This chapter is a little more Haru heavy than the others. It was nice and refreshing to focus on someone else after going hardcore on that HB week. Hope y'all don't mind.

Also, if you guys are on Tumblr and saw the art by littlegreenstrawberry, then Haru's storyline won't be much of a shocker. For the rest of you, here we go!


Haru's steps were light and carefree, shoes beating against the cobblestone floor in a steady rhythm as he took the roundabout route to his room. Torches lit up the halls, burning bright in the darkness and casting eerie shadows against the grotesque and macabre walls. Despite the haunting atmosphere, Haru wore a dopey and lovesick grin as he greeted those he passed by.

All in all, life was grand. An unprecedented peace blanketed the three territories, Mukuro's domain and influence was steadily increasing and business at his family's tavern was booming. Best of all, his relationship with Ruka was progressing smoothly. He'd just returned from a pretty successful date night and, although he didn't want to jinx it, he truly thought they stood a chance this time around. Sure, there were still some things they were at odds with, but it was way too early to worry about all of that.

"What is that infernal noise?"

A soldier's crotchety voice pulled him from his thoughts, prompting him to pause and cock an ear. He blinked several times in confusion. Hm. That was strange. That high-pitched wailing almost sounded like-

"What is that?" One of the cooks stepped out into the hallway.

Haru watched as others convened around him, lips pursed into a moue as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Is it..." a maid trailed off unsurely.

"Nah, it can't be!"

"But it really, really sounds like-"

"Don't be silly."

They were all staring at each other with mixed looks of disbelief and confusion. The shrill cry echoed off of the walls and reverberated amongst them, but still, no one wanted to believe their own ears. It must have been a trap. Or maybe an auditory illusion. Anything other than what appeared to be the obvious truth.

"If someone doesn't stop that screeching, I'll do it myself," a husky, blue-skinned soldier threatened, claws gripped tight on his club.

"Whoa, there big guy." Haru raised his hands in a placating gesture, his voice lighthearted and easy. "There's no need for violence."

A look of deep confusion and mild offense crossed the other man's features.

"There is always a need for violence," he replied doggedly.

"...Really?" Haru floundered.

Blue grunted affirmatively and Haru shook his head. Everyone in this fortress was batshit insane and it was times like these he found himself wondering how in the three worlds he ended up here.

"We really need to talk about your priorities, buddy," he muttered sheepishly under his breath as he patted the other man's arm. "Anyway, you should probably mosey on down to the training grounds; work out all that pent up aggression. Leave the mystery noise to me."

The soldier glared at him icily as he swung his club over his shoulder, but stomped off in the opposite direction compliantly. Haru exhaled a large sigh in relief. Now that the big lug was soothed, he could investigate. Turning to the others with a reassuring smile, he spoke again.

"Nothing to see here, folks! It must be a new alarm or something. I'll take care of it."

He didn't bother waiting for the crowd to disperse before hurrying ahead. Without the distraction of the others surrounding him, he was able to focus on the distinct change in the atmosphere. Something was wrong - his instincts were screaming at him as a cold dread coiled around his gut and gripped at his insides. The sheer intensity of emotion pouring out in the distance was calling out to him like a beacon, saturating the dense Makai air in a color that only he could see.

Someone was hurting. But this was not a physical or tangible pain. This was a desperate, desolate wound of the heart. Haru picked up the pace, following that distressing pitch as it led him closer and closer towards the source. When he rounded the corner of his shared hallway and came face to face with the origin of the commotion, he instantly froze.

This couldn't be real.

This couldn't be happening.


Early morning rays broke through the kitchen window as Hiei concentrated on transferring his energy slowly and steadily into Botan. The frequency with which she required his aid troubled him, but Dr. Soto promised that this was completely normal during the final trimester. Still – it bothered him that the pregnancy was taking its toll on the ferry-girl.

"Thanks dear," Botan said as he pulled away. Her smile was warm and bright as the color returned to her cheeks. "I feel like a brand new woman!"

He didn't share in her enthusiasm, the furrow in his brow deepening.

"You're still five and a half months along, don't push it."

"Yes, yes, I know."

"And don't bother with breakfast. I can handle it today."

"Hiei," she said, pink lips pulled into a stern frown. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Botan was quicker.

"Not another peep from you, mister!" the ferry-girl cut in, her tone unyielding as she stood up. "You just sit tight and relax while I whip something up."

The fire-demon clenched his jaw shut and leaned back in his chair obediently, teeth grinding as he held back his objections. He had long since learned that arguing with the woman while she was trying to prove a point was a futile endeavor and since he wasn't in the mood for an argument, he kept his irritation to himself.

His eyes roamed around the kitchen in a lame attempt to distract himself, fingers tapping impatiently against his bicep as he crossed his arms over his chest. At the center of the table sat a glass vase centerpiece, gifted to them by Kurama. The bundle of cosmos housed inside was still healthy, white petals glowing softly and green stalks standing thick and sturdy within their watery confines.

The counter adjacent to him was littered with pots, pans and all manner of kitchen tools. A little further off to the side sat the remnants of Yukina's latest dessert concoction. Only a small portion remained due to Botan's growing appetite and he made a mental note to request more the next time he saw his sister.

His eyes trailed past the counter to the fridge and subsequently, the whiteboard attached to the top half. Botan insisted on getting one of the message boards to mirror the other reality and he saw no issues with indulging in her nostalgia. It was previously used for reminders and notes, but lately, more often than not, it was reduced to a simple host for Kaisei and Fubuki's nonsensical doodles. His eyes narrowed at the unbecoming sketch of him, determining to erase it before he left for the fortress.

And then his eyes landed on the ferry-girl. Haloed under golden sunlight, she moved around the kitchen with a graceful ease not at all indicative of her burdens this late into her pregnancy. The tension in his rigid shoulders began to fade away, the tightness in his chest loosening. Perhaps he was being paranoid and overprotective. Perhaps he was worrying over nothing. Botan would never do anything to endanger their child. If she said she was fine, then he owed it to her to believe in those words. So he ceased his useless fidgeting and relaxed as her melodic humming filled his ears and cleared his mind.

Minutes later, Botan laid out a Makai dish that he knew for a fact made her queasy. He suppressed the huff that threatened to tumble past his lips. It was obvious what she was trying to prove her point of being up to par, so he wisely chose not to comment on the look of nausea that colored her features as he dug in.

"Yusuke and Keiko's wedding anniversary is coming up..." she mentioned casually, before taking a sip of her tea. "We should get them something."

"Why?"

She set her cup down gently and raised a slender blue brow at him.

"Because it's just a nice gesture?"

"I don't see why we need to reward them for maintaining the vows that they willingly committed to."

"Oh Hiei," she scolded lightly, the amusement twinkling in her amethyst eyes undermining her words. "You really are something else."

He averted his gaze, shoveling a large portion of food into his mouth so he was spared the trouble of responding to the undeserved affection.

Botan filled the silence easily, updating him on the others and even going as far as providing him with information on some of his soldiers. He didn't know how she managed to keep up with everyone else's lives when he could barely keep up with theirs, but he supposed it would forever remain a mystery.

Eventually, she sent him off with a kiss, several well wishes and a thinly veiled threat if he overdid it and acted recklessly, as he was prone to doing. Sword strapped to his back and Botan's words swirling in his mind, he began the familiar journey to Mukuro's. The temperature was slowly dropping these days, cooling as Makai's version of autumn set in. The red sky was clearer than usual not a single a cloud in sight as the familiar flashes of lightning drew fewer and further between.

It was a perfectly unassuming day - as close to tranquil as it could get in Makai - and yet, Hiei was uneasy.

He couldn't shake the ominous feeling that something was off or out of place.

It was strange, considering there wasn't a single reason for his unrest. Botan was fine, safe as could be at home. As far as he knew, there was no trouble in the human world, which meant that Yukina was also safe. And to his knowledge, there was nothing pressing going on in the demon world either. When he arrived at the fortress, it stood tall and proud. The towers and bridges were still in tact, no breaches in sight and no in house quarrels that he needed to break up. Business appeared to be running smoothly.

Except it wasn't.

Not at all.

The moment he entered the main gates, his senses sharpened, pores raised as every nerve was set alight. There was a shift of atmosphere within the fortress walls; an unknown element that was entirely off-putting. The staff was lingering around, shooting glances at the fire-demon while muttering to each other. Even the soldiers were clustered in small groups, fraternizing instead of working. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he moved towards the training room.

"Hey!" Souta jogged over to him, falling into step. "I've been looking for you, General."

"What for?" he asked.

"You should go see Haru before you do anything else."

"Why?"

Souta scratched his cheek sheepishly.

"I'll let you see for yourself."

"Or you could tell me now," Hiei replied. "Because I'm ordering you to."

"It won't be a surprise if I tell you now."

"I hate surprises."

"You hate most things, though."

"I don't see your point."

The other man sighed.

"Let's just say, he's got himself in quite a bind. For the next eighteen years at least."

Hiei frowned. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Just go see him," Souta urged.

The soldier didn't give him the chance to reply as he dipped into another hallway and moved out of sight.

Hiei redirected his course with a sigh. He originally intended to get some training in before dealing with anything else, but clearly there were more demanding matters at hand. The fire-demon's footsteps were heavy as he trudged down the corridor with a purpose. Hushed whispers and rumors swirled around the halls, causing his frown to deepen. That pesky weight in his chest returned in full force as he approached the east wing. Perhaps his unease wasn't unfounded at all.


Haru startled at the sound of his bedroom door slamming open against the opposite wall.

"Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!" he said as he whirled around to frown at the fire-demon. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

Hiei remained in the threshold, crimson eyes locked onto the emotion-reader before lowering to the infant cradled in his arms.

"So, the rumors were true," he concluded, tone deceptively calm and expression unreadable.

Haru glanced down at the cooing baby cocooned in her worn yellow blanket, before returning his attentions to the other man.

"Er... surprise?" he tried weakly.

"This is no time for jokes."

"Just trying to lighten the mood..."

"Tell me what happened," Hiei ordered as he entered the bedroom.

He wisely chose to close the door behind him and that was probably for the best. Haru was well aware that nearly everybody was spinning his or her own version of the tale due to his silence on the matter, but he wasn't ready to share it all with the whole fortress just yet. Only a select few knew the truth and Haru was more than willing to let Hiei in on the truth as well.

He adjusted the girl so that she was cradled comfortably in the crook of one arm as he fished around the folds of his robes with his free hand. The crinkled up note was left behind with the baby, along with a few bottles of formula, some diapers, the old blanket and a single change of clothes.

"This should explain things," he said, handing the letter over to Hiei.

The emotion-reader already had the note committed to memory and could recite it word for word if he was pressed to. But even with the knowledge hammered into his mind and the weight of his child in his arms, the truth was still so hard to believe.

He met Fuyumi close to a year ago. It was during the time Ruka left without a word and he was admittedly in a pretty bad state. Fuyumi was direct, blunt and unabashed. There were no pretenses between them, no place for misunderstanding. Fuyumi told him that she had no intentions of sticking around long term and he was okay with that. He admired her sense of adventure and her desire to reach higher heights of strength. Things were simple and easy with her. Their affair was as intense as it was brief and, after ten days, Fuyumi disappeared as mysteriously as she came. He thought that was the end of it, but life had a way of surprising him and flipping his whole world upside down. As the letter explained, Fuyumi was convinced that motherhood simply wasn't for her and that their child would be better off with him. She provided Haru with their daughter's birthday and the explicit request that they do not look for her in the future.

If he never saw Fuyumi again, he'd be fine with it. But their daughter... she deserved so much better than the hand she was dealt. He peered down at her with a sad smile. She was nearly a mirror image of him, right down to the orange of her hair and the green in her irises. The slant of her eyes was all Fuyumi, though, sharp and discerning. She held his gaze, quietly and calmly. In the short time since he had found her, she barely fussed. And in the few hours he spent with her, he had already come to love her with an intensity that he didn't think was possible. He wondered how Fuyumi could give her up so easily. He wondered how anyone in all three worlds could turn their back on the sweet child in his arms. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed those troubling thoughts aside. There was no sense in dwelling on the things he couldn't understand or change.

He set his sights back on Hiei, gaging his reaction carefully. The other man's red eyes narrowed in suspicion, dark brows creased in anger and then his features smoothened into something softer than usual - something that could be likened to concern.

"Are any of these words true?" Hiei asked.

"Yeah... and the timing adds up, too."

"That doesn't mean the child is yours."

"She is," Haru affirmed, looking down at the small features that mirrored his own while tightening his grip a little protectively. "There's no way she couldn't be."

"You won't know that for certain until you get a paternity test," Hiei countered.

"I don't need it. She's got my eyes! And my hair!"

Hiei spared a moment to glance down at the infant.

"Yes, and while that is unfortunate, your coloring isn't exactly a rarity here."

Haru huffed in offense, but the fire-demon wasn't finished.

"Listen to me," he began, tone authoritative. "You are going to do the rational thing and get tested before you give everything to a child that might not even be yours."

"But-"

"This isn't up for debate."

Haru sighed. He understood where Hiei was coming from, but as he held her close and listened to the familiar rhythm of her heartbeat, he just knew. She was his. There was no denying an instinct as strong as this one.

But he tore his gaze away from those trusting green eyes and nodded at Hiei. He would take the test for the sole sake of clearing any suspicions and easing everyone else's doubts.

"Fine. We'll do things your way," he relented.

Hiei seemed to be satisfied with that, turning on his heels and leading Haru to the medical ward. Haru tried not to jostle the child in his arms as he trailed after the fire-demon and ignored the stares and whispers of the rest of the fortress' inhabitants.

.

.

.

Sure enough, the results came back positive.

Hiei was pacing back and forth in Haru's room. At this rate, he'd wear a hole through the floor. The emotion-reader suppressed the urge to laugh, knowing it would only infuriate the fire-demon further.

"You can't even take care of yourself - how do you expect to take care of a child?" Hiei accused.

"I'll just learn, I guess," Haru replied. "I took care of my younger sister all the time."

The fire-demon appeared to be unconvinced, so Haru went on.

"Besides, it's not like I'm completely alone," he noted. "I've got my family. And I've got my best buddy and his awesome wife in my corner, too, right?"

Hiei's lips drew into a firm line, but he did not deny it.

"It'll be okay," Haru reassured, though he wasn't sure of whom he was trying to convince at this point. "Mukuro pays well and it's not exactly like I have a fixed schedule. I'll make it work."

The baby cooed at him and Haru's expression fell.

"I just hope I'll be enough for her," he confessed quietly. "A girl needs her mother, after all."

Hiei scoffed. "You worry about all the wrong things."

Haru raised a brow at him, prompting the fire-demon to continue.

"Take it from someone who was exiled and left to die: she could have ended up in a far worse situation than this," he reasoned. "Whether you choose to believe it or not, you are exactly what she needs."

The dam holding back his emotions gave way and broke as tears welled up in Haru's eyes. After the numbing shock of finding out that he was a father, a stressful night with no sleep and a mind full of endless worries, he was understandably on shaky ground. The insurmountable fear of failing his daughter was too much for him to bear, but Hiei's words pulled him back. They struck a chord within him, resonating with a strength Haru thought he'd lost.

"Are you crying?" Hiei asked, unable to hide the incredulity in his tone.

"No! I'm not... I just-" Haru's voice wavered and broke at end. He inhaled a shaky breath as he continued, "I'm so far gone out of my comfort zone here, Hiei. I don't even know where to begin, let alone how to start. But what you said just now... it got to me. And I'm starting to think I can really do this."

"You have no choice," Hiei replied. "She's counting on you. Failure isn't an option."

"There you go again," Haru laughed wetly. "Forcing me to believe in myself."

Hiei stared back at him in silence for a few moments. His expression was much less severe than Haru expected it to be and the emotion-reader couldn't tell what was going through his mind.

"...Pull yourself together," he said eventually, voice low and tinged with something Haru couldn't identify. "If not for your sake, then for hers."

Haru took in a deep breath and nodded. He was admittedly overwhelmed and out of his element. But he would be strong. He would do everything he needed to do for the sake of his girl.

"You can't live in the fortress anymore," Hiei stated.

"I know..."

"You will need all manner of clothes and diapers..."

Haru nodded dutifully. "I know."

"And formula," Hiei added. "She can't eat solid foods, yet."

"I know that, too, dad," he joked.

"But before all that," Hiei continued. "She needs a name."

Haru paused at the revelation. In all of his worrying and stressing, he completely overlooked the fact that his daughter was nameless.

His gaze fell on the open window, taking a moment to appreciate cool breeze that had drifted in. The landscape was a myriad of reds, oranges, yellows and browns. He'd had always loved this time of year.

"Aki," he decided.

His daughter came to him during his favorite season; eyes green like leaves and burnt orange hair the color of autumn. There was only one name that could encompass how special their meeting was.

"Her name is Aki," he repeated.

Tiny lips stretched into a smile and Haru grinned.

"Hey, I think she likes it," he exclaimed.

Hiei grunted out his acknowledgment as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away from the scene. The fire-demon had been working harder lately, doing what was necessary prepare for the coming of his first child. There was so much that it entailed. So much that it involved. Haru had trouble keeping up as a bystander and it would be equally taxing now that he was suddenly thrust into parenthood without anytime to gather his bearings. But he wouldn't waver. He couldn't allow himself to.

"I'll take some time off," he announced. "Stay with my parents while I search for a place to settle into."

"Mukuro will understand. She's always been especially lax with you," Hiei responded. "When your affairs are taken care of, you can resume your post here."

"Yeah," Haru agreed as he looked around the four walls of his room. He would miss the fortress, but nothing lasted forever and change was a part of life. Besides, there would be many new things to look forward to now that he had a child. He was certainly gaining more than he was losing. Glancing back at Hiei, he grinned. "Botan's due any day now, isn't she?"

"Hn."

Haru sensed a shred of nervous energy stemming from his friend, but he wisely chose not to comment on it.

"Maybe our kids will be friends!" he supposed.

Normally an insult would be sharp on the other man's tongue, but he must have developed some semblance of tact, because he only nodded. The gesture was more reassuring than Hiei would ever know.

An alarm suddenly rang in the distance, interrupting the quiet that fell over the fortress and disturbing Aki. As Haru attempted to quell her, whispering soothing words and bouncing her lightly, Hiei kept his gaze on the pair.

"Stop by when you're settled," he requested, although it sounded more like a command than anything else. "Botan will want to meet her."

Haru watched the fire-demon exit the room, before staring down at Aki. Green eyes fixed on him unblinkingly, as if he was the only one in the world, and his heart filled with more affection than he could contain.

"We're gonna be just fine, Aki," he told her warmly as he ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. "Papa's got you now."


Hiei and Mukuro stood outside, watching the newest recruits go through their drills. It had been two weeks since Haru took his leave and life in the fortress continued on as normally as ever. Hiei's eyes narrowed as he spotted the temporary advisor cross the courtyard with another member of Mukuro's council. Haru's fill in was a highly opinionated purist who took any and every opportunity to spout his close-minded rhetoric. Hiei never stuck around long enough to hear the fool blabber on about the importance of preserving Makai bloodlines and genes, but his blood boiled whenever he thought about it.

"Did you have to replace Haru with that insufferable moron?" he asked, voice dripping with contempt.

"His personal opinions hardly matter to me, so long as he fulfills his role," she replied as she folded her arms over her chest. "Besides, I didn't have adequate time to find another."

Hiei looked out into the distance, expression turning reflective as her words sunk in. He supposed he could set aside his judgments and put up with the bastard for the time being. Mukuro had been doing leagues more for his sake, after all. He had admittedly shirked out on some of his duties as of late and he was sure his disservice would continue in the future, for as long as the child needed him. He couldn't find it within himself to regret choosing his family over his work, but Mukuro never signed up for any of this. She deserved the most committed souls, and yet, she was laden with a general who was often preoccupied and an advisor who was on paternity leave.

"You've been far too inconvenienced as of late," he mentioned.

Though he owed her much more than these simple and paltry words, it was the closest he would ever come to an official apology.

"It's fine," she dismissed easily. "Both you and Haru are worth the added trouble."

Her voice was toneless, not at all different from when she commented on a soldier's misstep or overextension with a weapon, but Hiei knew just how valuable the sentiments behind them were. He nodded in return, refocusing his attentions on the troops once again.

"Yo!" Souta appeared from seemingly nowhere. When he realized that Mukuro was in the vicinity, he stiffened and corrected his tone. "Lord Mukuro."

She regarded him with a wordless nod.

"What is it?" Hiei asked warily, a sense of dejavu settling over him as he remembered what happened that last time the soldier accosted him.

"Haru's calling you. Says it's an emergency?"

Hiei raised a brow.

"What sort of emergency?"

Souta shrugged.

"Dunno. He just said that he needed your help urgently and that was about it."

"Where is he?"

"His room. Well, his former room, I guess."

Hiei hesitated. He was supposed to be watching the new recruits, not running off to deal with someone else's personal issues.

"Go," Mukuro ordered. "Souta and I can monitor the troops."

Souta brightened considerably, a wide grin stretched over his lips as he saluted.

"It'd be an honor," he supported.

Hiei nodded, taking his leave. As he entered the compound and turned towards the personal quarters, he did not sense any unrest or danger in the air, but he did feel the distinct presence of two energies behind Haru's closed door. The furrow in his brow deepened. The fortress was no place for a child, especially not one Aki's age.

He didn't bother knocking, entering as if the room was his. The space was mostly bare, with a few pieces of luggage filled to maximum capacity. Neither Haru nor the child seemed to be in any distress as Haru coddled her with endless praises and kisses.

"Oh, hey, buddy!" Haru greeted.

"You said it was an emergency," Hiei accused.

"Yeah, can you help me lug my stuff back to my parents' place?"

Crimson eyes narrowed in a show of annoyance.

"I'm not your pack mule."

"Oh, come on, have a heart!" Haru pleaded. "I can't carry all of this and Aki at the same time!"

"Then why didn't you leave the child home?"

"No one was around to watch her," Haru explained. "And I didn't want to ask them to cancel their plans for me."

"So you chose to inconvenience me instead."

"Aw, c'mon, just do me this one favor," he pleaded. "I've got no one else to turn to."

Hiei paused as he took in the dark circles under the other man's eyes and the exhaustion threaded throughout his features. There was clear desperation in his weary filled eyes. As a soon to be father, Hiei supposed he could help. Just this once.

"Fine."

The other man lit up considerably, letting out a little victory sound.

"Oh, yeah. I'm also gonna need you to watch Aki when Ruka comes," he added.

Hiei crossed his arms over his chest in staunch refusal, "I'm not watching your child while you run off with the enchantress."

"It's not like that. I've just gotta talk to her, tell her about Aki."

Crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"She doesn't know?"

Haru shook his head.

"She was in Yomi's territory for the past two weeks."

"What a mess," Hiei scoffed.

"Yup," he agreed, looking past Hiei with a sadness that was entirely unlike him. "And it looks like it's time to face the music."

Hiei followed Haru's gaze to the door, catching the moment Ruka stepped inside. Her gaze widened, surprise flashing in her sanguine eyes as she took in the sight of Haru and the baby he cradled close. It didn't take a genius to piece two and two together, not when the resemblance between father and daughter was so plain to see.

"Haru..." she began warningly.

"I can explain," he promised, taking a tentative step towards the woman.

Her guard was up, lips pulled into a thin line.

"You had better."

Haru turned to Hiei expectantly.

"I just fed her, so she should be all set."

The fire-demon stiffened.

"I'm not-"

Equipped. Capable. Ready.

But Haru wasn't listening as he handed Aki over carefully, leaving Hiei no choice but to support the small weight in his arms. The emotion-reader's gaze lingered on the girl for a moment, before lifting to regard Hiei. "Thanks bud."

Ruka was already gone, heels echoing as she made her way down the hallway. Haru followed after her, closing the bedroom door behind him. The moment Haru left, the girl frowned. It was almost as if she sensed the absence of her father and didn't appreciate it one bit. She peered up at Hiei with a gaze that was much sharper and shrewder then Haru's, small lips downturned in a pout.

If she cried, he wouldn't know what to do. He had half a mind to hand the child off to Souta or Amara or another far more capable than he, but duty rooted him to the spot on which he stood. Against all logic and rationale, Haru entrusted him with his flesh and blood. Hiei understood the value of that confidence and his honor code wouldn't allow him to betray it. So he steeled himself and adjusted his hold on the infant.

For a few terse moments, the two simply stared at each other. Not a single sound or movement passed between them as green eyes pierced his own. And then, she sighed, closed her eyes and curled against his warmth.

His tension levels lowered, relief wrapping around him all at once. Now that his heart wasn't pounding in his chest and reverberating in his ears, he picked up on the conversation taking place outside.

'-and that's the gist of it.'

'I see.'

'But you have to know — it was just a physical thing with Fuyumi. And you and I... we weren't even together at the time. It happened when-'

'When I left.'

'Yeah, but I mean, I'm not... I never...'

'You don't have to justify it, Haru. You're as loyal as they come. Which is why I know that you're already attached to the girl.'

'Yeah, I'm pretty far gone for her. I don't have any regrets when it comes to Aki... other than the fact that her mom wants nothing to do with her.' A pause. 'But I'll do my best to make sure she has a happy life.'

'I know you will.'

It was silent for a while. Hiei fully intended to tune them out. He determined to give them the privacy they needed. But then Ruka spoke again and he found himself listening in. Perhaps Botan's curiosity had transferred onto him.

'All things considered… how are you holding up?'

'I'm always alright. You know that.'

'Haru...'

'I'll be okay. I promise. I just...' He sighed. 'I can't be unfair to you.'

'You're worried about me at a time like this?'

'Of course I am. I know this isn't what you wanted.'

'...'

'I can't ask you to stay. I don't expect you to commit to something you aren't ready for.'

'...'

'So, I'll end it. I'll take the blame - for everything. I just hope you don't hate me too much.'

'I may be capable of many things, but hating you was never one of them.'

The silence that swept over them was tense, but short lived. Broken by Haru's wavering voice.

'...Ruka?'

'Hm?'

'You should know, I've always-'

'Don't.' Hiei could hear the strain in her voice. 'If you said something like that, you'd really break my heart.'

Hiei turned away, doing his best to focus on anything but the voices in the hall. He wasn't a fan of this sentimental talk by any means. The last thing he wanted to witness was one of Botan's melodramas playing out in real life, with people he knew no less.

Something yanked at his hiruiseki stone. He glared down at the child as she tried to pull it into her mouth.

"Stop that," he ordered, tugging on the necklace and dislodging the gem from her grasp. He chose to conceal it under his shirt and grimaced the moment it made contact with his skin. It was warm and wet with baby drool.

Aki pouted up at him moodily, but he was immune to such things. When she realized that he wouldn't bend to her will, she preoccupied herself with the fabric of his shirt instead, patting it with great interest. He supposed that was better than her crying, so he bore the added attention.

"I'm back," Haru announced, slipping inside quietly. The wetness in his eyes didn't go unnoticed as he reclaimed Aki wordlessly. The child brightened immediately, bringing some life back into Haru's subdued expression.

"You did the right thing," Hiei said.

If he remembered correctly, Haru mentioned that Ruka never wanted kids. Once upon a time, he felt the same, too. Pushing this on someone who wasn't ready would ruin things beyond repair.

"I know." Haru hugged Aki against him. "Just need a little time for it to sink in."

Aki babbled a few syllables at him and he sniffed, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

"Besides, this just means I've got all the time in the world for my number one little lady!" he stated.

Aki smiled at the attention, green eyes lit up with affection. Hiei remained silent throughout the exchange.

"Oh, yeah, did I tell you I found a place?" Haru mentioned.

"No."

"It's nice and cozy," he said. "Smack dab in the middle of the fortress and my parents' place."

Hiei nodded.

"It's got this awesome yard. Plus, they're thinking of starting a school nearby. That'll be good for when she's older..."

"Hn. You stopped to think ahead for once."

"Well, yeah!" he agreed, planting a kiss on Aki's cheek. "I'm living for two now."

Hiei nodded.

It seemed as though Haru would be just fine.


Botan smiled as she finished another entry to her baby book. Keiko had gifted her with it, urging the ferry-girl to detail her pregnancy and the days leading up her son's birth. It was a calming pastime and a great way to organize her thoughts and feelings.

She had just finished recounting her very first meeting with Aki – making special note of the way her baby's aura lit up when the girl was near his vicinity. She had a feeling they would be great friends in the future, no doubt getting into all sorts of mischief together. The thought quirked her lips upward, warmth filling her chest as she finished up the entry.

Moments later, the door opened and slammed shut and heavy footsteps made their way inside. They undoubtedly belonged to Hiei – she knew her husband's mannerisms well – but the dark and anger-filled energy that emanated from him was alarming.

"Hiei..." She stood up and made her way to him, previous task long forgotten as concern filled her gaze. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he dismissed.

She eyed the stiff line of his shoulders; taking note of the fire simmering just beneath his careful guard as he turned away.

"Please tell me."

Hiei remained silent, but Botan was persistent. There was no way she could ignore the conflicted look he tried to shield from his expression, or the tension winding through every muscle in his body.

"Hey," she said gently, taking his hand in hers. His knuckles were bruised, the skin rubbed tender and raw. Fist fighting wasn't Hiei's usual style. He preferred to use his sword or his flames. He only resorted to brawling when something had bothered him enough to lose control. "Whatever it is, we can get through it together."

He brought his red eyes to meet hers. His gaze was stormy, but open and unguarded all the same. It rooted her to her spot, seizing her heart in ways she couldn't describe.

"I almost killed one of Mukuro's advisors today," he revealed finally.

Botan's eyes widened, mouth falling open in wordless surprise. A million questions ran through her mind, but Hiei saved her the trouble of voicing them.

"He said something about the child," he explained. "I couldn't let it stand."

The ferry-girl's expression fell as a weight rested on her chest. Prejudice and intolerance still ran deep in so many hearts and it was no surprise that many disapproved of the life she and Hiei lived. She knew that they would all face their fair share of troubles. She just didn't think they'd have to deal with it so soon.

"Oh Hiei..." she began carefully.

"If I had it my way, those would have been his last words," he gritted.

"I know it's upsetting and infuriating, but we can't allow ourselves to get bent out of shape every time someone says something we don't like. We have to rise above."

"I can't-"

"You can and you will," she urged, placing his hand over her abdomen. "For your son's sake."

Hiei's eyes widened slightly. There was still a torrent of emotion in his gaze, his voice rough as he spoke.

"I was abandoned and outcast for what I am," he said lowly. "I'll burn this whole world to the ground before he is subjected to the same treatment."

Botan swallowed the lump in her hear throat, blinking away the tears that burned her eyes as she nodded. Her heart always ached when she thought of Hiei's past. She couldn't begin to imagine what he had gone through, but she had no intentions of allowing history to repeat itself with their son.

"Things will be different," she promised. "He's got us, after all. And all of the others, too. There are so many people who care about our little one; he's already so loved."

Botan could feel Hiei's aura settling into something less volatile. The tightness of his features released into a more controlled look.

"It'll be okay," she soothed. "Trust me."

Hiei nodded and pulled away.

"...I still want to rip that fool to shreds," he professed.

"Well," the ferry-girl began, lips curved upwards in agreement. "Even I want to give him a nice and intimate introduction to my metal bat."

He smirked.

"You're especially violent for a ferry-girl."

"Maybe your more sadistic tendencies are rubbing off on me."

"Hn. You've always been that way, woman."

A slight trace of amusement lingered in his gaze, replacing the dark swirls of anger and frustration. She found solace in knowing that he was no longer troubled, no longer burdened by thoughts of the past or the uncertainties of the future. She much preferred it when they lived in the here and now. Kissing the corner of his upturned lips, she slid her hand in his.

"Come see what I've been working on."

Hiei's expression promptly fell.

"If it's another one of those infernal parenting guides-"

"No, this is even better!"

She led him to the couch, opening up the book between them.

"It's a baby book," she explained. "I've been writing little notes to our son here and there; documenting the days leading up to his birth. Do you want to give it a try?"

Dark brows crinkled in slight confusion, before he shook his head.

"No."

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport."

"Whatever I need to say to the boy can be exchanged through words when the time comes."

"Yes, but this will be memorialized forever. And it'll serve as a nice glimpse into the past."

He still looked confused, so she smiled and set the book in his lap. Slipping the pen into his palm, she closed his fingers over it.

"I'll go fix us some tea while you think about it. No pressure."

The ferry-girl padded over to the kitchen, resisting the urge to sneak a peek back at her husband. There was no point in pushing Hiei, but she had a feeling that he would cave in if she weren't around to witness it. Humming to herself, she pulled out a pair of matching teacups from the cupboard and then set about making the tea according to their individual preferences. Sweetened with lots of milk and sugar for Hiei. Plain old jasmine for her. She moved deliberately slowly, giving Hiei the time and opportunity to make a decision and follow through accordingly. Once both drinks were prepared, she returned to the living room. Pink lips twisted into a pout when she came back to find an empty couch and an absent husband. But then she spotted it — the book splayed open on the couch with a dark scrawl that wasn't there before.

Amethyst eyes sparkled as she set the cups down on the table and lowered herself to the couch. Her fingers ran over the fine lines of Hiei's handwriting and she couldn't help but smile that brightened her expression as she read through the message.

Your interfering mother is forcing me to write this note in the name of sentimentality. I've never been good with emotions; even less so when it comes to expressing them. You'll soon learn that I prefer actions to flowery words and promises.

Some say I have the tendency of being rash or impulsive, that I rarely think ahead or stop to consider the consequences of my decisions. Today was no different. I lost control. Given the circumstances, I'd do it again.

Your mother says we must rise above. That we must be better.

Though it isn't in my nature, I suppose I can try.

For you.


I really loved working on this chapter and I hope you guys enjoyed it, too! Drop a review if the mood hits you. Thanks, as always, for your continued support!