Of all the goddamn impulses Urameshi could have had, Toguro thought. Of all the reckless, stupid things he could have wished.

Toguro wasn't angry, really. Certainly not pissy, which was the first word Urameshi had used.

No, the words for this particular debacle were fucking furious. Possibly livid. Toguro tried for the thousandth time to extend himself, to reach into what had always been an untapped, inexhaustible, nigh bottomless well deep inside him.

Nothing. His pitiful muscles, though still quite impressively sized for a human's, didn't even flex. And Urameshi had the gall to say, "Well, maybe I should've let you have you some power…"

The big man bared his teeth, closed his eyes, and pondered how he would manage to slaughter a being as strong as his son without even the faintest hums of the yoki that was so familiar to him.

"Toguro! Get down here! We're going to Genkai's place!"

And this was the most galling part of it all. It was Kurama, the smooth, cunning fox, who had mentioned to Yusuke that it might not be safe for Toguro without Yusuke or one of them around, what with all the enemies that Toguro had, at one point, left unkilled.

So he'd fathered the boy, and chosen him as the opponent to finally lay him to rest—that didn't mean he wanted to spend every waking moment trailing along as the self-serving teenager hit up arcades, and did little else.

And it was a shame to see the boozer the always party-oriented Atsuko had become, and the old woman he could never look at too long, morphed from his ex-lover, Genkai.

It was painful to him. He knew that he'd altered the course of both women's lives, Atsuko by leaving her young and pregnant, Genkai by leaving her young, disillusioned and lost. The main thing was that it was strained between him and both those women, and equally strained between him and the other fighters of Team Urameshi. They gave him a wide berth. Fair enough, he deserved it, but it made it difficult when Urameshi demanded he come with him to the most banal of places. Banality wasn't Toguro's style.

"Toguro!"

Massive jaw clenching, Toguro walked downstairs, eyes unreadable and disturbing.

"I am no reticent child, Urameshi. Do not call me like one."

Yusuke gave an angry, lopsided grin. "Then don't act like one."

Toguro ignored him, the snide banter too far beneath him to merit a response. "Thank you for the hospitality, fox."

Kurama waved him away. "It's nothing. I certainly could use the company."

"Yeah you could, fox-boy," Yusuke laughed, his constant irritation easing for a moment. "Why don't you come with us?"

Kurama smiled, walking quietly to a potted tomato plant and thoughtlessly stroking it, examining the underside of its leaves. "I wanted to devote today to gardening. My roses are looking a little waterlogged after this last week of rain."

Toguro's eyes followed the graceful figure with interest, and no small amount of guilt. What had seemed like a necessary risk when he was caught in the monotony of evil held more meaning for him now.

Seeing the kitsune in his home, his hushed daily routines, Toguro was continuously reminded of that pretty face contorted with screams—reminded of the unstaunched proclivities of Karasu, and what would have happened to the boy if Toguro had kept just a slightly weaker rein on things during the Tournament.

Kurama seemed to hold the least trust for him, but the most understanding, an odd paradox that fit the mysterious kitsune perfectly. It made Toguro uncomfortably guilty.

"Kurama, honestly, I could use some help with babysitting Muscles. Your plants will survive, and you know it."

Kurama sighed irately, coming out of the bathroom with a little green watering can. Its nozzle was quickly tipped around the roots of the languid tomato plant. "Fine, Yusuke, I concede. I'll come with you to Genkai's. Though you're being unfair to her, you know."

Yusuke drew up his full, tiny height, making Toguro hide a smirk. "And why's that?"

Kurama looked over at Toguro, eyes and voice calm, watching as the smirk slid from Toguro's face with his next words. "She shouldn't have to see Toguro and interact with him after all he's done. My apologies, Toguro, but you force her to recover from your betrayal at your pace. It should never be up to the aggressor to decide how the victim reacts. Genkai deserves time, and the space to heal. You're not giving it to her."

Toguro stood, looking imperturbably into Kurama's regal eyes. "I'll stay here then, if you don't mind me imposing further, fox."

Yusuke snorted, hopeful and relieved. "That alright with you, Fox-boy?"

Kurama sighed, stroking slim fingers through the tresses of his long crimson hair. "Can you plant flowers?" he asked Toguro evenly. At Toguro's arched eyebrow and tentative nod, Kurama smiled deviously. "It's alright with me. Run along, Yusuke."

The Spirit Detective let out a whoop, dashing out of the hall and through the front door as though afraid someone would take it back if he waited another second. He left his father with his friend rather callously, but there was fondness in both gazes as they watched him go, and after his form receded, both men looked at each other, recognizing the similarity in their expressions and feelings toward Yusuke.


It was unfortunately quite obvious within the first few plantings that Toguro had overestimated his abilities. Gruff by nature, he was quickly demoted from flowers to the much simpler tasks of turning new ground with a shovel and carting mulch.

Even without his demonic energy, Toguro was far from tired, though perhaps more aware of the heat than he was used to, when Kurama called a noon break. The big man stood, brushing Kurama's homemade fertilizer from his knees, as the fox went inside to prepare food. While his watcher puttered around the kitchen, Toguro admired the results of years of work on the fox's part.

The gardens around Shiori's house surpassed the merely lovely: they were truly breathtaking. The flowers were not confined to neat rows, nor carefully clipped into standardized shapes, but layered in natural patterns to complement each other's size, fragrance, color, and type of growth, each bringing out its neighbor's beauty.

Everywhere Toguro looked, there were greens, yellows, purples, oranges, every color that could be imagined, and entwining through it all the red of roses. Hydrangea so bright a shade of blue that they were almost unnatural climbed up the white sides of the Minamino's house with flowering ivy. Wood sorrel and caladium sweethearts nestled with begonias, ringed by spiderwort and lobelia, fuschia and larkspur, petunias clustered in a bed with a hundred thousand other pleasing floras.

There was nothing shy about these flowers—nothing wilting—they turned their heads to the sun and rejoiced in their short, simple light. Standing and taking all the rings and mats of them in, Toguro had newfound respect for their kitsune master, who had tended to them so carefully.

"You're admiring my garden, I take it?"

Toguro didn't startle. "It's very beautiful."

Kurama smiled. "Thank you. Here, come in with me—I've made us some lunch." Without saying another word, the fox handed Toguro a ceramic mug filled with chilled green tea and returned to the building. One sip proved to be so delicious that Toguro, suddenly aware of an unusual and uncomfortable thirst, drained the teacup, and then walked inside to see if there were any more.