CHAPTER TWO: Antagonism

"You would be wise to not do that again."

They were walking down the street together; Kurama fuming, his expression dark, and Hiei pretending unconcern, his hands in his pockets. "Why?" Hiei asked.

"Because while killing you is a violation of both our paroles, torturing you is not," Kurama replied flatly.

"Both our paroles? I'm fairly certain my parole does not stipulate that I am not to to die."

"Excellent. Then you won't mind if I kill you after all."

"Go right ahead."

They walked a few paces in silence before Kurama spoke again. "That was anticlimactic."

"And pointless," Hiei agreed. "We both know you can't kill me. Not if you want to stay near that woman. Your threat was moot from the beginning."

"Only the part about killing you. Don't ever show up at my school again, Hiei."

"But I don't have anything else to do," Hiei said, with mock innocence. "Not until that human has a case. Furthermore, I am restricted to this city where you are the only person I know. I have nothing to do but seek out your company."

"Go make some new friends. Go kill pigeons in the park. Anything."

Hiei suppressed a smile. It gave him a great deal of satisfaction, under the current circumstances, to be aggravating Kurama. "Answer something for me first. How do you stand going to that place? It reeks."

"The school?" Hiei nodded. Kurama shrugged. "Most places where humans are confined together do."

"Interesting choice of words," Hiei commented. He was genuinely curious about the situation, in addition to trying to annoy Kurama. Before, he had stayed out of the human side of Kurama's life as much as possible, wanting to pretend it didn't exist. Now, with his parole set and nothing to do but figure out where he stood with Kurama, he was checking out every aspect of the fox's life. He was appalled at what he'd found so far. "That building's a trap. If someone were to set fire to that place-"

"Is that a threat?"

"An observation. If someone set fire to that place, everyone would panic and no one would escape."

Kurama's tension was palpable. His feet were hitting the pavement a little harder than necessary, and his hands were halfway curled into fists. Hiei was a little surprised at the intensity of his reaction. He knew he was hitting Kurama's fox-like aversion to being trapped dead on, manipulating it for all it was worth, but he hadn't quite expected this much success.

"...Are you performing for me?" Hiei asked with sudden disgust.

Kurama gave him a disdainful look. "I thought it might get rid of you faster if you believed you were succeeding in your efforts."

And his posture relaxed, his features smoothed out, his stride gentled-every sign of irritation Kurama had been so carefully displaying for him vanished. Hiei felt his own shoulders tense. "So," Kurama said. "We've established that you won't visit my school again."

"We have not."

"Hiei." Hiei tensed a little more, familiar with the hint of steel that had just entered Kurama's voice. It was subtle, but Hiei was aware that Kurama meant what he was saying. "If you want me to miserable, you have a hundred different methods at your disposal. But if you blow my cover, I don't care about parole. They won't find your ashes."

"Who said anything about blowing your cover?"

"You did. When you showed up at the window, two stories up with no explanation, greeted me by my demon name, and called the teacher stupid and the students maggots. I had to use my entire stock of dream flower pollen. If you do it again, I will inform Koenma you are revealing demon activity to the humans in this city. That's a violation of parole, isn't it?"

"...No." It probably was.

"I'm sure I could make it one."

"I can't believe you're resorting to Koenma to counter me."

"Hiei, when you came to my room a few days ago you said you would never again make the mistake of leaving me with no options. Remember? I don't want to fight you. But if you fight me, I will win. There's an easy solution. Don't force me into it in the first place."

Hiei didn't answer. He was uncomfortably aware that Kurama had a point. Hiei had acknowledged that it had been a mistake to back Kurama into a corner. And now here he was, devoting all his time and energy to poking at him to see what would make him poke back, like it was safe to do so.

It had been once. Or so he had thought. But Kurama had betrayed him, so smoothly that Hiei hadn't been able to see it in time to stop it, and Hiei doubted now that he had been safe for any moment he had spent in Kurama's company.

They didn't speak further on the walk to Kurama's house. Kurama was showing tension again, but Hiei didn't try to figure out if it was for his benefit or not. He just kept walking.

The silence continued throughout the afternoon, as Kurama went straight to his desk and staid there for several hours, studiously ignoring Hiei. Hiei knew the fox couldn't possibly have anywhere near that much schoolwork, but he didn't say anything. He settled into the windowsill, dozing lightly but staying alert enough to notice any change in Kurama's behavior.

I have nothing to do but this, and nowhere to be but this, he reminded himself sourly, when a little nagging voice of conscience cautioned him it might be better to leave. Something stronger than conscience told him to stay. It wasn't vengeance-or at least, not entirely vengeance. It was an instinct he couldn't figure out, telling him to push, regardless of whether it was safe or not.

So when Kurama went downstairs to make himself dinner (his mother still being at a rehabilitation center), Hiei followed and made disparaging comments about human stomachs. Kurama replied by offering him something to eat in so sweet a voice that Hiei wondered if Kurama was fantasizing about poisoning him. After that he couldn't do anything but refuse to eat, although before he had raided the kitchen with impunity and even-if he would admit it to himself-grown fond of the fox's cooking.

No more. Even if he hadn't suspected Kurama was not above adding something to the meal, it would put too much power in Kurama's hands to accept his food. It was bad enough that Hiei was already sleeping in his room again, like nothing had happened. Like they were still so certain of their equality that they had stopped keeping track of who was giving what to whom. He had to be vigilant against old habits.

"Are you going to pretend to read all night?" he asked when Kurama finished eating and immediately turned back to his textbooks.

"I am reading," Kurama replied.

"You know what I mean."

"You mean am I going to ignore you all night. Yes."

"I'm surprised you're not trying to learn everything you can from me. I would, if I were you."

"I know you intend to play by Koenma's rules for now, and therefore I know you are not a danger to me. That will do for now."

"You still don't know why I didn't kill you."

Kurama shot him an annoyed look over the top of his book. "I don't suppose that statement is an indication that you want to tell me."

Hiei made a mental note that this was still a sore spot for Kurama. "I think you know me better than that."

"Yes," Kurama said, his expression darkening into a scowl. "I know you're going to prevent me knowing for as long as possible, because you think it matters to me."

"It does matter to you."

"You would have told me before," Kurama said, his eyes fixed on Hiei's. His tone had suddenly gone from challenging to sorrowful. "You would have teased me about it, yes, but you would have told me before the night was out."

Hiei wasn't sure how to reply. The obvious-that things were different now-was so obvious that it didn't merit being said. So what had been Kurama's purpose in pointing the difference out? Not to provoke guilt. Not anger, either. So why?

Kurama had been reading peacefully for several minutes before Hiei considered that perhaps Kurama had said it just to throw Hiei a curveball, and earn himself a respite while Hiei tried to figure him out.

Hiei started to scowl, then stopped himself, mindful that just because Kurama didn't appear to be paying attention to him didn't mean it was true. "Yes, I would have."

His comment was several minutes late, but Kurama didn't need any reminder as to what it was referring to. He didn't look up from his book, but Hiei, watching carefully for it, saw the slight tension enter his hands. Kurama was very good at controlling his face, but Hiei was aware of his giveaways. "How much do you trust me?" Kurama asked mildly, without looking up from his book.

"Not enough," Hiei replied ruefully. Not enough to be allies, and too much to be enemies, and unable to figure out what options that left him.

"Is it so great a secret? So dangerous for me to know?"

"I'm enjoying watching you try to figure it out."

Kurama gave him a mildly annoyed glance. Then he did a double-take, a look of shock and anger crossing his face. Hiei stared back, nonplussed. "You unbearable ass," Kurama snarled.

"What?" Hiei was fairly sure Kurama wasn't reacting to his last statement. "What did I do?"

"You expect me to figure this out. Not why you didn't kill me, but this." Kurama stood, gesturing between them, the book he'd been reading toppling to the floor. Hiei made a mental note that this was the second book to hit the deck in his post-betrayal interactions with Kurama-perhaps he'd better start keeping tally, see if he could get the fox to toss his entire library. "All of it. Our relationship. What to do now. You expect me to fix this for you, without your help. Oh, sure, you'll lend me your presence-you'll show up and act irritating, that's your side of it. And then you expect me to take that and figure out where we stand and what we should be. You think I'll just keep working at it and working at it until I understand it, and I'll tell you, and that will be that."

Hiei hadn't exactly thought it out that way-but as Kurama spoke, he felt the pieces falling into place. It made sense; it was the reason Hiei had felt an instinct to keep pushing Kurama. Kurama was logical, intelligent, and fond of diving into the kind of twisty emotional puzzles that made Hiei run for cover.

Hiei shrugged, pretending to be unaffected by this realization. "Well, you are supposed to be the smart one."

Kurama gave him a calculating look. There was still a trace of anger in his face, but Hiei wasn't worried by it. Kurama had two types of anger: the type that exploded and was gone within minutes, which Hiei frankly enjoyed watching, and the kind that was so cold Hiei could scarcely detect it, which was deadly. This had been entirely the first kind. "So you do trust me," Kurama said.

"Hardly."

"You trust me to figure this out. And our relationship is the most important thing in your life right now."

"I didn't-"

"No, you said it yourself. You're confined to the city with nothing to do but seek out my company, and we have to learn to work together again. It's of paramount importance. And you're relying on me to figure it out." A smile was slowly spreading across Kurama's face, an awareness of victory suddenly stolen. "That's... interesting."

Hiei found he had nothing to say. "I'm flattered," Kurama continued, now wearing the expression Hiei thought of as fox-in-the-henhouse. "I'll try to live up to your trust."

"I loathe you." Even Hiei could hear the resignation in his own tone.

"Loathe you too," Kurama said, with the casually fond tone that most people said "love you too." Hiei wouldn't have been surprised if it was deliberate.

In total disgust, Hiei did the only thing he could and left. He was many miles away, sitting in a tree in the park and brooding, before he realized that by leaving and thus ceasing to annoy Kurama, he had given the Kurama another victory.

Tonight's round goes to the fox, he thought ruefully. It didn't bother him as much as it should. He didn't like to lose, but it wasn't like there would be no opportunity for a rematch. There would be a long, weary string of battles like these, for as far as he could see, until they negotiated a more stable truce or until one of them snapped and tried to kill the other.

Hiei wasn't laying bets on which one it would be.