A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the long time it took to update.

See, the thing with this story is, it works by connecting little dots throughout the entirety of canon, and then branching out into this much bigger story at the end. That means that when I realize that I've misinterpreted something from canon, it has a lot of effects- and, even worse, it means I have to change a bunch of shit in these earlier chapters so that stuff adds up right. It doesn't happen a lot, but that's what happened this time.

I desperately wanted to post an A/N letting everyone know that this story had not been abandoned, but I thought that might be a bit cruel (I know I would hate to get an email that a fic I was following updated just to find out it's a fucking A/N). So, I had no choice but to wait until this chapter was finished.

Also, a note to those that read the initial installment of this arc- there have been some significant changes to the pre-tournament bits, though nothing has changed overall plot wise. I'd recommend reading it (obviously) but otherwise you can expect to be getting absolutely new content by chapter 30-ish. But in-between here and there is going to be a slew of new stuff (inappropriate erections, anyone?). So, I hope you check it out.

And so, without further ado, I present a long-ass chapter, which holds one of my favorite scenes I've written thus far.

Inari

Inari and Hotaru sat across from one another at a shadowed table in the back of Shi, Tokyo's most premiere venue for gourmet molecular gastronomic cuisine. All around them, couples and colleagues conducted polite conversation, clinking glasses of Armand de Brignac and Domaine Leroy occasionally and otherwise enjoying their meals, as one would expect- considering the fine reputation of the Chef de Cuisine, everything on the menu from champagne caviar geleé to filet mignon confit was beyond superb. The reservation book for this particular restaurant was full until well into the next year, though the rumor had it the staff never actually called anyone back who requested a table—you did not ask to come to Shi, Shi asked for you to come to her. The food, the atmosphere, and the service were all of the highest caliber, and the exclusivity of the restaurant ensured that only the best were allowed in—every guest present was the epitome of high society: refined, sophisticated, and irrefutably elite.

Or, at least most of them were.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Pick at your food like that—this is a nice place. Act like an adult."

Hotaru stared up at Inari from across the table, the low, intimate lighting accentuating the dark circles beneath her eyes and her huddled posture only making her look smaller against the backdrop of the massive original Damien Hirst that hung behind her. A brief scowl, and then the girl returned to prodding at her dish with her cocktail fork (despite the fact that Inari had told her repeatedly each fork had a purpose and that purpose should be respected). Her scowl only deepened as her prodding caused her phyllo napoleon to fall artlessly to the side, and the orange foam atop her seasonal vegetable sauté to ooze outward.

"What the hell is this, anyway?"

"It's a foam."

"Like soap?"

"No, it's carrot foam."

Hotaru glanced up at him carefully before lowering her eyes back to the masterfully crafted plate in front of her.

"I don't think carrot's make foam…"

Inari thought briefly to explain it to her, but with a quick glance around the rest of the tables—the urbane clientele, the haute décor, and the chic atmosphere—he simply sighed: "You're hopeless."

"Is it edible?" the girl asked with another poke to her now wilting foam.

"Of course it's edible, it's on your plate."

"Well I don't know! You got mad at me last time I ate that other thing—"

"—That's because you looked like an idiot trying to bite through a banana leaf."

"It was on the plate! And if stuff on the plate is food—"

"—Please lower your voice," Inari chided lightly. Really, he didn't know why he still tried to take Hotaru to places like this—hundreds of years he had known the girl, and not once had she ever managed to be anything but a spectacle in such an environment. "Maybe you should ask if you don't know what something is, rather than trying to prod it into giving you the answer itself."

"Or maybe you should stop ordering for me."

"It's a set menu—you eat what they give you."

"Then they should give things everyone likes," she sneered back. "Not like 'milk crust' or eggs cooked at weird temperatures or soap."

"It is not soap—"

"—You just said it was!"

"I did not—" Inari began, cutting himself off immediately when he noticed the hidden glances being cast their way before turning to Hotaru once more and speaking in a hushed tone. "I'm not apologizing for the foam. Eat it, or don't, but at least stop—" he reached out, forcibly setting her fork down on the plate, "—doing that."

"You're techy today, aren't you?" she mumbled back, but she let the fork remain where it was. Perhaps normally he was willing to suffer a touch more public humiliation in favor of kinder words, but as of late his temper had been getting the best of him—it always happened around this time of year after all, and as far as he was concerned he had earned the right to be a bit irritable at least once annually.

He hated this tournament.

He hated this tournament with every fiber of his being- and with every fiber of his custom Brioini three-piece suit.

When Hotaru had initially pitched the idea to him- swing a couple favors for some high powered CEO's, CFO's, and C-anything-else-O's from some of the most renown companies in Ningenkai- Inari had thought it would be a fantastic way to work his way back into the upper echelons of human society. All he would have to do is grant a few little wishes once a year, and it would open the door to a veritable cornucopia of new networking possibilities and informal corporate alliances. Inari already had quite a few important contacts himself of course, but since most if his business had been based in Makai for quite some time there was always room for improvement. So, when Hotaru had mentioned that she had just so happened to fall into graces with the literal top-tier, Inari felt it might be a short-cut past any long-winded, multi-generational networking he would otherwise have to suffer through.

Naturally, however, it was a poor decision to take short-cuts.

For the first few decades, the members of the Black Book Club had seemed rightfully terrified of his power- and utterly enamored by it as well. They had treated him as the superior member of their little board- despite the fact that he officially held no vote- and each had readily introduced him to everyone and anyone they knew in order to gain his favor. His standing in Ningenkai rapidly rose, and soon he was the forefront consultant and guide for the realm's major economic powers and corporate interests.

However, it only took a few new faces on the board for things to take a turn- suddenly, his position as the sponsor of their shit event was not a blessing given to them by a righteous god. Instead, it became a leash- he was powerless to fight against Hotaru's contract of employment, and was required by rights to assist in anything the girl deemed 'tournament business'. And Hotaru, being the little rat that she was, eagerly offered out Inari's help to the highest bidder in order to gain her own connections in the BBC and secure further power for herself. Slowly, his image deteriorated in their eyes- he was no longer a supreme being deigning them with his presence, but instead he was some sort of divine pet- a sorry excuse for a god meant to be mocked, belittled, and abused as one saw fit.

And, if the board meeting they had attendant that afternoon was any indication, this year would be no different. He deserved a little respite. And, speaking of…

"How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Hotaru asked without meeting his gaze, and Inari repressed an eye roll.

"I'm assuming your little detective received his invitation."

She finally looked then, but still gave little reaction. "Yea, he did."

"And?"

"Seems pretty freaked out by it."

"Obviously," he sighed, earning a sharp glance from the girl. "I meant, how did he react to the news about you? Regarding your ownership?"

"Oh, that?" she asked dumbly, before giving a noncommittal shrug. "'S fine, I guess."

"Fine?"

"Yea?"

Inari stared back at her incredulously, and finally the girl seemed to pick up on it.

"Why do you seem so surprised?" she asked suspiciously, and he gave her a hard look.

"A 14-year-old boy is forcefully invited to a notoriously brutal death tournament, and the girl he's supposed to trust turns out to be its owner and CEO," he replied. "The idea that he would be 'fine' with that is- not surprisingly- surprising."

She shrugged again. "Whatever, it isn't that bad. I told him Enma ordered me to do it."

"You told him that?"

"What!? It's true!" she retorted, before quickly correcting under his harsh gaze: "Okay, it's mostly true, but he doesn't need to know all the particulars, now does he?"

"I would think him learning that Reikai had a hand in all this would be even more upsetting, to be honest," he said, punctuating his disapproval with a sip of Chablis. "After all, they are the organization that eventually determines the fate of his eternal soul. One would think that the idea of them being involved in something so barbaric would be a bit perturbing."

"He seemed okay with it." And, judging by her expression that was the whole truth of it. "To be honest, I think he was too scared to really pay much attention to that sort of thing."

"And Genkai?"

Finally, he earned at least somewhat of a reaction, and withheld a smirk as Hotaru ground out: "I haven't told her yet..."

"But she will find out eventually…"

"Probably already knows," she said, looking paler by the minute. "Yusuke was supposed to meet her today to start his training regimen."

"Oh really? Well then in that case I really am sorry you don't like the food," Inari countered, leaning forward with a predatory smile. "I would hate for you to waste your last meal."

"Don't joke about that!" Hotaru snapped back, then sinking down further in her chair and averting her gaze. "I'm actually kinda worried she really might try to kill me."

"She wouldn't risk it," Inari replied, though the girl across him hardly seemed at ease. "She knows what it would mean for Yusuke. At least until the end of the tournament, you're probably safe."

"A whole two months—how fortunate."

"Perhaps she'll be as easily convinced as the rest of them were," he added. "Just tell her you wish things had turned out differently but Enma ordered you to take control and…" He trailed off as he saw the young girl make a curious face across the table. "… What?"

"Hm?"

"You just winced. Why are you wincing?"

"It's nothing it's just…" She groaned, ruffling her hands in her messy black locks. "I should probably mention that not everyone took the news so well."

"What do you mean?"

"Hiei kind of…" She paused briefly, before giving a weak and uncertain smile. "He kind of choked me?"

"He choked you!?" Inari shouted back, drawing the full attention of the restaurant clientele and staff, and before he leaned in closely and whispered: "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Hotaru whispered back hurriedly. "It was just a little bit!"

"A 'little bit' of choking is still quite out of line, I would think."

"Eh, it's kind of normal for him."

` Inari gazed at her through wide eyes, and Hotaru leaned further forward to continue. "But that's not the worst part! The worst part is Kurama-"

"-What did he do?"

"He saved me!"

"… Pardon?"

"Yea! Saved me!" Hotaru replied enthusiastically, clearly under the impression that this was somehow the worst outcome that could have occurred. "When Hiei choked me he crushed my wind pipe—"

"He what!?" Inari bellowed, this time flattened his palms to the table with such force as to rattle his own dinnerware right off the table—now earning the full disapproval of the other clientele—before he returned his voice to a panicked murmur. "I thought you said it was just a little—"

"—Well I mean for Hiei—"

"—Hotaru, that is beyond unacceptable," he snapped. He knew he sounded too like a doting mother at times like this, but honestly. "You simply cannot—"

"-No, Inari, it's Kurama that's the problem," the girl insisted stubbornly. "Hiei choking me or trying to stab me or whatever is normal, but Kurama he… he healed me!."

Inari simply stared on, beyond breathless at the girl's callousness for her own wellbeing, before finally asking: "And that's a bad thing?"

"Of course it's a bad thing!" Judging by the frantic look in her eyes, she really seemed to believe it too. "And later, when we were talking down by the street, he was… cordial."

"'Cordial.'"

"Nice, even!"

"How is that a problem?" he asked, before quickly adding: "At least in comparison to being choked to death."

"Because Inari, he's obviously trying to get me off my game! It's a trick, don't you see?" she persisted, seeming more unhinged by the minute. "Get me to let my guard down by being all friendly and shit, and then BAM—" she shouted, punctuating her cry by slamming both hands to the table, making Inari flinch. "He's gonna stab me in the back!"

"Why would he do that?"

"He's already done it! That's why we're in this mess, remember?"

And then, it all clicked, and Inari realized that this girl truly was hopeless—hopelessly self-involved, at least.

"You are unbelievable."

"Excuse me?"

"You always think everything is about you," he continued, his concern thoroughly washed away by his indignation at her conceit. "Hotaru, Kurama only did what he did to try and force you to admit your connection to me. It's me he's after, not you."

"What about the time he tried to kill me, huh? You remember that, don't you? With the pollen and the coughing and the little bits of lung-"

"—Of course I remember, you stained by favorite divan," he scoffed. "However, he only attacked you because you threatened to kill his mother, correct?"

"Only if he didn't do what I said," she defended—as if that were even a defense at all.

"Which by doing so would also—in his mind—lead to the death of his mother. You know how oddly obsessed he is with that woman, and you should have known better," Inari chided. "But more importantly, my point is you're taking all of these unpleasant interactions as personal affronts, but in reality all he cares about is determining whether or not I'm still seeking revenge."

"He didn't seem to care when I told him I knew you," she replied with a notable lack of contrition, and Inari fell into open mouthed shock.

"You told him you knew me?"

"It's printed on the invitations anyway…"

"Still," he insisted, now quite certainly offended. "It's the motivation that's disturbing. To think you would sell me out so easily!"

"He was just being so weird—"

"He was likely just being normal. You're over thinking this," Inari continued, leaning back in his chair and looking down at his thoroughly disappointing companion. "And please allow me to point out that—even if he were after you—I am also at risk here."

"What? You're not at risk of anything!"

"Clearly you're not thinking this through."

"When I told you two years ago that Kurama was alive, you said he couldn't hurt you without that legendary weapon," she pointed out in response, almost sounding accusatory—as if she had any right. "Does he have that legendary weapon?"

"Not as far as I know, however—"

"—However nothing! No legendary weapon, no risk to you—you're just being paranoid. I on the other hand am still mortal, in case you forgot."

"You remind me every day of that fact," he replied with a solemn sigh.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he replied curtly. "But as I was saying, he may not have the weapon he used back then, but that doesn't mean he's harmless—at least not in the context of the tournament."

"Why does the tournament change anything?"

"The wish, obviously."

"The wish?"

The god simply stared back at the young girl. She couldn't possibly be this thick—she'd spent enough time working her way around as an informant, so naturally she had to have at least some capability to put two-and-two together. But, as she returned his stare with a blank one of her own, he found himself at a loss and leaned in, speaking in a hushed tone. "He could use it to wish for my death and since I am contractually bound to fulfill all tournament wishes (thank you for that, by the way), I would have no choice but to acquiesce."

"But you're immortal!"

"Not entirely—I could still be killed by another god," he explained quietly. "And I doubt Enma would be all that opposed to carrying it out."

"Enma wouldn't kill you."

"If he had one of your stupid little contracts to use as an excuse, he just might."

"Whatever—even if he would, Kurama can't make that kind of wish," she answered with an insolent snort. "I mean, do you think I'm stupid? When I took over the tournament I made sure there were some new rules in place and that is definitely one of them: participants can't wish for the death of people like you and me. It's a protection clause, so you're totally fine!"

"First of all, even if the wish was a non-issue, I'd hardly say I'm 'totally fine'," he pointed out, quoting her particular choice of words in a snide tone and earning himself a reproachful look. He leaned in further: "I'm about to be trapped on an island with the man who tried to murder me."

"You're normally on the same island."

"Yes but it's a much bigger island," he corrected before continuing. "And second of all—and most importantly—you do realize that I am not included in your little protection clause, correct?"

The girl stopped in her tracks, before sputtering back: "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"The rules clearly state that competitors can't wish for the death of Ningenkai or Reikai beings—"

"—Of which I am neither—"

"—And, they can't wish for the death of board members!"

"Yes, board members. I am not a board member."

"Of course you are!"

"I'm not," the god replied while watching the girl carefully through a narrowed gaze—she honestly didn't seem to realize. Perhaps he really did expect too much of her. "I'm the tournament sponsor, Hotaru, not a board member. I don't even have a vote."

"But we were just at a board meeting—and you go to all the meetings!"

"As does the secretary—it doesn't make her a board member, does it?"

That seemed to bring her to a pause, but naturally, she continued to protest. "Well whatever- you participate! You're right in the mix of it- just because you don't have a vote doesn't mean you're not a board member."

"Actually that is the very definition of 'not a board member'."

"No it isn't!"

"Yes, Hotaru, it is," he replied. "Have you really gone all these years thinking I was protected under your little clauses?"

"Well I mean, I—" she began weakly, before finally relenting with a guilt-stricken, wide-eyed stare. "I guess I did… Really?"

"Really."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

Hotaru stewed in her seat a moment, plucking up her cocktail fork and prodding at her now thoroughly liquefied carrot foam, before suddenly tossing the fork down again and staring up at him with a dark, determined stare.

"Well then need to fix this!"

"Now, you're concerned?" Inari replied with a dark laugh. "A few moments ago you were prattling on about how I was just oh-so paranoid—"

"- That was before- if he can really go after you then we need to do something!" she shouted back, and Inari quickly raised a finger to his lips to quiet her—they were already a spectacle but Inari would be damned if he allowed himself to be thrown out of the most fashionable restaurant in town all because his childish companion couldn't control herself. Thankfully taking the hint, Hotaru leaned in and continued on a harsh whisper. "Inari, he might try to kill you again!"

"Hence why I said it was perturbing," he whispered back.

"Let's see maybe we can..." she began, wringing a hand through her hair. Then, an idea seemed to hit. "I've got it- we'll make an amendment to the rules!"

"Absolutely not."

"What? Why not!?" she whined loudly, and Inari was forced to quiet her once more. "If we make an amendment we can make sure he doesn't go after you- you'll be protected!"

"You'll need to take a vote of the board to make an amendment."

"... So?"

"So, if you proposition it the committee members will ask you why and-"

"- And I'll tell them your life is at risk!" she added, entirely enthusiastic and utterly oblivious—a dangerous combination. "I know they don't treat you with the most respect, but I highly doubt they'd let you be killed!"

"Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn't- we don't know what they would do because they don't know I can die," he stressed, and Hotaru's brow went furrowed.

Inari waited, but she failed to connect the dots once more he heaved and irritated sigh, then leaned in further and spoke even quieter than before. This was not information he was eager to exchange with any prying ears that may lie nearby.

"The weapon Kurama used- the shinsatsuki- belongs to only the most obscure myths and little know it exists or that it is even remotely possible for a god to die. The last thing we need is for an organization of the most power-hungry men in existence to know it's possible to kill a god."

"You think they'd try to kill you?"

"Maybe, or maybe worse," he posited. "Think of how recklessly they rebel against Reikai—illegal trading, underground crime—their slogan practically says 'damn morality and damn Reikai for trying to impose it.'"

"'Freedom even in death'…" Hotaru repeated—the (un)official slogan of the BBC. "Shit, you're right, it does!"

"If they knew they had the means to kill Koenma, or even King Enma himself, don't you think they'd pursue it?" he questioned, eliciting a concerned frown from the girl across the table. "And, when they inevitably did, we'd all be caught up in yet another war."

"The Divine War was really that bad?"

"Two things in life make a legend—outrageous atrocity and political propaganda. This was both."

"Shit…"

"It may have started as a war between Enma and the three remaining dragon kings, but it expanded far beyond those boundaries," the god continued, feeling his nerves fraying at the edges at the mere mention of those events some two thousand years ago. "If it happens again, anyone could be at risk and I'm not willing to even chance on that all because of Kurama."

"Then... what do we do?" Hotaru asked—crestfallen and sounding almost desperate. "You can't just go in there defenseless!"

"I am not defenseless," Inari stated then, finally leaning back in his chair and regaining his composure. "I will have you know that I do have a plan in place that I believe can provide me with some protection, should the worst case scenario play out."

"What plan?"

"Well considering the inordinate amount of ineptitude you've just demonstrated regarding our current predicament, I think it may be best to keep you in the dark for now," he replied simply, earning himself a sour look from Hotaru which he purposefully ignored. "You can rest assured, I have my bases covered—"

"—So this was all just a guilt trip, then?" she interrupted rudely.

Inari flinched—the type of irritated flinch only a girl like Hotaru could bring on in even someone as composed as he was. However, he swallowed his irritation, instead raising a single polished nail to point accusingly at the egotistic little girl in front of him.

"This was a reminder that the entire universe doesn't revolve around you and your little detective—there are other people in danger as well, and it would be much appreciated if you could at least try to remember that fact."

Her dark eyes stared back up at him, and for a moment he thought the message had landed, before she sneered impetuously and averted her gaze. "Whatever. Stop crying about it."

Hotaru

Seventeen Years Ago

"I'm not crying!"

"I can literally see your tears right now," Hotaru replied, staring at the disheveled god in her handheld mirror. Honestly, 99% of the time he never had a hair out of place, but once the god got upset he was worse than a teenage girl.

"He tried to kill me," Inari snapped back through the mirror. His voice sounded shaky—almost like he was sincerely frightened—but Hotaru had seen him throw similar tantrums over things even the most spoiled of human children would find unimportant—torn fabrics on his way-too-expensive suites, subpar customer service, too much wind for his hair to stay straight or too little so it didn't flow out behind him dramatically... the list went on and on.

And besides, even if someone really did try to kill him it's not like he had any reason to be worried.

"You need to relax, buddy. It's not like- ah, yes!" The lock that she was currently picking popped, causing the door in front of her to swing open.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing- don't worry about it," she replied, pocketing the two pins she had been using and removing her communication mirror from the window ledge she had set it on. She hated that fucking mirror- yes, it was a blessing to have a way to contact Inari whenever she needed him, but it also meant that he could contact her anytime as well. It usually wasn't a problem but today Inari had apparently decided to have his little meltdown and, thanks to that fucking mirror, he was able to bother Hotaru about it.

"Just come over. Please?" he whined. Even for Inari, who could occasionally act over dramatic, this was a bit extreme. It wasn't at all like him to beg for company, especially Hotaru's.

She groaned, moving swiftly through the now open office, scooting around abandoned desks and chairs and moving towards the filing cabinet in the back. "I don't get why you're freaking out so much."

"Oh, I don't know," he replied with feigned nonchalance. "Maybe because one of my foxes just tried to murder me?"

"You're a god, idiot. Foxes can't kill gods," she replied, reaching behind the cabinet to grab a set of keys that were hooked onto the side. "Besides, I'm busy today."

"You must be kidding. I almost get killed and you're too busy?"

She sighed, pausing for a moment and placing a hand on her hip. "Okay, seriously, what the fuck happened? Because here I was thinking you were fucking immortal."

"I am, but... he..." Inari's voice trailed off into inaudible mumbles as Hotaru went to work finding the right key.

"Man up and talk- I can't hear you," Hotaru instructed right before one of the keys finally slid into the lock and the cabinet popped open. She began rifling through the files held in there—it was difficult to see in just the little bit of street light that shone through the windows but she dare not turn on any lights inside the office. Government records offices were definitely not a place to be caught after dark. However, before she could find the file she was looking for, she heard Inari's voice echo out loudly from the mirror.

"He used a shinsatsuki!"

"What the fuck is that?"

"Never mind just hurry up and get here."

"Okay, but you need to chill," she replied, before she picked up the soft sound of footsteps outside the window. Fearing it may be an office worker—or really anyone that would notice her presence and alert the authorities—she quickly clamped a hand down on the mirror to muffle Inari's voice. After a stretch the passerby had disappeared and she removed her hand, only to hear the tail end of some hysterical rant.

"- So this whole time he was planning it! I swear, if I had to sacrifice every living being in Makai to go back in time I would, just to stop myself from sending him out there to-"

"- What? Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Seriously- fuck you."

Hotaru couldn't help but laugh as she withdrew the file she had been looking for and placed it in her shoulder bag. "Relax, I'm on my way. You can cry all you want when I get there."

"I'm not crying!"

"Whatever. I'll see you in a minute." She closed the mirror and placed it in her bag as well before relocking the cabinet and placing the keys back. Then, she pulled out a small hand-stapled notebook—far easier to carry a few pages around with her rather than an entire scroll- and ripped out a single sheet of paper. She wrote down the address of Inari's palace in Makai and then used a spare lighter left on the desk to her right to ignite the sheet.

In a puff of white smoke, she arrived at the palace, her feet settling on the top of inlaid stonework steps that led up through a long line of red tori gates. She waited there for a beat—typically Inari's servants were intuitive enough to seem almost omnipotent and one was usually waiting to accompany her before she even stepped foot on the property. A few moments later she figured no one had been sent, so she began the brief ascent herself. Apparently Inari was so concerned for his own safety that he needed her to come babysit, yet was so unconcerned with her safety that he had no qualms with sending her through the palace unaccompanied.

I'm the one who can actually die, asshole, she thought contemptuously as she stomped through the tunnel of gates and up to the palace entrance.

The palace was of a similar style to most Shinto shrines—Inari often claimed he preferred to maintain a 'timeless aesthetic', whatever the hell that meant. Unlike the gaudy modernity of Enma's palace, Inari's held all the traditional aspects one would find in older temples across Ningenkai and Makai—grand oak doors at the entrance and a smooth wooden portico along the outside, and inside tatami floored hallways separated by sliding fusuma doors, with wooden barred windows, hanging tapestries, and the occasional small alcove decorated with artwork and ikebana. Littered throughout the property there were also rock gardens, flower beds, elegantly pruned maple groves, and green sunrooms with pagodas, ponds, and finely trimmed bamboo. Hotaru wouldn't necessarily call it 'timeless', but even she had to admit that the palace carried an air of sophistication as well as a peaceful sense of comfort.

However, from what she could tell from her walk up to the main entrance, the property was not in fantastic shape. No lights were lit throughout the entirety of the palace it would seem, and she could vaguely make out in the darkness that many of the paper doors had been ripped, or fallen out of their tracks. She thought of removing her shoes, but as she climbed the steps she noted that the wooden portico appeared somewhat stained and almost aged—like it had been sitting unused and ancient for years, though Hotaru had seen it pristinely cleaned and polished not but two days ago. Not wanting to find out exactly what it had been stained with, she kept her shoes on. Inari could reprimand her if he liked—there was no way whatever that was would be getting on her bare feet—and with some trepidation she opened the grand wooden doors to the entrance hall and began her way inside.

With every step she took came a soft splashing and she soon realized that water was dripping from the ceiling above, forming small puddles in the sunken tatami floor. The air was thick somehow as well, though with what she didn't know. Whatever it was, it made her nose itch. After crossing the genkan in utter silence, the quietness struck her suddenly- not a sound could be heard save the wind rustling in the trees outside, the drip of the water, and her own quiet footsteps. Considering that the resident god had just been attacked, it was wholly unnerving.

Heading through the first sliding door and into the entry hall, Hotaru suddenly stepped on something. With only the moonlight streaming through the windows she found it hard to identify what the thing on the floor was, however, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and once they did she knew precisely why no one had been sent to accompany her- strewn across the floor, two entry guards lay dead. Their chests were ripped clean open and from the bloody mess rose numerous stalks of bamboo—so tall and thin that they had already begun to pierce the ceiling above. Blood flowed freely from the open chest cavities of the two guards, mixing with the water that pooled over the floor and forming an opaque murk that shone black in the unlit hall. From what she could make out in the scant moonlight, their expressions were not one's of terror, but rather quite peaceful and their skin seemed to be coated with a fine white powder.

Hotaru grimaced and wiped her now bloodied shoe on the pants of the dead man, and continued onward even more hurriedly than before. The following rooms were similar- everyone she met, no matter what their station, was dead and many of them had become fodder for plants that grew wildly. The dead men weren't so scary- there were always dead people in Makai after all. The plants however were, for reasons she couldn't quite place, and as she moved her way through the palace it only got worse.

Vines climbed slowly across the walls, the doors, and along the ceiling, rooted deeply between the interwoven tatami straw. They slithered their way across the delicate woodwork and wound themselves through any holes they could find- including the windows, which resulted in less and less light the further she went inward. The only light source she received came from moonlight streaming in through small punctures in the ceiling made by ever growing stalks of bamboo. The sound of it growing, stretching ever upwards, was painfully audible, and every stalk that pierced the ceiling above caused a series of creaks and groans from the wooden frame.

And then, there came the flowers.

Throughout the rooms small shrubbery would grow, quickly and without warning, stretching up and out from the floor or the walls or the bodies. It would grow from seed to full maturity before her eyes, finally forming to white, trumpeted blossoms that reflected the pale light like snow- nearly fluorescent in the darkness. And then, just as quickly as they had grown, they would wilt and the plant would fall to pieces. Soon after, they were replaced by another growing from the seeds that had been dropped by the first- and so it continued throughout the rooms. By the time she had reached the last room it was practically a forest of bright, shimmering stalks and effervescent petals.

Finally, she reached the large red door that signified the entrance to the main hall- that was where the god would be. A net of green, leafy stalks had rambled its way up the painted oak, their tendrils edging at the seam. Hotaru stopped dead, unable to find the courage to pull them back to open the doors. But, as she hesitated, a flurry of white petals scattered to her left, their host plant desiccating from its perch atop a high window sill, and as one floated on the thick air towards her Hotaru forced back her fear and tore at the vines encasing Inari's chambers. And, once she pried the doors back, the warmth of candle light flooded out, banishing the dankness of the entry halls and returning her breath to her.

Hurriedly, she stepped inside, noticing as she breached the barrier that the vines began to slither towards the light. She quickly turned, pulling the heavy weight of the door with her. With great effort it groaned and slammed shut, trapping the few quickest of tendrils in a tight pinch. Eyes wide, she watched as the sinuous stalks inched slowly forward through the crack, before they seemed to suffocate—twitching and withering helplessly, till they hung limp from the crack in the door. Hotaru released a shaky breath—she certainly hadn't been expecting this—and turned to the room at large.

"You weren't kidding, this is-" she began. She stopped short, however- unable to finish her sentence once the scene of the main hall came into view. "Holy shit..."

Nothing grew in here- no eerie flowers, no intimidating bamboo stalks- it looked exactly the same as it ever had except for one small difference- it was covered in blood: wall-to-wall, stains seeping into the tapestries and the carpets. On the floor lay the scattered carcasses of the former members of Inari's kotai-- his elite four-man unit of spirit foxes that he employed. They had shifted back to their birth forms once they had died, so the most Hotaru could make out were three curled up, bloodied balls of white fur, but it was enough to get the message across.

Inari emerged from one of the corners- apparently he had been hiding, though now Hotaru was starting to get why. He looked pale, his eyes wide still- he was in shock, she guessed- and his clothes were stained with blood as well. He walked over to her hurriedly, his knees seeming to shake and his gaze shifting wildly around the room.

"What took you so long?" he demanded, his voice low as if he were afraid someone may hear.

"'What took me so long'?!" she repeated, pointing back out to the long hall she had just traversed by herself. "Have you even been out there?"

"No, why?"

"It's like the apocalypse out there," she answered viciously. "There's all these fucked up plants and flowers and shit!"

"I guess I should have expected as much," he said, his eyes still shifty. "Was anyone alive?"

"Not that I saw."

"Of course not…"

Hotaru forced herself to remove her gaze from the troubled god and instead began looking around the room again. Nothing appeared to be out of place- there was no sign of any struggle, save for the massive amount of blood covering the walls. The lanterns were still lit and steam still rose from a cup of tea on Inari's side table.

"Okay, seriously, what the fuck happened?"

"I don't know," he murmured, crossing his arms tightly across his bloodied chest. "He came in here-"

"- Which one?"

"Kurama."

"I told you he'd be trouble! What the fuck were you doing hiring a notorious thief anyway? Wait- no. What were you doing hiring foxes in general? I warned you that those things are pure fucking evil."

Inari glared at her through red rimmed eyes—he really had been crying. "Now really isn't the time to gloat, you know."

"Right, sorry..." she muttered, adding quietly at the end, "But I did tell you."

He ignored the comment, wiping at his eyes with a clean patch of his sleeve, and continued rehashing the events of that night. "He came in here- must have been only about 20 or 30 minutes ago- and asked to be dismissed. He said he was tired of the work he had to do or something along those lines- I don't really remember. I dismissed him and then just all of a sudden..."

"Then he attacked you?"

"Well, not me. Not at first," Inari explained. "As soon as he was officially dismissed he attacked the other three- killed them in only a few minutes."

"A few minutes..."

"I thought maybe he just had some grudge against them... that maybe that was why he was leaving... but... then he attacked me, and..." He trailed off, his eyes widening further as the memory replayed inside his head on repeat.

"Okay, but, I'm still confused," Hotaru said, trying to pull Inari back to the present. "How did he attack you? Because, I mean- you're a god and gods can't be killed by mortals, can they?"

"He used a shinsatsuki."

"Okay, yea, what the fuck is that?"

"It's like a knife," he explained, using his hands to show its approximate length- no longer than an ordinary dagger. "It's a legend—something I've only heard about. I didn't even know it really existed until… well…"

"What does it do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he replied, his voice catching. "As the name implies, give one the ability to kill gods."

Hotaru's blood ran cold. "I've never heard of anything like that."

"Most haven't," he agreed. "Even as far as legendary weapons go, it is rather obscure—you'd be hard pressed to find a reference to one in even the most ancient of texts."

"How the hell did he get one of those?" Hotaru asked in disbelief. She knew that Youko Kurama was a good thief- perhaps even the best thief- but this seemed unconceivable even for him.

Inari just shook his head. "I have no idea. Honestly, I don't know how he even knew about them. The few that know of the stories don't put much stock into the idea that they even exist. It's supposed to be impossible for a mortal to kill a god, no matter what sort of weapon one uses."

"That's what I always thought..." Hotaru replied, her gaze traveling once more and her eyes transfixing on the red, dripping stains. Then, an idea flashed across her mind, and she turned back to the god with a furrowed brow. "What if it wasn't, though?"

"What?"

"What if it wasn't real? I mean, if you've never seen one before then how could you know?"

"I knew," Inari replied quickly, before averting his gaze to the floor. His eyes traced across the woodgrain and the bloody trails soaking between the panels, and he began to shiver. "As soon as he was near me I could feel it—the power in that knife. I could hear it—like a ringing in my ears and feel it down through me. I knew it was real."

"He didn't get you though, did he?" Hotaru asked, giving the god a quick once-over—with all the blood from his kotai splattered about it was difficult to tell if he had sustained any injury himself, though truthfully Hotaru wasn't quite sure if gods even bled at all.

Inari, noticing her concerned look, shook his head no. "He didn't get close enough—the legend says that even one prick from the blade of a knife like that will end a god's life. Once I knew what it was—once I felt it—I hit him with a curse, and he ran."

"Well there's that at least," Hotaru replied, her tension easing somewhat.

However, Inari didn't seem very comforted. "That's not a good thing."

"It's not?"

"No," he fervidly insisted. "All it means is that he's out there- somewhere- with the most powerful weapon known in any of the realms, biding his time to try to kill me again!"

He was clearly hysterical, but Hotaru really wasn't sure what to do to calm him down. So, instead, she merely asked: "What're you going to do, then?"

"What?" Inari snapped in outrage. "I am not going to do anything. You, on the other hand-"

"- Wait, me?"

"Of course! Why do you think I called you?!"

"You expect me to kill this guy? A member of your elite forces?"

"Not that, obviously," he replied with more enthusiasm than she felt was strictly necessary. "I'm not an idiot—you couldn't even kill a child if you tried."

"I'm sure I could if I tried," she defended, placing both hands atop her hips. "But providing security isn't exactly my forte, so if it's not that then—"

"—I need emotional support!"

"Okay, that is definitely not my forte!"

"I need you to talk to Enma for me," Inari continued on in a blatantly pleading tone. "Enma has his own security forces—they can track Kurama down and ensure this is taken care of."

"You talk to Enma. This is your problem, after all," she retorted. Perhaps it was a bit insensitive but she had plenty of other things to do and it's not like he was going to be busy or anything. With the entirety of his staff dead and his property destroyed his schedule must have freed up at least a little. And besides—murderous foxes? Sentient plants? Legendary weapons that could kill gods? She was way out of her depth.

Inari, however, didn't seem to care. "I stand a better chance if you do it."

"But you're the god, not me. He's not going to listen to me about something like this."

"I may be somewhat close to Koenma, but Enma..." he struggled to find the right words momentarily, before continuing, "... He isn't exactly my biggest fan."

"Oh right," Hotaru scoffed. "I forgot about your little pissing contest—but surely a situation this serious would warrant a momentary truce, wouldn't it?"

Inari played ignorant, however, and just shrugged before looking back at her with pitiful eyes. "Please Hotaru. I... I just want this mess taken care of."

Hotaru closed her eyes and mulled it over. She didn't have a lot of time to spare these days, and she certainly didn't want to waste any of her newly founded clout at Reikai—especially since the god was right, and she knew just how well Enma would take to a request to help his least-loved divine peer. Not to mention that anyone who could go up against Inari like this could probably crush her without even trying, and the last thing she wanted was yet another powerful enemy.

However, this did sound like a serious threat and he was her friend- really, her only friend. And he had helped her out quite a lot in the past, and if she was the only one who could get Enma to listen to his request then she really had no choice, did she?

Finally, she gave a heavy sigh, shaking her head in resignation. "I'll get you a meeting with him, but that's it, okay?" she demanded. "I'm not getting mixed up in this shit. I want no part of it, understand?"

Inari looked fairly dissatisfied, but seemed to accept the terms, giving a weak nod and a pitiful sniff. "Fine."

"Good," she agreed, before taking a quick glance around the bloodied room and back towards the heavy chamber door. "Now, let's get the fuck out of here, shall we? Before we get devoured by fucking flowers."

Shinsatsuki - 神察機 - "God Killing Mechanism" - small blades that have the power to kill gods.

Kotai - 狐隊 (abbreviation of Koreitai - 狐霊隊) - "Spirit Fox Corps" - Inari's elite four-man team of foxes (a position that is no longer filled). They did his biding and were bound to him as divine familiars.

A/N: Please leave a comment if you'd like! Feedback is the best type of nourishment for carnivorous plants. :3