A/N- This chapter is quite a bit longer than the others. And a bit dramatic. I fear that it may drag on a bit, and I really should edit it down. But I don't have the time to do that and stay on my posting schedule, so I'm prioritizing sticking to the schedule. I may come back and cut it down in the future.

For the time being, enjoy the monstrosity ^^;;

Chapter Three

Honesty: First Attempt

We haven't exhausted all the information that we could glean that might give us insight into Enma's motives. Our next step should be to see whether we can gain any information about Enma's previous spirit detectives.

-False. Our next step is to do what Yusuke and Kuwabara are doing and begin relocating our family to a safe location.

-Enma doesn't share such records freely, but there are others more willing to talk. We'll start with Genkai, and if she can't offer us information, then we'll move to Botan-

-All good suggestions. But first we're going to go tell our mother that we're actually a demon who parasitically possessed her son.

-See, when you put it like that I can't imagine why we're not doing it.

Genkai was right.

That was the worst part of it. She was right and Kurama could not argue that fact. Still…

Kurama turned back and looked out over the streets that stood between him and the small home that had provided him refuge for the past fifteen years. He could just see the top of the large oak tree in the back yard peeping out over the houses in between. Kurama wasn't sure which feeling was making him queezy. The churning terror that flittered in his chest as Shuichi Minamino contemplated his mother's response, or the deep disgusted hatred Youko Kurama felt as he watched the creature that shared his name and body react so frail and stupidly.

Kurama had twined his way through the streets some hundred times by now. He automatically touched up the wards as he went. It had become a kind of meditative routine over the years that Kurama had spent protecting this house from prying spiritual eyes and demons with a lust for violence. Kurama closed his eyes and ran through the speech again, flipping and twisting words in an attempt to find a combination that would make it seem… better than it was…

Every time he tried to push his mind to think about the confession that he had to make the terrified teenaged boy inside him screamed and ran around in circles until Kurama's mind was worn thin and exhausted.

At the same time cool strain of logic in his mind, that he was currently calling Youko, was running through possibility after possibility faster than Kurama could have produced them on his own. All of them ended in failure.

An image of Kurama's mother flashed against the blackness, her face contorted in a mixture of surprise and disgust. The expression so foreign on her face that she almost looked possessed. Kurama's eyes snapped open with hissing gasp that he failed to stifle. His hands clenched at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms as he ordered his body to calm. He drew a breath, and with its exhale he pushed all tension from his body. All thought dissipated from his mind, pushed out through his lungs like a black cloud.

Kurama took a few more breaths to steady himself. He needed to confront this problem with a cool head. He needed not to flinch away from the problem every time it flared up just because some piece of him that was still an immature teenaged boy got scared. Generally in times like this Kurama could set those concerns and emotions aside and examine the present moment in calm clarity. But ever since the final round of the last tournament it had become more and more difficult to switch back to Shuichi Minamino. The human form that he presented to the world no longer slid on seamlessly the moment he needed it. Instead it was beginning to clink into place like a rusting machine- or a costume that was growing too tight to comfortably pull on.

So he had carefully avoided ever allowing that cool mind pattern to be anything more than a background track whenever he was with his mother. But Shuichi Minamino was not the person here who had the power to adequately protect his mother. He had tried to solve the problem as Shuichi, and the frightened teenager had flinched, hid, and ran. He had convinced himself that it wasn't really a problem, or was a problem so big there was no way to fix it.

What Kurama needed was a way to think with Youko's cool calculating mind, while having some mechanism to make sure that he still adhered to Shuichi's morals. Kurama paused for a moment as an idea occurred to him. Then he dropped his bookbag, riffled around in it and drew out a highlighter.

A few minutes later he'd finished his preparations and he closed his eyes, drew a breath and isolated Shuichi. He located every piece of the young scared teenager inside him and gently gathered him away into a corner of his mind, leaving only the calculating track to tackle the problem ahead. Without human inhibition his mind seemed to unfurl, like a machine cleared of black sludge, ideas began leaping to the top of the heap with agile excitement.

Drug her, said one. When you get back, implant memories of a vacation to Okinawa. Like she's always wanted. She'll never have to know, and she'll even have enjoyed herself.

And how will Yusuke and Kuwabara react when you come to Genkai's temple with her unconscious body? Asked another part of Kurama.

You have time. Hurry and hide her in the temple before Yusuke and Kuwabara arrive. Genkai will understand—

—Genkai knows nothing of our power if she thinks we cannot adequately shield a single human, another voice cut in. All we need is a living, sentient sacrifice and we can create a ward that Enma himself couldn't break. We're surrounded by humans. Finding one who no one will miss won't be hard. We used to do it all the time with our treasures. Remember?

A single human sacrifice will guard the house. And what will we do when she goes into town? Or are we going to trap her in the house for three months?

There are ways to confine her to the house and make her think it was her idea—

The streets are crawling with humans. Finding enough to safe guard the whole city won't be difficult—

And it will earn us points with Hiei. You have no idea where his allegiance and trust will fall once Koenma runs out of bait. Kill a few people now, protect your mother, earn trust points with Hiei, and help avoid him killing more people in the future. Earn two rewards with one human.

Kurama had hardly had time to process these ideas before they seemed to have solidified in his brain as the clear next step. It was, in fact a perfect solution. Reasonable, convenient, and efficient. But before Kurama's mind could leap ahead and begin planning how to orchestrate the disappearance of a few solitary humans, his mind reminded him that there was a step he had to take before initiating any plan. Kurama reached down, drew his sleeve up and turned his eyes to his forearm. There, scrawled in purple highlighter were the words:

"No drugging."

"No killing."

"Rethink all plans as Shuichi before action."

Kurama felt himself scowl at this message. The blazing stupidity of it glared at him like an insult scrawled across his skin. A sudden impulse to scratch the flesh raw until the message was gone clutched at his mind, and he had to dig his fingers into his arm where they held the sleeve to stop himself. Kurama knew that these conditions had been extremely important when he wrote them, and that any plan that did not comply must be immediately scrapped. Even if he could not remember why they had been so important when he'd written them he forced himself to trust the words on his arm. He had written them with a clear head.

A voice in the back of his mind politely reminded him that his head was clear now. He'd written those words in a state of panic so intense he'd had difficulty breathing. Was that what he called a clear head? Because if it was he should go to Genkai immediately and have her help him find a nice padded room somewhere.

The reminder of Genkai sent her words back into Kurama's mind.

"Either be fully truthful with your mother- or manipulate her until she's safe. Choose one."

Are we prepared to be fully truthful? Are we prepared to tell her everything?

Kurama hesitated. He didn't have time to reply before Youko kindly provided him with an image of what "full honesty" would look like.

His mother, face curled with concern as she calmly tried to explain to Kurama why he couldn't possibly be correct, and that perhaps he should talk to someone about all these thoughts he was having…

Or

His mother pressed against the corner of the room, eyes wide as she begged him to get out of her house…

Or

His mother watched him with detached, empty eyes. One hand rested on her abdomen, her body unconsciously hunching forward slightly as she spoke softly, "Does that mean… Did you kill my real son?"

The last scenario played out so vividly that Kurama could almost hear the broken tone of his mother's voice. His brain immediately aborted the image to avoid complete mental shutdown, but his head was still buzzing and a wave of something terrible seemed to have paralyzed him. Slowly Kurama managed to calm himself again, steadying his breath and pushing the image away as far as he could place it in his brain. But the lingering possibility of it kept tingling at the edge of his thoughts. He looked down to find his arms scratched to the point of tiny droplets of blood beading along the long tracks his nails had left. It was only then that he realized that he'd been clawing at his arms to calm himself. He quickly pulled his sleeves down. No one was around to see, but his town was not huge, and the likelihood of being recognized was too high to risk.

So then, continued the cool voice that constituted Youko in his mind. Can we agree that you're not ready to be 'entirely truthful' yet? So shall we then conclude that unless you toughen exponentially in the next few minutes it would be best if you followed Genkai's advice? If you're not going to be truthful, it's high time you allowed us to be manipulative.

Kurama knew Yoko was right. He knew the logic was sound…

Is that how you justified centuries of manipulation and betrayal? He asked that part of himself.

That is how I thieved from Kings and Gods for centuries and lived to tell of it, replied the husky growl. I faced problems, instead of running from them. The more terrifying the problem, the more important to face it.

Kurama gave a soft hum to himself as he pondered these words. If nothing else… These words felt true. Those words weren't just words Youko lived by… they were words Shuichi could accept…

He also knew that if he did use one of the manipulation tactics Youko had provided, then there would be no going back. He knew it from Youko's memory. Once Youko allowed himself to be manipulative with someone, he could not close that door. It always started small. The tiniest deception, the most well-intentioned fraud…

Kurama refused to go down that path. Not now. Not after 15 years of care.

No.

Shuichi began streaming back into his mind, the human perspective settling in along with the returning childish fear.

The sun was sinking low when Shiori stepped out onto the back porch. The spring's cool evening bite beginning to set in as the sliding door shut behind her. A ways away at the other edge of the garden stood Shuichi, his head tilted up to the sky, his back toward her.

"Shuichi," Shiori called softly. There was no need to raise her voice with the only noise in the yard being the swishing of new leaves and grass. Even the soft word broke the near perfect silence. Her son didn't stir from where he stood. Shiori tugged her jacket tighter across her chest, the relaxed cut of the robe like garment easily slipping over her shoulders unless she stopped it, and she stepped forward, her shoes clacking softly against the steps, then vanishing into muffled, light taps as she reached the grass.

"Shuichi," she repeated as she drew closer. Her son turned to look at her, dusk's light falling across his face to show an expression of warm surprise, with a tired undertone to it.

"I'm sorry mother, I must not have heard you." He took a step forward as he spoke, removing his hands from his pockets, emerging from his quiet contemplation and immediately snapping into his ever-vigilant helpful mode. "Shall I help you clear up the kitchen?"

Shiori shook her head, holding a hand out to him gently as if to sooth out the burst of energy, "I just finished cleaning up, don't worry."

Shuichi's face seemed to fall a little. "I'm sorry. If you'd called on me I would have helped…"

"I know," Shiori replied, putting all the earnesty that she could into those words. "You seemed engaged, so I didn't want to disturb you."

There was definitely a fall in his expression there, though you had to know him well to see it. You had to know him even better to hear the tiniest touch of nervousness when he said:

"Please mother, you are always welcome to call on me."

"I know," Shiori repeated in the same tone. She turned and made her way to the bench a few paces from where they stood and slowly lowered herself into the seat. For a woman in her early forties her bones were already complaining of mistreatment.

"Sit with me," she requested, not commanded, patting her hand on the space beside her. Shuichi was still for a moment, then moved forward and joined her, sitting further away than he usually would. The dim orange-gold orb that was the remainder of the sun sat over Shuichi's right shoulder, concealing his features in back lit shadow.

"Will you share what's been on your mind lately?" Shiori asked. The question was greeted with silence, but that was nothing new. Shuichi liked to keep his words precise, especially on important matters. So she let the silence linger as her son sat, eyes fixed on some indeterminate spot just past her shoulder, somewhere around the magnolia tree. A gentle breeze came in to fill the space, stirring the his fiery red locks so that they glowed orange in dusk's light.

Her son was silent for a long time. Longer than normal. Much longer.

When he finally spoke his voice was hardly more than a whisper, but in the silence of the garden it seemed like normal speech.

"…I must ask a favor of you…" he said softly. "…And I may not be able to explain my reasoning… But I promise…" The words trailed off as he seemed to lose himself in the torrent of thought that the next sentence created. Shiori watched him for a minute before she spoke.

"I trust you," she said. And she did. The words seemed to break something in the chain of Shuichi's thoughts. His eyes slid shut, and just the slightest furrow of his brow showed the concern he seemed to be masking. Shiori reached out and held her hand between them on the bench, an offer for him to take it in his own. His eyes opened and he looked down at the hand, but did not move. His eyes were still downcast when he spoke again.

"…I need you to come with me and stay with a friend of mine for a few months. It is extremely important that you come and stay there. I will be with you for the first month. Then I must leave, but I will ask you to remain with my friend…" There was another pause. "I cannot explain why."

Shiori's hand had not moved from where it sat between them. Another breeze nudged gently at their sides, sending a petal twirling through the air between them.

"Are you in danger?" Shiori asked. Shuichi hesitated for a moment too long and the silence became its own answer.

"I am in no more danger than is normal," he replied.

Silence.

"Is it serious?" Shiori asked, her tone still calm. Shuichi seemed to be struggling to find a good answer to this as the seconds ticked on, until eventually something seemed to break and he simply answered with the words he had.

"It is more serious than you know, but less serious than you will think."

Shiori took some time to let those words percolate, and nodded as they did. "I understand." Silence. "Shuichi, do you need help?"

The smallest hint of a smile appeared beneath the shadows. His voice was full of reassuring confidence when he replied. "No."

"Are you in over your head?"

"No."

"Are you scared?"

Another hesitation just a bit too long…

"Are you scared because of the danger that you're in?"

"No."

Silence.

"Are you scared because you told me?"

Silence. This silence seemed to stretch, stretch until you could feel it tugging at your blood and pressing in at your sides.

"Are you scared of me?" she ventured.

Silence. Shuichi's face was still concealed from view by his red locks and shadow, his hands perfectly still in his lap. Shiori hazarded another guess.

"Do you believe that I will love you less if I discover the danger that you're in?"

Shuichi didn't move, but his body gave the smallest of shivers timed just wrong to have been caused by the breeze. Yet when he finally spoke his voice was calmer than anything she'd ever heard from him. A calm so deep it bordered on disembodied, as if he were speaking from some high above place through a throat that was built for someone else.

"There are things I cannot tell you. Truths you have no reason to believe… If you knew them, then I can see no reason for you to feel compassion toward me. So I must make unreasonable demands of you without explaining why."

There was another pause of silence. Shuichi gave an empty, halfhearted laugh that was more of a breath.

"I truly do not intend to be so melodramatic."

Shiori smiled softly and repeated once again, "I trust you." She turned her hand, still resting in the space between them, palm up in an open invitation. Slowly, slowly Shuichi's hands stirred from his lap and he let one come to rest gingerly in her palm. Her fingers closed over his, soft palms and fingertips cold as stone.

"You shouldn't," Shuichi said in a voice so far away it seemed to have forgotten to make noise, and came out as a hoarse, husky whisper.

She tightened her grip and pressed her other hand on top, warmth bleeding into his cool skin from every angle. After a moment he shook his head as if to clear it, and pressed his other hand on top of hers, raising their joined hands and resting his forehead against her knuckles, his eyelashes pressing against her fingers.

"I am truly sorry."

They sat like that for a long while, neither of them stirring, before Shuichi finally straightened, his hair falling back from his face to show gentle green eyes and a soft smile.

"You should return inside," he said. "It's gotten very late."

Shiori nodded, gave his hands one last squeeze, then released them.

"Will you come as well?" she asked.

"Shortly," Shuichi replied. "I think I'll sit beneath the stars a little longer."

Shiori nodded and stood, making her way back to the door and without another word she vanished inside.

She'd hate you if she knew.

She should hate you.

Liar.

You don't deserve her.

It's ok, she'll hate me soon enough.

She'd hate you now if you'd told her.

Weak.

Don't tell her. She doesn't deserve that pain.

You lied this long. Let her die a happy mother.

Don't pollute her life for your own mental comfort.

Thief.

You have to tell her.

She'll find out soon enough.

Weak.

Yusuke and Kuwabara can't keep a secret.

She'll need to know to avoid Genkai's forest.

You can't take her to Genkai's temple and expect no one to mention the tournament around her.

Let her hear it from you—

Let her know what she's walking into.

She deserves that.

Stupid.

Weak.

Liar.

Thief.

Murderer.

You should have just drugged her.

Kurama sat on a bench in his backyard, eyes fixed on the sky above as the last light faded and the stars emerged into crisp view. And in the empty space of green solitude, he wished only for silence.

A/N For the Widows in Paradise by Sufjan Stevens is quick becoming my theme song for Kurama and his mother. At some point I may take the lyrics and add author's comments to each line to explain the significance to me. In the meantime I highly suggest you check out that lovely piece of art.

A/N number 2- Logistics:

I am leaving the state for spring break next week. I'll be working with a community organization, and I can't bring my computer, so I don't know how much writing I'll get done. I won't be back until Saturday next week, so the next update will be a bit delayed.

Thank you for reading! Happy friday!