Hello. Sorry for the delay, but my trial for Microsoft office ran dead, and it won't even let me copy the file, so I've got to type it all over again. Dammit.

I have a plot, now. Thank you, those of you that tried.

-R.F.

Living in the Moment: Headed Back

Kurama was trying to figure out what to do about the uncomfortable squishy feeling in his shorts, while Imako was apparently simply quite pleased with the events that had just taken place, although he did notice that she kept her legs a little father apart than normal, and she kept at least one knee up when she was sitting down.

After a while, though, she stood up and began to move as if she had a purpose, rather than her meaningless pacing. It was officially dark, now, but Kurama could still see her clearly. She looked over at him and grinned as she unzipped the enormous pair of jeans. Kurama watched, not sure what she was doing (did she want to do it again?) but then she stepped out of the huge pants and turned her back to him and started to remove her panties.

"What are you doing?!" Kurama cried, caught between trying to shield his eyes and trying to get a better look at the muscled legs and firm rump that she was probably intentionally displaying.

"I'm not walking around in these after I messed them up. I thought I'd leave them as a present for the next people that come up here." Then she laughed. "Haha, 'come'."

She moved to the cable that stretched from the top to the bottom and tied her panties to that with some of the frayed edges on her jeans. Then she looked at Kurama with her wide golden eyes and a sweet look on her face.

"You wanna, too? You actually spurt stuff."

Kurama's face burned as he blushed, but he was uncomfortable. So he stood and turned his back to her and began to remove his pants and shorts.

"Like I care," she giggled, rolling her eyes. "I could feel the whole damn thing. Which, by the way, I am inclined to believe is rather impressively sized. My whole hand's almost twenty-three centimeters (1) and you're almost all that."

"I do care, even if you don't," Kurama told her rather shortly.

She giggled and he felt the water tank vibrate as she started to move, probably turning around, and he pulled his jeans up quickly. This was insanely vulgar, disgusting, and immature, but a part of him (the human, almost twenty-year-old part) thought that this was amazing fun.

She helped him tie the white boxers to the cable next to her blue-and-black-polka-dotted panties. Then they started to make their ways down the ladder. Kurama was below her, this time. He had quite a vies of her rump and could almost see up her pants legs on occasion when he looked up.

While they were walking, Kurama felt an intense disease. You see, he was not used to the feeling of the rough fabric of the insides of his jeans rubbing against that very sensitive piece of him. He had been trying to walk so that it didn't bother him, and he thought he was being very good at being discreet, but Imako seemed to notice. Or smell it, more likely.

"You're not used to going commando, huh?" she asked him after a little while.

"How'd you guess?" he asked, trying to fight the blushing.

"You're trying to readjust yourself without your hands. Which makes it even worse than if you did," she said with a smile. "You want me to just move in front of you so that you can just take care of it real quick?"

The blush faded quickly when the blood drained from his face. "Imako, we are in public. No."

"It's almost curfew," she reminded him. "No one's out. Plus, who cares if a guy shifts himself a little bit when his little soldier's outta line?"

Kurama looked to see if she was serious. It looked it. Damn, this woman was insane. "It has only been a year since I left school. Many of the underclassmen still recognize me and still know and respect me. I have no intention of letting them, or anyone else, see me--what was it you said? 'Readjust myself'."

"Shuuichi. Dear. Lover. Beloved. Do you honestly think that they are going to see you on a deserted street? Also--do you doubt me that much? I'm good at what I do. If nothing else, I could flash them to distract them."

Kurama sighed and continued walking for a second, before his discomfort finally won him over. He turned his back to the street, and Imako, without saying a word, moved to the side of him that traffic was more likely to come from with her back to him and stood guard.

Afterwards, he was, indeed, more comfortable, though his face was still burning because of the flush. He'd never understood the vulgarities of young humans (and demons), but that was because the most he had been exposed to was Hiei and Yuusuke and his classmates, in the last few decades. Yuusuke was limited to swearing and being a juvenile delinquent and Hiei had simply been a thief. Kurama hadn't really taken part in the scene, and the occasions where he had decided to be a human teenager had not been fun. (Robbing Spirit World was more fun than he cared to admit, but that was another story.) This girl was showing him a whole new branch of being a teenager. To be honest, it was fun doing things that hadn't been planned, and having no idea what was about to happen or what he would do when it did. Unlike in Demon World, it was not vital for life to do this. It was okay that at the beginning of the day, he didn't know that he would be having sex (almost) on top of a water tower. He also didn't know he was going to be walking home without underwear, today. If he had, he would have picked out a pair he wouldn't be so sorry to lose.

Imako leaned to look at him. "You wanna come back to my place before you go home?" she asked him. The question seemed natural, but he was rather inclined to go home.

"I'd rather not," he told her.

"Are you sure? You're still covered in whitewash," she told him. "You could use a shower and borrow a pair of Dadda's shorts 'til we washed your clothes."

Very true. "Alright, fine," Kurama sighed, moving across the street to the sidewalk.

"Cool."

As they neared her house, Kurama became aware of how late it was. He had a watch, but the time did not register into his mind until he saw how empty rhe streets were. There were no people out. He heard the ones in their houses, and there were still only a few.

Except for the few lurking in the shadows.

"You said you could fight, right?" Imako asked, obviously having heard or sighted them as well.

"Yes," Kurama agreed.

"I want to see. They're going to jump us, 'cos I don't have my bike and pipe and skirt, so they probably don't know it's me, or that I'm still dangerous."

Kurama looked at her, trying to get her to face him so that he could get through to her. "I don't want to fight," he told her. "I am not a very good fighter. I kill, I do not wound."

"Damn," Imako swore quietly. "Fine, fine, I'll do it. Just stay out of my way."

Kurama heard the tones and took them as a challenge. All things considered, Kurama could fight them. They're only human, and I am trained in martial arts.

"I've changed my mind," he told her. She smiled. Then she had done it on purpose.

"You're gonna fight?"

"Yes."

Imako grinned and let him take the lead in the walk towards them.

He began to think about the last time he fought. Shigure. Before that, his last real fight was Karasu. Both times were very decisive times for him. The fight with Karasu was worst, really, but that was because Karasu wanted to blow his arms and legs off, watch him bleed to death, then rape his corpse.

He could fight. Genuinely fight. No worries.

Why am I getting worried? They're humans.

As he moved closer, one moved into his path, inducing a slower pace, and then the others surrounded him.

Imako moved back so that she was out of the circle. A couple started after her, but Kurama pulled on his old voice and called to them. "She won't go far. She's just getting out of the way. You are fighting me." Kurama loved that tone. The danger, the power in it, the fear it instilled...

He looked around to take who he was fighting into account. Two sets of knuckles and four knives. Twelve opponents. One female. He wondered if Imako would think any less of him if he hurt the girl. So he asked, "Mako-chan? Would you be displeased with me if I was not a gentleman to the lady among them?"

Mako laughed, a high-pitched cackle. It didn't sound like her normal laugh. She was excited by the energy around her. The ones surrounding him tensed and shifted. He had startled them with how easygoing he was, surrounded by these people. "Yeah, fight her like a man. Chicks hate it when men go easy on 'em. In fact--watch out for her especially. She's got shit to prove, she'll fight twice as hard."

The girl laughed, then. Not Imako, but the punk. "Good girlfriend. Let's see if she'll keep you after we fix that pretty face of yours."

But after that, the fight had begun. No one was moving, yet, but they were all on edge. Kurama was waiting on one of the twelve to move. He was certain that once one moved, all of them would move. But the others would hesitate. The first one would keep going. He woud leap over their head and step on them. The next charger would take him out. Then he'd have to wait and see. He would have to keep the knives at bay, but he was fast enough to keep those out. He was trying to figure out how go get rid of them all at once, but nothing came to mind.

I am a fool, he suddenly decided. I'm taking on a fight one to twelve after not fighting for four years and without weapons or powers.

The man directly behind him lunged. No one else seemed to want to try it. Kurama leapt into the air, like he planned, and landed on he man's shoulders. Someone else had already begun to lunge, and ran into Kurama's first attacker. They knocked each other off balance, and the circle was broken as their friends tried to catch them.

Others were upset that he had taken out four people (the other two were in the circle and had been plowed into) within a few seconds, and started to charge with less confidence and more enthusiasm and less tact. He had already won.

He swung a (if he may say so himself) graceful kick up to the next one's chin, knocking him backwards, and he learned down and backwards to head off the one on the other end. He put his hands on teh ground and did something of a back handspring, planting his feet into one's chest and thrusting him backwards and onto his back. Kurama stood on his chest long enough to get the knife from his hand, and he threw it into the street. Imako went to get it, he thought.

Two more had closed in on him in his moment of distraction. One was wielding one of the knuckle sets. He took that one by the wrist and the other by the throat and gave a powerful push to knock them back and buy him time.

He wasn't used to fighting this many people at once, let alone bare-handed, but an old part of him refused to call out for Imako's help.

Finally, a blow landed on his cheek. The bare knuckles grazed his cheekbone and slid off his jaw, and his attacker stepped back with an "owww!"

Kurama thrust himself forward, meeting the one that would be rushing him from the front-right and hit the man's face with his elbow. The others that were rushing him (from the left, but they were slow, as they had already been hit), met his foot when he jumped and spun a kick into all their heads, sending one staggering and one to the ground.

"Go Shuuichi!" cried Imako enthusiastically.

He was not Shuuichi, at the moment, he reasoned mentally. He was building the next part of his plan, which, so far, was meeting the next two to rush him with a front handspring and kick them in the chests, knock the air out of them and knock them away from him. After that, he expected three to six more people to rush him, but one would be in better shape, so he could take out the others using him as a projectile or by just knocking them all out with simple blows to the chest or throat.

That went smoothly. Twice, he encountered the girl--she had the breath knocked out of her, but had kept fighting. Admirable.

But after that, there were only five left that had any fight left in them, and they were tired. Kurama took them out with his knees and elbows. They fled.

"That was awesome, Shuuichi-kun," Imako giggled cheerfully. "You do gymnastics where I do ballet."

"I do not do gymnastics," Kurama answered stiffly. Acrobatics, but not gymnastics. There was a whole class of difference.

"Either way," she sighed. "You need a shower, now." Then she paused and sniffed at him. "Damn, man, what is that scent you carry around with you? For a while, I thought that was just something that you picked up somewhere, like from the trees or whereever else you got those twigs in your hair, but that's you, isn't it?"

He had stopped carrying the twigs while she was around, actually. His plants were useful, but he was a human after all, and she was so keen to notice everything that he had to stop. If they had any problems with danger, she was strong enough to deal with it. But then that made this a hard thing to lie about.

So he had to use his best cover. "What smell?" Ignorance.

"Dunno," she answered. She could not decipher the Demon World smell from the others, even if she'd recognize the Demon World smell--she only knew her father and sister. She wouldn't recognize fox demon, either. Though he would have to be careful if he took her to Demon World. Even someone as human as Kuwabara carried that smell with him after all these years, and there would be no masking it.

"We're at my house," she told him, pointing and starting to run. Kurama kept up, but then she paused at the door and turned to him. "What time is it?"

"Midnight," he answered, checking his watch.

"Okay, then. We'll have to be quiet. Kiko's got great hearing, but she's a deep sleeper. Mom and Dad may or may not--"

"Kiko's not here, just come in, Mako!" shouted Teruo's voice from the inside. Kurama wouldn't have heard it if he weren't a demon, so he pretended he didn't hear anything, but Mako blushed anyway.

"Or not--Kiko's not here," she said sheepishly as she opened the door and walked in.

To the left, the living room door was opened and Kurama could see Kasumi and Teruo both. Kasumi was lying over her husband's lap with a bottle in one hand. Kasumi was looking at the two of them. "We don't care about you two coming in at night, but don't be secretive about it!" she cried drunkenly. "Hello, Shuuichi," she added. "My, darling, now that I'm seeing you again, my Mako-chan's got great taste in men. Ahhh, if only I were a few years younger!"

Teruo was giving the two of them a rather threatening look, focusing especially hard on Kurama. He was probably displeased at the idea of Kasumi lusting after him (which wouldn't have been a surprise, as Kurama had stolen more than one of Teruo's bedmates in their histories, though rather more as a game than anything. Teruo had charmed his fair share of Kurama's, too.), but then he leaned over his wife in a rather dip-like motion and kissed her. Kurama was waiting for Imako before he moved away, but Mako had a goal, apparently. She did not speak, but instead waited for her father to get up.

"What is it, Mako-chan?" Teruo asked her.

"Shuuichi needs a pair of shorts while we wash his clothes. We climbed that tower outside town and he's covered in whitewash."

Teruo nodded. Mako shut the door and started towards the stairs.

"Do they do that often?" Kurama asked her.

"Not really. Only when Kiko and I aren't home. They were probably counting on us finding somewhere else to be."

Kurama nodded as he followed her up the stairs.

"You can come into my room," she says, "but I'm gonna change in the bathroom. I don't like being naked in front of people."

Kurama almost laughed, but he decided that he could respect that.

"I'll change in your room, then," he told her. She nodded, then went into a room that wasn't hers. Kurama looked in. He smelled Teruo and Kasumi in here. There was a rather full bookshelf, and the futon had been put up and the small window was open. He was rather surprised at the bookshelf. There were books in Japanese and in English and German and French in here, covering whole ranges of subjects, from war to fiction novels, to how-to books, to religious books. None of them seemed that well-read, so he was rather surprised.

Imako was digging in a set of drawers in the closet, until she pulled out what looked like a pair of worn-out soccer shorts with a rather wider-than-Kurama-thought-he-could-wear wiast in them. He wasn't sure they would stay up.

"Mako...?"

"They fit Dadda, they'll fit you," she told him. "He doesn't own much stuff we can just chuck, else I'd give you something like that. But he takes care of his stuff and he likes his stuff to look new, so you're just gonna have to deal."

She tossed them to him, then moved through the doorway, hardly touching him on the way through, and she led him two doors down and across the hall. It would have been over the kitchen.

This room was Mako-chan's. There were several books lying around, and a small washroom connected to this room, and a large bookshelf, and a messy futon. Kurama went to look at her bookshelf. Only Japanese and German, here, but the bottom two shelves were composed entirely of...

"You're an anime fan," he acknowledged, admiring the rather full collection of manga and anime DVD's. Most of them were shounen anime and horror genre and then a few hentai.

"Gee, how'd you guess?"

"Looks more like my kid brother's than a nineteen-year-old girl's," Kurama said with a smile, looking over his shoulder at her.

"You want first bath?" she asked, ignoring his statement. He began to wonder why she was pissed off. Was it her parents?

"That would be nice," he said as he rose to his feet.

She shrugged, then moved to the doorway and pointed down the hall. "Bathroom's there," she said.

As he ran the water and began to undress, he became aware of the fact that he did not like bathing at other peoples' houses. He didn't let that stop him--he was coated in whitewash, and there was no one but the girl with whom he had "pet", earlier, to walk in on him.

While he washed, he was thinking.

The idea of choosing a demon mate after deciding to be human was a bad idea. How was he going to explain his lies to her after she figured them out? She was quite intelligent. When she decided to think, anyway, which did not seem to be a hobby of hers, but she was intelligent.

On that note--what had gotten into her? Perhaps she didn't like it when her mother and father did that? Or was it something more complicated? Maybe she was simply tired?

It was probably that last one, he decided as he scrubbed at the layer of white that had managed to get through the loose fibers in his pants.

"Shuuichi?" she called in. She knocked, too. He was still getting the shampoo out of his hair, but he wasn't so disabled by this to not answer her.

"Yes?"

"Just making sure you were alive," she said. He didn't hear her leave, however. She sat down on the floor, next to the door. He waited a few minutes for her to make a loud-enough-sound that he could have heard her.

"Mako-chan, is something the matter?"

A long pause. Oh, so something was wrong. "I know you're a liar. And I know you're hiding something from me. I don't know what, but I know that look Dadda gives you. He gives it to me too often for me to not."

Kurama was silent. He pondered how to answer her.

"I don't lie to you," he lied. He was angry with himself for that answer. Why should he hide what he is from her? he asked himself. She was what he was trying to hide, and she would respect his attempts to stay human. She knew Yuusuke, Kuwabara, and Yukina, as well. Why should he avoid telling her that he was once a demon?

"Mm," she answered in non-committal tones. "Alright, then. You know which is my door. I'll probably be napping. If I'm asleep, wake me up, if I need it," she told him.

He gave her an affirmative grunt that reminded him very much of an old friend that he hadn't seen in a while. He should probably give Hiei a visit, for that matter. He hadn't been to the Makai in a while.

Imako was lying on her floor in her lynx shape, spread over the floor on her side.

"Mako-chan," Kurama called to her as he came in. She got up soundlessly, picked up some clothes near her in her teeth, then paced otu the door. Once outside, she said, "You can have the bed," and padded off.

That didn't sound half bad, Kurama decided. He went to the bed next to the window (he was torn between sleeping there and on the floor, because the floor was better-hidden from the window) and he lied himself on the bd anyway and put his feet under the covers (not wanting to get completely under them, so as to keep himself from looking too much like he was making himself at home, and he was asleep before he meant to be.

(1)Nine inches.