"Kagome?" Inuyasha whispered. "Kagome, are you OK?"

Kagome opened her eyes a crack, just enough to peek through the veil of her lashes. Even that little bit of light hit like a dagger to the brain. Inuyasha's face was close to hers, his deep brown eyes wide with worry. She smiled to herself. I can see why they started calling him "Puppy," she thought. She tentatively opened her eyes a bit further. He was crouching on his haunches next to the bed, dressed in blue jeans and a Bullwinkle the Moose t-shirt, his long auburn hair cascading loose around his shoulders and down his back.

"I'm fine," Kagome said, "except for the sledgehammers hitting my temples. Whatever kind of wine that was your dad served last night, I don't think we should run right out and buy any."

"No problem," he replied. "He bought that at a private reserve auction. We couldn't begin to afford it. Will you be all right? I'm supposed to take a group of undergrads up to the big dig near Kyoto today. I won't be back until late."

"I'll be fine," Kagome repeated. "I've got a sub for my morning classes. I took some painkillers. I'll sleep for a couple of hours and then go in." Squinting a bit, she leaned toward him for a gentle kiss. She reached out to lightly run her fingers along his ear, caressing the lobe with its two earrings and then stroking forward along his cheek with her thumb. She knew his sweet spots. He grinned and leaned forward for another kiss—not so gentle this time—his long fingers tracing her collarbone and then sliding down to circle one exposed breast.

The first time Kagome had seen her future husband—on her fifteenth birthday—his form had been that of a half-daemon boy. Then, the long hair had been silver, the slender fingers had ended in razor-sharp claws, the eyes had been golden and feral, the ears had been those of a dog, for then Inuyasha was a hanyou, the son of a human woman and a great dog youkai. Destiny had pulled her backward hundreds of years by way of an abandoned well to join him in a quest both exciting and heartbreaking. It was the curse of a hanyou to have several forms: the silver-haired dog-boy, a black-haired human, and a red-eyed youkai monster. She had loved him and—admit it!—lusted after him in all three forms.

The sweet-faced archeologist who now teased and nibbled was taller than the boy she had loved in that earlier era—as was to be expected, because he had been born into this form in the twentieth century—but he still had the slender, wiry, athletic build that had so pleased her more than four hundred years earlier. Kagome rested her aching head on her husband's shoulder, her cheek lightly brushing the string of prayer beads he always wore. Inuyasha nuzzled her jawline, breathing in the aroma of her skin and hair. His first life had taught him to think in terms of scent; she knew his nose was feasting on her just as her eyes were feasting on him, those tight jeans . . . damn. If they'd had jeans like that in the Warring States Era, Lord Inuyasha would have bedded his Lady Kagome. She'd have seen to it. Ah, well, they hadn't wasted much time in modern Tokyo . . .

"If we keep this up," Inuyasha murmured, "I'm going to have to send my undergrads to Kyoto without me."

"Mmmm," she said, reluctantly breaking away. "You'd have to show them that trick to work the starter on the truck."

He stood and stretched. "Too many of them for the truck," he said. "We're taking a university van, and I need to drive. It would be funny to call in horny, though…"

Kagome closed her eyes, leaned back on her pillow, and rubbed her throbbing temples. "Lend me a t-shirt so I don't embarrass my mother," she said.

A moment later something warm and soft dropped onto her naked belly. She opened her eyes to see her husband bare-chested and grinning. "Ask me to lend you a pair of jeans and neither of us will make it to work today." He sat next to her on the bed and helped her into the shirt as though she were a child, then kissed her on the top of the head. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding his shirt close as she watched him select a replacement—Property of Stanford Athletic Department; her brother must have given him that one—and pull it over his head. He pulled back the long red hair and tied it at the nape of his neck with a leather thong, then returned to the bed to kiss her again and tuck her in. "Take care of yourself," he said.

Kagome settled back and pulled the covers over her head, nestling her nose against the neckline of his t-shirt. His scent was in it—being around him had made her sensitive to such things. She reached over and grabbed his pillow; his scent was there, too. She wrapped her arms around his pillow and slept.

She awakened slowly, dozing off and on. Was someone calling her? Her mother, she thought. Kagome opened her eyes. For a moment, she felt disoriented. She lay on the very edge of the bed—on Inuyasha's side of the bed, actually. She shook her head and sat upright. No, that wasn't right. She was in the spare bedroom, the one that had been her room when she was growing up. According to the plan, this room, her childhood bedroom, would one day be the baby's room. For the moment, it remained as it had been when she was a schoolgirl.

Before and after their wedding Kagome and Inuyasha had lived with Inuyasha's formidable parents. His quiet father was a highly placed economist in the foreign service as well as a former kendo champion—scholar and samurai, lover of fine wines, a man successful in every way. And Kagome's mother-in-law was—a force of nature. A few months—and thousands of arguments between parents and son—after the wedding, the young couple had gratefully left for Chicago, where Inuyasha had a two-year fellowship. On their return to Japan, Kagome's mother had tactfully invited them to live at the shrine, claiming she needed their help to maintain the place—which was, in fact, true; the old buildings were crumbling, her grandfather was getting on in years, and her technogeek brother Souta was useless when it came to work that would get his hands dirty. The shrine house, built when families were large, had four bedrooms. At Mama's insistence, the couple had taken the largest bedroom; she herself had moved into Souta's room—Inuyasha and Kagome had painted and papered it for her—and Souta had moved into student digs near Edo university, where he was a grad student and Inuyasha was an assistant professor.

How did she get to this room? Kagome tried to remember. Her migraine was almost gone, but she still felt muzzy and confused. She slipped out of the bed, and again stared, this time at herself. She was wearing an old pair of pajamas. Hadn't she slipped into one of Inuyasha's t-shirts? She stood up, a bit shakily. She'd taken codeine for the headache, a small dose. Had it reacted with last night's wine? Kagome shook her head and headed out of the room and downstairs. For a moment she was disoriented again. Funny how much of your perspective of the world had to do with the bedroom you woke up in every morning. Coming out of that door after all these years, she was hit with a sense of déjà vu. Somehow, everything seemed to look the way it had when she was a teenager. Of course, part of it was probably the migraine.

Her mother was standing in the kitchen. She turned when Kagome shambled in. Wow, Mama looked great this morning. What was different? New haircut? "Good morning, Mama," Kagome said. "Is there any coffee left? I desperately need coffee."

Her mother stared at her. "Coffee? No, of course not."

"Shit," said Kagome. "Pardon my French," she added in English. "You know, I love him, and he has many fine qualities, but that idiot could stop for one minute and pour the rest of the coffee into a thermal pot. Fine, I'll make some more." She stopped dead, staring blankly at the counter.

The coffeemaker was gone. So, for that matter, was the espresso machine her in-laws had given them for Christmas. There was a hot pot—was that the same one? It looked different—and a rice cooker she would have sworn had burned out years ago. She turned to look at her mother, who was still gaping at her. Weirdly enough, her mother seemed to be taller. What was—"Your hair!" Kagome shrieked. "Mama, you covered your gray!" She jumped up and grabbed her mother's shoulders. "Turn around! Mama, it looks terrific! They did a great job!"

It took a moment for her mother to find her voice. "Kagome, I have no idea what you're talking about. Honey, why aren't you dressed? You're going to be late for school!"

"It's okay, I've got a sub for this morning." Kagome found a teacup and a tea bag. Tea would have to do. Anything with caffeine. "We have a meet on Saturday, so I've got to be there to coach archery practice after school. I figure I'll go in right after noon, and then I should be able to drag myself through the rest of the day. Where's Grandpa?"

Her mother was still giving her a strange look. "He's out by the shrine office. That broken panel in the door finally fell out."

Kagome cautiously sipped her tea. She hadn't known about the broken panel. "Have him tape some cardboard over it for the time being," she said. "I'll ask Inuyasha to take care of it."

Her mother's eyebrow shot up. "Well, I never thought I'd hear that coming from our no-nonsense Kagome," she said cryptically. "Although I think it would be more practical to call a carpenter. Honey, please get dressed. I need you to drop off Souta."

"Oh, shit!" Kagome said. "He's here? I thought he was wasn't taking morning classes. Dammit," she said. She began rummaging through the kitchen drawers. "Have you seen a screwdriver? The only way to start the damn truck is to hit the starter with a screwdriver." She glanced out the kitchen window to where her husband's beloved Toyota pickup sat in the courtyard—but the truck wasn't there. Kagome frowned. "I thought he said he was going to leave it!" she said. "I'm sorry, Mama, I can't drop him off. I don't have the truck."

Mama Higurashi was staring at her daughter as though Kagome's head were on fire. "Kagome," she said, "are you all right?"

A deep, raspy meow announced the arrival of one of the cats. Probably Schrödinger, the half-and-half spotted calico; big, white Furuffi had a ridiculously tiny voice. Kagome glanced down and her blood froze.

It was Buyo.

Buyo, the cat of her childhood.

Before they had left for Chicago, the elderly tom, a bony shadow of his former self, had passed away quietly in the arms of her weeping husband. Now he waddled across the kitchen floor, the most corpulent of ghosts, and ambled toward the door just as the handle turned. "Don't let the cat out!" her mother cried, and leaned down to sweep him up in one arm. "No, you don't, mister," said her mother. "I don't have time to look for you today. Stay in and stay out of trouble." She held the cat under one arm and used the other hand to hold a can of cat food to the electric opener. His interest piqued, Buyo sat happily underfoot when she set him down, even when a little boy walked in the door.

It was Souta. Undyed. Unpierced. Maybe eight or nine years old.

Kagome couldn't breathe.

"I'm going to be late for school," Souta said.

"Kagome," said her mother, "come on. Stop fooling around and get dressed. You're both going to be late."

"Yes, Mama," Kagome replied. It's a dream, she thought. I'm still dreaming. Damn. I am never drinking another glass of that wine. What was it called? Something Cabernet Something. There was a Rothschild in there somewhere, too. Inuyasha had insisted she read the label, but it meant nothing to her. Her husband and her father-in-law examined wine labels the way other men examined pornography.

All right, she would go along with it. Eventually she'd wake up. Out of habit, she headed for her usual bedroom. She stopped in the doorway. The room was tidy and feminine, a spartan double bed and dresser, a bedside table and lamp, a magazine, a bag of knitting. None of the clutter that, despite Kagome's best efforts, seemed to blossom wherever Houjou Inuyasha stepped: no discarded briefs or socks or t-shirts, no piles of journals or books or papers, no baseball caps. The bookcase that formed the headboard for their bed was gone.

Back in her old room, she opened a drawer and somehow wasn't surprised to find the dresser once again filled with her old clothes. She took out a pair of panties—blue cotton—and a brassiere. She stared at the bra. It was ludicrously small. Well, okay, this was a dream. She pulled off the pajama bottoms and stepped into the panties, then pulled off the pajama top and stared again, this time at herself. Looks like that bra's going to fit, she thought. This was ridiculous. That did not look like the tit that Houjou Inuyasha's finger had circled that morning. It looked like the tit's younger sister. Much younger sister.

She put on the bra: no underwires, front closure. When was the last time she'd worn a bra with a front closure? A memory came to mind: Houjou Koinu—how old? Seventeen, eighteen?—his sweet face glowing with approval. "It's the kind that hooks in front! I love this kind! They save so much time!" Kagome smiled. In the ensuing years, Inuyasha had figured out that saving time wasn't the point. Suddenly she missed him achingly. When she woke up, she was going to call his cell. He should be off the road by now, shouldn't he? How long had she been sleeping?

She opened her closet, and tears sprang to her eyes. There, neatly hanging on a hook on the door, was her dear old middle school uniform, looking fresh and new. Her hands trembled as she lifted the hanger from the hook. The middy blouse was crisp and white, the green unfaded, the tie bright red. Really, she knew, the uniform was packed away in a box, its seams mended and re-mended, the white blouse dingy with the shadows of old stains, the red tie nowhere to be found.

She stepped into the skirt, then pulled the sailor top over her head, flipping her hair out from under the neckline. She felt her bangs fall into place on her forehead. Bangs? She'd let them grow out after her senior year of high school. It had taken forever. She tiptoed to the lavatory to look into the mirror. A young girl's face peered back at her—how old? Fourteen or so?

This dream was being too real.

Her mother's voice floated up the stairs, calling her name. "Coming!" she cried. She started down a few steps.

Her mother looked up from the foot of the stairway. "Do you have your backpack?"

"Shit!" said Kagome. "No." She turned back. Crap, where was it? In her room? There, on her desk chair. She ran back. On the top step, her stockinged foot flew out from under her and the weight of the backpack on her arm threw her off balance. For a moment she was airborne. This is it, she thought, her arms pumping. Now I'm going to wake up. She hit hard, flat on her back, and skimmed painfully down the edges of the stairs, the backpack somersaulting ahead of her. Winded, aching, and bewildered, she lay still for a moment at the bottom of the stairs at her mother's feet.

No way she could have slept through that.

Her mother helped her to her feet. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

At the moment, Kagome couldn't find a single place on her body that didn't hurt, but she said, "No, I'm fine." This wasn't a dream. This was really happening.

"Kagome, come on," yelled her little brother—her little, little brother—from the kitchen. Kagome rubbed her hip. What should she do? Something had happened. She'd been caught in some kind of temporal anomaly. For lack of a better idea, she decided to play out her teenaged life, at least until she could think of something else to do. Where was Inuyasha? Had he been caught as well? Was he on his way back to find out what was going on?

She followed her brother through the kitchen, past Buyo, alive and fat and contented at his food dish. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe things would right themselves as suddenly as they'd gone strange. "Mama, we're leaving!" she said.

"Be safe!" said her mother. Souta took off running across the courtyard.

"Come on!" he said again. "I don't want to be late! I hate to be late!"

Yeah, right, Kagome thought. In a few years, one of his professors would say, "Higurashi, I don't know whether to seat you on the aisle, so you don't disturb everyone coming in late, or against the wall, so you don't disturb everyone falling out of your chair when you go to sleep." Souta would proudly tell that story to anyone who would listen, particularly good-looking young women.

Her mother was yelling something to her. "What did she say?" Kagome asked Souta.

"I don't know. Come on!" said Souta.

She followed him down the stairs of the shrine and out to the street. She had hoped that passing the torii would somehow put things right, send her back to her real self. It didn't. She was still in her uniform, Souta was still a child tugging at her hand, and the world was…different. All the cars were old, the people dressed in the clothing of her childhood. All around her, girls were dressed like herself in short, short uniforms with flat shoes and the loose socks that now looked so silly.

There on the corner was a dim little diner. In a few years it would be Bella Note, wonderful pasta and a wine list that pleased both Houjou Inuyasha and their meager budget. Kagome paused before the storefront. Oh, capellini del giardano, a gentle rosé, soft lighting, soft music, hands across the table, Houjou Inuyasha's elegant fingers stroking her forearm, her own bare foot sliding under the cuff of his trousers. Flourless chocolate cake with fresh raspberries, and then home to bed. It was after midnight, everyone else was asleep, they had tiptoed in, she was tipsy, giggling, he had hushed her with his lips, carried her to their room and set her gently on the sheets, undressing her slowly without surrendering the kiss, his tongue thrusting over and over into her mouth…

"Kagome, COME ON!"

"I'm coming," she said. Where was Inuyasha when the anomaly hit? Was he still in the truck? Did the truck even exist? It was a '97 Hilux. What year was it now, anyway? He had been driving a group of undergraduates. Had he suddenly found himself in the middle of the Tomei expressway surrounded by weeping kindergartners? Was he right now trying desperately to get back home to her? He would know the telephone number and could call, but how would he explain himself to her mother?

Souta was outdistancing her. She ran to keep up, the backpack bouncing against her bruised hip. The ridiculous loose socks were falling around her ankles; she had not remembered to use the special glue that held them up.

She dropped Souta at school, a little kid among little kids. What to do now? Call Inuyasha? She hadn't had a cell phone in middle school. Had he? He must have transformed, as well. He'd be in a bad mood; transformations exasperated him. It occurred to her suddenly that Inuyasha's cell phone number wouldn't work; he'd switched to a US company in Chicago, and then started a new account back in Tokyo. Kagome sighed. What the hell—she'd go to school and hope he'd find her there.

The middle school looked as it always had, as it still did when she passed it on her way to the high school every morning. Kagome stood in front of the building, bewildered. What did she do now? What class was she in? What year was it? A newsstand. There had to be a newsstand nearby. A newspaper would at least tell her the date.

"Kagome-chan!" She looked upward at the familiar voice. Ogaki Eri was waving to her from a second-story window. No, not Ogaki, she wasn't Ogaki yet. Takeda. Takeda Eri, and not a triplet in sight. She hardly recognized the woman without her pint-sized entourage. "Kagome, my friend," Eri had said only last week, "let me tell you two or three really important things about fertility drugs." Now she was yelling, "Kagome-chan, hurry up! Takaku's not here yet! You can still make it!"

Okay. Upstairs. That was her third-year class, right? She ran in, changed quickly to her school slippers, and headed for the classroom. No question which one: Eri was waiting for her, as was Azuma Yuka, black-haired again and amazingly tattoo-free. Giggling, they hustled her into the room and, to her relief, into what was apparently her seat. Third year. That was her Sengoku Jidai year. What month was it?

Takaku-san had arrived and was reading announcements. Kagome looked around the room. Some of these classmates she'd forgotten, some were still in touch. Sakamaki Masao over there had just come back to Tokyo; he was teaching English at Edo. They'd had dinner with him and his pretty Aussie wife, Germaine. Handa Kei read the news on the Oldies station. Kagome frowned; Eri and Yuka kept looking at her and giggling, as did Ogata Ayumi—she was Ogata again, of course, after that thing with the delivery boy and the security camera, and completely unrepentant.

The first class was Japanese language and literature—Kagome's subject area. It was stunningly boring. Kagome peeked sideways at her classmates. Those same glassy stares she looked at from the front of the classroom every day. She felt a twinge of guilt. Was she this bad? She remembered Japanese class as being fun and challenging. Well, maybe not in middle school. Strange to realize these lessons were as tedious for the students as they were for the teacher.

During the first break, the giggling increased. Yuka ran to the doorway and peered out into the hall, then shook her head. A moment later the next teacher arrived, and the class settled down for math. Kagome was amazed. It was easy! Algebra, the bane of her existence, was easy! But then, she'd been through high school math, patiently tutored by Houjou Koinu. He was a natural teacher; on top of that, he had spent years planning how he would protect her from mathematics. Where was he now? Inuyasha, please come find me again, she thought.

The next break came. Yuka ran to the door again, and this time turned with a grin. "Kagome-chan!" she called. "Kagome-chan, come here! I think somebody wants to talk to you!"

Ayumi ran to look over Yuka's shoulder. "Here he comes!" she cried. "Get her up here, quick!"

Suddenly Eri had grabbed Kagome's arm and was dragging her out of her seat. All three girls were giggling as they pushed Kagome forward to the doorway.

Kagome sighed. He was here.

Houjou Inuyasha was touchingly young—just making the jump through puberty, his head and feet a bit too big for his body. For the second time that day, she thought of his nickname, "Puppy." He was a handsome boy nonetheless—something all the girls had noticed. Before she had become involved with his previous self, his good looks had made her pulse flutter. Maybe afterward, too. Had it been terrible to consider being unfaithful to her beloved with his other self? She almost reached out and touched his hair, but the others were looking.

His eyes met hers for a moment, then he looked away. The transformation had embarrassed him. He cleared his throat. "Um. Higurashi … Higurashi, isn't it?" The girls behind her tittered. A group of kids from B class had followed him into the hall; some of them giggled as well. Kagome smiled gently. "Inuyasha," she murmured.

Her future husband turned red from his collar to his hairline. His ears were red; she resisted the impulse to fondle one. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Um…Higurashi. Higurashi-san. I'm…I'm supposed to tell you something."

Something was wrong here.

Some of the kids were whispering, "Go on, go on! Say it!" He wouldn't look at her.

Kagome's heart sank as understanding set in. He didn't remember. This wasn't her husband in a boy's body. It was a boy—the boy who would someday grow into the man she loved, but a boy nonetheless.

Things were getting complicated.

He screwed up his courage and said again, "Higurashi-san. Um." His voice had cracked. Her heart went out to him. In only a few months the proportions would even out, the voice would settle into a pleasant baritone.

He looked at the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but her. His eyes were so wide—of course, he was wearing brand-new contact lenses. Kagome realized he was avoiding looking not only at her face, but at her legs. She glanced quickly downward—difficult to tell with the school uniform how she was affecting him. In America the boys had worn jeans to school. If that had been true in Japan, would Lady Kagome have followed Lord Inuyasha back through the well?

Something occurred to him. "How did you know my name?" he asked.

She smiled again, trying to be reassuring. "I've heard it somewhere before," she replied gently. Suddenly she knew what to say, what would break through the uncertainty to let this flustered boy realize how they were bound together.

"My name is Kagome," she said. "Ka. Go. Me. Can you say that?"

He looked down, confused. "Um, yeah. Sure. Kagome," he said. "Like the game? I never heard of anybody having that name before. It's kind of pretty."

There was a lead weight in her stomach. My name doesn't mean anything. He hasn't been searching for me. This boy, this boy who was supposed to grow up to love her and protect her—he'd forgotten her. He'd forgotten his Kagome…

He was talking. "Anyway, um, I'm supposed to…on behalf of, uh, everybody in B class and…and…all of your friends—Happy Birthday, Higurashi!"

Kagome had been struck by lightning. Happy Birthday. That was what her mother had been yelling to her as she ran across the courtyard. It was her birthday.

She looked the abashed Houjou Koinu in the eye. "What year is it?" she asked.

He blinked; she could see his new lenses spin. "What year is it?" he repeated. "It's 1996."

Nineteen ninety-six.

"I'm supposed to be down the well," she whispered. "It's my fifteenth birthday. I was supposed to go down the well."

If she ran back to the shrine office, she knew, there would be stories of Inuyasha Who Seeks The Shikon no Tama, and stories of the miko Kikyou. Stories of their love and betrayal, and of Kikyou's sacrifice. Stories of his death on the god-tree, stories of her carrying the Shikon no Tama to her funeral pyre.

But there would be nothing, nothing whatsoever, about the Lady Kagome, the woman from the Realm of the Time That Is To Come—the woman who had never been pulled down the well, never given Inuyasha new life, never accompanied him on a quest, never wept as he died in her arms. This sweet, polite boy who stood before her had never declared his love to her, never looked for her, never despaired of finding her. And he would never wait for her under the god-tree, brimming over with joy at the chance to call out her name—because the name of Kagome meant nothing to him.

Houjou Koinu was staring at her, open-mouthed, trying to understand the very strange thing she had just said.

Kagome had never felt this lonely before in her life.

To be continued . . . but not by me . . .