Sans Cors by Kanazawa

Coffee and Magic Mugs

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Inuyasha

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Kagome awoke. Lying prone within the root-filled embrace of an aged poplar, her raven locks meandered over the uneven knoll Kagome had used as a pillow. Gradually, as the sleep-filled haze that filled each muscle and fibre of her body gave way to conscious action, the beginnings of coherent thought began to flit through the miko's mind.

Coffee, I need coffee. The thought floated around her mind, conjuring various images of her early morning routine: an apron-clad Mrs. Higurashi bustling around the kitchen, deftly maneuvering around frantic school children, efficiently managing the goings-on of the Higurashi kitchen. While breakfast at the Higurashi household meant many things to Mrs. Higurashi, to Kagome it meant coffee.

A slow smile spread across the miko's face. She could still picture in her mind's eye her mother preparing coffee for in her favorite mug. It was of simple design really, just a plain white mug with blue letters scrawled across the surface of one side. It read: "There cannot be a crisis this week, my schedule is already full."

Shifting her position, Kagome gathered her legs as they lay sprawled along the forest floor. Steadying her hand against the tree behind her, Kagome sat up and sighed. How she wished it were that easy! It was just that crises were so uncooperative, popping up at inopportune times, and they had a nasty habit of occurring one right after the other.

Wasn't there a limit or something like that? How about one crisis per week? Kagome felt that one crisis per week would be manageable. Or, if she could just reschedule crises to a more convenient time; she felt it was a reasonable enough request. With all the crises she had gone through in the Sengoku Jidai, if it was all a matter of scheduling, she was sure she could handle it.

Maybe, she thought, maybe crises occur in droves because they aren't aware there is a limit. Yes, that must be it, they just don't know. I should bring my mug. Then, I could point it out to them. In her mind she imagined herself having a quiet conversation with crisis B, describing that crisis A was here first and that B would have to wait until tomorrow; she imagined herself confronting crisis C, and, pointedly reading her mug, rescheduling to next week; she imagined herself taking on a hoard of crises at once and disbanding them left and right with a wave of her magic mug. Champion of Crises! I would brandish my mug at any untimely crises and poof! Rescheduled to next week, Saturday. A strange happiness spread through Kagome as she imagined herself conquering over-amorous wolves, sword-obsessed dog demons, and soul-sucking priestesses. Haha! Take that, Kikyo! If I could pencil you in on my schedule, it would be under the 15th of Neverary.

Gathering her focus, Kagome tried to piece together her wandering thoughts. I went from coffee, to mom in the kitchen, to vanquishing foes with mugs. Her thoughts had been so uncharacteristically flighty this morning, ethereal almost. She mentally shrugged, I am just going to have to keep better track in the morning. The tinkling laughter of the slight, raven-haired youth echoed off the nearest trees as she chuckled at her random musings.

Stretching languidly, the last vestiges of sleep fell from her body, as she cleared the sleep-induced fog from her mind. Gathering her strength to stand, she pushed off the ground, settling into a relaxed stance.

She felt refreshed. For the first time in a long time, she had been allowed to sleep until her body awoke naturally. When she traveled with Inuyasha it was rare that he let her sleep in so late. Even after Naraku's defeat, Inuyasha had insisted upon early wake up calls. Until yesterday, the thought rose, unbidden, and left in its wake a mirage of unwanted and unwelcome images.

Ah, yes, yesterday. She thought feebly. Until yesterday there had been early wake up calls. Until yesterday, there had been the Shikkon no Tama. Until yesterday, she thought bitterly, I had been ALIVE! Today I'm dead!

Not dead, really. Her mind reminded her. No, Kagome wasn't really dead. In essence, she was just that, an essence. A ghost.

Once again yesterday's events thundered across the miko's mind. Impression upon impression came at her in waves. Torrential, the images welled up within her mind, a deluge, the undulations of which were almost palpable. Kagome's knees buckled, and she fell to the ground in a heap.

I'm a ghost. The thought ricocheted throughout her skull, crushing any other errant thought. Kagome lay still, until even the echoes of that one resounding phrase grew quiet. Fixing her cerulean eyes on the tree above her, she studied its harsh outline against the clear winter sky.

How had the fact that she was a ghost slipped her mind? She wondered. Consternation frowned upon her brow as she endeavored to recall what had occupied her mind this morning. Ah, her mind replied, it was the coffee, mom, magic mug thing.

Picking up those threads, a fleeting thought entreated upon her mind. I want my mug. At that, a small laugh bubbled up within Kagome's throat, but it quickly died down as Kagome came to a startling realization. What is keeping me here? If somebody waved their mug at me, what would keep me from disappearing? With that image playing behind her expressive eyes, the miko remained motionless for some time.

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