to rid herself of that nagging feeling trumps her fear, and she stands sturdily upon the doorstep.

Bringing her fist to the door, Kagome knocks aggressively as that same line rings throughout her consciousness:

It makes me feel good! It makes me feel good! It makes me-

“...Kagome?”