Author's note: This fic is based solely on the anime, not the manga. I did a quick search for other fics with this pairing and couldn't find any, but if I overlooked something, please let me know. I might actually be the only person who thinks that Kei and Kurama are perfect for each other. :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Kei eyed her reflection with approval. "Not bad," she said, turning this way and that in front of the full-length mirror. "Not bad at all. I think I'll actually land a guy this time." She glanced at Nanami and added, "You're looking pretty good yourself. Ami, on the other hand," she observed with a hint of annoyance, "still looks like a grade-schooler. Honestly, what is with you, Ami? Don't you want a boyfriend?"
Ami flashed her friend a childlike smile. "Ami doesn't need a boyfriend right now," she said cheerfully. "It's enough just to be at the beach!" She giggled, and her honest sweetness won Kei over, as it always did.
"Well, if you say so. But I'm definitely not going back home without snagging a guy. Any guy."
"Any guy?" teased Nanami. "Even Isobe?"
"I said any guy. Isobe's a baboon."
"A baboon? I thought he was a weasel."
"He's that too. He's half-baboon and half-weasel, on his mother's side." The girls exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
"What about Kurama-kun?" asked Ami innocently.
Nanami choked on her laughter and tried to fake a coughing fit. Interpreting this as more teasing, Kei snapped, "Him? Oh, please. He's worse than a baboon-weasel. He's a — he's a . . . ." She searched for an appropriate insult, then gave up and shrugged. "Whatever he is, he's not worth thinking of. I can't believe he crashed our beach trip. If you want to know what a real guy looks like, just wait and see. I'm going fishing this weekend and you can be the first to admire my catch!"
Nanami groaned. "And here I thought you were just going angling . . . the way you're talking, it sounds like you'll be using a net!"
"That's right! I might just bring the whole ocean back with me! But don't worry, I'll be sure to share my bounty with you two desperate ladies."
Nanami threw a pillow at her and Ami said, "Let's go! I can't wait to feel the sun!"
"You guys go ahead—I'll catch up in a minute. I think I might do something with my hair." She faced the mirror with determination. "This time I'm taking no prisoners."
Ami's eyes widened. "You're really serious about this, aren't you, Kei-chan?"
Nanami laughed. "She always is. Come on, Nekota-san, let's hit the beach!"
x-x-x
At last, Kei nodded at her reflection. "You look good," she told herself. "Or as good as you're gonna get. Time to head out." Grabbing a few last-minute items, she was almost ready to leave when she heard a knock at the door. "Sorry I took so long!" she called out. "I'm finally done!" In a rush, she opened the door and nearly bumped into . . .
. . . Kurama.
"Easy there, Kei-chan," he purred. "I know you want a piece of me, but surely you're aware that guys don't like a girl who's too eager?"
She glared at him so ferociously that for a moment he thought she might actually be a yokai. Her gorgeous lips curled into a sneer. "Well, well, if it isn't God's gift to womankind. And to what do I owe the annoyance of this meeting?"
Kurama did his best to look hurt. "Such cruel words from such a pretty mouth! And here I am on a selfless errand. It seems that darling Nanami has misplaced a certain hair stick. She thought she might have left it here, and I merely volunteered to look for it."
"Don't give me that. She's practically married to that hair stick and she'd never leave it lying around."
"But I assure you, it's the truth."
"And I assure you it's not. Look, I don't know why you're here and I don't care. I'm locking up and heading to the beach. Now kindly step aside before you lose a testicle."
Curses, thought Kurama, this is going all wrong. He'd seized the opportunity to visit Kei alone after seeing the others arrive without her. She was the only girl he'd ever met who was utterly unimpressed by him—even Nanami had once fallen for his charms. He'd watched her for a long time, noting both her no-nonsense demeanor and the genuine warmth that emerged when looking after her friends . . . especially Ami, whom she protected like a sister. Gradually, he'd come to realize one thing:
He was in love.
Kurama had no illusions about himself. Despite being surrounded by adoring fans, the sad truth was that he was even lonelier than Mizuki. At least Mizuki could admit to being lonely. He, on the other hand, had to put up a front. He knew that he needed someone strong enough to rip his mask off, yet caring enough (or crazy enough?) to love him for who—and what—he really was. The only person who fit that bill was Kei.
And the only problem was that she hated his guts.
He'd hoped that once they were alone, he could break the ice somehow, but things were going terribly wrong. And now she was about to ditch him and join the others. Steadying himself, he tried to maintain his composure. Think fast, think fast . . . .
"Well, my lady, please allow me to escort you," he offered.
"What are you, some kind of sleazebag host? I can get there just fine on my own, thanks very much."
"But—"
"Look, I realize we're having communication problems, since I don't speak jerk. So I'll make this as clear as possible: Get. Out. Of. My. Way."
He drew back only slightly, but it was enough for her to push past him. He started after her, but she whirled back so fiercely that her hair stung his face. "Don't even think about following me," she snarled. "I don't want guys to think we're together."
Any thought he had of attempting to preserve his image vanished entirely with those words. He dropped to his knees as if felled by a physical blow.
To hell with the mask, he thought. It's now or never.
"Please!" he begged so desperately that the word seemed ripped from his gut.
Shocked, she drew near him.
"Please," he repeated. "I don't have any friends. No one likes me—the real me, I mean. I don't blame them. You're right, I am a jerk. Arrogant, conceited, selfish . . . everything you think I am. I lied about the hair stick. The truth is, I came to talk to you alone because . . . because . . . ." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Because I love you."
Silence. Not daring to look at her, he went on.
"Can't we talk? Please? Just give me a chance. Just let me talk to you once, and if you still hate me after that, I promise I'll leave you alone forever."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She sighed and reached for her room key. "All right. I guess I'd better hear you out. I have a feeling this is going to be interesting, to say the least."
x-x-x
"So let me get this straight . . . you're a tengu . . ."
"Yes."
". . . specifically, a crow tengu . . ."
"Yes."
". . . and you left your . . . uh . . . divine 'home' or whatever to live among humans . . ."
"Yes."
". . . as a gothed-up pop idol . . ."
"Yes."
". . . who pretends to be a fallen angel . . ."
"Well, yes."
". . . while going to high school part-time."
"Um, yeah. I guess I am absent a lot."
"Uh-huh. And this crow-tengu-pop-idol-high-school-student is in love with me."
"Yes."
"Uh-huh."
He looked up at her. "Do you believe me?"
She exhaled slowly. "I don't know. Maybe. It all seems pretty incredible. But somehow I get the feeling that you're telling me the truth."
"I am."
"Well, it's a good habit to get into, especially if you want to be with me. Do you know why I broke up with my last boyfriend?"
"No . . . I guess he was dishonest?"
"He was the world's biggest liar. And when I dumped him I swore to myself that I'd never date a liar again. It's just something I refuse to put up with."
"That's why I fell in love with you. You won't put up with anything from anyone. Including me."
She laughed. "You got that right."
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"So . . . where do we go from here?" she asked quietly.
"Where we go is up to you," he said, offering her his hand. "I'll always be waiting, if you want me . . . ."
She took his hand.
"Well," she began slowly, "I did promise myself I'd snag a guy this weekend. I guess I could do worse than a crow-tengu-pop-idol-high-school-student."
He smiled.
". . . Besides," she went on, "if I lean back, cock my head ninety degrees, and squint really hard, it makes you almost—kind of—just a little bit—good-looking. Well, good enough, anyway."
He laughed. "Is that so?"
"Yep, that's so."
"In that case, do me a favor and keep squinting," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her.