Chapter 1: Eight Years Later

"Silrini! Silrini!" a young girl called, walking through the traditional house. "Silrini, where are you?" She was about eleven, nearly twelve, and she wore a kendogi very similar to the one Silrini had worn so long ago. In fact, the same short sword was tucked in her waist. Frowning in irritation, the girl opened another door, to finally find her 14-year-old sister meditating quietly.

"Silrini."

Silrini gave no answer. Her sister gave her a pitying look, and went and shook her gently. Silrini's eyes opened slowly, revealing quiet violet eyes filled with peace and knowledge.

Silrini had had her hair cut short, layered in the back so it wouldn't keep heat in. Her black bangs still framed her face, but her purple eyes had gained new layers of wisdom, and her fingers were longer, perfect for holding a katana. She had sat silently, head slightly bowed, her hands on top of one another, palm up. Her thumbs went up and met in the middle, forming a sort of triangle with her hands. She blinked, once, slowly.

"What do you want, Kaldea?" she asked, sounding very far away, and for some reason, vaguely sad.

"Aunt Miko wants to talk to you," Kaldea replied quietly.

"I'll go to her in a moment. Tell her that, please," Silrini asked, still in that distant voice.

"Alright. Don't take too long," Kaldea called as she left the room. Silrini's mouth flickered into a brief smile, only to disappear. Sitting silently, she closed her eyes again. Images flashed against her closed eyelids, a blood-stained sword, pine trees, her mother's face…

Silrini jerked out of the meditation, one hand flying back to brace herself against. Her eyes were wide and her breathing erratic. She closed her eyes, involuntarily shuddering. Her hand, no longer bracing her, went to her heart, where it clenched as if it could go through skin and cloth to rip out the offending organ.

Her teeth were clenched, her eyes squeezed shut, every muscle tensed, until, slowly, slowly, she relaxed. Then she said, very softly, "Eight years to the day, Mother. Eight years…"

Her hand went to around her neck, where she pulled out a necklace, a beautiful blue jewel on a simple red cord. Silrini clutched it, head bowed, before rising and leaving the room.

By the time Silrini reached her Aunt Miko's room, she was back to normal, cheerful with a slight serious edge. Had you not been watching, you never would've guessed that she had spent her last few minutes with her face contorted with pain and grief.

After a brief knock, Silrini slid open the door. There sat her Aunt Miko, calmly sipping some tea. A low table was before her, containing the teapot, another cup, and some files. She looked up as Silrini came in, returning Silrini's smile.

"Ah, there you are. Come, sit down. Tea?" she asked.

Silrini nodded as she sat down. "So, apparently the mission wasn't as hard as Koenma made it out to be?"

Aunt Miko made a face. "Hmph. Kaldea could do it, and she hasn't even started missions yet. A whole effort wasted. But it's too late to matter now. That's not what I called you here for." She put her tea down, looking seriously at Silrini. "It has been eight years."

Silrini's eyes became shuttered. "I know."

"Are you going to grieve for her forever?" Her aunt asked.

"I will grieve as long as I feel the need."

"Silrini, this is not healthy. You need to move on, to realize that your mother is—"

The cup was slammed down as Silrini stood, eyes now burning. "I know my mother is dead. I've known for eight long years that she won't be coming back. Is it so bad that I still grieve for her? Every year you try break this 'habit'. Is it any of your concern whether I grieve or not? It is not, and I would appreciate you keeping out of my business!"

The last was hissed as Silrini stalked out of the room. Her aunt watched her go sadly. As Silrini left, her husband entered, and took a seat next to her.

"You didn't manage to convince her this year either?"

Aunt Miko shook her head. "No," was her miserable reply.

"Do you know how long she intends to fast this year?"

"No."

Her husband hugged Aunt Miko. "I know you love her as you love your own children. I know that this fasting every year for her mother hurts you. But I'm confident that one day, someone, somewhere, will convince her."

Aunt Miko gave no reply, except a nod and quiet sob. Her husband held her gently and made soothing sounds until she stopped crying, stopped weeping for the daughter of her lost twin.

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Hiei looked over his shoulder. He had sensed something. Something he had once sensed long ago.

"Hiei? Something wrong?"

Hiei turned back towards Yusuke, who had stopped climbing the steps to look back at him. The others had stopped further up, looking curiously down at the fire apparition. Hiei's normal look was a little glazed, as if his mind were on other things. However, his reply was sullen as always.

"It's nothing. Nothing."

He continued climbing, the whole group back to normal. Still, he couldn't quite shake off the feeling that something big was going to happen.

And it would happen soon.

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