Chapter Text
As far as apartments went, Kagome couldn't complain. It was probably nicer than anything she could afford for herself, and if she shut the door, she could pretend the outside world didn't involve being forced to join a gang against her will.
There was even a second floor. A thin set of stairs led from the living room to her bedroom, and there were far more windows than she anticipated. "Whoever supplied their protection charms must not be worried about stray bullets," she thought aloud, hovering on the landing. That being said, if they were a youkai faction of the yakuza, bullets were the last thing they needed to worry about.
Taking a few photos, she doodled across the bare landscape, planning out where the larger furniture would go. Some of the bigger things had been left in Yuka's dorm, but with the reimbursement of her tuition and her first shift at the hospital starting next week, Kagome had money to burn.
They may have forced her hand, but she'd be damned if they dictated how her new home was going to look. Maybe she'd get a lime green couch just for fun.
She immediately dismissed that idea, as it would clash with the warm hue of the wooden drawers and cabinets, but she still wanted a splash of colour somewhere. Opening one of the kitchen drawers to find it fully stocked, she wound a chopstick around her hair, twirling it into a messy bun before jumping into the first box.
None of them had been opened, all of the tape still intact, and she'd painstakingly labelled everything before leaving the dorm, so unpacking became less of a chore and more of a puzzle to be solved.
She moved the boxes into their specific rooms before opening them, making her job easier in the long run. Her arms would probably curse her in the morning, considering she was doing it by herself, but she wasn't about to ask anyone else to do it. This was her space. No one else would be allowed inside but her.
Another opened door revealed a walk-in closet, and Kagome nearly squealed. As spacious as the shrine was, her childhood room had been relatively small, so she'd had to get inventive when her wardrobe expanded. Not to say that she had much to put in the closet, but at least she'd be able to see everything without rifling through a drawer. It also meant her scrubs would never be wrinkled.
Unlike Western cultures, doctors and nurses in Japan were restricted to specific uniform colours. Men could get creative with their ties, but women were left with few options. She wasn't about to go full rainbow scrubs, but adding a little personality would smooth the transition when greeting patients. She'd worn patterned scrunchies while doing her residency, but now that she had a degree behind her, she needed the rest of the staff to take her seriously.
Tapping her chin as she piled bowls and plates in the kitchen, she remembered the charm on her phone. Maybe she could order some fun rubber beads and attach them to her lanyard. Or she could turn one of her scrunchies into a cover for her stethoscope. At least that way, she'd always know which one was hers.
She paused at the sink, a thought occurring to her. The hospital would be fully stocked with any extra supplies she would need, but what kind of equipment would she need for youkai patients? If she was going to treat people here, she would need stronger and more efficient tools, along with meds.
She groaned, wishing she'd thought of that earlier. She'd been hoping to avoid Mr. Smug-and-Silent as much as possible, but considering Shippou's reaction to her keeping her phone—and clothes—he was probably the best person to talk to about stocking the clinic.
She rolled her eyes. What clinic? They'd probably put her in a back room somewhere and tell her to deal. Gazing around her apartment, she tapped the counter. Then again, with how much they were willing to pay for this place, and her tuition, maybe they'd give her a proper space to treat their members.
And if they hadn't, she'd demand a new space. She certainly wasn't going to start treating people in her apartment. Forcing her to treat them was one thing, but if she truly was in charge, then she would run things the way she wanted.
Going back to the boxes, she finished with the kitchen, glad that the moving company had fulfilled their promise not to break anything. She took the ones marked 'clothes' and 'bedroom' and climbed the stairs. There was already a bed, but she stripped the sheets and replaced them with her own. They were probably fine, but Kagome wasn't taking any chances.
She also wasn't about to sleep on strange sheets. Just the thought of rolling around in a bed someone else had been in made her shudder. Everything looked and smelled new enough, so she could assume this was just a spare apartment that hadn't been assigned yet. That was the best-case scenario.
Worst case, someone else had lived there before her, and she was getting their hand-me-downs. She was all for recycling, but having only been introduced to one other member, she wasn't taking her chances that certain messier activities had taken place here. For all she knew, the floorboards covered up blood stains.
Shaking her head to keep the image from worsening, she moved to the ensuite bathroom next, pursing her lips at the sight of a shower and the large tub. She was not supposed to be excited about this!
So what if this would be the first time she'd have a bathroom to herself? So what if she'd been forced to share with her brother and then other students in the dorms? So what if she was tired of cleaning up other people's messes, cosmetics, and hair around the drain? She wasn't going to enjoy how the bathroom would be exactly how she left it each day, or soaking in the tub for as long as she wanted.
It was a luxury she couldn't let herself dwell on, especially since it could all be a ploy to get her to stay longer. There was no timeline, as there was no contract, but her living conditions certainly weren't going to be a reason to keep her here.
Placing the boxes in the middle of the floor, she pulled her dagger out of her pocket, effortlessly slicing through the packing tape. A poor use for the weapon, but the weight of it in her hand eased her nerves more than anything else could. She'd have to find a way to keep it on her at all times.
Assuming the rest of the group was some mix of youkai blood, it would be a last-ditch effort if they decided her way of doing things wasn't the right way. The fact that Shippou had jumped away when he'd come into contact with her reiki gave her hope that she'd at least be able to protect herself.
It was just Shou she was worried about. The arrogant bastard hadn't even flinched when she'd hit him back in the dorm. Granted, she'd been an emotional wreck and unable to land a proper blow, but that was beside the point. He was one of the lower-level grunts, so who knew how strong the boss was. Shippou claimed he was a master of illusion; did that mean they all had hidden talents?
Shoving her dagger back into her jeans, she pulled out her phone again, adding more notes to her already growing list. If they wanted her as the resident physician, then every member would need to fill out a form. Details were crucial to a proper diagnosis, and if they weren't going to be honest with her, there was no point in her being there. It wasn't just for her benefit, but theirs.
Would it help her strategize when it came to maneuvering between this world and the outside one? Of course, but they'd picked her for a reason. All her research into youkai biology wasn't going to go to waste just because one of them decided to dig his heels into the dirt. The whole point of this was to keep them safe.
Kagome rolled her eyes as she slammed a cabinet door closed. She needed to feel safe—even if it was inside a prison.
She paused, hands hovering over her pillowcases, before she tore down the stairs. She'd made sure to close the door behind her, but she hadn't checked the locks. Skidding to a halt in front of the door, she opened it slightly. The knob was bare, and there was a single keyhole. Closing it again, she slid the deadlock into place. At least there was something on the inside, but who knew how many people had a key?
She needed another one, one without a keyhole. Or something with a bolt or chain. She refused to be fearful in her own home.
She made a face. She doubted this place would ever feel like home. It would be a place where she lived, where she worked, but it would never be home.
The weight of the day suddenly caught up with her, and she slumped to the floor, back against the door. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she buried her face in her arms.
How had she gotten here? When she'd woken up this morning, her only plans were to check in with financing and move back to the shrine. That was it. That was what her day was supposed to entail. Instead, she was stuck in a new apartment with people she didn't know, employed by an organization that was known for killing people if they didn't get their way.
She was in her late twenties. She was supposed to be looking forward to the rest of her life, not regretting it.
She sat there for a while, how long, she wasn't sure. Everything was overwhelming. Like being thrown into the ocean without a life preserver, each wave pushing her further down. She'd put on a brave face in front of Shippou, but she had no idea how powerful these people were. How influential the boss was. How long she'd have to stay.
If her family was truly safe.
Ignoring how the doorframe bit into her back, Kagome focused on her breathing. In and hold, out and hold. It gave her something tangible. Something she could control in the tornado that had become her life.
When the despair finally ebbed, her eyes were dry. She'd give them her skills because she'd taken an oath to save people. She refused to give them anything else. Smacking her cheeks, she got to her feet, attacking the rest of her boxes with renewed vigour.
She'd win. She'd come out on the other side a victor no matter what they tried to make her do. If she had a few scars when she was done, so be it, but she would not give in. She'd made it through medical school; she could make it through a relocation.
Everything was unpacked within a couple of hours, the large pile of flattened boxes beside the door doing much to ease her constant frustration. Had she imagined a certain face on them each time she'd stomped them into submission? Maybe, but he deserved it.
He deserved it for getting attacked. He deserved it for ending up on her doorstep that fateful night. And he certainly deserved it for bringing her into a life he'd chosen for himself without giving her the same liberty.
Maybe she set them on fire for good measure.
Wiping her brow, she looked around her new place, satisfied with what she'd accomplished. Everything was put away, her clothes were hung up, the kitchen cabinets were in order, and she'd lit a candle, so it even smelled more appealing. She still needed groceries and some décor for the walls—and a couch—but all in all, it felt more like home.
Well, not home, but more livable, at least.
Climbing the stairs, Kagome slumped on her bed, unable to enjoy the view. It was lovely, but currently tainted. Maybe some day she'd look around and appreciate the surrounding trees, or how the sun glinted off the skyscrapers in the distance. Right now, however, exhaustion had caught up with her, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
She didn't even know what time it was, but a small nap wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like she had any patients to treat today. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she sent a quick text to her mother, along with a few photos she'd taken along the way of empty boxes. She still hadn't figured out how she was going to keep her family away, other than being busy with work, but at least this way, Mama wouldn't try to track her down.
She placed it on her bedside table, already curling around her pillow, and let the exhaustion consume her. She'd worry about food later.