A/N: Well, I'd hoped to have this one completely re-typed for you all last night, but as fate would have it, it just didn't happen that way. My apologies. I know it's been forever, and I appreciate you all so much for sticking with me. I've got the next chapter of this one done as well, but I'm honestly just not certain when I'll have time to typeset it where I can update. As soon as I get the chance, however, rest assured I will. Enjoy, and if you are so inclined, please feed the author. Much love and peace.

Chapter Twelve

The creature hit the ground, howling out with a terrible shriek that chilled Kuwabara to the bone. No matter how many times he'd heard it in the last two days, it never ceased to do so.

That didn't mean he was going to take pity on the hellish beast. By now, he knew better.

Spinning his sword in the air, he gripped the hilt firmly and struck down, straight into the earth. The hound evaporated upon impact, scattering like ash as the first rays of dawn peeked over the mountaintops.

Kuwabara stood, panting, letting the warmth of rose and gold wash over his face like a prayer. It was morning. Thank all the gods, it was morning.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and extinguished his blade. "You alright?" he asked, turning to face the monk just in time to see the last set of ofuda flutter to the ground and Miroku drop down hard on his knees, exhausted.

"Yes," he answered, voice like sandpaper and grout. He took a heavy breath and swallowed to clear his throat, though when he spoke again it was thin, diluted from the normally rich timbre of his usual tone. "We've survived another night, it seems."

"Barely," he supplied, quietly. Kuwabara wasn't sure if they'd be able to say that in another night or two. Every evening the dogs would set in, more and more vicious with each passing day. They learned, too, which made them twice as deadly. Instead of just the stupid slavering beasts one might expect, they adapted to their counterattacks, their moves, their defenses. The truth was that they were running out of strategies, and while Kuwabara left most of the strategics up to Shippou and Miroku, he knew when they were at the end of their rope.

"This way," the fox gestured, shifting the still silent girl in his arms to a more comfortable position. "There should be a place to rest before the next junction. You two will need to recover your spirit energy in the event we don't shake these things when we cross the river."

True enough. It was the best Shippou could offer them for the time, rest and protection. They'd discovered rather early on that the demon's weapons were useless against what they were facing. The Hellhounds responded to holy energies—spirit power—only, leaving the humans to shoulder the burden of dispatching them and Shippou to plan, navigate, and provide shelter and protection during the daylight hours.

For now, they were making do. The fox had a theory that crossing Styx into the third realm would perhaps remove them from the hounds' jurisdiction, so to speak. He'd used a lot of fancy language and supporting thoughts for his conclusion that, to be honest, Kuwabara didn't understand in the slightest, but he didn't care. Anything was worth a shot.

Granted, Shippou had neglected to mention they would likely be jumping from the skillet and into the fire, but somehow, Kuwabara sensed it already, anyway. And frankly, he didn't care about that either.

They trudged onward, speaking very little as they passed through the steadily thicker foliage. His pack was beginning to feel like a slab of solid granite, and Kuwabara noticed the monk's steps getting sloppier. It was frustrating; before, he knew they both could have done better, gone farther, without need for rest.

He supposed he had the Spirit World to thank for that one, too.

"Here," Shippou spoke after a time. "We'll stop here for the day." The coverage was adequate enough.

Kuwabara dropped his pack to the ground without preamble, and Miroku sank down against the trunk of a particularly large tree, leaning his head back against the grain of the bark and letting out an immense sigh before rolling his head around to see Shippou arranging the grim reaper carefully on the ground.

"How is she?" he asked, though the tone of his voice told them he expected no change.

"Same," Shippou grunted as he stood. "I know it's just going to rain, but I'm going to get firewood together. Can one of you stay awake for a bit longer, until I return?"

"I'll do it," Kuwabara responded, kneeling in the dirt next to Botan. He lifted her head carefully into his lap and brought his canteen to her lips. It wasn't much, but for now it was all he could offer her.

Shippou watched the spirit detective brush the hair from her eyes and felt something akin to sadness stir in his chest. He nodded stiffly and turned away, pretending not to hear the whispered plea as he swept away from the site.

"Please, wake up...please..."


The girl was a lot more curious than she let on. It surprised Touya, if he were to admit the truth of it. Granted, she'd paid heed to Jin's advice and not said a word as they entered the outer limits of Akuma, and she remained relatively close within their ranks during their trek through the tunnels.

Still, more than once Touya couldn't help but notice how Kurama had to practically herd her into their desired direction, coaxing her away with a carefully placed arm around her back and words murmured too low for him to make out, though at one point he could have sworn the fox had been telling her what an underground rail was. Really, she had seemed fairly intelligent for a human; she'd have had to have been hiding under a rock not to know what a subway was.

Just because they were demons didn't mean they were technologically and industrially inept, after all.

And she was jumpy as all hell, too. It worried him just a bit, the way she flinched at...well, damn near everything. She might blow their cover, and then they'd be in one hell of a mess.

For the most part, he just couldn't make sense of it. He'd seen her face off against Jin, who had to be more than twice her size, and not bat an eyelash. She didn't have an ounce of fear in her whole body as far as he could tell.

The demon took a moment to study her from behind (not an easy thing to do in that big ass shinobi robe, but he managed) as she paused to glance in the window at some little dive off of Bones Avenue. The T.V. flipped on inside and Touya thought the girl was going to come unglued. Really, it was funny; she never made a sound, but she had to have jumped a foot.

She stopped then to take a closer look at the offending object, reaching a cautious finger out to touch at the glass, and Touya had to suppress a chuckle at the oddness of it.

Honestly, you'd think she'd never seen a television before.

"Best keep moving," the ice apparition told her as he sidled up to stand even with her. "We don't want to be caught lingering here."

Sango nodded and moved quickly to catch up with Kurama, giving Touya the impression that he made her slightly uncomfortable.

Hn. He'd swear, humans got weirder by the day.

They traveled on in relative silence, until the sun began to bleed and the neon glow from street lights and bar signs curled in on them.

"Is this it?" Kurama asked quietly as they paused before a hole of an establishment with partially lit script that aptly read, "The Pit."

Touya nodded, a not-quite grin fixed to his features when he noticed the girl immediately bow her head low as the soft green light threatened to illuminate her less than demon qualities. 'Clever,' he thought, knowing that she desperately wanted to take it all in. Her eyes had been as big as saucers from the moment they'd set foot in the city, and while he'd been a little concerned at her apparent amazement, he suddenly felt a little more at ease with the situation.

"Go on, Jin," Touya said, gesturing his companion on through the doors as he took his place, once again, in the rear of the pack. "He's in the back room."

It had been deliberate, putting Jin at the head of the line. As large as he was, it only made sense to portray him as the leader. The intimidation factor was just as applicable in the demon world as it was the human one, it seemed.

Not that it kept them from staring, however. All motion ceased as the wayward group of soldiers ushered into the bar adorned in the traditional shinobi garb. It made the girl nervous; he could tell by the way she skittered in her step, bringing her closer to Kurama, who'd practically glued himself to her back. Still, they moved rather fluidly through the maze of tables and drunks passed out in less than appropriate places, and Touya eased the icy air he'd channeled into his fist. No need for violence, after all. Not yet, anyway.

The door was a solid slab of heavy steel, and Jin rapped three times, letting the echo of it cling to the air thickly within the sudden quietude. A sliding view window, no bigger than a Hershey bar opened, and piercing yellow eyes cut through the smoky dark.

"There was dust on the man in the long black coat," Touya spoke quietly, and the window closed abruptly with an audible snap, giving way to the heavy creaking that accompanied the irritating grind of steel upon concrete as the door opened, revealing a dimly lit room with a dark figure poised at the end of a long wooden table.

The troop made their way inside, a certain unease in the step of some as the attendant set them in the line of sharp scrutiny and the door closed like a death sentence.

A woolen blanket of heavy silence fell upon them, and Touya couldn't help but notice how the three newcomers to his company tensed at the snapping sound of a match striking the surface of the table as though it were a thunderclap.

The dark one was imposing, hidden as he was by the shadows. "You find what you were looking for, mate?"

Touya felt as much as saw the relief set in on Kurama and Hiei at the rich, yet gravel tone that told them precisely who they were dealing with.

The demon brought the match closer, illuminating the five o'clock shadow and deep blue of his eyes as smoke began to billow from the cigarette in his lips. He'd never been much of a smoker, but it just went hand in hand when drinking, and he was definitely a drinker.

"You're the informant?" Kurama managed, somewhat amused.

A slow grin stretched across the demon's face as he took a long draw from his cigarette and let the smoke curl out from his lips. "The one and only."

Hiei let out a long-suffering sigh. "Gods, you're kidding me," he muttered irritably.

Chu laughed out loud, standing up to clap the smaller demon on the back, much to Hiei's chagrin. "C'mon mate, you know ya missed me."

Hiei snorted derisively, and Chu only laughed harder. "S'good to see you blokes again," he said, smashing the butt of his smoke under his heel and nodding to each respectively, guessing which was which on stature, alone. "Hiei, Kurama."

His eyes fell on the third, and while in the back of his mind he could have sworn Yusuke was taller, he chalked it up to too much drink and the fact that he'd slept since then. "Urameshi!" he greeted amiably. "Damn, it's good to see you!"

Jin stepped forward to place himself in the path of oncoming disaster but found he was, unfortunately, not quick enough. Chu struck out to land a good-natured punch to "Urameshi's" arm, catching the demon slayer by surprise. As small as she was, Sango could not withstand the overly-masculine greeting without falter, and the blow sent her staggering back.

Touya couldn't be certain just what happened next, but the outcome was the same, nonetheless. Disastrous. Sango would have tumbled to the ground in a heap had it not been for the quick reflexes of the fox at her side. However, those reflexes did nothing to save the heavy hood draped over the girl's head from slipping down to reveal her less than male, or youkai, features.

The room stilled, and Chu's eyes were as big as boulders as he looked into the face of the girl before him.

"Bugger me."


Yusuke sighed as the soft blue glow receded from his face, and he realized he could breathe through his nose again.

"Thanks, grandma."

"Don't get used to it, dimwit," she wheezed, wincing as she struggled to situate herself into a meditative position. "I'm not fixing your dumb ass every time you break a fingernail."

He would have snorted, but the sound of Inuyasha hitting the floor once again drew his attention, and Genkai looked at him derisively as he shifted uneasily to his feet and moved toward the disturbance.

"Stay out of it, Yusuke," she advised sternly.

They'd been fighting from the moment they'd returned to the hotel room, and while the detective was used to this sort of display from the two shard hunters by now, that didn't mean he was altogether comfortable with it.

"Mind your own business, grandma."

"I could say the same for you," the psychic noted, taking as deep a breath as her broken ribs would allow and doing her best to slip into the plane of self-healing. She would have extended the courtesy of mending wounds to Inuyasha as well, but he'd let her know rather rudely that he didn't need her help.

Yusuke had plenty to say about that, but surprisingly, and perhaps a little more maturely than any would have given him credit for, he kept his mouth shut.

The door to the bathroom flung open abruptly, and Inuyasha stomped out angrily, Kagome on his heels.

"But, Inuyasha--"

"But nothing! I told you to stay put, bitch!" he shouted, feeling along the edge of the wall for the window ledge. The effects of the pepperspray would wear off by morning, he told himself, but for now he was as blind and vulnerable as a newborn kitten.

"I was only trying to help!" the priestess cried, nearly reaching her wits end with the temperamental hanyou. Why couldn't he just grow up for once? She knew he was overcompensating for his feelings of failure, his feelings that he'd somehow let them all down and shown weakness not just to an opponent, but to what was supposed to be his peers, but Kagome was so tired of him taking his frustrations out on her she could just pull her hair out.

"I'd say you've helped enough." His tone was clipped and sharp like ice—jagged and decidedly accusatory, a world of old pain and resentment never given voice lurking below the surface. Kagome stiffened at the implication behind his words, her jaw tightening with every strangled breath. Perhaps it really was more than simple frustration with himself.

There was a grain of truth there, and it hurt more than she cared to think about.

It wasn't as though she didn't already know this whole mess was her fault in the first place. Kagome was keenly aware of the damage she'd caused and the lives she'd been responsible for destroying from the minute she came through that well.

To know that Inuyasha blamed her, too, only made the raw ache in her chest that much harder to bear.

"I see," she responded with a throat gone thick. If he'd have realized just how much she'd worried for him, had seen the hollowed shadow of her pale grey eyes as they set in grim acceptance, he might have taken it all back.

But he couldn't, and so he didn't.

He could feel the difference in the air, though, and Inuyasha suddenly felt guilt gnawing in the pit of his belly when she knelt before him and brought an easy hand to rest at his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Inuyasha," she whispered, heart bleeding out on her lips as they trembled in sincere and heartfelt apology. "I'm so sorry."

She was gone before he could utter a single syllable of remorse, the soft click of the door the only sound to break the bitter stillness left in her wake.


It was a cheap hotel, and the balcony wasn't really a balcony so much as a glorified fire escape, but Yusuke found her there nonetheless, curled in on herself with her frail arms draped around her knees and her glossy black mane spilled out over the tops as she did her best to hide her face from the world.

She wasn't moving much now, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that she'd been crying.

Not entirely comfortable with the situation but unable to let it rest, he moved closer to her, sliding down against the wall to sit beside her in silent support, bringing his own knees up to his chest and breathing a sigh of utter exhaustion as his body stilled.

For a long while he said nothing though he knew she knew he was there.

Minutes passed and the priestess finally sniffled and looked up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot and the silvery tracks of tears stood out in stark detail amid the moonlight on her cheeks.

She looked tired -- more so than Yusuke had ever seen her, and his chest constricted at the sight, making it difficult to breathe. He chose not to consider the reasons why.

"What do you want, Yusuke?" she asked, tone hoarse and worn.

Ordinarily, he'd have tried to make light of the situation. Yusuke was never good at being serious; it made him think too deeply, and some darkness is, perhaps, better left untouched. However, the words spilled from him before he could think better of it, and even when he could, he found he did not regret saying them.

"You always let him talk to you like that?"

The words were spoken softly, perhaps more softly than he would have intended, but the impact was like that of a thousand waves breaking upon the shore, and Kagome's breath hitched in her throat. She did not respond at first, but Yusuke could see her heart run the gamut of emotions behind the shine of her eyes before she settled on sheer exhaustion and something of a disgusted snort with no real energy behind it.

"You wouldn't understand," she replied, letting her head rest against the wall as she turned her gaze away from him toward the rapidly waning night sky.

"What's not to understand?" The question came with no haste or frustration, and Kagome had to admit a little surprise. Yusuke never seemed like the type to converse with her in this manner at all, much less patiently. It did little to curb her ever heavier burden of self-loathing, however, and the priestess had difficulty choking down the ball of guilt swelling in her throat, making her wheeze out a rough whisper of response.

"He's right."

"Bull shit," the detective spoke softly. "He lost his cool and got his dumb ass hurt for it. S'not your fault."

"He did it because of me," she whispered, looking long and hard into the coming dawn. "It's always because of me."

Yusuke knew without having to be told that she was talking about more than just the situation at hand but chose to focus on the now. He couldn't say just why it was so important for him to take her mind to a better place, but something inside him wouldn't let it go.

He'd think about that later.

"We were in a hell of a fix, and you bailed us out," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. "End of story."

"The story starts much further back than you realize, Yusuke," she spoke, turning to meet his gaze and pinning the detective still with the look in her eyes. They were suddenly much closer than he remembered, but despite the discomfort he felt building in the pit of his stomach, he did not move, and at least a part of him didn't care to.

He'd think about that later, too.

"I don't care," he said, more quietly than he'd intended. "Maybe you shouldn't, either. Life happens, Kagome. Whether we like it or not. And just because it doesn't always happen the way we want it to, doesn't mean he's got the excuse to take it out on you."

"He has his reasons," she defended.

"Doesn't mean they're the right ones," he countered quietly, and Kagome felt herself suddenly at a loss. She couldn't argue with that -- not really -- and she took a moment to study the stark definition of his eyes, the slope of his jaw as he looked at her, and the air grew quiet and still around them in that worldly synchronous breath before the sun breaks over the horizon.

Kagome felt her breath catch, and a haze settled over them like a shroud. She could lean forward, just the slightest...

He spun on a dime, standing straight up, and Kagome had to fight not to jump as he reached a hand down to help her from her position on the ground. "You hungry?"

She looked from his hand to his face, mulling the words over in her mind before she could process their meaning and nodded dumbly before easing her fingers into his palm. 'What just happened here?'

The detective grinned as she stood upright and stuffed his fists into his pockets as he turned for the door. "Good, cause I'm starving, and I can't cook to save my life."


Miroku clamped down on a muffled whimper as he slid to rest on his bottom at the mountainside. Five days they'd been running blindly in the spirit realm. Five days he'd felt the knawing in his gut and known that something was very wrong.

"You okay, man?" Kuwabara said, his breath labored as he, too, came to a rest on a boulder nearby. The boy cast a long glance down the mountain and wiped the sweat from his brow. They were about halfway up, and the burning in his limbs told him it was going to be a long, long trip the rest of the way.

Still, he'd take it so long as the Hellhounds had stopped coming for them. It seemed that Shippou had been right; the dogs had not been seen since the group had made their way across the first ring of the river Styx. It did nothing for the growing cloud of dread settling over the back of his mind, however. The monk could feel it as well, he thought. He'd been quieter in the last day or so. Something seemed to weigh heavily on his mind, and Kuwabara couldn't help but think it was something more than Botan that troubled him, though her condition plagued them all.

The monk nodded tiredly in mediocre reassurance. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." It was a lie, of course, though Miroku was glad to find that Kuwabara seemed content to let the matter drop. He flexed his right hand and noted the change. He'd thought it simply his imagination at first, but the longer they were here...

"You sure, Miroku?" The monk glanced up, trying not to appear startled. The fox, it seemed, wasn't buying it. His green eyes sharpened on the holy man as he gently slipped Botan into Kuwabara's care. "You haven't been sleeping well."

If at all. The two shared a long look, and Miroku realized they would be speaking later. Shippou wasn't going to let this go. Maybe he shouldn't.

"Yes," he sighed. "I'm certain. I fear exhaustion is taking it's toll on us all."

Shippou hesitated, watching the man closely a moment more. "Perhaps," he spoke quietly, no small amount of suspicion in his tone. Miroku got the impression he would have said more on the matter if not for the startled gasp to his right and Kuwabara's nearly incoherent, excited babble of speech thereafter.

On the fifth day, Botan stirred.