Standard disclaimers apply. YYH, not mine, fic and OCs, mine.

The Heirloom
The Present

He was taking out his car again. His usual companion for six months now waited outside the gate, following the car with a nonchalant stare as it slid out of the garage.

The thick, deep red tapestry veiled her hiding place, and through an inconspicuous slit she spied on her husband - who was now cajoling his male concubine with a special smile that he never sent her way, not even during a special day - with one critical eye. Not even when it's my birthday, Valentine's Day, our anniversary, Christmas, New Year, whatever, she thought wryly. She then noticed that a great, nauseating pang had crept up on her unsuspecting heart, even if this was not the first, second nor third time she snooped around on Shuichi's activities. She resisted staggering forward and through the sliding glass doors, where she could topple into the veranda, roll over to the edge and plummet to death to the lush yet fierce rose bush below. The roses her husband grew had always been too perfect to be of this world. More than fertilizer, she started to muse, they must have thrived on his aura too. Once, she plucked a rose from the bush, and a thorn that she adamantly denied to have been under where her finger was pricked it, as if the rose did not like her. The pain was severe, indeed otherworldly, and it lasted for two weeks. It had been only a day or two since that night, now that I think about it, she recalled, and she had come running to him in the hopes that he would press her wound to his lips and heal it sublimely.

How it filled me with love and warmth...


"Shu," she whined, bounding over to the sofa where he reclined languidly, arms resting on the length of the backrest. He was watching TV, but he appeared to be swimming in another dimension, for he wore the self-satisfied grin of a happy young man in love.


She snuggled up to him, and he seemed to snap out of his trance, reacting to the sudden movement as though burned. Shuichi schooled his features into his usual polite calm as soon he got his wits back, but she did not miss the revelation. It hurt a little, but she pushed the thought aside anyway.


"Shu, your roses prick as if they're wild beasts."


He laughed, and the rumble of his contralto in his throat made her want to sigh dreamily. "Can it be that they don't like you, Hibi-san?" He laughed again. He did not press the wound to his lips like he used to, like he was supposed to. He did not put his arms around her like he used to, like he was supposed to. He did not even give out a whit of anything that might mean he loved her, and still did.

His male concubine finally relented and let himself in the car. At the sight of him sitting where only she should be, as Minamino Shuichi's wife, a silent, virulent indignation flared deep within her consciousness, though her face spelled out nothing.

The pair in the car had a little exchange that made Shuichi throw back his head and indulge in a short but hearty laugh, and the black-clad concubine - who looked too aloof for his own good - smile in possibly the most trusting way he could afford. Her heart lurched again. Shuichi fastened his and his concubine's seatbelts, adjusted the mirrors then drove off.

Minamino Hibi did not know how long she blankly stared after the red of the car's rear lights. The image sojourned in her mind as a parasitic illusion long after the car had disappeared from sight, and its glaring rear lights softly washed away by the morning sun. Her six-month-old unborn child jerked in her, and by mother's instinct she blindly palmed her belly to tell her baby she loved her, but she regained no sense of reality whatsoever.

Ten years ago, he reveled in making those bracelets with Kurama. They were both of impeccable creative ingenuity, and they turned into ornaments whatever dull random thing they picked up along the way. They would string them into bracelets, and whatever they made they gave to each other as friendship symbols. Kurama made a lot - he had nothing to preoccupy himself with while he recuperated in a hospital during the Ankoku Bujutsukai - and he gave them all to him. He only wore one, though that one was the best of the lot. On the other hand, he only made four, gave them all to Kurama, and the red-haired ningen wore all of them at once on his left wrist. Notwithstanding the crude, earthy materials, the bracelets looked fashionable for anyone in Ningenkai, and it made the 26-year-old Kurama look years younger.

But as Kurama changed gears, the bracelets clanged against each other and made such a din. It turned out that ten short-lived years of Makai tranquility was long enough an absence from the ruckus of the Ningenkai. He still had headaches whenever Ningenkai became a little too noisy.

He just pointedly made an effort to ignore the raucous sound of the bracelets and Kurama's teasing sidelong grins. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"I really have nowhere in mind, Hiei," Kurama answered, turning right and accelerating madly upon seeing an unobstructed road. "This neighborhood's just getting on my nerves more and more everyday."

"That's not fair," Hiei truthfully commented, and Kurama understood.

"I just... ever since you came back, I couldn't--"

"I'll just leave if I'm causing you to hate--"

"NO!"

Before Kurama agitatedly interrupted him, Hiei gripped the door handle and seriously intended to jump out of the moving car to leave.

"N-no, Hiei. Don't. I love you."

Hiei withdrew his hand and resettled. "Hn."

The silence that welled in the car became palpable, despite the soft, graceful music Kurama had put on.

"Your woman was watching us from behind the glass doors of the veranda," Hiei started.

"I know." Kurama knew and he did not sound like he cared. Hiei shook his head.

"You're crazy, Kurama. I mean that with all my being." There was just no other word to describe a married man who openly entertained - and preferred - a male lover's company in front of his pregnant wife.

Kurama frowned and flicked his long hair restlessly. "I can't help it. I've been waiting for you. Now that you're finally here, I can't help it. Hibi-san... she distracted me all these years. It's too bad, but all she is now is a contingency." He clicked his tongue in frustration, as if clueless for a better explanation. "I know it's wrong, but I just can't help it."

"The Youko is restless."

"Perhaps. But it's not why...--" Kurama held Hiei's gaze boldly. "Hiei, I love you more than I love Hibi-san."

Hiei awkwardly returned his eyes to the road, and quietly suffocated with discomfort. He masked it with an imperative, "Kurama, look at where you're going," and a low, inaudible mutter, "Crazy idiot."

The door bell rang thrice. She awoke with a small jerk, and she dully noted that her eyes felt rather heavy, as if from crying. She clutched her pregnancy and rushed downstairs to answer whoever it was at the door, even if the awful truth that it was not Shuichi ate her alive. How could it be him, when it was only 2 in the afternoon?

It could be anyone. It could be the mailman who dropped by yesterday, the newspaper boy who dropped by earlier, the monthly bills, the police, a burglar or an eviction notice. She would not know; she was not being herself lately. All she was vividly aware of was a pregnant belly, a spinning head, a throbbing heart, a numbing pain and brilliant green eyes that saw right through her...

"Hibi-chan!"

"Mother!"

"Dear, are you all right?! You look sickly and restless..."

"I'm all right, Mother. Don't worry about me. Please, come in." Hibi held out the door, and Shiori acquiesced, politely letting herself in and left her footwear by the doorway.

Hibi lead Shiori to the living room and seated her. Avoiding her wizened eyes, she mumbled an excuse to make tea, but Shiori held on to her arm. She pulled on it, and Hibi was promptly made to sit. Shiori probed her buckling gaze.

"Hibi-chan, it's Shuichi, isn't it?" Shiori whispered. Hibi's shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing.

"Oh, you poor girl!" Shiori sobbed, tears breaking free. She threw her arms around Hibi's shoulders, somewhat forcing her to an embrace. "I'm so sorry!"

It was the grief of a mother who was powerless against her son's happiness.

Shiori shut her eyes against the memory of her son on his wedding day earlier the year, yet it persistently replayed itself in her head. He had been so possessed with uninhibited glee that his breath hitched when he ran to her from the outside, and vaguely she remembered remembering Shuichi from his vivacious youth, whenever he found something fascinating in the backyard. He would always show her what made him happy. Even now, Shiori realized.

"'Kaasan! 'Kaasan!"


"Shuichi, what is it? You're as excited as a little kid!" Shori remembered laughing.

"He's here, 'Kaasan! He's here! Hiei's finally returned!"


"Honto?" Shiori remembered being excited as well. Before submitting to her son's grip, she furtively glanced at the newly-wedded Hibi. She caught the look of hurt that fleetingly streaked across her veiled face, but Shiori decided that as unfair as it was, it could not possibly weigh against her son's happiness. Hibi turned to the other guests, and Shiori let herself be dragged outside, where a long overdue reunion with Hiei took place.

Shiori opened her eyes to the wedding picture by the side table. Hibi looked radiant, whereas Shuichi did too, but with imperceptibly mirthless eyes. Hibi's tearful outburst thundered in her ear, and she suffered helplessly.

Upon seeing a familiar landmark, Hiei had an idea.

"Kurama, turn left."

"Eh?"

"I want to show you something."

Hibi eventually calmed down, yet even in her exhaustion, her tears gushed relentlessly. Shiori now cradled her daughter-in-law's head on her lap, and every now and then she would run the length of Hibi's long, damp, unmanaged hair with her fingers. Hibi's tears soaked her dress.

"Why is this happening, Mother? Why..." Hibi whimpered.

Shiori could only wince. She tucked a lock of hair behind Hibi's ear in a reverently silent apology. Hibi-chan... gomen nasai.

"Wow, Hiei. Mukuro made this cabin for you?"

"Well, I had been a good boy."

Kurama squinted a glare toward him. Hiei chuckled. "Jealous?"

"I'll bite her head off," Kurama mock-growled a little too viciously to be in jest.

"Yeah, you would. After all, she only ripped the Kokuryuha in half - nothing you can't handle."

"Hiei, this is really nifty," Kurama commented, an obvious change of gambit. Albeit he really looked awed of the place, Hiei was fully aware of the wiles operating in the kitsune's head, but he let it pass. He would never be able to bite off the head of the only person - woman - who obliterated the Makai black flame itself anyway.

"It is, if I say so myself," Hiei agreed.

The cabin was big enough to spoil rotten Hiei's even bigger comfort zone, and ensconced in the forests of the outskirts of the city, Hiei could have all the peace and nature he could ever want. The cabin was meticulously assembled from lumber, and was completely furnished with top-of-the-line Ningenkai implements. A large, elaborate Makai chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling; it was a work of exquisite craftsmanship, and was ornate with bronze and dragon heads. It spilled a warm, effulgent orange glow throughout the cabin, and in effect, everything seemed to be doused in gold.

From where he stood, Kurama noticed a tall drawer to his right. It did not have anything on nor in it, aside from a commonplace glass vase, colored sapphire blue only where a flower design touched it, and it was broken from the middle up. Kurama grew a special rose and put it on the vase, and he beamed. The sight was a stunning subject for a still life photograph.

"Kurama!" Hiei hollered from his bedroom, "don't you want to see the bedroom?"

Kurama gravitated toward the voice automatically. His eyes knowingly glinted, and soon after, a sleazy smile broke out on his face. "Coming, my love," he dared to sing-song.

TBC

There will be two more chapters, The Past, then The Future. For now, read and review? Thank you.