Chie: This fic, though it does not go into detail, touches on several sensitive themes such as chronic illness, body image issues, mental health, gender and being nonbinary.
I'm endlessly grateful to Dross, Mel, Rev and Stormie for their help, support and suggestions.
This story is for everyone who can find some common ground with Sesshoumaru and Kagome as I have depicted them here. I hope you enjoy it.
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R
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She finds him in the darkest time of her life, just when she needs him the most. It’s late at night and she can’t sleep so she’s huddled at her laptop, spiralling down a YouTube rabbit hole in a desperate bid to escape reality. She isn’t sure how or why she ends up on one of his videos but seeing him nearly jolts her out of her chair.
There he sits, make-up palettes scattered around him on the table. With strokes of practised ease, he softens the sharp angles of his face. With firm sweeps of his make-up brush, he smooths the masculine beauty of his face into a stunning show of femininity. Watching him work, Kagome’s both shocked and in awe. She could never do that herself. Transform her face like that. And she’s never seen a man put on make-up. But he’s so skilful and he looks amazing.
“Gender is such a meaningless construct, really,” he says.
She’s startled both at the comment and at him speaking up so suddenly. His voice is deep and smooth. Very pleasant to listen to. His tone is unconcerned as he continues: “A man or a woman. Why does one have to be either? Most days, I feel something in between.”
Kagome leans closer to her laptop screen. Watches him smear vivid magenta over his eyelids, such sharp contrast with his pale skin. And his words… Those are such a surprise. She’s always just been herself, never giving any thought to such things. What is it like, she wonders, feeling stuck between two so different extremes?
“All these labels… We stuff ourselves into these boxes and then carve our identity around them. But all the time we’re just creating arbitrary divisions. Because in the end, we’re all the same. We’re human. That’s what I prefer to be, instead of just a ‘man’.”
He grabs an eyeliner and draws in a steady hand. Kagome’s mesmerised at his skill. At his thoughtful, profound speech.
“I suppose the labels aren’t wrong in themselves. Some people feel safe and comforted in their little boxes. Some people want their boxes to define them. That’s fine. To me, though… It is stifling. Unnecessary. I don’t want to be put in a box.”
Watching this stranger, Kagome’s heart aches in her chest and something deep down unfurls.
He puts on dark red lipstick. He looks up to the camera and his gaze is so piercing that for a second Kagome’s convinced he can see her. He looks amazing. Feminine, but not fully like a woman. Something in between, as he said before.
He holds her gaze. Kagome can’t look away.
“I just want to be comfortable in my own body.”
The video screen goes black and Kagome’s shaken to her very core.
Tears prickle in her eyes. Her hands shake as she reaches for the mouse, clicks on the next video. She doesn’t know who this strange person is, and she can’t begin to understand his struggles but his words resonate in her soul.
That’s all she wants, too. To be comfortable in her body.
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R
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Kagome is fifteen when her life changes. Not long after her fifteenth birthday, she gets sick. The pain is sudden and unrelenting. The doctors wring their hands, do what they can and then send her back home to suffer. The next week she gets better and forgets all about it, busy with her friends, her new boyfriend Houjou and with all the classes of her last year in middle school.
And then, several months later the pain is back. Kagome is back in the hospital, missing classes while they run an array of tests on her. But there are no answers to be had. She is prescribed medication. It seems to help. And then it all fades away and she is fine.
But that is only the beginning of the cycle. It becomes apparent soon enough that whatever is ailing her is something serious and stubborn. It has Kagome in its grip now and it isn’t about to let her go. The pain comes more often now. Lasts longer each time. Other symptoms appear, each more bizarre than the last. Tests are taken, doctor after doctor is consulted. Medicines work for a while if they work at all. Her absences from school are piling up. Keeping up with her homework is a struggle she can barely manage. Without Houjou’s help, it would be impossible.
At eighteen, she graduates high school – barely. She is able to attend the ceremony and get her diploma, to smile in the photograph next to her mother. The next week she is back in the hospital. University is a faraway dream now, the ordeal of the entrance exams too much to take on top of everything else going on. She falls out of touch with her friends now that school no longer brings them together.
The pain is a living thing inside her, always present, pulsing in tandem with the beat of her heart.
At nineteen, her boyfriend Houjou, so supportive at the beginning, has had enough. Dealing with her is too exhausting. He needs to focus on his studies at the university. He is too busy now to be there to hold her hand every time she has to go to take another test, see another doctor.
When your body is a jagged nest of pain, what more is a broken heart?
At twenty-one, she is of age. She hasn’t left her bed in days. She is an adult yet wholly dependent on her family’s care. Guilt churns in her gut. She’s so tired of being a burden but somehow she still holds on to hope. The hope of better days to come.
A better day comes a week before her 22nd birthday. She’s given the best birthday present that she could ever ask for. Her illness finally has a name. The new doctor goes on about medicine and treatment plan but it’s hard to focus on the words under the tidal wave of relief sweeping through her, the joy ballooning in her chest.
She smiles until her cheeks ache.
Kagome has just turned 23. Physically, with the right combination and dosage of meds they’ve managed to find over the past months, she’s doing better than she has in many years. But mentally, she is at her lowest. Emotionally, she is absolutely exhausted.
Perhaps she was stupid. Perhaps she was naïve. But she’s been clinging to hope for so long, year after year. Believing that once her illness has a name, once she's got it all under control, then she can go back. Return to a normal life.
She has her diagnosis now. She has her meds and they are working. And for a moment she embraces life. She’s feeling wonderful, enjoying being able to do the little normal things. Bask in the sunlight. Sit in a café. And then she meets an old friend from high school and they catch up. She’s just starting her career as a primary school teacher, is brimming with excitement for the future. And all of a sudden, Kagome can’t relate. In passing, she tells Kagome that Houjou has recently graduated from university. She’s heard he’s got engaged.
And something inside Kagome breaks. Grief and anger batter at her soul and scream. That should have been her. That should have been her life.
But it’s not.
And so, she’s finally come to realise that there is no normal for her, no going back to anything. All this life has already passed her by. And even the meds she’s on… They’re not a cure. They’re managing her illness, for now, but the illness is still there. It might flare up again. The meds might stop working. Anything could happen.
Her life is permanently altered, she's forever trapped in this body she can barely recognise. Limited and bowed down by the pain. Bloated by the weight gain as a side effect from one of her medicines. She’s stopped looking in the mirror. She lives her life, avoiding her reflection. Unable to face who she’s become.
And that’s when she finds his videos. She’s intrigued by him. In awe. He’s had his own battles to fight, so different from hers he might as well be from another planet. She doesn’t know what he’s been through, doesn’t really understand how he feels. But she knows pain, and she knows he bears it, even though the pain shadowing his eyes is nothing like hers. And the things he talks about, although there are many things she can’t truly fathom, soothe that broken bit inside her.
In this video, he’s not really even wearing makeup. Yet he looks absolutely glamorous. Like a pop idol, with that flawless smooth skin, those soft features. Unattainably beautiful. She’s envious of his hair. It looks so silky as it freely flows past his shoulders. Kagome feels very drab in comparison. She can’t remember the last time she’s put any effort into her appearance. At some point, she simply stopped caring.
He speaks then, his smooth voice instantly holding Kagome captive.
“I always felt a little uncomfortable in my body. And for a long time, I didn’t understand why. It was my daughter, who helped me discover who I am. Her mother… isn’t around. Which is fine, she has her own life to live. We had her young, so I can’t really blame her for walking away. Neither of us was really ready to be a parent.” He looks straight at the camera then, the bright light making his eyes flash gold. He points his nail polish brush to the lens. “If there are any kids out there watching, use protection.”
Kagome bursts into laughter. She can’t remember the last time she’s laughed but it feels right. Warm and light. Bubbles of bright yellow buoying in her chest.
“Anyway,” he drawls, going back to applying the nail polish in even strokes on his long nails, “it’s just me and my daughter. And like many little girls, she enjoys dress-up. And make-up. A little diva in the making.”
A smile tugs at his lips and Kagome’s heart stutters. She can just imagine such a little girl. Once upon a time, that girl could have been her.
“I want her happy. It’s my greatest mission in life,” he says, slanting a glance at the camera. He picks a new bottle of nail polish. This one has glitter in it. “So if she wishes to play dress-up and have a princess tea party, I will indulge her. And the thing was… I was perfectly comfortable wearing that plastic tiara for her. Putting on makeup, my skin suddenly stopped itching. And when I looked in the mirror, for the first time I could remember, I could see myself. The person I felt I was, inside. It was such a relief. Such a joy. I haven’t looked back since.”
He talks more, as he presses tiny rhinestones on his nails in a crescent moon pattern, but Kagome’s having hard time focusing on his words now. She looks to the corner of the room. At the faded pink towel she’s draped over her mirror. She can’t remember when she last looked in. Was able to face the woman she saw staring at her. The woman she could barely recognise.
She leaves the video playing in the background as she pushes out of her chair. Her body does not ache today, yet she still moves slow. With care. As she’s been forced to learn to move. She can’t make out the words, but the sound of his voice, the steady cadence of his smooth tone helps her take the steps. Cross the room. Her fingers tremble a little as she fists the towel. Pulls it down.
She looks in the mirror. At the tangled mess of black hair. At the blue eyes shadowed by pain. At the body with the strange curves.
Perhaps it’s time, she muses as the YouTuber’s voice whispers to her from across the room, to get to know who she’s become.
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R
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Kagome can’t get enough of his videos. Not only because of his charisma – a mesmerising kind of beauty she can’t help gravitating towards. Or that deep voice that brushes against her senses like a caress. They both play a part, of course… But it’s his words that catch her. That shine so brightly, drawing her out like a moth to a flame.
An apt description, Kagome muses. These days she often feels like a moth: a drab creature who’s made her life in the shadow.
Unlike her, he is all sparkling elegance. Witty and wry. Both thoughtful and thought-provoking. Open and honest. He talks about his life, his experiences, his opinions in all of his videos. Giving her glimpses that both captivate and puzzle her.
And most importantly of all, he is courageous and confident. In every one of his videos he is unapologetically himself, whether he’s wearing jeans or a full-sleeved furisode. And both those outfits suit him perfectly.
Kagome wishes she could be more like him and less like the moth she’s become.
Listening to him is fascinating. So often, he speaks of things Kagome has no knowledge of or experience with. Since finding his videos, she’s done a lot of reading online about gender and identity and all of that, digging herself into a deep rabbit hole in hopes to better understand what he’s talking about. Where he’s coming from. It’s a whole new world, one she’s never had a cause to think about before.
Just like her fourteen-year-old, perfectly healthy self – the Kagome from Before – had never stopped to wonder about what it would be like to live with pain as your constant companion, a pain that stopped you from doing things you enjoy, that drove away friends and ate away at your energy and shackled you in a bed for long periods of time.
Now, Kagome lives with the pain. Just like her favourite YouTuber lives his life somewhere in between the male and the female.
And out there, millions of people live their normal lives, never questioning it, never having to bear such struggles as she and him have faced. Never realising how good and easy they have it.
Maybe she doesn't have it easy, but she’s going to keep trying nevertheless. She doesn’t really have a choice. Maybe her life now isn't what it was supposed to be before fate dealt her a shitty hand of cards, but it's the only life she’s got.
It starts with slow and small steps that she takes almost unconsciously. Painting her fingernails while she watches one of her favourite videos from him for the umpteenth time, his voice soothing her with the wisdom lurking in the words he always seems to choose so carefully. Next, she’s trying to replicate how he’d styled his hair in one of the videos. It looks so beautiful and she wants to feel like that, if just for a moment.
And so, with his help, over the course of several long weeks, she climbs out of the dark pit she’s been sequestered in. A faint glint of hope glows pale pink in her chest once again. Her life, she realises, is not what she’d once imagined it to be. It sucks, but there is no changing that. What she needs to do is to start imagining again.
Find her purpose.
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R
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He has a new video that’s just come out. Kagome has plans to go have lunch with an old friend from high school but she pauses in her preparations, her hair only partially curled, to make time to watch the video.
She knows it’s different from his other ones before he even starts talking. His face is softened by the makeup as she’s got used to seeing it, but it's subdued today. No splash of bold colours anywhere. His hair is in a simple braid, somehow missing its usual sleekness, that silver sheen. He’s wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt. The only affectation is the plastic tiara perched on his head, but somehow Kagome gets the feeling he doesn’t even realise he’s wearing it.
He’s looking straight to the camera. There are shadows in his eyes she hasn’t seen before. His voice, when he speaks, is huskier than normal.
“I need to confess something. I do not wear make-up out in public. I do not dress in clothes perceived to be 'feminine' to walk about in the city. It’s only here that I dare to let this side of me come out. In my own secret little corner. I’m not brave enough to fully embrace who I am and it’s… I want to set a good example for my daughter. But if I showed up to pick her up from the kindergarten, dressed as I’d wish to be… There would be talk. This society, it’s so quick to hammer down any nails that dare to stick out. And I don’t care what they talk about me, I honestly don’t. But it would all reflect on my daughter and that… That I can’t allow.”
Kagome bites her lip. She doesn’t really know him, of course, but after watching so many of his videos, he feels like a friend. After how his wise words have affected her, inspired her, healed her, she wishes she could give him back just a fraction of the same.
“It’s a dilemma I haven’t yet been able to solve. I want my daughter to be brave. To be able to be who she wants to be. But I also want her to have a life free of hardship. And the last thing I want is to become the obstacle in her path. So here I stay. In my little corner on the internet.”
Kagome’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. Right now, after seeing that video, he is braver than ever to her. There’s something compelling, something deeply moving, something awe-inspiring about being so open about your insecurities. In not hiding those vulnerabilities from the world. Giving voice to them and admitting your flaws in public.
An idea sparks then. A way to give back. A way for her, perhaps, to help someone else the way he has helped her. She lets it simmer for a full day. Goes out and sees her friend. Smiles and chats. But her mind is whirling, planning, mulling and considering all the while. The next day, she speaks of her idea out loud. Her brother Souta is immediately on board. They get the equipment. Set up the account. Turn a spare room at the house into a studio.
And then it’s time. Kagome sits at the desk, her fingers worrying the hem of her skirt. Everything is set up and ready. Kagome inhales and squares her shoulders. She looks into the camera, set up on a tripod, the red light blinking at her. Steady and calming, like a heartbeat.
Kagome smiles.
“Hi. I’m Kagome and this is my story. When I was fifteen years old, I got sick…”