throw your starfish

Let me protect you!

And that, my friends, is how you destroy a half-demon’s ego.

“Here, take this,” he says with a pinch of a snarl, and he sees the surprise on her face as he covers her with his robe. “You’re weak. This should keep you from dying, at least.”

Her eyes are saucers full of questions, he can tell, but he quiets her before she can speak with an “I’m not weak like you. I’ll be fine.”

And so she accepts it; she wraps it about herself, and he wonders if she’s holding back from crinkling her nose, keeping herself from showing the disgust (his sweat, his stench, his blood that blends with the red of the threads it’s made of) that she must feel at wearing his clothing.

“Here, take this,” he says with shaky breaths, grateful to find her alive and flustered at how alive she looks when he can see the vibrancy of her flesh in full – Kagome, safe, naked, very naked, why is she naked, Kagome – and he tosses the robe at her without looking her in the eye, flushed already with embarrassment. “I know it’s disgusting,” he says with shame as she catches the cloth and squeaks in response, and he hears her with his human ears clutching the fabric to her skin, burying her face in it as she whimpers out it’s not disgusting if it’s your blood and you’re hurt, you’re badly hurt, and he manages to scoff out an “It’s fine, I can handle it,” before collapsing to the ground.

He misses how she rushes to his side, how she takes her place behind him and clings to his bleeding body like a lifeline, praying that he wakes, the robe nestled between them ragged and worn safe, safe like him, safe like her when she’s with him.

“Here, take this,” he says before her protests leave her lips, knowing full well that she’ll tell him how stupid this is, you idiot, it’s a fire rat robe, you’re playing with fire, you’re going in unarmed but he’s far too stubborn to start listening to any of that now, as he leaves her behind with a scrawny wolf and a trembling kit and rushes head first to meet the blaze of the man-once-dead. He thinks he hears her scream his name when he narrowly avoids the death blow of an explosive, and he’s drowning, his body driftwood to the rushing waters, and then he sees her – mourning him, crying into his robe as if it were his chest – and holds her to him until her tears are dried by the red-threaded armor, the piece of him that guards her when he does not guard himself.

I was so scared, she gasps out between sobs, are you okay, are you really okay, and God willing he would be if her tears could dry faster.

“Here, take this,” he says with more certainty than ever before, covering her and the others with his robe and merging a pink shard with his sword, watching with fading clarity as it turns horribly purple-black. And he’s losing himself, and he feels it, but what he feels even more is Kagome – stupid Kagome, reckless Kagome, stubborn Kagome – hold him from behind as her feet seep into the acid below and the red in his eyes fades back to white until he can say her name again. And she begs to know are you alright, Inuyasha, and doesn’t she know that he is always alright when she is with him?

“Here, take this,” he says as he drapes his robe around her, a tired smile gracing her face while she nestles their child close to her breast. “I could practically feel you shivering from across the room.”

You’re sweet, she coos, nuzzling into him and enjoying the feel of the soft robe around her, warmed further by his body at her side. No matter how safe and sound I feel, I feel it even more when I’m wearing this.

And he can’t help the ridiculous, toothy grin that compliments his blushing face as he thinks to himself all I ever wanted was to keep you safe.

“Here, take this,” he chokes out, solemn and numb and so far away, as he covers her in his robe one more time, to keep her frail body warm, to keep her company, to keep her safe.

“I’m not weak like you,” he smiles bitterly, planting a farewell kiss to her forehead that he wishes would never end, ­­­that he hopes will keep her warm if the robe doesn’t do the trick.

And he is so, so very weak, robe or not.